Stevan Mena - Transience

“…Carmen, she was my best student. So brilliant. So shy. She never screamed once, the whole time I had her.” Michael looked down admiringly at Rebecca. “All she would do is pray. And when I hurt her, she would just pray louder. What a prize.”

As Michael got caught up in his own monologue, Jack plotted, studying him for a weakness, waiting for a lapse in defense so he could strike.

“Even as I choked the life out of her body, she just kept looking me right in the eye, almost as if she wanted to… remember my face.” Michael’s grip on Rebecca started to loosen, distracted by his own story. He started gesturing with the knife, slipping it in and out of place under her chin.

“But the one thing that sticks with me the most, was begging me to let her die a virgin. For God. I’m not religious, but I gotta tell you, when I finally tore that white dress off and penetrated her, it was as if I was hurting God himself.” Michael’s lips curled into a sinister grin. “That was the only time she screamed…”

Jack waited as Michael got enveloped in his confession, timing his attack. Michael’s grip loosened on the knife. “That was my property you stole by the river.”

Jack got Rebecca’s attention. “Rebecca, remember what we said about bullies?” Rebecca locked-on instantly to Jack’s line of thinking.

“Remember option number two?”

Rebecca nodded. Michael caught on to their little back and forth just as Rebecca elbowed him in the groin.

As Rebecca tumbled away, Jack leaped at Michael, grabbing his knife hand.

“Run, Rebecca, run!”

Michael, still stunned by Rebecca’s sharp blow, easily overpowered Jack, but he’d bought her enough time to get clear.

Rebecca dashed out the door, right into her mother’s waiting arms in the hall, pulled to safety.

Jack and Michael traded blows, gasping and spitting through bared teeth as they wrestled for control of the knife. Michael ripped free of Jack’s weak grasp and plunged the blade deep into Jack’s stomach.

Jack crumpled and fell backwards, knocking over Rebecca’s easel, scattering paint jars and brushes all over the floor.

“Jack!” Laura shrieked, watching from the door, Rebecca shielded behind her.

Michael remained standing, gripping his blade victoriously, drenched with Jack’s blood.

“Get down!” a voice screamed from behind. Harrington pushed Laura and Rebecca out of the way, clearing his shot.

Michael barely had time to look up to see who it was taking aim at him when the shot rang out. The bullet clipped his shoulder, piercing right through the muscle and embedding in the wall behind him.

Michael flew backwards but remained upright, his eyes wide with shock. Harrington deftly took aim again. Before Michael could even clutch his bleeding shoulder, Harrington fired a second time, hitting Michael in the leg, shattering his knee. He crashed backwards onto the bed in a heap of blood and agony.

“Move, move!” Harrington shouted. Two waiting officers rushed by him to subdue Michael, cuffing his wrists behind him as he flailed and screamed.

Harrington dropped to Jack’s side, whose stomach was spilling blood like an overflowing toilet. “We need an ambulance!” Blood oozed from Jack’s mouth as he tried to say something. “Hang in there, Jack.”

Rebecca broke free of Laura’s grasp and knelt at Jack’s side.

“Jack!” she cried out. She saw the blood and began to weep openly. She reached out to touch his bloody hand, but was afraid. Jack’s blurry eyes swiveled and found her. He grasped loosely for her small hand and held it.

Laura pushed past an officer and joined Rebecca. She saw the blood. “Oh no. Jack…”

Jack coughed, blood spattering onto his chin. He mouthed something a few times, breathless, then finally got enough air in his lungs to get it out.

“Robert… Robert, I’m sorry.” Jack’s eyes began to glaze over.

At that very same moment, Patricia screamed out in pain. Their obstetrician had finally arrived — two hours late, finding her ready to burst.

Patricia cursed and wailed, regretting not taking the epidural. Robert gripped her sweaty hand, kissing it every time she cried out in agony. He noticed a concerned look on Martha’s face. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“She still hasn’t fully dilated,” Martha said without looking up from between Patricia’s legs. “Just breathe Patricia, breathe.” Robert squeezed her hand tightly as she bared down. “That’s it. Good. Good.”

Back in Rebecca’s bedroom, EMT’s were attending to Jack, who still gripped Rebecca’s hand, holding tight as if it was the only thing anchoring him to this world.

“Everyone back away!” Harrington shouted as the medical team got to work. Laura moved aside as they checked Jack’s vitals.

One EMT called out, “Where’s that stretcher?”

Jack’s body was trembling and cold.

“Don’t be afraid,” Rebecca said. Jack looked into her eyes. He squeezed her hand, letting her know he wasn’t. But it told her more. There was friendship, love, in his squeeze.

“…Jack,” Laura cried, unable to contain her emotions. Jack’s eyes found her. He held her gaze as long as he could.

The paramedics worked furiously to stem the bleeding.

“We need to prep him to be moved now!” an EMT shouted.

“Just a little more time,” Jack whispered breathlessly, no air behind his words. “Robert. Robert…” Jack’s eyes closed, the oxygen leaving his brain. His face fell to the side.

“Oh God no!” Laura cried.

“Fight it, Jack!” Harrington shouted.

“Pulse rate?” an EMT called out. Jack began to spasm, his hands and legs shook violently, his nervous system shutting down.

“We’re losing him,” another replied.

Rebecca lost her grip as Jack’s body began to convulse. The sight of it frightened her. Laura reached over to pull her away as the paramedics fought desperately to save him, pumping his chest, performing CPR.

“One, one thousand, two, one thousand. Breathe!”

Rebecca pressed her face into Laura’s breast as she watched Jack die, her eyes not crying, just sad.

“Blood pressure’s dropping.”

“We’re losing him!”

“Don’t be afraid Jack,” Rebecca said.

A single tear slipped from Jack’s closed eyelid. He could still hear what was happening around him, but it was growing more and more faint with each passing second. Soon there was only silence. The paramedics continued to battle, but it was too little, too late. There was a synchronicity to birth and death, and it was his time. Nothing was going to bring Jack Ridge back.

Jack found the silence almost pleasurable. Welcoming. The darkness didn’t frighten him.

A sweet voice whispered in his ear, “There’s a reason…” The velvet sound of her words warmed his soul, erasing any fear. He didn’t reflect on anything, not on the dream, not on his life, not on his death, he was perfectly in the moment, not an errant thought in his mind. Just a feeling. A gut feeling, that everything was as it should be.

And then, a tiny circle of white light appeared. It danced back and forth as it grew larger. Jack couldn’t tell if it was moving closer towards him, or if he was floating towards it.

It grew bigger, brighter. Jack could feel warmth emanating from it, he wanted to touch it, embrace it. But it remained just out of reach. It reminded him of when he was a boy, he would chase the moon, trying to catch it. He followed, not moving his body, just moving, as if being towed weightless on a string.

Then it was as if a sheet was lifted, and he found himself in a grassy field. He felt a cool breeze, it made a soothing whisper as it caressed the grass. It was just like the dream, only real. He was there.