On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 2
Chapter 41
The room's darkness and wavering gas lamps felt suffocating, the shock of Phillip's demand digging deep into Todd's psyche. His own breathing drowned out every other sound in the room. With just a few words, it all came pouring back to him, the horror of it, the feel of it, how Peter had torn him up inside. How he couldn't breathe with Peter's arm around his throat. And then… the coup de gras… wide-eyed Michelle on the couch as she watched. It was unthinkable. It had ruined Todd's life, it broke him wholly, his mind, his soul, his heart. He had been utterly crushed. He might have survived the earlier stuff, bad as it was, as it might have been. He still didn't have a full idea of all that it was… but that one time… when he was fourteen… there was something in it, about it, that blew everything else away.
It had in fact split him in two.
He huffed, the full ugly picture in his head of what he was supposed to do to Jed. Images he shouldn't see. "What's wrong with you, man? Who … what … fucked you up this bad?"
Phillip grinned, "Nothing. I'm honest, I'm pure! You know, you called your kid 'pure.' You think that means 'untouched,' or 'unmolested.' But it's not true, not the way you make it out to be. 'Pure' means to be 'untainted by false biblical western morality.' It means … 'raw human nature.' It means a soul unchecked, it means freedom."
"You're a sick fuck."
Laughing uproariously, Phillip knocked his head back, "Oh that guilt again! My god, who knew that you were a puritan at heart. You should see your face! Damn! You have literally gone white. Jesus, you are a self-abusing, tormented, agonized … puritan. Irony is, I bet you got a hard-on right now at the thought of doing your kid that way…at the pictures in your head, and you need to whip yourself for it, don't you?"
Without warning, Phillip grabbed Todd around the throat, a large hand that managed to restrict his airway just enough. With a lot of surprising power, he smashed Todd against the cold wall, had him positioned awkwardly over Jedediah beneath. Todd held on to Phillip's arms, each hand fisting jacket sleeves to hold him back, to stay on his feet. Phillip eased in closer to him, shoving a knee in between Todd's legs.
"I know you, Todd, I know your secrets, your truth."
"You know… nothing," Todd croaked.
He felt a hand at his waist, then slide downwards. He felt Phillip start to rub his crotch, Todd unable to stop him for fear if he did, he'd leave Jed unprotected, that he might fall on top of Jed… but mostly because he was paralyzed. A deer in the headlights. He was facing Peter just like before.
He heard Phillip pant, "What's the matter, all that dope got you down?"
He kept up the rubbing, the massaging, breathing hard at Todd's neck, his voice crawling into Todd's ear, "Remember the park bathroom? Remember I got you to come and you gave it right back to me? You know… few men could work it the way you did. You were a goddamn pro."
He chuckled raggedly, and kept rubbing, now grinding his hips against Todd's leg. He then stopped laughing, breathing hard has he kept up the stroking, fighting Todd's struggle, but then suddenly his mouth parted with a soft gasp as he slammed his eyes right on Todd's and grinned.
"Oh, lookit you, there it is. Now somethin' is happening to my favorite faggoty cousin. I knew it. I knew you'd react to me."
Todd couldn't talk, couldn't answer … because despite his revulsion, his deep down hatred of Phillip, the absolute violation of his body, his dick didn't care. He cringed against the wall, hands hard on Phillip to get him to stop. Useless effort. He felt the hand on him, hot breath at his throat, felt Phillip's knee jerking up into his crotch. Felt all Phillip's movements.
"Yeah, yeah, there you are, Toddie, little Todd with a pretty boy cock that likes this shit. You liked it at the park, you liked it in the apartment, and I hear through the grapevine you fucking loved it at Toby's. You like taking it, and you like giving it. You liked it always. God, you're hard, Jesus, and big. Did your daddy get a taste of this?"
