Chapter 9: Jason

Supply run

Chapter 9

Jason

I spit. Blood continues to pour from a gap in my mouth. “Stay still,” Sam instructs, examining the mess Daniel made of my mouth. “Right, it isn't as bad as I thought. He knocked out a wisdom tooth but there doesn't appear to be damage to the jaw itself. It's just a bit swollen. Just put this in the gap. I have to see to the girl,” she hands me a scrap of gauze. I go to thank her but no words come out. I slump back into the chair and stare at the ceiling.

Well, that is the last time I attempt to make conversation. I make a comment and I end up being attacked. Last time I attempt to be cordial. Screw that. Screw him. If he has hurt Elektra or...or the baby, I will kill him. I let the last man that hurt her get away. I will not make the same mistake twice. The funny thing: I think Elektra would be relieved if it was to be ripped from her. She did not want it so maybe it would be the best outcome.

I feel my eyes become heavy. I try to distract myself, listening to the sound of rain tapping on the roof. Tap, tap, tap. There is something melodic about the constant noise: a rhythm to expel the silence. I place the gauze inside my mouth. It tastes medicinal but that taste is still overpowered by the iron rich taste of my blood. I need water. I guess I have to wait for the bleeding to stop.

I slide down into the chair and allow my eyes to close. I had forgotten how tired I am. Driving exhausts me. I let the sound of the rain lull me to sleep.

Bright, white light. That is all I can see the horizon. All I can see is a harsh, white light. I squint to try and make out my surroundings. “Jason?” A voice murmurs. I turn around to find the source of the voice. Elektra is standing there, dressed in baby blue. The definition of a Madonna. She is clutching a bundle in her arms, the tension in her fingers increasing. She looks down and coos at the bundle, love radiating from her. Elektra has never looked so happy or content. I smile. She looks up and catches my glance. I begin to walk over to her: seeing her like in this moment of euphoria makes me want to be part of it. Her happiness and the pursuit of it is the only

thing keeping me here.

Elektra looks up and smiles.

“Your lungs are on fire,” she whispers, bringing the bundle closer to her chest.

“What?” I begin coughing. I cannot catch my breath. I try to breath through my nose and mouth but it does not work. I can taste blood. Blood blocking the back of my nose and throat. She starts to laugh maniacally. I reach out to her but she maintains her distance. I keep coughing. Blood begins to pour from my nose and mouth. My teeth begin to loosen and fall out. First the back teeth, then the front. I cannot stop. I can't breath. I cannot capture oxygen. Faintness begins to consume me.

I lie down on the floor, clutching my head. I keep repeating one though: 'please make it stop' but it does little to relieve the pressure in my chest. I am dying but...I'm not. I am dreaming. None of this real. None of this...is real. Elektra bends down to face me, placing her hand on my cheek. “Shh...it'll be over soon. It'll be over, for both of us,” she says. I turn to face her. I see. I see what she means. I feel the blood drip from her neck. The slice of flesh that concealed the jugular that is missing. Oh Jesus Christ. She places the bundle in front of me and collapses. I touch her arm: she is stone cold. I drag her into my arms. I continue to cough. Tears stream down my face. This is not real. Please, don't let this be real.

I stretch to reach the bundle. Oh god. There isn't a baby in that blanket. It is nothing more than a foetus, a ball of cells. It is closer to an embryo than anything else. A failed, flawed abortion. I can feel the last fragments of life begin to fade. As I resign myself, I hear a whisper. A whisper from the approaching darkness.

“This is your fault.”

I jolt up. The room is dark. The rain has subsided. Sweat runs down my back like Niagara Falls. Instinctively, I check my nose and mouth. All correct and present, bar one. I look at my arm. It is covered in blood where I had been leaning on my arm. Jesus Christ, my mouth is dry but at least my mouth doesn't seem to still be bleeding. Thank god. I flex my toes, trying to get the blood flow back into my feet. I rise to stand.

I walk to the door and walk into the corridor. I turn the first door handle I come across. I place my ear against the door and hear voices. I enter the room. Elektra is lying on the bed, clutching a heat pack on her abdomen. Sam is searching through her medical pack.

“Jason?” Elektra mutters, her eyelids flickering due to tiredness. I rush over to her and take her hand.

“Yes, I'm here. Is she okay?”

