Chapter 9

Jimmy was dead. It felt strange to even think, let alone say out loud.

This grief was different to her mother's death. Grace had learned to navigate this life without her. But Jimmy had been her friend since she joined the Second Mass. She couldn't imagine surviving in this world without him by her side.

She sat with Jimmy for a long time afterwards, Tom and Ben watching over her as they sat at the back of the med bus. He simply looked like he was sleeping. Peaceful. Except for the blood on his clothes and skin. She swiped at her sore eyes.

"He'll need some clean clothes," she said.

"Good idea," her father agreed. "Why don't you fetch some from his tent? Ben and I will clean him up."

Grace nodded, pulling herself to her feet. She had been kneeling down for so long, her legs felt stiff. With one last look at Jimmy, she tore herself away and made her way to his tent.

Jimmy's tent was a typical mess for a young, teenage boy. Strewn all over his cot were used clothes, some old comics, leftover rations. She even found a few more of those dragon breath rounds lying around. It was hard seeing his things left here, like he had just popped out for a bit.

She sat on his bed, looking around. Underneath the cot was his rucksack, so she heaved it up onto the bed and started rifling through it. She was surprised to find Nemo's old lead stuffed in there. She hadn't realised Jimmy had kept it. He was more sentimental than she realised.

She found the perfect shirt for Jimmy. Light blue and white stripes. It would suit him well. She felt a little stupid for wanting him to look smart, but he at least deserved some dignity in his death. It was a good shirt, and it smelled like him. In a weird way, it was comforting.

Tom and Ben dressed him, smartening him up for his burial. He actually looked pretty handsome now he was cleaned up. Grace approached her dad as he was finishing doing up Jimmy's shirt buttons.

"I, uh, found this in Jimmy's things."

She held up the folded dog lead in her hand. Tom seemed to recognise it immediately.

"Maybe it's stupid, but I know how much he cared about Nemo," continued Grace sombrely. "I thought it'd be nice if he could take something of Nemo's with him."

"It's not stupid," Tom assured her, taking the lead and gently placing it in Jimmy's hand. "I think he'd like that."

Grace barely mustered a smile.

"Uh, Grace?" Ben's voice came from behind her. "Do you have Jimmy's compass?"

Grace turned around to see Ben looking through some containers at the side of the bus. "No. Why?"

"It was right here. It's gone."

As soon as her father muttered Pope's name, she knew he had to be the one who had Jimmy's compass. He had been with Tom when they found it and it seemed like the kind of shameless, reprehensible thing he would do. There was nothing Tom could do to stop her as she made a beeline straight for the Berserkers' hang-out.

The gang were lazing about on patio furniture on a decking opposite the airport, drinking beers and playing cards. She noticed Casey sat with them, keeping an eye on them like she promised. Perhaps she didn't even know what Pope had done. She didn't care at that moment.

She saw Pope leaning back in a folding chair, his legs propped up on the picnic table where Casey was playing cards, little Etta in a car seat next to her. As soon as she saw Grace, Casey expressed a mournful look.

"Grace, I'm so sorry about Jimmy."

Grace ignored her. All she could see through the flames in her eyes was Pope, knocking back those cans of beer as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"Give it back," she ordered.

Pope snorted. "Am I supposed to know what the hell you're talking about?"

She glared at him. "You know what I'm talking about, Pope."

"Grace!" Tom had finally caught up to her, joining her on the decking. He looked around at the relaxed stances of the Berserkers. "We should be packing up to leave like the others," he advised them.

"There you go barking orders again, Mason," Pope retorted.

"Not an order, just a statement of fact."

"We'll start packing when we're good and ready. Right now it's cocktail hour! And we don't serve minors," he spat, looking at Grace.

"Captain Weaver's orders were pretty clear. We're moving out after Jimmy's funeral," Tom reminded him, unamused by Pope's belligerence.

Pope scoffed, taking another sip of his beer. "Well, I think we're all going to pass on that incredibly empty gesture."

Grace scowled at him. She hated him more than anyone in that moment. "You are such an asshole."

Pope laughed, along with a few of his Beserker buddies. He pulled himself up to his feet. "You kiss your daddy with that mouth, Little Princess?" He sniggered. "Been called worse, and far more eloquently I might add." He stood close to Grace, looking down at her patronisingly. "Now I know how close you were to young Jimmy, so as your dad's commanding officer, I guess I can give him permission to attend that poor boy's memorial. Then he can put his arms around you and that half-breed brother of yours and tell you it was a good thing what you did, killing one for the skitter team."