Todd couldn't breathe, Phillip's other hand squeezing his throat, his whole body pressing him back onto the slimy concrete behind him, and oh god, his own body was laughing at him, going along, all the blood rushing, gathering, hungry to get to that end and tears filled his eyes and his breath was strained and fast and he was dying inside, a kid again, his body not representing his heart or mind… and he grunted hard when Phillip dug his hand inside and grabbed the flesh directly, his head hitting the wall, scraping the ancient blackened concrete.
"God, you're wet, do you know that? Do you know that happens to you? I tasted that nectar back at Grayson's. God, yeah, you're almost there, in what, under five minutes? If even that? Yeah, yeah…beautiful boy, beautiful little Toddie…you're gonna come all over my hand... oh yeah… ain't you the perfect little faggot."
"No…no," he choked out before he heard himself groan at the intense heroin-fueled need to come, the feel a swirl of disgust and desperate want and hate and madness and so much history. He moaned at it, cried at it.
"Oh god, that noise you make, that noise that says, 'so good, fuck yeah, so fucking good!' Gonna come yet, gonna come? 'Cause I am, Jesus, can you feel me? Oh god, fuck yeah…"
Todd groaned again at being this much of a nothing, this much a helpless kid, because Phillip was pressing his hips against him and moving to get in his own action, tight against him, his mouth now wet and salivating all over his neck and Todd was holding himself up, every muscle straining and burning because he didn't want to fall and didn't want to hurt Jedediah on the floor under him and his mind said to just take it, just get through it, just come, because it feels good, so fucking good, like another dose of heroin, another kinda drug that numbs him, gets him high, and also… because... if he let shit happen…
The end for Peter happened and when it did, when you let yourself play, let yourself just be, Peter STOPPED. You learned that real well, Toddie. Shhhh… don't think about it. Just know that when you let them get their kicks in, they cooled, they let you alone.
Just like you. When you were done with the cheerleader, you walked away.
But he wasn't a kid was he? He was a fully grown man with a big fuckin' dick, that's right, and he wasn't that GODDAMN high! He could say NO. He could fucking fight. He wasn't Brandy, he wasn't little Toddie… he wasn't that small boy anymore.
Look at him, look at Peter, look what he's doing to you. LOOK.
So he did. He loosened his hold of Phillip's arm. And he looked at him going at it, at his hand down his jeans. He felt a coolness rolling down his body. Peter… Peter was on top of him, a hand on his mouth to keep him from crying out, breathing harder than hard, using his body, making him so sweaty, not letting him breathe, hurting him, he's too heavy, and then….
"Get offa me," he said quietly.
"Shut up."
At that, he reached back and with as much strength as he could muster out of his heroin haze, with one last look at Peter on top of him, he pounded a palm straight across Phillip's nose, breaking the bone, the break noisy and complete. Phillip stumbled backwards, falling back, stunned and in total agony.
"FUCK!" he yelled, blood pouring down his face … "YOU CUNT! My GOD…!"
Todd dropped down, immediately trying to undo Jed's cuffs. They were leather and buckled shut, no lock, no keys required. He could get Jed out of here. He could save him.
Except Phillip was NOT human. He stormed over quickly, growling like an animal… and grabbed Todd by the hair, wrenching him back with real strength, forcing Todd to the ground, giving him a hard kick to his head, screaming,"You BROKE MY NOSE!"
Gave him two, three more kicks to his head and shoulder as Todd rolled over and got to his feet, backing up hard, Phillip then charging him, yelling wordlessly. He managed to step away, Phillip hitting the wall and then coming at him again. Todd swung at Phillip repeatedly, finally connecting good, Phillip crashing to the ground.
Todd stood over him and yelled, "I won't rape him, you sick motherfucker! You want to play sick games, you have ME! You HAVE ME! STICK TO ME, YOU SHIT!"
Phillip kicked at Todd's leg, kicked hard, knocking him off balance and causing him to fall. Taking advantage of his momentary success, he pulled a pistol from inside his jacket, readied it, and pointed it at Jedediah's head.