“Yes, for the most part. I think it was a broken rib, no real damage to the abdomen. There is bruising and slight vaginal bleeding. She will recover; we will have to wait to see what happens with the pregnancy. If you'll excuse me-” Sam walks past me and slams the door.

I wipe my head with the back of my hand.

“Ironic, isn't it?”

“What?”

“I didn't even want the bloody thing. I still don't. I want it out of my life. I just want it to be over, Jace. Even though, I can tell, it's just like me,” she mutters, releasing her grip on consciousness.

“What are you going on about?” I ask, stroking her forehead with my free hand. “It doesn't go down without a fight. I feel like I am being stabbed in the gut with a burning branding iron. God, ow!” Elektra adjusts her position.

“You're going to be fine. Both of us are. Is there anything you want me to get you? I can try and get you some water, we have some aspirin in the backpacks,” I offer, looking at the stream of light, filtering into the room through the gap in the door.

“No. I'll be fine. I've been in worse pain than this and I've survived without painkillers. How are you? What the hell did you say to him to make him go off like that? You must have said something to piss him off.”

“Why is it always my fault? I just asked him what was going on and I get my teeth knocked down my throat.”

“God, I was just asking. Don't get premenstrual about i-” she murmurs. Her arm becomes limp and her breathing shallow. I stand. She will be fine, I know her. I should have learnt that being concerned about Elektra is useless; she attracts danger no matter what I say or do. I just have to go along with her decisions. Well, I do not. I could leave now, in the dead of the night. I could make my own way: I know how to survive, I can manage on my own. The only issue with that is that ...I am not a coward. Vanishing into the shadows, like some kind of enigma, has never been my style. Plus, I am here now. There would be no point in going off on my own because I have no clue where I would go. There is strength in numbers. I am a lot of things but stupid, I am not.

I walk out of the room. I am not going to be able to sleep for a while. The vivid nature of that dream. I am unnerved. I have not had a dream like that for months, if ever. Oh god. I wipe my hair from my eyes and place my hands behind my head, stretching my arms. My cramp ridden arms. I amble into the main room and see Lucas sitting, staring at some kind of plastic mass...thing. “Lucas?” Lucas jumps and turns his head rapidly. His breathing becomes rapid. It takes him a few moments to compose himself and then he proceeds. “Yeah. Sorry, you just startled me. I thought...I thought you might have been someone...else,” he hesitates and takes a cigarette out of his breast pocket. He feels around for a lighter, finding it in a front trouser pocket. He places the cigarette between his lips and brings the light up. He draws on the death inducers and releases. He holds it out to me.

“What a drag?”

“No, thanks. I would quite like for my lungs to remain fully functional. Do you have any scissors

around here?”

“What? Scissors? What do you want scissors for?” A short pause, “Have you seen my wife? I have been looking for her for ages but can I find her? No. I'm worried about her.”

I fiddle with a strand of hair that has fallen forward. “I need to do something about this rat's nest. Something, anything. No, I woke up about ten minutes ago so no. Sam might know but I do not know where she went either. So...scissors?” I inquire, examining the rest of the room.

“Yeah,” he opens the pack at his feet, “will these do? They're pretty blunt but they serve a purpose. I might go and find Sam. You say she was just walking around last time you saw her?” I nod and take the scissors.

Lucas takes a moment and then taps some ash from the end of his cigarette. It is ironic. The way the ash, carcinogenic ash, looks like snow. The way it saunters to the ground. Then again, the elements can be just as dangerous. The cold creates an increased desire for warmth. Cold encourages illness. The illness that took my mother; well, it did not help at all.

Everyone turned their backs on us. My mother needed protection. She needed a group. Nobody was willing to waste their energy or supplies on two lost causes. I take pleasure in thinking I probably outlived them all. In fact, I know for certain I did.

I look up. Lucas is standing in front of me, waving his hands in front of my eyes. I must have zoned out; I have to stop doing that.

“Jason! Jason! You back in the room yet?”

“Yes, sorry. What were you saying?”

“I said, for the twenty third time, will the bloody things do? Did you catch that? Third time lucky?” he chides, pointing at the blunt articles.

“Yes, thanks. I do not really care about precision anyway.”

Jason turns and begins to walk away. He pauses and looks back.

“You all right to entertain yourself?”

“I have been before so I think I will manage. Go on, go and look for your wife.”

