CHAPTER TWO

Tom Chandler

Tom woke from his stupor the next morning and the first thing he did was drink more whiskey. His head was pounding. His brain had fueled his sleep with blame and torture. He drank more whiskey. The bottle was empty. He stood up and felt the room tilt. He had a flash back to the Nathan James. He heard loud explosions and yelling. He flinched and then lost his balance.

Crashing to the floor his head slammed off the corner of the coffee table in front of the couch. Pain sliced through him, and he was brought back to his living room. He laid on the floor for a long moment, his head pounding from the alcohol, and now burning from the cut over his eye. Blood ran down his skin, leaking into his right eye. He didn't move. He wanted more whiskey. He wanted the people in his mind to go away. He wanted peace.

He sat up and the world spun. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath to keep the contents of his stomach from landing on the floor. He pushed himself up, so he was sitting on the couch again. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He wanted it all to stop. His hand hit something hard and metal, and he glanced down. His service weapon lay on the couch next to him. His hand flexed around the grip, his finger laying outside the trigger guard. He stared at it, felt the cold steel against his skin.

He thought about all the dead people. The people dead…because of him. He ordered them to die. They died protecting him. They died because of him. They died…and he was responsible, the blood was on his hands. They died because he pushed. They died…and he lived. He shouldn't have lived.

Mason, Cossetti, Cruz, Chung, Frankie, Ravit, Michener…Rachel. Darien. Dad. All dead because of him…and yet he still lived. It didn't matter that they had saved the population. It didn't matter that they had made the cure. Because he learned, the hard way, that humanity didn't deserve saving.

He reached for the bottle, disappointed when he remembered it was empty. His right eye was blurry from the blood, but he hadn't wiped it away. The cut hurt, he was sure there was bruising along with the split. He didn't care. He wanted more to drink. He wanted to drown in it. He wanted to quit. He flexed his hand, and the gun moved with it. He held it up and examined it. He pointed it at the wall and sighted it. He couldn't remember the last time he had had food. He couldn't remember the last time he had consumed something other than whiskey. He had no idea where his kids were, or that they were eating. He couldn't bring himself to care, and that frightened him.

He sighed and looked at his service weapon again. He twisted his hand, so it was pointed to the side. He stared at it as his mind drifted back to the ship. He saw the dead bodies. He saw the blood. He saw the horrors he had ordered. His decisions. Him. And yet he survived. His head hurt. He reached up with his free hand and touched the cut over his eye. He tentatively probed it with his fingertips. More blood leaked down his face, into his eye. His eye burned. He sighed.

A door slammed. The noise took him back again. He was back on the oil rig. Explosions, flying shrapnel, the screams. His people. Blown up, burned, dead.

Ashley Chandler

Ashley shut the door to the bedroom with a little force. She was angry. Sam had finally gone back to his own room, and she hoped he was still sleeping. She knew they needed to eat so she was heading towards the kitchen to see if there was any food there. Her dad had stopped taking care of them. Lately he sat on the couch and drank. She stepped down the hallway and into the living room, saw him sitting on the couch, his service weapon in his hand. His head was split open, blood running down his face. She stopped and stared at him, a confused look on her face.

She took in his blank vacant stare and took a small step forward. The hand holding the gun flinched, and Ashley did as well. She was terrified. She had never seen her father act like this. Blood leaked down the side of his head and he didn't do anything to stop it. His eye was caked in it. She felt the fear rush through her as she watched him handle the gun. His eyes were so vacant, she wondered if he even knew where he was.

"Dad?" she asked quietly but he didn't acknowledge her. She felt the tears burn her eyes. She was scared. She didn't know what to do. Everyone who she would go to…was dead. She missed her mom. She missed her grandpa. She missed her dad…even though he was sitting right there on the couch. She needed to do something. She needed help with Sammy. She needed someone to tell her it was going to be okay. Her dad seemed to relax; his hand went down to the couch. Then the gun snapped up and pointed at the wall. Ashley took a step back, fear rushed through her. Her eyes stung with fresh tears.

"Dad," she said a little more forcibly. He didn't seem to hear her. The gun snapped to a new position, and he seemed to be aiming. "Dad!" she yelled. Sam came out into the hallway. Ashley glanced back at him.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked quietly. Ashley shook her head quickly.