Out of breath, getting to his feet, Phillip rumbled, "You don't get it, Todd, I don't want 'sick games,' I wanna win … I wanna feel the high from total and absolute control over you … to get you to do something so beyond your high fuckin' morals, beyond your fucking 'sensibilities' … oh man … how delicious is THAT? HOW GREAT?!"
"It'll never happen."
"It just did happen!" He laughed, trying to wipe the blood off his face. "You were wet and close and a few strokes off jizzing in my hand, just like at the park bathroom! I heard you!"
"I'll never do anything to Jed! You hear me?! You might have something over ME but not him!"
"To save his life?" He waggled the gun at Jed.
Todd put his hand out, like he could stop him from pulling the trigger. "Never happen. I'm different from you, from Peter. I'm different."
It's a jumbled mess, isn't it, Angel? If you're different, why do you need to be punished?
Because … I … uh …
If your son had been raped … and he became angry … would you want him dead?
No.
So then, why should you die? Why should you suffer for the sins of others? Suffer MORE for the things you did? Should your son suffer like you do? Would you punish him?
When Todd checked on Jedediah, looked beyond the barrel of the gun, he saw the boy again, the one who followed him always, saw him in that ghostly, sourceless light again, saw drawn up, knobby knees poking through sweatpants, saw hands wrapped around thin legs and tucked into the long sleeves of a ruby red t-shirt.
Todd returned his gaze to Phillip who took slow steps towards him, now.
"If you want him to live," Phillip said, the blood still pouring down his mouth, his chin, "…to see another day, you need to do to him … what your father did to you. Simple. It's the deal you asked for. You said you'd do whatever I wanted you to do… to get me to let your kid go. So here we are. Simple."
Todd trained his eyes on the gun, then eyed Phillip himself who'd taken on Peter's look again, whose long stride had made him so hard to stay with, so hard to walk next to, whose large hands had been impossible to fight, impossible. Back then.
When he checked on Jed, he saw that the boy had lifted his head.
I'm brave and I'm gonna be a pilot, gonna shoot down the enemy … bang, bang, bang. down they'll go.
That's not what happens though, it's not the enemy you'll end up shooting, it'll be yourself, other innocents.
But I'm invincible!
No … you're not.
"Consolation prize," Phillip purred. "Your kid is so fucked-up, he'll never know it was you. So we all win. Well, I do."
"Sick … bastard."
Phillip leaned down slightly, tapping the gun against Jedediah's head and keeping an eye on Todd, "Wake-y, wake-y…"
Jedediah stirred, pouted his lips and Todd pushed Phillip away roughly, getting in front of Jed again.
Phillip smirked, his tongue running along his lips, licking the blood. "So what'll it be?"
"What if I don't do what you want?"
"I blow his fuckin' head off. Then yours."
Todd couldn't stop looking at the gun, remembering dreams of just that, someone blowing Jed's head off, real goddamn specific dreams, blood flying, blood in his mouth from the spray. That could happen. That gun was real.
"How do I know you'll let him go … if I do … what you want?"
"You have my word."
"Your word? Oh yeah … that's funny … your word…"
"Let me put it this way. If you don't do it, he dies for sure. If you do it and he dies along with you anyway, society is spared his response to being raped and yours from doing the raping. You'll be spared a life of regret. And if he goes free … well, you'd know I kept my word."
The room chilled and an indistinguishable, formless sound snapped from beyond the edges of the lit space. Both turned to it. Phillip scowled … checking it out briefly. He dismissed it, however, refocusing on his game with Todd.
"I did love Michelle, you know," he commented. "She made me crazy … that red hair, her …energy. She started to pay attention to me. Then … I saw why she wouldn't follow through. She'd found herself a pet project, a little la-a-aaaamb … a stray fucking DOG. Peter laughed at me. How could I lose her to you? YOU? Well, we all took care of that. Put an end to it, so I thought. Then when I found out that you … that …" His face contorted with disgust, scratching his head in aggravation. "When I learned about her having your kid … I realized it never ended. I still had work to do. I had follow-through to complete."
