AUTHOR'S NOTE: My goal with this chapter was to finish it before I went to Phoenix for a week. Also, I've enabled anonymous posting with the hopes of getting more reviews. I'll admit it, I'm a review junkie. I won't stop writing if I don't get many but I do love receiving them. Constructive criticism is welcome as long as it's done in a reasonable manner. And thank you to Amanda Rohrssen and Ethel Grimes with some help on this chapter!
DISCLAIMER: J. Gander Hooter and SHUSH is © Disney. Jake Mallard and all other characters mentioned are © me.
CHAPTER 7
I ran aimlessly for miles and miles without stopping, the screams and cries following me the entire way. I didn't even glance over my shoulder to see what I was leaving behind. All I could do was run. Running is something you do when you're scared. And for the first time in my adult life, I was scared.
Dark clouds had settled over St. Canard, bringing a violent thunderstorm with them. A sudden downpour of rain beat down on me while I ran, soaking my feathers and my clothes. My shoes splashed through the puddles that were quickly forming on the street. Being close to midnight, I passed very few people on the dark sidewalks. The few that did see me only watched me speed by with puzzled expressions before continuing on their way.
I didn't finally stumble to a stop until I turned down an alleyway, which was ultimately a dead end. Slowing to a stop, I hunched over with my hands on my knees to catch my breath. My heavy breaths were mixed with despairing sobs. I straightened up and shook my head, choking on my silent cries.
My hand came up and brushed the drenched feathers on my head out of my eyes. I trudged over to a crate setting against the alley wall and sat down. Thunder boomed loudly in the sky and rang through my ears like a canon. I buried my face in my bloodstained hands and cried to myself.
"Oh, Abby…" I whispered mournfully. "Why? Why didn't we see this coming before it was too late? Why did I punish you and Drake for MY mistakes?"
My right hand brushed over my left and something caught my attention. I lifted my head and looked down at the gold wedding band on the ring finger of my left hand. Tenderly, I stroked the ring while the memories of Abby slipping it onto my finger on our wedding day. With a painful frown, I ripped the ring from my finger and clenched it in a closed fist. I pulled my arm back to hurl it out into the street. But I stopped and lowered my arm. I opened my hand and gazed down on the ring for a long moment before hesitantly replacing it onto its rightful finger.
I looked around and noticed my surroundings for the first time since I'd stopped. Obviously, I had crossed the city to one of the run-down areas of St. Canard. Before that night, I believed I was too proud to be seen in this part of town. This was where criminals would gather. Now I would fit right in.
"Now what am I going to do?" I asked myself fearfully. I had nothing left. There was nothing for me to return to and it would only be a matter of time before the police would be after me. My life was over. At the age of 33, when most men prosper, I was dead.
Footsteps splashing through the puddles outside of the alley became audible, but I sadly paid the approaching persons no mind.
"Hey! Wait….There he is!"
I lifted my head and looked alertly to the entrance of the alley. Two men, a mallard and a beagle, were clad in black suits and blocking my escape out of the alley. The beagle pointed directly at me. I found it ironic that they were wearing dark sunglasses at 11:00 p.m.
The two men started to approach me at a fast, threatening pace. Surprised, I jumped to my feet, panic enveloping my mind.
"Oh no…" I whispered to myself and began to back up. The first thought that came to mind was that the cops had found me and they were prepared to haul me off to a jail cell.
They came closer and I continued to back up. My eyes were wide, betraying my once cool, calm exterior. A gasp escaped my bill when my back hit the cold wall of the alley's end. I was trapped. They stopped just feet in front of me, showing no sign of intimidation.
"You're coming with us, sir," the mallard demanded in a low, firm voice.
But I was never defeated easily, corporate world or not. The anger and rage that had possessed me not long before surged through my veins again.
My eyes narrowed and my hands clenched into fists. "I'm going NOWHERE with you yahoos!" I snarled in response.
In a swift movement, I swung one of my fists forward. It came in hard contact with the side of the mallard's head and sent him staggering backwards. The canine rushed forward at me with a swing of his arm. I was able to clamp my hand around his forearm and fiercely yanked it behind his back. He let out a sharp yell of discomfort and I prepared to hurl him forward into the stone wall. But a hand clamped over my shoulder and forced me to spin around and come face-to-face with the mallard. Just as he prepared to shoot his own fist forward at me, I swung his partner around and thrust him with all my force into him. Their heads conked together with force and sent them both crumpling to the floor.