He sighs and marches towards the corridor once again. I sit, motionless, gazing at the metal of the scissors. I move them, waiting for an edge to catch the light. Reflecting light. Reflecting something that should be hopeful but, now, falls pitifully far from that ideal.

I take a piece of hair and take the first cut. I begin to hack away at it, removing all of the blood and dirt and crap that had accumulated since we bunkered down at the shop. A month. It is amazing how much changes in such a short span of time. The ironic thing is...that is all the time that some people have left. Longer than some people's entire lifetimes.

I finish and run my fingers through what remains of my hair. I did not take too much off but it was a significant amount. I feel my eyes begin to close. How long has it been since I slept? 15 hours or so? I need to replenish my energy. I can not think about any thing that has happened. Elektra will be fine.

I lose my grip on the blades and let myself fall onto the floor.

A thin veil of light covers the room. A stream of light enters through a broken window on the side of the building. I rise onto my elbow and rub my eyes. I feel the grit on the side of my face. I blink, trying to regain some kind of focus. I rise to my feet and stretch my arms. My back is so stiff; that is the last time I attempt to sleep on the floor. Helene is in the corner, caressing her bump. I can hear her sniffing; is she crying?

“Helene?”

“Oh,” she turns around with a start, “you are awake now?”

“Yes. Where did you go last night? Lucas was searching for hours.”

“I needed some time to think; I 'ad a lot of things on my mind. 'E found me...eventually,” she murmurs, flicking dirt from her wrists.

There is a moment of silence. Awkward to say the least. She adjusts her position, changing the foot on which she places her weight. She seems so immersed in her own mind that it seems wrong to interrupt, even to inquire about what I have missed.

My attention is diverted. I see a figure moving in from the side of the room. It's her. She does not exactly look well but at least she is up and about. I rush over to her. Her eyes momentarily flicker up and back down; she only really acknowledges me the second time. She stares at me for a second, then begins to laugh. She covers her mouth but the laugh escapes. Subtle, she is not.

“What the bloody hell did you do to your hair?” she screeches, forcing her laugh back down her throat.

“I cut it. People do that; it was getting annoying. Do you have a problem with that, Miss Nibs?”

“No, no. Your life. God, I leave you alone for a few hours and you decide you need a bloody makeover, you muppet,” she pauses to take note of my reaction, “I'm just playing Jason, it doesn't look that bad I guess. Plus, for the first time, I can see your eyes. Not a bad achievement.”

I turn my head, still facing her. She hits me on the shoulder and continues to walk.

I ruffle my hair. It is not that bad, surely? I would take being able to see any day. Lucas walks in from the corridor, wiping his eyes and yawning. I wander sometimes; I wonder how different he really is from the boy I used to know. The scared child. Overcompensating for something. What he was overcompensating for, I can only speculate. I guess I have to try and make an effort with him. It's another day.

“Jason, can I have a word with you?” Lucas gestures towards an open door.

“Yeah, sure.”

I follow him into the room. He gestures towards a chair and I take a seat. I observe the surroundings. Bookshelves, tons of bookshelves. Thousands of books. Details of each part of human existence. Fiction, non fiction. How insignificant they are and yet, there are the most important thing out there. Able to impart the knowledge to heal and hunt. Huh, over-analysing things again.

Lucas swiftly sits down and grabs a bottle from underneath the table. He unscrews the lid and places the amber liquid into a crystal glass. He takes a sip and sits back onto his chair, exhaling.

“Jason, I need your support on this. There is a shopping centre a few miles away; there are supplies, a s**t ton of them. We have to scope it out before someone else does or the baby arrives. You think it's a good idea?”

“Yeah, if you think it is worth the risk. It is your group all things considered. Why are you even consulting me?”

He takes another swig of the liquid.

“I need you to talk to Elektra about it, to see if she is up for it. I know it isn't ideal in her condition but I need all the best people I know if we're going to do this. I'm also going to need you too, if you're willing. I'm sure you can convince her.”

I make a grab for the bottle and take a sip. He lets me but stares at me, intensely. It doesn't taste that bad on reflection; it has a more 'beer-like taste'. I can deal with it.

“Okay, okay. I'll talk to her and, alright, I'm on board. Is there anything else?”

“No. You can go. Have fun dealing with the pregnancy hormones of a young woman,” he says with a smirk.

Still an arsehole.

Author's Note

I have no idea what happened to the formatting