"Just let him go, man … just—"
"I can't …I CAN'T DO THAT! So get on with it. I want to watch you, I want to watch you in pain … or better, I want to watch you enjoy it. I want to see a whole new world open up for you. I want to know what you sound like when you're in the thick of things, inside of him, your ass moving up and down… oh yeah, I'll love to hear that sound. I'd love to see that."
Peter, Peter … pumpkin eater … smash orange against jagged rock, defile the granite, juice runs down in rivulets and gets licked up by a snaky, blackish tongue. Peter, Peter … pumpkin eater, throw the shell away … leave it for scavengers.
I never felt a thing.
Yes, you did … you more than felt it. You still feel it. The pain in your belly, the tearing up of your asshole. The days and days of bleeding and hurt. You were immersed in it, you breathed it, it ran through you, it leaked from every pore, from every opening in your body. Don't fucking lie to me.
We're still standing though. You and me.
So we are.
Jed's body jerked at Todd's heels, Todd not visibly reacting. Wishing the good of the smack had lasted longer, wishing he could think faster, think clearer, and still be thankfully numb. No longer the walking dead, huh, Manning? Jesus … everything's like fuckin' sandpaper. He glanced at his son and at that boy standing near. Forgiveness … sure … yeah … whatever.
Okay, Woodsy Spirit of mine, I get it … it wasn't my fault … I didn't ask for any of it. Just my dumb-ass luck. And likewise, it wouldn't be Jed's fault. Just his dumb-ass luck. I get it.
"You're running out of time, puppy," Phillip snorted. Pointed the pistol again … right at Jed.
Will you forgive me for what I'm about to do?
The True Savior forgives all, Angel.
Thank you. Yeah … thank you.
Todd got to his knees, setting back, butt on his heels. Heard Phillip make an "s" sound through his teeth, followed with some kind of huffing, an unformed laugh. Disbelief, anticipation, excitement.
Leaning forward, Todd prayerfully placed his forehead on Jed's arm, touched Jed's chest, felt the lifts of gentle breathing. He eased himself closer to Jed's face and whispered, "You just sleep, okay? You think angels and planes and freedom … you dream your dreams. Float like that … live like that. This ain't nothin' baby boy, it's not real, Jed."
Carefully, Todd reached for the complicated set of pipes behind Jedediah and began to unbuckle one of the leather cuffs … Phillip making a wordless objection.
Todd stopped a second and, without looking at Phillip, said, "He isn't in the right position. I need to move his arm out of the way, I need room…" He choked, "I also need to hold his wrist. I need to do that, I need it … for me, for things … uh …to work."
Phillip chuckled. "O' course, yeah … we all have our … tastes." More breathy voiceless laughter.
"You gonna be … close by?" Todd asked quietly as he undid the buckle.
"You want me to be?"
"You can touch me if you want. Might help."
That went over well. Phillip could barely contain himself … and Todd finally got the cuff completely undone. Grabbed hold of the thick, bulky wrist restraint. Looked across into the dark, beyond the glowing lamps, thinking about the power of invisibility.
He felt Phillip kneel down, felt fingertips on his thigh, could hear him breathing. Todd ran his free hand down Jed's body, the cuff gripped tightly in the other hand, sliding it quietly around Jed, along the icy, filthy floor, letting it lie. Still touching Jed's leg, he slowly unsnapped the top button of his jeans. Slid off his jacket. Un-tucked his t-shirt. Sniffled … rocked a little on his knees.
Phillip whispered, "Do it."
Todd remembered those words once coming out of his own mouth, remembered his father telling Phillip the same. He stared into the black space in front of him … the world wavering a bit, blurring.