An exhausted chuckle of triumph came from me as I staggered backwards towards the mouth of the alley to make my getaway. Now I was becoming a convicted felon for not only murder but for assaulting who I believed were authorities. And I didn't care. I just grinned to myself and continued backing up while staring at the unmoving men where they fell at my hands.
Just as I stepped out of the alley and turned around to walk away, a deep voice sneered from behind me.
"Leaving? So soon?"
My eyes went wide. Before I could turn around to face the source of the voice, I was suddenly hit from behind on the back of my head. Hard. And everything went black.
When I woke up, my head was pounding. I was sprawled out on a cold cement floor in a small room. With a painful groan, I weakly lifted my head and my eyes fluttered open. My vision was blurry and I had to squint my eyes several times before it cleared. Then I saw that I wasn't in a room. I was in a cell. In front of me were a row of bars with no one on the other side.
I pushed myself up to a sitting position and rubbed my head with my hand, causing me to flinch. So this is what prison was like. In all my life and in all of my success, I never would have imagined that I'd end up as a criminal behind bars.
Finally, I shakily got to my feet. I was still somewhat disoriented and swayed before regaining my balance. It must have been hours since I had been brought there. My suit, once damp from the rain, was now dry and wrinkled.
And suddenly, I was feeling very constricted and claustrophobic. I looked around nervously while I pulled my tie loose from my neck. Being as paranoid as I was, I didn't hear the footsteps approaching from behind.
"Well, you're still alive."
I spun around with a gasp. Standing outside of the cell were two more suited canines in sunglasses. Standing between them was a much shorter avian resembling a goose. A pair of spectacles rested on his small beak and he wore a classy brown suit. He looked only a few years older than I was; the voice I heard belonged to him.
"Who the Hell are you?" I snapped defensively, attempting to not become intimidated. But instead of stepping forward, I stepped backward.
He gave me an amused chuckle. "You are feisty, I'll say that for you. But, obviously, you're in no position to be making demands. I am J. Gander Hooter. It didn't take us very long to track you down, Jake Mallard."
All my feathers stood up on end. I stared forward at him with a very puzzled expression. "How do you know me? What do you want with me? Am I in jail?"
The man named J. Gander Hooter laughed again at my expense. "No, my friend. You haven't been arrested. We're not the police," he informed me, then he added darkly, "You're in SHUSH custody now."
"SHUSH? The Sinister Headquarters of Universal Sentinels for Humanity?" I repeated, astounded. "I've…heard rumors but never actually believed you existed."
"We've existed for years. But we're just now rising in power in St. Canard," J. Gander continued while he began pacing in front of the cell door. "Every year we commit more devious acts, steal more secret ideas from our enemies, and come closer to domination. We get by in secrecy, but not for long. It will only be a matter of time before we won't have to hide anymore. One day, we'll overrun the authorities and take over the city."
While he told me the plans for the organization, I curiously stepped forward. I stopped in front of the cell door and wrapped my hands around the bars, staring down at him. "What does that have to do with me?"
J. Gander stopped his pacing and smiled up at me. A wicked smile. "We have only the best personnel for our agents here at SHUSH, Mallard. It takes a lot, both physically and mentally, to be one of us. My agents need to be intelligent, strong, and merciless. With a little work, you'll be a perfect recruit."
"What makes you say that?" I argued with a sneer.
His face fell into an impatient scowl. "We know about you, Jake. We've been watching you for a while now. Not everyone has what it takes to establish the success that you've had. And it takes a lot for someone to murder his family."
Heat rose to my face and the anger swelled up inside me. My hands clenched the bars so tightly that my knuckles began to turn pink. I bared my teeth and wanted to lunge forward like a wild animal.
"I'll never join you!"
"What other choice do you have, Mallard? Please, tell me," J. Gander spoke calmly, not affected in the least by my sudden aggressive behavior. "You have NOTHING to return to and it will only be a matter of time before the police put you in a real prison with a life sentence attached. You don't have a choice."
My eyes flashed defiantly. "And what if I object?"
"Then you die. Simple as that."
The reality of the ultimatum didn't even strike me. At that point, death didn't frighten me. I had no life left. And I wasn't about to give in to their threats.
"Sorry, but no," I answered snidely. "Do your worst."
J. Gander's expression darkened and his eyes narrowed. With a sigh, he removed his spectacles and casually cleaned the lenses on his jacket, shaking his head. "You disappoint me, Mallard." He replaced his glasses and nodded to the agents flanking his sides. "Boys?"
One of the agents stepped forward and removed a keyring from his jacket to unlock the cell door. It opened with a shrill ring and they swiftly entered the cell. I took several steps back and braced myself for another fight.
