CHAPTER FOUR
"Hi Mister." He looked up from his knees. His arm clutched about him. Freezing. His wet pant legs. Heavy with ice.
The little girl wore a coat. A hat. And carried a blanket. She handed it to him.
"Thank you." He put it on. Over his knees. Dark. And Blue.
"Mom doesn't know I'm out here." The girl sat down beside him. And looked at him. He was looking at the ground. "So I can't stay long."
"Oh yeah." She reached into her pocket. And pulled out a sandwich. Wrapped in plastic. "I made this for you." The jelly tore the bread. The peanut butter kept it together.
"It's my favorite kind." She handed it over. He looked at it. But didn't feel like eating.
"I should probably go..." but her words trailed off. As a Lexus pulled up. Much like his. But darker. And running. "Daddy!" The girl leapt up. And ran off the porch. "Daddy's home!"
A man got out. Short. Burly. Shaved head. He snatched up the girl. And gave her a kiss. Big and messy. The little girl laughed. High. And giggling.
The man carried the girl. The man on the porch did not move. Watching from the shadows.
"Dad! You'll never guess what I found today..." but the man stopped. One foot on the step of the porch. Stricken.
Slowly. He let the girl down. "Go inside."
"But dad..." the girl was confused.
"Go. Now." the man said. Sternly. Doing little more than raising an arm. His face on the man. On the porch. Clutched by the shadows. Blanket on the ground. As he stood there.
"Daddy..." she hooked.
Both men's eyes rolled on her. She looked back and forth. Her dad conceding. "Agatha. Go." There was no room for courtesy.
A frown crossed her face. Her arms went about her chest. And she stomped through the front door.
"Who are you. What are you doing here?" The man was confused. As the woman had been. But more upset.
"I came with her..." the man spoke quietly. Pointing to where the girl had been.
The dad looked suddenly angry. "Who are you?"
"I don't know..."
The dad came fast up onto the porch. Reaching out. Taking the man by the throat. Shoving him against the banister. Shining light on the man's face.
Anyone today. Could be a threat. People were still mad. That he'd killed him. The father of Precrime. People had been outraged. They didn't know the truth.
Then the dad's face fell.
"What the fu-?..." he shook his head. "Witwer...?"
The man shook his head. As mush as he could. "Your wife called me that."
"You talked to my wife?" The dad was angry again.
"Yes."
He touched noses. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to pull. But I want you to stay the fuck away from my family."
"Why?"
"Because you're dead. You hear me? You're dead."
"I'm not dead." It seemed impervious. The way he said it.
The dad squinted. Hard. A crease in his brow. Hate was there. Pressing that crease.
The man soon found. A knee in his belly. He doubled over. Coughing.
"You're dead." The dad was saying.
The knee hurt worse. Because of the bullet wound.
"What's your name?" The dad kicked him in the chest. Beneath his arm.
"I don't know."
The dad kicked his face.
"What's your name?"
"I don't know." Through blood.
"What's your name!? Who sent you?!"
"I don't know. I don't know."
"What are you doing here? Who sent you? Who remade you? Why are you alive? You're suppose to be dead. Why aren't you dead?"
Each question. Followed by a kick.
Each kick. Followed by the same.
"I don't know."
"Fight back you son of the bitch!"
The man lay curled. Jerked around pain. The dad grabbed him by the coat. Lifting him. And throwing him against the wall.
But the man would not fight back.
"Fight back!"
The dad punched him. Fists pelting. His cheeks. The blood. Splashing. Flying. Until words cut in.
"John! What are you doing?!" Hands grabbed for fists. Had trouble. Then stopped them.
The man crumpled. Hugging his knees. Afraid. Crying.
"What'd you do. Daddy?" The little girl. Looking to the crumpled man. Face bloody. Then to her father. Knuckles bloody.
The dad fell slack.
The crumpled man shook.
The little girl stared.
"Come inside." The woman coaxed. Pulling her husband. And daughter. Into the house. Closing it behind them.