Forgiveness?
It's all right, Little One. Don't be afraid.
Forgiveness.
He took Jed's freed wrist and moved it above his resting head, grabbing the leather strap in his other hand … squeezing it, feeling its heaviness. He bent down and touched his forehead to Jed's shoulder a moment, feeling the energy of Phillip's eagerness behind him, the quaking of his body, the air itself vibrating …
"Do it."
… and then, digging into a place he never really knew was reachable, a place he believed dormant and dead since the nights on that lonely childhood bed when he discovered how to play along, beneath the Red Baron, beneath horrified heavens, beneath the whomp, whomp, whomp of the fan, Todd reached down into the boundless hate that lived and breathed inside of him, that had been growing like mold in the darkest corners of himself, reached for the hate that he never got a chance to use on Peter Manning...
…and with every bit of strength he had, with the full force of his body, Todd swung the leather cuff around and struck Phillip across his temple, stunning the man.
Phillip fell hard backwards, the gun flying far off into the distance. Todd scrambled around, stood on bent leg and hit him again and again with the thick leather cuff, blood spurting from a gaping, shocked mouth, hitting him with his entire self, hitting him with a dead silence. There wasn't a grunt, a groan, hardly even a breath.
He wasn't just fighting, he wasn't trying to delay in order to escape. He wasn't just saying no.
He was going to kill Phillip Manning.
Phillip lay there, fishy popping lips opening and closing, not able to move a muscle … while footsteps from the other end of the room resonated … coming closer. Todd nodded to the person, stepping quickly, as quickly as he could, stepping around Phillip … commanding sharply, "Take care of Jed."
"Okay, okay …oh god … oh god …what you gonna do?!" Brandy knelt down and started to work the other handcuff off of Jedediah, visibly shivering …
At that, Todd took the wide strap of the cuff and wrapped it around Phillip's neck, using it to drag him on the floor like a lifeless sack … pulling the heavy body, fancy shoes falling off…
"Lookie, lookie," Todd said softly, breathily, "I like the sound o'THIS, I like the feel of this. I think I'm gonna come."
Phillip began to squirm, trying to get out of the impossible death grip Todd had on him. The restraint tightened around his throat as he was being dragged across the floor and Phillip grabbed at it, trying to squeeze his fingers beneath the leather, kicking his legs violently. His resistance though proved too much so Todd plopped down on the floor, straining as he leaned backwards and dug in heels for leverage, using both hands to pull the ends of the cuff to tighten the cuff, to strangle Phillip, to end him.
Now he made noise. He growled a hellcat's growl as he battled Phillip's mad fight to breathe, a suck up of all that air the motherfucker insisted on taking away from OTHERS just like Peter did, sucking up air that should have gone someplace else, that should have been USED by someone worth God's miracles … worth the sun's light shining down on porcelain skin.
I can't breathe, daddy … I can't breathe … I can't … please get off …
Beneath the Red Baron … bang, bang, bang, you're dead.
Wouldn't a bullet have been so much better, Sis?
Brandy started to scream out of fear, frustration, with the buckle, "It's stuck! I can't do it!"
Still Phillip fought. He started to hit at Todd, hit at his head and face, punching him. Todd tried to duck out of the way, leaning back further, pulling harder. His boots kept slipping … but he didn't stop pulling, his muscles burning, his eyes straining…his mouth stretching into a Grim Reaper grin.
"Stop fighting it, you FUCK!" Todd gasped, "You gotta die for my mother, for my son, Michelle, Brandy … and for ME! FOR ME! You FUCKIN' BASTARD! YOU FUCK! YOU GOTTA DIE FOR ME!"