"Come on! I can take you two yuppies!" I snarled loudly and balled my hands into fists.
The first agent, a bulldog with a cold, lifeless face, reached forward to grab one of my arms. My fist swung forward and I hit him with all of my might in his jaw. I let out a painful yowl and pulled my hand back in shock. It was like hitting a brick wall. A brick wall that didn't even flinch.
I cradled my crushed fist with my other hand with wide eyes. Four strong hands clamped around each of my arms and the agents proceeded to pull me out of the cell. I began to thrash my arms and drag my feet, fighting to free myself.
"Let go!" I roared while they dragged me down the cell corridor and through a long white hallway. Several other suited agents passed by, not giving me a second glance as if it were an every day occurrence. I grunted and growled as I continued to fight. J. Gander calmly followed behind us.
At the end of the hallway was a single door. The agent effortlessly pushed it open and the two of them roughly shoved me inside. Their force was extreme enough to send me stumbling forward and crashing to the floor.
I groaned loudly and lifted my head to see my surroundings. Two chairs and a table were shoved to one side of the medium-sized square, white room which resembled an interrogation room. Instead of a two-way mirror on one wall, there was another door leading to an unknown room.
Placing my palms on the white floor, I began to lift myself. But suddenly, I was kicked forcefully in the side by the bulldog agent. All the air was blown out of my lungs in a large gasp and I collapsed to the floor again. I struggled in inhale a breath, but I received another violent kick. My chest immediately became sore as I felt some of my ribs cracked. Once again my lungs were emptied, further weakening me. I tried to fight back the tears that were beginning to sting my eyes. Each time I coughed from the lack of air, I felt the sharp burning sensation in my chest.
The agent stepped over me. His hands clamped around my suit jacket and hoisted me three feet above the ground before hurling me back to the floor on my face. My bill was crushed into the ground, the pain in my face excruciating. Two more times I was slammed to the ground, each time draining a little more life out of me. I laid still, panting desperately.
But I struggled to get up, determined not to be beaten down. My arms quivered as they attempted to lift me off of the floor. I saw the shadow of the brute agent looming over me and I squeezed my eyes shut, anticipating the next blow. Instead, he grabbed me by the back of my jacket and yanked me to my feet to face him. My breaths came in short gasps but I mustered a defiant glower, staring into the dark lenses of his sunglasses. For an instant, I believed it was over. They saw my determination and would let me go.
A foolish assumption. His fist was as fast as lightning and struck me in the face. My head snapped to the side, the force nearly breaking my neck. And then another blow. And another. The fifth punch to the side of my head sent me sprawling to the floor again. Blood dripped from the side of my bill and I could already feel my left eye beginning to swell.
I was clinging to consciousness. My chest was on fire and my head felt as if it were being crushed. Short, shallow breathes wheezed from my bill and my eyes were barely able to stay open. I wanted to curl up and die. But I knew they wouldn't let me escape my sins so easily.
The agent moved in for another round of physical abuse. Just as he drew his arm back for another strike, J. Gander's voice interrupted.
"That's enough. We don't want him dead."
With an objective grunt, the bulldog lowered his arm and obediently stepped back. J. Gander circled me once, his arms folded behind his back. He stopped in my line of sight, knowing that I didn't have the strength to turn my head.
"How does it feel, Mallard?" he asked me curiously. "Do you think your loyal wife felt as much pain while you were mercilessly taking her life away? Or your son? The two people who loved you most? Who you destroyed?"
I could only groan with agony in reply. I didn't have enough strength to form words. The images of my attack on Abby just hours earlier brutally replayed in my mind. Now I was in her position.
J. Gander leaned down to look directly into my lifeless eyes. "You're a cold-blooded murderer, Jake. We're going to make you realize that truth."
He stepped out of my vision. Seconds later, I felt the two pairs of hands grab my shoulders and drag my limp body across the room towards the smaller door I'd noticed moments earlier. J. Gander lift the latch and opened the metal door in front of me to reveal a small five-by-five foot room. There was nothing inside, not even a light. The walls and floor were smooth concrete.
The two agents heaved me inside and I slumped to the floor against the back wall. Weakly, I managed to lift my head to stare forward. J. Gander simply nodded once at me before one of the agents slowly closed the door with a loud clang. Then I was enveloped in darkness.
"Look what you've done, Jake. Look what you've done to us. To you."
Her soft, hurt voice echoed in my head. I lifted my eyes to stare forward in search of her but only saw black.
