Russell Andrews: Icarus

It took him a second to remember what the guard had said, where he was going. Then he remembered.

He stepped into the elevator and headed up to the seventeenth floor.

– "-"-"JACK SAW HIS mom across the room, her back to him, busy filing. She didn't hear the elevator so she didn't know he was there. Half the lights were off and it looked like hardly anyone else was around. It was a little after six and the whole floor was in shadows; it was pretty spooky, and Jack knew he shouldn't do it, but he couldn't resist. He crept up until he was right behind her, she never heard a thing, and then he grabbed her around the waist and went "Boo!"

His mom jumped about three feet in the air and spun around. But when she landed she wasn't angry. She said, "Oh, my God, you scared me to death!" Then she hugged him, held him tight, and kissed him. She didn't usually hug him for so long, so when she let him go he ran across the room, right for one of the big windows. He pressed himself spread-eagle against the glass. Peering out over the city, he said, "Look, I'm flying, Mom, I'm flying!"

She was smiling at him, but he thought she looked a little… what was the word she liked to use sometimes?… edgy. Kind of like she had something to do and wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. She looked like he imagined he looked in the doctor's office right before he had to get a shot. Like something not so great was coming but then afterward you know you'll feel better.

"What is it, Mom?" he asked. He put his arms down and slid his feet together and took one step away from the window toward her. "Whatever it is…"

What he was going to say was "…it'll be all right," but he didn't get to finish the sentence because she wasn't watching him now, she was frowning and looking to her left, toward the elevators. Some guy had just stepped out and was walking up to her. He looked kind of weird, Jack thought, and he smelled bad. The man was sopping wet, too, almost like he'd been swimming, but he couldn't have been, so it had to be sweat. Jack had never seen anybody sweat so much. And the guy's clothes were filthy. He'd spilled something all over himself. On his shirt and arms, all over his neck, too. A Coke, maybe. No, maybe not. It wasn't quite the color of Coke.

The man got closer, was just a few feet away from his mother now. Jack saw that whatever the sticky-looking stuff was that he'd spilled, it was definitely not the color of Coke. But it was all over the guy. Even on his face and on his shoes.

And whatever it was, it was awfully red…

– "-"-"ARE YOU ALL right?" Joanie asked. "You're bleeding."

As soon as the man stepped off the elevator, Joan understood that something terrible was happening. This man should not have been allowed up to their floor. There was an emptiness in his eyes, a disturbing lack of humanity. And he was covered in blood, it was soaking through his clothes. At first she thought he was hurt, but he wasn't walking like he was hurt, he seemed fine, and that's when Joanie understood: it's someone else's blood.

That's when she knew that whatever was happening was beyond terrible.

"Can I help you?" She kept her voice as calm as she could. But the man didn't answer. Instead, he swiveled his head, taking in the entire office. She saw confusion on his face, then anger. She didn't know why the anger had appeared but it was definitely there and it was scary. He still didn't say anything, or even look directly at her, just kept turning his head, as if searching the empty office and bare cubicles. Joanie felt a surge of relief because maybe the anger wasn't directed at her, maybe it was for someone who'd already left. Maybe this wasn't as bad as she'd thought…

"Is there someone you're looking for?" Even as she spoke the question she knew she wasn't going to get an answer. Because it was as bad as she'd thought. As soon as he turned back to look at her, she could feel it. The man's smell, so pungent now it swept through the office, was not just sweat and filth; he gave off the odor of violence, and all Joan could think about now was: Get Jack out of here. Make sure nothing happens to my son.

She tried to catch Jack's eye, he'd understand her signal, but it was already too late to signal, it was already out of her control, because the man had picked up a chair, a heavy swivel chair on rollers, swooped it up as if it weighed nothing, and hurled it through the air, straight at the window where Jack was standing. Joan watched in disbelief as the chair slammed into the glass, shattering it, the most frightening noise she had ever heard, and then crashed through. It sailed out of the building, followed by a waterfall of thousands of tiny, glistening shards, then disappeared, plummeting to the street below.

She started to run to Jack, yelling at him now to get out, to run, to just get the hell away, but then she couldn't move, something was holding her back. She felt herself rising, being lifted into the air, and she heard her son screaming, "Mom! Mommy! Mommyyyyy…"

At first she didn't understand, then she knew what was happening, what this lunatic was doing, and she didn't want to, but she couldn't help herself: she had to scream, too, right back at her son. And she knew she was hysterical now, but she didn't care, she didn't care about anything other than the fact that she didn't want to die, not like this, so she screamed, "Help me! Help me, Jack! For God's sake, help

– "-"-"JACK WATCHED AS the man picked his mother up and carried her toward the shattered window. The hole that the chair had made looked like a raw wound in the glass. He saw his mom kick and punch and even try to bite, but the man didn't seem to feel any of it. Jack heard her screaming, begging him to help her. He was two feet from the window, he could feel the air being sucked in and out, could hear the horns honking down below and the people yelling as they looked up. It was hard to breathe, his stomach hurt so much now; all he wanted to do was run but he knew he couldn't. His mother was screaming, he couldn't leave her, he had to do something and he had to do it now because they were closer, the man was almost to the window, Jack could reach out and touch him…

Help me, Jack! You've got to help me.

He didn't know what would happen, it was the first time he'd ever tried this, but it was all he could think of, so Jack hurled himself in the air, low, shoulders down and tucked in, just like he'd seen Hornung do on TV when blocking for Taylor, and he hit the man right at the knees, exactly as he wanted to do…

Jack, help me!

The man was looking down at him, surprised that he was there, as if he hadn't even felt Jack's attempt to bring him down and cut his legs out from under him. Jack tried again, grunted when he hit the man's bony shins, but it didn't do a thing. He was too light and too young and too weak and…

The man was raising his arms now. Jack could see his mother's eyes go wide, he could see inside her, right down into her soul and feel her total, absolute terror.

He wanted to hit the man again, to run at him and topple him, but now he was paralyzed because he knew it was helpless. He was helpless.

She was writhing in the man's grip, hitting him, scratching him wildly with her nails, but the man didn't so much as change expression. He just reached the window, and Jack wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't do that either, he could only watch as the man held his mother in front of the large, jagged hole. She turned to stare at Jack, pleading, her mouth open, saliva dripping in long, messy gobs down to the floor, and she wasn't screaming anymore, she was silent now. Silent and staring and pleading with him to save her.

He wanted to answer her stare. To say, I want to! I want to save you! But I can't! I tried, I swear to God I tried, only I can't! But he didn't open his mouth. He was silent, too. He understood that words were of no use. Nothing was of any use…