Grace's teeth were grinding together so hard she could hear it in her ears. As Pope's smug face began to turn away from her, she folded up her fist and hit him hard in the face. There were a few gasps behind her as her whole hand throbbed. Pope stumbled back. Then as he regained his balance, a look of fury flared up in his features.

"Bitch!"

He grabbed her by the arm, digging his fingers in, when Tom shoved him back.

"Get off of her!"

Pope grunted, shaking Tom off of him, and that's when Jimmy's compass poked out, hanging from his neck by that awful skitter claw necklace.

The blood boiled in Grace's veins when she spotted it. "I told you he had it."

"You took that?" Casey asked him, a look of disappointment in her face.

"Finders keepers," Pope retorted with a sickly smile.

"Take it off, Pope," Tom demanded in a low, serious voice.

"No." Pope shook his head in an almost child-like manner.

Anger flared up in Tom's eyes. "I said take it off."

Pope stepped towards him. "You know I'm getting really tired of you telling me what to do. It's not like Jimmy's gonna need it."

That was it. Grace tried to snatch the compass from his neck. Pope grabbed her wrists and shoved her so hard she fell back into the picnic table with a thud, making Etta scream.

Furiously, Tom hit Pope in the face, sending him sprawling backwards. Pope hit back immediately with a punch to Tom's gut, making him double over, swiftly followed by a strike to the nose.

"Dad!" Grace cried as Casey pulled her back.

The fight continued. Pope had Tom in a headlock while the Berserkers whooped and laughed and egged him on. Grace watched helplessly as Pope drove her father's head into the board behind them, forming a large hole. She saw Anthony and the other Berserkers flinching at the sight. Why wasn't Anthony helping him? Why was he letting Pope do this? She had no choice but to witness Pope kick Tom down onto the decking.

"POPE STOP!" she screamed through clenched teeth. She was about to charge him. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to knock him off his feet and make him pay, but her father had pulled himself up, holding a hand out to stop her.

"No, Grace! Stay back!"

A second later, Pope barrelled into him and sent them both flying through the wooden fencing around the deck and onto a parked car below with a loud thud. The smashing of the windscreen made Grace jump. She chased after them, Casey following with Etta's car seat in her hand. There was so much yelling and grunting and the baby's screaming. Grace just wanted this all to stop.

The two men rolled onto the ground and quickly sprang to their feet again, bruised and bloody. The rest of Pope's gang soon gathered round to cheer and holler at the unexpected entertainment.

"Take it off!" Tom yelled through heavy breaths.

"You want it? Come and get it!" Pope sneered.

Tom roared as he stampeded Pope, but Pope was quick to react. He used the force of Tom's charge to throw him into the side of the car, causing him to smack his head. He cried out in pain, falling to his knees. Grace watched as Pope's foot repeatedly pounded into Tom's stomach. She broke away from Casey, approaching the gathering crowd of hooligans who cheered on her father's beating. He had a lot of fight in him, but getting into fist fights wasn't Tom's usual pastime. Pope on the other hand was clearly in his element. He'd probably been scrapping all his life, and he knew how to fight dirty.

"Stop, please!" Grace begged, tears forming in her eyes. She didn't want to see her father hurt any more.

But Tom surprised her. He grabbed Pope's leg, forcing him on his back. Before the man could react, Tom climbed on top of him and slammed his fist into his face. He drew his fist back and hit him again, and again, and again.

The crowd had stopped shouting. Grace covered her mouth as she watched Pope's face get bloodier and his body fall limp. He soon stopped fighting back.

"Tom. Tom!" Anthony called to him, but her father didn't stop.

"Dad!"

Tom looked up, startled. He leaned back from Pope when a Beserker finally pulled him up off their leader.

"Okay, that's enough!"

Pope dizzily sat up, his face and mouth dripping with blood. A disturbing chuckle left his swollen lips. They all stared at him, including Tom, who then glanced down at the compass in his hand. He had what they came for.

He turned to Grace, who was looking at him with tearful eyes. Breaking away from the Beserker holding him back, he put an arm around her and led her away. Grace let him rest some of his weight on her as he limped with her back towards the hangar. They could hear Pope jeering at them in the distance.

"MASON, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he spluttered. "MASON, THIS ISN'T OVER."

Pope's horrid threats echoed after them. Grace nestled closer to her father's shoulder, trying to forget the sight of him being beaten to a pulp. She almost wanted to disappear into him, away from this awful moment, this awful day. Then Tom handed her Jimmy's compass and she held it tightly in her palm, remembering why they came out here in the first place. She just wanted to put her friend to rest. That was the only thing she wanted to deal with today. She didn't have room for people like Pope and his selfish antics. Today was about Jimmy.