Richard Doetsch - Half-Past Dawn

“Of course I’m sure. I spoke to him for at least fifteen minutes.”

“Had you ever met the man? Do you know what he looks like? Are you sure it was him and not someone setting you up?”

Jack’s breathing quickened. In all honesty, he had no idea. “Ryan, what the hell is going on?”

“Relax, Jack. I’m a friend, remember that.”

“Friends don’t have to remind friends.”

“You know what I’m saying. I’m talking to you instead of you talking to them.” Ryan pointed toward the door. “I’m your doctor and your… well, you know.”

“Can you loosen these straps?” Jack asked.

Ryan looked to Emily, who sat in silence, her hand never leaving Jack. She subtly nodded.

Ryan leaned over to unfasten the metal clasps of the strap around his chest and the Velcro leather straps around his wrists. “Tell me about this guy Cristos.”

Jack took a deep breath, waving his arms around in momentary relief. “Did they tell you about him? His background? Our background?”

“Yeah, Tierney just explained it to me. It’s all in this.” Ryan held up a thick manila file.

“He has Mia.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me. But more important, I spoke to Mia. She told me, dammit.”

Ryan sat on the bed, rubbed his face, gathering himself. “And you saw him? This Cristos?”

Jack nodded. “I did a lot more than see him.”

“I heard.” Ryan paused. “More than a year ago, you convicted this guy of murder, sought and got the death penalty. You were the last person he spoke to. He asked for you. What did he say to you?”

“Nothing. He just spoke about life, the weather… and death.”

“What did he say? Can you remember?”

Jack remembered… death is not always final, not always permanent; death is never the end. And as he thought on those words, pondering them in the context of his current conversation, he realized that from Ryan’s perspective, they might take on a whole new meaning. “I don’t remember.”

“Last fall, you saw Cristos executed at Cronos prison. You saw him die.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Ryan. He didn’t die. People… people within our government conspired to save him.”

Emily and Ryan exchanged a glance.

“Jack, more than twenty people saw him die. The coroner confirmed his death.”

“He was paid off.” Jack felt as if he was arguing with a child. “Do you want to just get to the point? They have obviously fed you a bunch of lies and are playing you.”

“OK.” Ryan sat up, composed himself. “Jack, at seven this evening, they-”

“Who’s they?” Jack asked.

“The FBI guy outside-Tierney-he said you walked into the lobby of the Tombs, alone. Talked to an Officer Knoll and went downstairs. They say Charlie Brooks buzzed you in… and then…”

Jack felt his mind slipping, realizing the inference. “That’s not true.” Although Jack tried to avoid it, there was desperation in his voice.

“Jack-”

“I didn’t kill Charlie, dammit. He was a friend. I didn’t kill those cops. The only man I shot was the man who struck Mia and who was about to shoot me. There’s got be video footage,” Jack pleaded.

“I didn’t see any video. I did see pictures of the aftermath. It looks like a war zone.”

“Yeah, and Cristos was right in the middle of it, the cause of it. Pretty horrific work for a dead guy.”

“Jack-”

“Did they speak to Larry Knoll, the guard at the desk? He let us through security. What about the lobby cameras? Surely they got Cristos on video.”

“I asked the same thing,” Ryan said. “They say the cameras were somehow interfered with, nothing but static. And Larry, the guy at the desk, is in a world of trouble for letting you out of the building.”

“What about the cops who arrested me? They saw him on the roof.”

Ryan shook his head with sympathy. “Just you, Jack. No one else was on that roof but you.”

Jack’s head throbbed. He closed his eyes, trying to find something, anything, that would convince his friend of his sanity.

Ryan took a moment, forming his words. “With such a tragedy befalling Mia, when hit with such trauma, sometimes the mind runs and hides. It plays tricks on us. With the accident, hitting your head, it probably jostled the tumor. That is why the colors were brighter, why you could hear things…” Ryan turned on his bedside manner. “And it made you see things. “

“And you saw the tumor,” Jack said facetiously. “You saw that it moved? I don’t recall any X-ray since I got here. A week ago, you said it wouldn’t have an effect for several months, and yet in less than a week, I’m having full-blown hallucinations?”

“No, I haven’t taken an MRI, but I know what I’m going to find. This isn’t you I’m talking to. There are some things you’ve said… they don’t make sense.”

“Bullshit! You know me, Ryan. I didn’t just go through what I went through imagining things. I saw Griffin, I went into the depths of the Tombs with Cristos-in flesh and blood, not some ghost-and his three guys. I was nearly killed trying to get that case.”

“And where is that case, Jack?” Ryan’s words sounded like a summation of all of the facts, bringing his point home.

Jack thought that no matter what he said, they had already tried and convicted him; they were going to rule that he was temporarily, if not permanently, insane. But with every question, Jack’s self-doubt grew. He didn’t remember how he got home, what happened after the accident. There were holes in his memory. And the conversation with his father kept ringing in his head. Reality is all a matter of perspective… and no one was seeing his perspective.

“The cops who arrested you said you were alone on that rooftop, that there was no case.”

Jack said nothing. Reality is all a matter of perspective…

“You gave it up to a man who is dead,” Ryan said.

“Jack.” Emily finally spoke. “Was there ever really an evidence case, or could this all have been in your imagination?”

“Ryan, please.” Jack began to beg. “You’ve known me forever. If I can’t convince you… please, for Mia…”

“OK. “Ryan looked at Jack, his face troubled, his hand shaking. “You’re right. We’re jumping to conclusions, moving too fast. Let’s slow down-no, better yet, let’s start over. Tell me what happened when you woke up this morning. Take your time.”

Jack inhaled as he smiled at his friend. “OK. I woke up, tired, groggy, struggled out of bed as I usually do. Walked downstairs. I was parched. I grabbed a Coke, looked around for the paper. It wasn’t there. Grabbed it off the porch. Went back to the kitchen. Checked the garage, noticed the Tahoe was gone, assumed Mia took it since she left me the Audi-”

“Did you see the headline?”

“No, not yet.”

“And the girls weren’t home?”

“They’re at my mom’s.”

“Good,” Ryan said. “Remember-details.”

“Right.” Jack smiled “I went upstairs-oh, wait. I let the dog out when I got the paper.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, actually.” Jack was thinking, trying to keep order to things in his mind. “Actually, I played a bit on the kitchen floor with Fruck before I grabbed the Coke.”

“With Fruck?” Ryan asked as he nodded.

“Yeah, I’d assumed Mia fed him. I let him out when I grabbed the paper.” Jack refocused. “So, I went upstairs-”

“How long have you had Fruck?”

Jack smiled. “God, I don’t know. Years…”

“Jack.” Ryan spoke quietly, his heart breaking with every word. “Fruck was your dog when you were a kid. I was with you when he got hit by the garbage truck. He died in your arms in the driveway… you were seventeen.”