He made his first move. Finally. The long wait had been painful. But worth it. So worth it. Nothing was more refreshing than the taste of fresh blood on his teeth. He may not have gotten the blood he wanted, but blood was blood. Blood was delicious, when taken in vengeance.
Now he retreated into the shadows. Another short wait. Short. Biding his time. Barely.
546434564364364563464364364564364364563464364364564364364563464364364564364364563464364364
The next morning, Jack awoke at his usual time, groggy and confused. He couldn't figure out why he felt so sad. He proposed to Elli yesterday, right? Scratching his head, he saw the blue feather resting on his bedside table. Oh yeah. The proposal never happened. Ellen was sick, so he decided to wait. Damn.
He dressed and ate breakfast in a sorry state, with drooping shoulders and a broken spirit. Why did she have to get sick now, of all times? Better yet, why did she have to get sick at all? Warm toast and scrambled eggs didn't cheer him up, and still depressed he went to his door to go outside.
Alright. It was time to pout his troubles behind him and get to work. Those animals aren't going to feed themselves, he thought to himself as he pushed the door open.
Thud.
The door hit something halfway through opening. Huh, funny, thought Jack. He looked down.
And screamed.
What the hell what the hell?? He stumbled backwards, hit a chair, fell to his rear and then clambered to his knees. His eyes were glued to the doorstep, where lay a feathery, beaked, shredded mess of a chicken corpse.
It would have been one thing if the chicken was intact. He'd dealt with dead animals, such was a natural occurrence. But this body was not intact. He had probably never seen anything more mangled and destroyed in all his life.
Grimly he approached the door to get a better look. Half the feathers were plucked away, lost in a vast sea of snow. The beak, once strong and sharp, was not shattered. Various patches of skin were torn off, revealing red jelly innards that spilled out onto the snow.
This was no natural occurrence.
Adopting a business-like demeanor, Jack retrieved a plastic bag from the kitchen to dispose of the body. He tried not to breathe in as he carefully placed the chicken in the bag and set the package aside to be buried later. Then he went to the tool shed to grab a shovel, which he used to overturn the bloody snow. However, he found there was more blood than he first thought. In fact, there seemed to be a trail of red droplets leading to the chicken coop.
He went to the henhouse and saw the door ajar. The coop itself was empty. Dammit. During the night, someone had deliberately slaughtered one of his chickens and freed the rest.
He buried his face in his hands. Why did have to deal with a sick and twisted vandal now, of all times? He had other things to deal with...
After what seemed like hours Jack gathered up all the loose chickens. The birds blended in with the god-forsaken snow, damn them, and he had to track each down by listening for the soft sounds of their clucking in the distance. In addition to the chicken fiasco Jack still needed to complete his everyday chores. By the time he finished, the sun was already high in the sky and he still hadn't buried the chicken.
He exited the barn and turned trudged towards the house. When he got there, he was angry to see his dog, Chachi, poking at the bag with his nose. "No! Bad dog!" He took the last few steps at a run, shooing the dog with waving arms. Yelping, Chachi scampered away.
564364364563464364364564364364563464364364564364364563464364364564364364563464364364564364364563464364364
The dead chicken became nothing but a nervous itch in the back of his mind as he focused on his primary concern: Elli. He hurried down the street, ignoring the winery owner as he called out a greeting. When he arrived at her house he didn't even bother knocking, he opened the door and quietly slid inside.
Elli was curled up on an armchair near the fire, clutching a mug of a hot drink. She smiled weakly when she saw the farmer. "Hi, Jack."
He was about to greet her when another voice spoke. "Hello, Jack." He felt irritation grow in his gut. The voice belonged to the village doctor, Elli's employer. It was common knowledge that the doctor was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with his nurse. For that reason, he and Jack did not get along.
"Morning, Doctor." Jack's eyes were dark with an unspoken warning. 'Stay away from her.' The two men glared at each other, flooding the small room with tension until Elli interrupted.
"Grandma's fever went down today."
The doctor frowned. "Only a little, Elli."
"It's better than nothing." Elli set her drink on the table and straightened her posture. "You're a doctor; you've seen cases like this. She could easily get better!"
"Yes, well, remember Elli. False optimism will only lead to poor decisions and-"
"Aw, c'mon Doc, don't be like that." Beaming at Elli, Jack sat on the edge of her chair. "We should be happy she's getting better."
The doctor's eyes flashed. "-and I don't want to see you get let down," he continued.
"Thank you, Doctor." Elli smiled.
Jack focused on her grandmother. Ellen looked just as disturbed as yesterday, he was surprised to see. Not "getting better" at all, despite Elli's shining optimism. In fact, she almost seemed to be getting worse.
Elli stood and crossed the room. "We should take her temperature again; it's been about an hour since last time." She took the thermometer and approached Ellen's bed.
"I'll do it." The doctor rushed to her and, placing his hands over hers (Jack's eye twitched), took the thermometer. Before she could object, he said, "Why don't you go to the clinic and bring me some Turbojolt? I think it would do Ellen some good, no?"
Jack stood. "Good idea! I'll come!"
Elli looked unsure. "Well, alright, if you really think so..."
"Of course he does." Jack pulled her coat off the rack and gave it to her. As she draped it over her shoulders, he shot a "HAHA" look at the doctor. If he was angry, he gave no indication.
"We'll be back soon," Elli said as Jack led her out the door.
564364364563464364364564364364563464364364564364364563464364364564364364563464364364
After they picked up the Turbojolt, Jack managed to convince Elli (with much begging) to stop at Doug's Inn for a bite to eat. He wanted her to think about things other than her grandmother. Worrying so much could be only hazardous to her health. He also liked of being alone with her while the doctor wondered what was taking them so long.
"Why are you smiling?" asked Elli, seated across from him at the table.
He hastily frowned. "Nothing."
They were silent for a moment. Elli stirred at her drink, obviously thinking of things far-off. Jack nibbled his bendy-straw.
"I think," said Elli after a moment, "that Doc believes Grandma...has no chance." Jack looked up.
"What?" he asked, incredulous.
Elli's head was low, her face masked by her bangs. Her voice trembled. "And as a nurse... I have to agree with him."
Tentatively, Jack reached out and touched her hand. "Elli, please. Don't worry like that. Everything's going to be fine."
Her hand snapped away. "Don't worry?" She looked up, and her face was sharp. "How could I not worry? Aren't you worried about her?"
"I'm worried about you."
She sputtered and looked at him, brow furrowed. Then she forcibly stood. Her chair screeched as it was pushed back. "Me? ME? Why would you worry about me, you jerk? I'm not the one who's dying!"
"Elli..."
"I don't want to hear it!" she shrieked. And with that, she stormed out of the inn.
Jack dropped his head to the table. Great. Just great.
He tried to reach Elli back at her house, but she would not let him inside. The door was locked and the pale pink curtains drawn. The doctor pulled them back and flashed a smug "HAHA" grin, before letting them fall closed again. Damn him, for getting Elli all alone while she was mad at Jack... the thought filled him with vicious rage. Fuming, he went home.
564364364563464364364564364364563464364364564364364563464364364564364364563464364364
Jack had angered him for the last time today. The last straw. The last time. Never again. There would be only a few more nights of cold, nights of anger, nights of terror for Jack, before it all culminated to a grand finale. No waiting at all.
TO BE CONTINUED.
AN: Jack was kind of a jerk this chapter, I think.
Oh, and just a side note. The italicized bits at the beginning an end of each chapter are from the point of view of a certain somebody who wants Jack to suffer. Just in case that's unclear.