Leaving the crumpled man.
"Hi Mister." He looked up from his knees. His arm clutched about him. Freezing. His wet pant legs. Heavy with ice.
The little girl wore a coat. A hat. And carried a blanket. She handed it to him.
"Thank you." He put it on. Over his knees. Dark. And Blue.
"Mom doesn't know I'm out here." The girl sat down beside him. And looked at him. He was looking at the ground. "So I can't stay long."
"Oh yeah." She reached into her pocket. And pulled out a sandwich. Wrapped in plastic. "I made this for you." The jelly tore the bread. The peanut butter kept it together.
"It's my favorite kind." She handed it over. He looked at it. But didn't feel like eating.
"I should probably go..." but her words trailed off. As a Lexus pulled up. Much like his. But darker. And running. "Daddy!" The girl leapt up. And ran off the porch. "Daddy's home!"
A man got out. Short. Burly. Shaved head. He snatched up the girl. And gave her a kiss. Big and messy. The little girl laughed. High. And giggling.
The man carried the girl. The man on the porch did not move. Watching from the shadows.
"Dad! You'll never guess what I found today..." but the man stopped. One foot on the step of the porch. Stricken.
Slowly. He let the girl down. "Go inside."
"But dad..." the girl was confused.
"Go. Now." the man said. Sternly. Doing little more than raising an arm. His face on the man. On the porch. Clutched by the shadows. Blanket on the ground. As he stood there.
"Daddy..." she hooked.
Both men's eyes rolled on her. She looked back and forth. Her dad conceding. "Agatha. Go." There was no room for courtesy.
A frown crossed her face. Her arms went about her chest. And she stomped through the front door.
"Who are you. What are you doing here?" The man was confused. As the woman had been. But more upset.
"I came with her..." the man spoke quietly. Pointing to where the girl had been.
The dad looked suddenly angry. "Who are you?"
"I don't know..."
The dad came fast up onto the porch. Reaching out. Taking the man by the throat. Shoving him against the banister. Shining light on the man's face.
Anyone today. Could be a threat. People were still mad. That he'd killed him. The father of Precrime. People had been outraged. They didn't know the truth.
Then the dad's face fell.
"What the fu-?..." he shook his head. "Witwer...?"
The man shook his head. As mush as he could. "Your wife called me that."
"You talked to my wife?" The dad was angry again.
"Yes."
He touched noses. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to pull. But I want you to stay the fuck away from my family."
"Why?"
"Because you're dead. You hear me? You're dead."
"I'm not dead." It seemed impervious. The way he said it.
The dad squinted. Hard. A crease in his brow. Hate was there. Pressing that crease.
The man soon found. A knee in his belly. He doubled over. Coughing.
"You're dead." The dad was saying.
The knee hurt worse. Because of the bullet wound.
"What's your name?" The dad kicked him in the chest. Beneath his arm.
"I don't know."
The dad kicked his face.
"What's your name?"
"I don't know." Through blood.
"What's your name!? Who sent you?!"
"I don't know. I don't know."
"What are you doing here? Who sent you? Who remade you? Why are you alive? You're suppose to be dead. Why aren't you dead?"
Each question. Followed by a kick.
Each kick. Followed by the same.
"I don't know."
"Fight back you son of the bitch!"
The man lay curled. Jerked around pain. The dad grabbed him by the coat. Lifting him. And throwing him against the wall.
But the man would not fight back.
"Fight back!"
The dad punched him. Fists pelting. His cheeks. The blood. Splashing. Flying. Until words cut in.
"John! What are you doing?!" Hands grabbed for fists. Had trouble. Then stopped them.
The man crumpled. Hugging his knees. Afraid. Crying.
"What'd you do. Daddy?" The little girl. Looking to the crumpled man. Face bloody. Then to her father. Knuckles bloody.
The dad fell slack.
The crumpled man shook.
The little girl stared.
"Come inside." The woman coaxed. Pulling her husband. And daughter. Into the house. Closing it behind them.
Leaving the crumpled man.