"Go back to your room, Sammy," she whispered. He stuck his tongue out at her and took a step forward. "No, Sammy, go back," she hissed.

"Why?" he asked. "Besides, I'm hungry," he whined. Ashley closed her eyes and pressed a hand over her face. She glanced back at their dad, and he seemed to relax again, then he was looking around. She stepped into the room and his whole upper body shifted towards her in a flash and he brought the gun up with both hands, aiming at her face. She stopped, her hands flying up and she screamed.

Her dad seemed to come back to reality and the gun dropped down quickly. He looked around quickly, but Ashley didn't dare move. Sammy came down the hallway and pushed past Ashley.

"Why are you screaming?" Sam asked. She reached out and gripped his shoulder.

"Sam, stay back, Dad's not…"

"What?" Sam asked. Ashley kept her eyes on her father. He looked away from them, not even acknowledging they were standing there. She saw the empty bottle of whiskey and felt her heart sink. Sam pushed past her completely and went to the kitchen. Her father ignored him. She sighed and wiped at the tears building in her eyes.

She went to the kitchen and helped Sammy get something to eat. They were both quiet and then Sam went back to his room. Ashley sat at the table and the tears finally slipped down her face. She stared at the fridge until she knew she had to call him. She went and grabbed his number then pulled her phone out and called.

Mike Slattery

Mike sat in the hotel room staring at the wall. He had not gotten back to sleep after his shower. He sighed. The nightmares rotated now. Sometimes he saw his dead family. Sometimes he was back in Takehaya's camp being drained of his blood. The nightmares were tough, the lack of sleep was tougher.

He rubbed his face with his hand then frowned when the phone in his pocket vibrated. He pulled it out and checked the incoming number. It wasn't one programmed in and he had no idea who it was. He debated answering it but something in his gut said to do it. He pushed the green button on pressed the speaker phone button.

"Slattery," he said and heard the exhaustion in the word.

"Um, Uncle Mike, this is Ashley Chandler," Ashley's voice quivered into the air. Mike frowned.

"Yeah, hey, is everything okay?" Mike asked as he sat forward and leaned his elbows on his knees. She sounded scared.

"No, not really, um," Ashley continued.

"What's wrong, Honey?" Mike asked, standing up and feeling his skin prickle.

"I'm not really sure what to say…um," he heard her say. He thought she may have started crying.

"Ashley, is everyone okay?" Mike asked, fear gripping him. Why was Tom's daughter calling him?

"I don't think so," she whispered and now Mike was sure she was crying. He walked over and started to put his pants on.

"I'm coming over. Does anyone need medical assistance?"

"No, not…well I don't…I don't think so. He's…I'm just scared."

"Ashley, is your dad, okay?" Mike asked as he pulled a sweatshirt over his head. He grabbed his keys and wallet and started out the door. He was climbing in his truck.

"You'll see when you get here," she whispered, her voice shaking. Mike sighed.

"I'm on my way. I'll be there soon." Mike said as he hung up his phone and drove his truck toward the Chandler residence. He parked his truck behind Tom's and then went to the door. Ashley was sitting on the porch when he got there. Mike frowned again.

"Hi," Ashley breathed out, her voice had a quiver to it. Mike felt his heart break for her.

"Hey. Where's your dad?"

"In the living room," she said as she glanced back at the door. "Can you, um, get the gun away from him?" Mike froze mid step on the stairs. His head turned slowly, and his eyes met Ashley's. The fear in her eyes made him skin prickle again.

"Gun? Ashley what's going on?" Mike asked hurriedly. Tears slid down her face.

"He's drunk…again…still. But this time I noticed he has his service weapon with him."

"Okay. Where's Sammy?"

"In his bedroom," she said as she sniffed and wiped at her tears. Mike thought for a moment then sighed. This was not an environment for the kids to be in. He thought about what to do. First, he'd assess Tom and his state of mind. Then he'd decide what to do with the kids. He was ninety percent certain he wasn't leaving them here tonight.

"Okay. Go inside quietly and go into Sam's bedroom with him. I want you two to stay there until I come get you. Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered then slowly got to her feet and went to the door. Mike stepped up behind her as she opened the front door and walked into their house. Mike stepped through behind her then closed the front door. Ashley disappeared down the hallway and Mike walked to the front of the couch.