"Abigail?" I whispered weakly. "Abigail, I'm sorry. So sorry…"
"It's over, Jake. It's too late," she answered, a regretful tone in her voice. "You're not the same person anymore. And now, we've ultimately paid the price."
I shook my head in denial and squeezed my eyes shut to hold the tears back. "Don't go, Abby. Please, don't go. I need you."
"Not anymore, Jake. You're going to keep changing into something unrecognizable and I'll only become a memory. Perhaps someday we'll meet again." Her voice was fading, becoming more distant. But she called out to me one last time.
"He's alive, Jake. He's still alive…."
I couldn't hold my head up any longer. My eyes rolled up as my head lolled forward, slipping into unconsciousness while her words echoed in my mind.
For two weeks, I was kept in that small, dark room. The only light that crept inside was from the small slit in the door where my food and water was delivered. I was fed barely enough to keep me alive and no more. Not a word was spoken to me aside from the occasional taunting laughs from the agents.
The cell reeked of sweat and urine. The floor was littered with my feathers that had either fallen out or I had pulled out of my flesh in one of my occasional lapses of sanity. The air was thick and stale, constantly causing me to become dizzy. I was treated like a caged animal.
Finally, I heard the latch creaked open and a loud clang as the door slowly swung open. The sudden surge of bright light made me flinch and squint my sensitive eyes. I slowly lifted my head to see the two agents again, the bulldog and the beagle. They both reached forward and took a hold of my arms, dragging me out of my prison. I had no life left in me to fight back.
They pulled me out into the larger white room and dropped me face down on the cold floor. I inhaled the fresh air desperately but I was still too weak to stand on my own. My body was sickly and needed the nourishment it was deprived of for weeks. The clothes I still wore were wrinkled and torn. The feathers on my face were matted and tangled. My appearance was weak and sickly.
I managed to pull my eyes open and saw the familiar pair of spats standing in front of me at eye level. I panned my eyes upward to see J. Gander staring down at me.
"Impressive. You're still alive, Mallard," he sneered down at me. "But not for long."
J. Gander looked up at the bulldog agent and nodded before stepping back. The brutish agent circled me once before he leaned down and hoisted me to my feet by my shoulders. I lifelessly allowed myself to be dragged across the room to where he pinned me to the wall. My head wavered back and forth a couple of times and I carelessly remained still. I knew another beating was coming.
The stench of his breath burned my nostrils as he leaned forward, his face just inches from mine. I barely held my eyes open to see him studying me carefully. For a prolonged moment, nothing happened. Then he slapped me across the face with an opened hand. The second slap was harder than the first and I was on the floor again.
I didn't make any effort to get up. Instead, I waited for the pummeling to continue. He stepped right in front of me and glared down at me through his sunglasses.
"Does it feel good?" the agent growled at me in a deep, strong voice. "How does it feel to fall so many times? You're nothing now, Mallard. NOTHING. Your wife and son were the lucky ones. They got to escape the torment. But you won't."
Every muscle in me tensed. The life suddenly returned to me with the rejuvenated rage. I lifted my head and glared ravenously up at him with a murderous gleam in my eyes. And suddenly, my fist shot forward and hit him in the center of his groin with hard force.
He howled in pain and stumbled backwards, his hands shooting down to sooth his wounded area. J. Gander and the other agent stepped backwards, their eyes wide with surprise as the surging testosterone brought me to my feet. Before they could intervene, I was on the bulldog with raw fury.
My fist swung forward again and struck the side of his face. The sunglasses flew from his face and I was able to see his frightful, wide-eyed stare. I swung again with my right fist, and then my left. Pain shot through my arms but the adrenaline made it unnoticeable. He grunted and gasped in agony with each blow. My eyes were a blazing fire of hatred.
I took him by the shoulders to steady his massive, swaying body so I could jab my knee upwards into his stomach. A heavy gasp exploded from his mouth and he gagged for air. Blood was slowly forming from the side of his mouth and the fresh cuts on his face. He staggered backwards and weakly lifted his head to stare at me as I quickly lunged for him again. With a loud roar, I brought my fist down on his head with all of my might. I heard the impact on his skull and watched emotionlessly as he crumpled to the floor at my feet.
The agent didn't move. If he was dead, I didn't care. I panted heavily, my shoulders heaving and my hands still clenched in fists. Any compassion I may have had was drained from my soul. Unlike my attack on my family, I had no remorse.
J. Gander finally stepped up beside me. A satisfied smile was clear on his middle-aged face as he looked up at me.
"Welcome to SHUSH, Agent Mallard."