Memories of Hazey Jane – Part 8
Posted on November 14, 2008
How I wished she didn’t say that. I began to wonder if Tina wasn’t right about this whole time-travel thing after all.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He said, flatly. “The fact remains that Val owes half her genes TO ME!” His lips twitched, as did the fingertips of his right hand.
“You think that actually makes you a father?” she shouted, freeing herself. “Shit, Harry here could’ve jerked off on my thigh, and he’d be a better-“
There was a deafening sound – an explosion, I realized moments later. Something warm and very wet splashed my face and t-shirt.
We all stood motionless for a beat. The only thing moving was Raoul’s arm, which was trembling under the weight of a semiautomatic pistol. I felt the almost surreal calm of a man who knows what’s going to happen next.
Harry slowly got up from his chair. “What the hell, man…what the-“
He intended to cross-draw from inside his jeans, and of course he wasn’t fast enough. He hit the floor like a bag of rice. If you’re wondering what I was still doing stand there, keep in mind that I was already dead.
Joanna wailed. I think that’s when he realized that he’d really committed himself to this whole business. I heard two more shots.
He turned on me again; I gained my senses just long enough to slip and land on my head. The next few minutes are a red-streaked muddle. All I remember are bottles shattering, the click of an empty magazine, and the squishy thud of footfalls as the door slammed shut.
I must have blacked out a bit, because the next thing I remember was the soft creak of the bathroom door opening. Thinking about all I had done to deserve this, I prepared myself for the inevitable. Then I realized that it would be pretty stupid for him to stand there admiring his handiwork, so I opened my eyes.
It was Tina, stepping lightly to avoid the spreading dark pools, reflective under the florescents. She had something in her hand I couldn’t make out; that is, until she kneeled down near Jane, putting it to her eyes, flooding the room with a blaze of light that burned my eyes.
Something warm ran into my mouth, I rolled over and spat. Then I belched and emptied the rest of my guts on the laminate floor. Tina winced and looked at my dolefully.
“I tried to warn you.”
“My shoulder hurts.” Even thinking about moving my right arm was more than I could bear.
“I tried…I tried to warn you.” She said, urgently. She pocketed the device, stepped over the pool of sick, and dropped to her knees. Then she took my head in her lap, reached into her blouse pocket, and pulled out an old napkin.
“Let’s get you all cleaned up.” She said, like a mother whose kid had chocolate fudge on his face. “Wipe your face, and for heaven’s sake, don’t lick it off.”
“I want…I need another chance…” I gasped.
“Maybe…I have no way of telling how far you jumped. How you jumped.” She added. The sirens started their low, wailing moan outside, and against the best advice of Tina and my arm, I sat up.
When I saw the aftermath, I fell back down. Joanna had taken one to the temple, and was slumped over as if to pick up her favorite earring. Except, of course, she would never find it. Harry was sprawled less two feet from me, still grasping nine millimeters of latitude that hadn’t been enough for him. Jane lay next to him, her feet just inches from mine. For a moment, I thought she looked so peaceful – I almost wanted to wake her up. Then I realized what splashed on my face, and I decided not to try.
“Can you stand up?” Tina asked. When I nodded, she bent her knees, straining inaudibly as she brought me to my feet. We made our way to the door, where I saw Rob slumped below the remains of his shelves, a rivulet from a shattered bottle of Campari diluting puddles of his blood. As soon as I reached the threshold, the last of my strength fled me, and I nearly hit the deck.
Tina wasn’t a quitter, though, and I’m very grateful for this fact. She was strong. The two of us finally collapsed on an empty wrought-iron bench strangely, but fortuitously placed near a lamp post in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Are there really two todays?” I asked again, shivering with cold, feeling myself languishing. She inhaled through her teeth and held me closer.
“We’ll both make it to tomorrow. Right now, that’s the only thing that counts.”
When I next opened my eyes, she was gone, and I was staring blankly up at an array of sickly florescent lights. My Blackberry was buzzing furiously.
“Jeff?”
Hearing your voice turned my stomach to ice. “Look, I can explain everything.” I moaned.
“Explain what?”
“I didn’t have a choice, ok? You kept me waiting nearly twenty minutes, and – what time is it?”
“Shouldn’t that fancy phone of yours say-“
“Just give me the time!”
“Half past twelve. I’ll be pulling up any minute.”
I hung up. It didn’t take long to realize where I was, but it took another moment to actually believe it. Save for a couple of rent-a-cops in bright green reflective vests, and a man arguing with someone (probably a woman) over his cell, the terminal was all but abandoned; the exodus from flight 1337 almost complete.
I tried to pick up my duffel bag. Pain shot through my shoulder like a bolt of lightening. Just for curiosity’s sake, I thrust my hand into my jacket and pressed my shoulder. When it came back streaked with blood, I stomped and kicked my bag until I heard glass break.
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