Chandler was there sitting with his head tipped back, eyes closed. His service weapon was in his right hand, hand gripping tightly, his finger, thankfully, was outside the trigger guard. Mike took in the multiple empty whiskey bottles and sighed. His friend was in trouble.

"Tom," Mike said gently. Tom did not stir. Mike stepped forward and reached down for the Beretta M9 in Tom's hand. As Mike's fingers made contact with Tom, the man's eyes flew open and he sprung to his feet, the gun coming up to Mike's chest. Mike rose his hands in a surrender position and froze, waiting for Tom's brain to come back to reality.

"What the fuck," Tom said through gritted teeth. Mike tried to remain calm, but he really wanted that gun away from Tom.

"It's me, Tom," Mike said. Tom's eyes seemed to focus a little and he squinted at Mike.

"The fuck you here for?"

"Well, your daughter called me crying, so I came to assess the situation."

"Situation is fine, get the fuck out," Tom said as he pressed the gun into Mike's chest slightly. Mike frowned.

"Not fine, Tom. Give me the gun."

"No. Get out. We are fine."

"You're not fine. You're kids? Not fine. Ashley is scared to death. I haven't seen Sammy yet, but I'd bet he's just as scared."

"You don't know," Tom roared back.

"I do know," Mike said defensively. "You're not the only one with demons," Mike continued more softly. The anger on Tom's face faltered for a second and Mike saw the pain and guilt in his eyes. Then the anger flared again, and Tom pushed him back a step. Mike let him.

"We don't need your help," Tom glared. Mike sighed.

"Okay. But Ashley does. And I'm not leaving your kids in this situation. It's dangerous."

"Fuck you, Mike," Tom said with mirth. Mike felt for his friend. He swallowed and thought about how to defuse the situation. He reached a hand up and wrapped his fingers around Tom's wrist. Tom flinched and Mike thought his finger was going to slip inside the trigger guard, but it didn't.

"Give me the gun, Tom. I'll leave you to drown in the whiskey if you want, but not with this. And I'm taking the kids with me."

"Like hell. Try it," Tom said puffing his chest. Mike hated what he was about to do. His friend was very drunk and didn't stand a chance. He just prayed the gun didn't go off in the struggle.

Mike locked eyes with Tom, gave him a tight-lipped smile, then twisted his hand, rotating the bones in Tom's wrist. Tom yelped and the gun dropped from his grip. Mike's other hand darted out with a flash and caught the gun. Mike flipped the safety on quickly and then tossed the gun into the recliner as he braced for Tom's punch.

Tom's other fist caught Mike in the jaw, and he stumbled to the side before he brought his arms up to defend against the second punch. Mike grabbed both of Tom's wrists and then spun him around and trapped him against his chest. He leaned his mouth against his ear.

"Don't do this," Mike pleaded. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Go ahead and try," Tom barked, but Mike could hear some of the anger and fight had left him.

"Tom, this isn't the way."

"What do you know?" Tom whispered as Mike felt the fight leaving his friend's body. Mike turned him again, giving him a gentle push as Tom flopped backwards down to the couch. Mike sighed, then walked over and picked up the gun. He ejected the clip and cleared the chamber, catching the bullet. He slipped the ammunition into one pocket and the gun into his other.

"I know you need some help."

"I'm fine. I deserve to be punished."

"Tom," Mike said softly. "It's not your fault."

"It's all my fault. And I crossed the line. I have to live with that. And you need to get the fuck out of my house."

"Fine. I'll leave. The gun goes with me…and so do the kids."

"My kids stay here."

"Tom, you're in no condition…" Mike started then stopped. He didn't have the energy to argue with him. "I'm taking the kids. Try and stop me."

"Fuck you, Mike," Tom said as he reached for the whiskey bottle. Mike turned and walked away. He went down the hallway and knocked on Sam's bedroom door. Ashley opened it a crack and Mike could see she was crying again.

"Pack a bag for you and your brother. You can't stay with him like this."

"Can you help him?" she asked with a whimper. Mike felt his eyes burn with tears.

"I'll try, Ashley, but right now he doesn't want help."