It was too hard, though. Phillip wasn't human, he wasn't and he fought like hell, turning over onto his side, dragging Todd over who still wouldn't let go. The two wrestled that way for long agonizing seconds but it felt like minutes, hours. Todd couldn't keep the enemy straight, Peter flashing in front of him, Peter's body, Peter's hands and legs, mixed up with Phillip's …
Birth of a rapist … birth of Satan's son … dampened sheets, strangling blankets … think! Think! Tuck down into the cockpit and peek at the clouds flying by so fast! THINK! Ratta-tat-tat … hahahahaha! Beautiful as they fall, gray twisted yellowing metal, chugging smoke scraping the blue … circling … down down… this ain't no accident, this ain't no mistake...
Birth of a killer, birth of a murderer.
And the end of a victim.
Todd managed to get onto his backside again and just as he thought the bastard would get out of his hold, just as Phillip grabbed at one last raspy breath, he saw Brandy … another wild ruined cat gone mad with rage … rush forward, a shiny, glimmering blade in her hand, shrieking furious vengeance on all the predators who'd eaten at her insides like Phillip had, like all of them had.
In two steps, she raised the knife and pounced, plunging the thing deep into Phillip's chest. She screamed and snarled … and cried. She yanked the knife out and blood shot at her, splashing her neck and chest.
Todd kept that strap tight, though, Phillip still struggling desperately. Brandy reached back and rammed the knife into him again. He jerked and seized against Todd's legs, Todd not releasing his grip, pulling even harder, the leather cuff doing its job. He wasn't going to allow him any chance to breathe, not even one breath of air, that someone else had more of a right to than him.
Brandy pulled the knife out of his chest.
And like the two embattled children of war that they were, Todd and Brandy made sure Phillip was dead … made sure he wouldn't hurt another child, made sure his own war on humanity ended. Slowly, he quit bucking against the leather strap and the blood quit its lively spread, all his muscles quitting their fight, finally.
And those blackish eyes … life passed right out of them, leaving nothing but glassy, soulless, filmy flesh. Todd let go at last, crawled backwards … crabby … Phillip's head bumping on the hard floor.
Brandy, breathing heavily, looked at the knife in her hand, shocked. Looked helplessly at Todd … and dropped the knife.
He then crawled to her and picked up the blade. He saw enough horror movies where the dead wasn't dead. He got to his knees and stared at Phillip. Then in one swift breathless blow, he brought the knife down straight into Phillip's eye, as deep into the skull as the knife could go.
Eyes back to Brandy, eyes all over the room.
"Let's get the hell out," he huffed. He then turned and like it was the most regular day and he'd lost the bus stop, he asked, "do you know where to go? Brandy? How to get outta here?"
She couldn't speak.
Todd got up at that, faltering a moment, shaky, panting still. He kicked at Phillip who didn't move at all … and all of a sudden Todd knew his fight with this man, with Peter … well, something had ended and it wasn't just the bad guy's life. Something had ended, or had changed, or had been born. This he knew. And with that reality churning inside of him, he hacked a noisy glob from deep in his throat and spit on the dead man at his feet.
"Enjoy hell, you FUCK."
Todd then heard Jedediah moan from behind and he turned on his heels to get to his son.
The hilt of knife glistened bloodily in the light coming from the lanterns, sticking up out of Phillip's head … his arms helpless at his side. Brandy knew that she had dropped herself into the wild river to swim beneath the foamy layer, beneath the current. She didn't observe anymore. Didn't sit idly by. She smiled. She then got to her feet and stared down at Phillip, at his useless body. She bent and pulled off two diamond earrings which adorned his ears, stuffed them into the pocket of her beat-up jeans. She wiped her face and neck of the blood.
"Bastard," she muttered. "Bastard!"
From the other side of the room, Todd saw her and asked in a raspy voice, "You okay?"
"Yeah … yeah, baby … I'm okay. You?"
"I don't know … I guess so. Help me with Jed, okay? Let's get to your place … then we gotta think. I really hope you know how to get outta here." Yeah, his DNA was all over the place, Brandy's, too. Self-defense was gonna be a hard one to prove. So yeah, got some thinking to do.
