Russell Andrews: Icarus

His mother never said another word. She just stared at Jack, who could see the love and forgiveness, the desperation and then, finally, the sadness on her face as the man swung his arms forward and threw Joan Keller out the shattered window on the seventeenth floor.

– "-"-"REGGIE IVERS WONDERED where he was. He couldn't figure out why he was standing in front of this broken window and why there was this small, terrified boy cowering next to him. He knew he would never do anything to scare such a small boy, so what was going on?

His confusion deepened when he took a step toward the boy and the kid tried to run. The boy was fast but Reggie was faster and he grabbed him, held him by the wrist so he couldn't move. Reggie shook his head so the boy could see there was nothing to be frightened of but the boy wouldn't stop shivering. And now he was crying. And not just regular crying, long, choking sobs. It sounded like the noise an animal would make. An animal in the woods, in a trap, crying to be let out. Crying because it knew it was dying.

Reggie tried to will the boy to stop. The noise was horrible. Going on and on, cutting into Reggie's brain until he couldn't stand it anymore. Until he had to make it stop. It was driving him crazy. So he had no choice but to stop it.

He wondered what had happened to the woman. He remembered seeing her when he stepped out of the elevator. As he'd gotten closer, he was sure he recognized her. He knew it couldn't be, it was impossible, but he was seeing it with his own eyes so it had to be true because he wasn't crazy anymore. He was certain she was the woman on the street, the one they said he hurt. But it couldn't be her. That one had blonde hair and this one's hair was black. And how did she get her eye back? The one on the street only had one eye now and this one had two. Two big round brown eyes that were staring straight at him.

It was then mat he realized: the lawyers, they lied again. She never lost her eye! She probably never even got hurt! It was a story they made up, the same as they made up the story that he was nutzoid. They made it all up so they could punish him and put him in the loony bin. He knew it! It was all one big lie!

And now it was too good to be true. Here he was and here she was. At the lying-liar lawyers!

Well, there was only one thing to do, wasn't there?

She'd tried to hurt him. She had hurt him.

So he had to hurt her right back.

Except he couldn't hurt her because now she was gone.

There was just the boy. The terrified, crying boy.

Maybe he should hug him, Reggie thought. Hug him and tell him he could stop crying because everything was going to be fine.

Unless, of course, he didn't stop crying. Then things wouldn't be so fine. Then he'd make him be quiet.

He'd have to, wouldn't he? What other choice did he have?

– "-"-"JACK WAS HORRIFIED to find himself crying. But he couldn't stop. His mother was gone and he hadn't helped her, and the man was reaching for him, was trying to pick him up, just like he'd picked up his mother, and Jack didn't want to cry, not now, but tears were all he was capable of.

He felt the man's fingers wrap around his wrist and then his shoulders. The touch of flesh against flesh repulsed him. The man's hands seared him like an iron pressed against his skin, and without even thinking about what he was doing, Jack flung himself at the man's leg, clutching it with all his might, not trying to knock him over this time, simply refusing to let go. He could feel the man trying to shake him free, but it couldn't be done, Jack was holding on for dear life, would hold on forever if he had to because if he didn't the man would throw him out the window, too. Up close, the man's smell was even worse, it filled Jack's nostrils and made him nauseous, and the man was shaking even harder now, and pulling Jack's hair, yanking his head back, but Jack knew he'd never let go. There was nothing this man could do that would make him let go.

Then the shaking stopped, and Jack thought somehow maybe he'd won, but then he realized, no, there's no winning here, and suddenly Jack felt his insides explode. The man was beating him on the back with his fists. Slow, brutal blows hammering away at him. He felt like he might break in two, but still he wouldn't let go. Couldn't let go. Five minutes earlier he was pressed against the window, wanting to fly. Now he was crying and holding on to a madman's leg because he knew that flying was impossible. It was a fantasy, a dream, and not the dream of a little boy having fun with his mother or of some make-believe superhero saving the earth. It was a nightmare that had no happy ending. It was not the glorious Icarus but the Icarus with wings melting, high above the earth on a flight that ended only with an excruciating fall. With failure. With the sadness and fear he saw on his mother's face. And with death.

The man dragged his leg over to the window and Jack thought, What's he doing, what now? Then he could feel the man's leg kick forward and Jack's eyes widened as he realized what was happening. He tucked his chin into his chest as his shoulder and then his back and then the side of his head slammed against the thick glass. Jack remembered hitting a baseball once, shattering a window in a first-floor apartment; that's what he felt like, that baseball, because he was being skewered by new pieces of broken glass. Jack felt sharp stings in his arms and neck, he watched more glass tumble and fall, then the man gave one more kick. Again Jack was flung against the glass, only now he felt wind rushing by his face and…

No, no, please, no, he thought. Please, this can't be true.

But it was true. He heard screams from down below, and the heat, he could feel it soaking into him.

He was outside the building.

He was dangling, hundreds of feet above the ground, and the man was trying again to shake him loose. The man's leg was twisting back and forth, and up and down; it was like riding a bucking bronco, and Jack knew it was the wrong thing to do, to look down, but he couldn't help it. He saw new shards of glass tumble by. Then he saw a flash of the crowd, and even though he turned away it was too late. The street seemed to rush up at him, he felt as if he were already falling. He nearly let go, thought for a horrible moment that he had, was sure he was somersaulting through the air; he was the boy with the useless wings tumbling from the warm sun to the cold, hard earth, but, no, he was still holding on, his body was still banging against the window and the steel casing, his arms were still wrapped tightly around the man's leg and the man was still shaking him. Staring at him and hating him and shaking him…

And then the man was still. No movement at all. Jack couldn't understand it and he looked up. The man's head was twisted back toward the elevator, looking at something behind him. No, not something.

Someone.

The man turned back to the window now. Looked down at Jack, still dangling outside the building, unreachable, inches away from the ledge. The man laughed then. A laugh like Jack had never heard before. A wild, savage, and mad laugh that might have come from some inhuman creature, something that had risen up from hell.

And Jack knew what he had to do. Didn't know if he could do it but he knew he had to, had to if he wanted to live.

Had to so he wouldn't fall and disappear.

So he wouldn't be gone…

– "-"-"DOM LISTENED TO the lunatic laugh and he ran forward, ran as fast as he could because he understood what was going to happen. But he was too late. He couldn't stop it.

The madman at the window laughed again and, with Jack clutching the man's leg, Dom watched helplessly as the sweating man leapt out the window, a powerful jump, far away from the building, and Dom, grabbing at him, touched only air. He saw Jack's face the instant before the man jumped, saw what Jack was trying to do, and Dom said, "Yes," and then again, "Yes!" and the little boy let go…