"Make him," she pleaded. He saw Sam step up behind Ashley. He felt the hot tears burn harder. A lump formed in his throat. His heart shattered.

"I can't. But right now, I can help you and Sammy. Pack a bag. I'll figure out what to do. And that was the issue. He could take them back to the hotel with him. But he wasn't sure that was the best option either. He pulled his phone out as he leaned against the hallway wall. Sam was still in his room and Ashley had gone to her own. He dialed Garnett.

"Garnett," Andrea said when she answered.

"Hey, it's Slattery," he sighed into the phone.

"What's going on?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

"I'm at the Chandler house. Ashley called me. Tom's a mess, I don't feel it's safe to leave the kids here tonight. I'm staying in a hotel with a single bed, and I can't…I don't want to go back to the house. Do you have room where you're staying? It'd just be tonight."

"Yes, of course. I'm…it would be nice to have someone other than ghosts in the house tonight."

"You are your house?"

"Yes. Bring the kids. I have extra room."

"You're braver than I am," Mike said with a sigh. "I didn't make it."

"And that's okay. Bring the kids, Mike, we can talk more later."

"Okay," he said and then hung up. He waited until both kids came out of their rooms with their stuff packed up. Both kids were crying, and Mike fought hard to keep his tears in check. Anger flared through him at Tom for giving up. Here he was with both his damn kids, and he was dead drunk neglecting them. He'd give everything to have even one of his kids back.

He pushed those feelings down and wrapped an arm around each of the kids and walked them down the hall and through the living room. Tom looked up at them and glared. He tried to stand and stumbled, falling backward to the couch. He sat forward.

"Where the fuck are you going?" he said half-heartedly. Mike sighed.

"I told you, Tom, I'm taking the kids tonight. They'll be safe at Garnett's house. I'll check in with you tomorrow," Mike replied as he steered both kids towards the front door. He felt Sam slow a little and he gave him a nudge. Both kids then walked out the door and got into Mike's truck.

The drive to Garnett's house was done in silence, Mike had no idea what to say to them. He didn't know what to do with this. He pulled into the driveway and put the truck in park. The three of them sat in silence for a moment before he looked over at the kids.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Ashley looked at him, he could see the confusion in her eyes.

"For what? You didn't do it…he did," she whispered. Sam leaned into his sister, and she wrapped an arm around him.

Mike didn't have an answer to that, so he just nodded to acknowledge he had heard her. He then opened his door and climbed out of his truck. Ashley and Sam did the same on the other side. They all walked up to Andrea's door and Mike knocked. She opened the front door and stepped to the side, allowing the three to come in.

"Their bedrooms are down here. I'll show you the way," she said as she walked towards a hallway. Mike watched as the kids followed her, heads down, shoulders slumped. He felt bad for them.

Kat Nolan

That morning Kat made the decision she needed somewhere else to stay. She sought out the head lady that ran the place. The woman agreed to a sit down with her. Kat sat nervously in the chair. She wasn't sure how they would take what she was looking to do.

"So, Miss Nolan. What can I do for you today?" the woman asked.

"I want to know what I need to do to get out of this place," Kat said leaning forward in the chair. She watched the woman's eyebrows raise.

"Well, you're only fifteen, and that's not old enough for us to release you on your own. The ages are still eighteen as of now."

"How can I prove I can take care of myself?" Kat pushed. "My dad taught me well."

"I don't doubt he didn't," she replied. Then she studied Kat's face. "But rules are still rules. As of now you have no family to take you or take responsibility for you." Kat frowned.

"No. My family is dead," Kat said as she shook her head. "What else can I do?"

"You can find a sponsor. Someone that is willing to take you in and make sure you're not homeless."

"Right," she said with a sigh. "Okay."

Kat left her office and wandered around for a while thinking. She needed to find someone that was willing to take her in. She just needed them to vouch for her to get her out then she would be on her own. They wouldn't even be burdened if they didn't want to be. She wasn't sure who she could go to, but she started to think about the people from the Nathan James. Kara Green came to mind. She wondered if Kara would take her in. She figured it was worth a shot. She'd figure out a way to get in touch with Kara and talk to her about getting out of this place…even if it meant moving to St. Louis.

TO BE CONTINUED…