"I do, baby. I memorized the way out!"
Todd got Jedediah to stand up, the boy's arm hanging limply around Todd's neck. He woke up somewhat as they trudged through the dank room, passing the iron gate. Looked at Todd walking next to him and said, "Had a weird dream."
"Yeah?" Todd said gently.
"Two foxes … ate up a big … big …" Jed shook his head, trying not to fall asleep again … trying not to make Todd work so hard, nor Brandy on his other side. "Two foxes … jumped on this bad old bear's back … and ate him up. The mad bear worked and worked to get away … 'cept the foxes were … too good … too wild …"
Todd breathed out, "Sounds like you been smokin' again …"
"Yeah … must be it."
"Shut up, Jed. Let me get you someplace safe, okay? Then you can tell me your druggie dreams."
"Okay … okay, daddy," he slurred. "Okay."
Brandy stopped a second, "Baby … can you wait … two minutes?"
"For what?! You fuckin' crazy?!"
"No … I ain't crazy no more … I ain't crazy at all!"
She ran back, Todd calling to her, ran to that room, disappearing into the blackness … disappeared for almost too long. Then there she was, like she'd never left. Took the spot next to Jedediah, saying quickly, "Better get a move on."
Todd flashed a questioning expression as they hobbled towards the stairs. She said nothing … just kept her eyes on the door. A popping sound suddenly traveled down the hall, chased them, nipped at their backs, and a smell of smoke told the rest of the story.
"He sure is goin' back to hell, baby, just like you said," she hissed.
The three walked a bit faster, a bit more focused, because the fires of Hades were about to break free, to take in one of its own … to bring him back home.
The police station crawled with panicky cops. Worthless cockroaches, Téa thought, standing impatiently in Bo Buchanan's office. Something was going on, obviously, but she didn't give a damn. She needed to know what information they had on the search for Jedediah, except clearly he had become a low priority.
Or so it seemed.
Bo had barely acknowledged her and he was about to get an earful on his ignoring of her. The radio crackled and Téa tilted her head, her brows knitted in frustration, and an aggravated, short-tempered Bo picked it up.
What he didn't understand was that something had pecked at her all afternoon, peck, peck, pecking at her, cawing when she'd shoo away the nagging thoughts. She had eyed the window from her seat at the attorney's table in the courtroom that day… saw the feathered being spread its wings for her. Ominous. It would snap its beak at her repeatedly. Clicking so loudly, the fact that the bailiff failed to respond almost made her angry.
By the time the end of the day came, when the judge in his black robes whooshed from his own perch at the close of court, Téa had thrown her stuff together and ran to the station. Jedediah, she had repeated to herself, oh god, oh god … she couldn't bring herself to say the other name … to say his name.
So she ran as if the devil breathed down her neck.
A voice, static ridden, said, "Haven't picked up the trail, sir."
"My GOD, how could this happen?!" Bo snapped, furious.
"Too quick! It was unreal! First time it's ever happened!"
"Stop with the goddamn ass-covering and explain!"
"Yes, sir! We saw Manning talking to some loser, saw the girl panic, realized we just seen the big Kahuna himself, that something was going down and it was happening fast. We moved into position to follow and then … poof! They were gone, sir, all of 'em!"
Téa gasped … Jed … oh no…
"You idiots! Well keep looking, damn it!"
"Commish, if you care for that Chant kid, you better pray. Get everyone to … 'cause with what's happening here, he's really up shit creek. Subjects disappeared into what's ground zero now."
"Why is he saying that?" Téa finally burst out. "WHY?!"
Bo lifted his tired eyes to her and said, "Sixteenth Street's about to go up in flames. We got one of the oldest buildings fully engaged … the place is a madhouse. We lost both Mannings from visual contact, lost his girlfriend, too. It's hell down there. Hell."
When he glanced downwards, then back up, Téa had left.
To be continued...