J. Wachowski - In Plain View

Pat’s whole body lurched in the direction of the hurt as he stumbled and fell.

Time shifted into slow motion. I couldn’t move the way my mind insisted. An angry man in pain is not a good person to be underneath.

Roaring with animal-pain, Pat grabbed for my ankles as I crab-crawled backward. He was babbling, repeating himself over and over. Saying things like, I’ll kill you. You are dead. Dead!

My robe bunched up around my waist, flashing my white, Monday underwear. For half a second covering my undies seemed like my top priority-until I saw the fist. He couldn’t reach my head, so he aimed for my stomach. The thought alone was enough to give me a puking cramp.

I shut my eyes, muscled a turn trying to protect the soft parts and screamed.

“Stop…”

Time stopped. He froze. I froze. Nothing else happened, because we both recognized the voice.

Jenny.

“No!” I cried.

Boom. Pat connected.

Sound effects: air whuffing, gagging. I lost my visual completely for a few seconds.

“Don’t!” Jenny finished, her tone more of a loud whine than a demand.

I blinked to clear my focus. Jenny was a shadowed silhouette against the open door. I could see she held the bat in the ready position-barely half his size and ready to fight.

“Jenny! You came back.” Pat almost sobbed with relief.

His reaction surprised her. She cocked her head, as if to ask why’s he happy?

A siren, getting louder by the second. Now I was the happy one.

Pat’s fist changed to a grabbing claw. He snatched the bat from her hand, upended it and levered himself to standing using the bat like a cane. He hunched forward.

“Stop,” Jenny squeaked.

Pushing up to hands and knees, past the pain, past the consequences, past everything but the present moment. “Keep away from her.”

Pat’s face was a Halloween mask of human fears. “Jenny comes with me. You stay.”

“No!”

He tried to nab her with his free hand. Jenny jolted past and into my arms. I twisted to push her behind me.

“I do not have time for this!” The siren was so loud I could hardly hear him. Pat drew back with the bat, aiming for my leg.

I covered Jenny with my body, worried he might hit her by mistake. I grabbed a shoe lying near the door, trying to block his swing.

He caught my right thigh muscle an inch above my knee and lit my entire side on fire. Nerves at the top of my head spasmed. Weird primordial sounds leaked out of my mouth. The first thing I saw, when I could see again, was Jenny’s face. She was so unnaturally pale and stiff, she looked like a mannequin.

Damn him for scaring her.

I pressed up on my arms, rolled off Jenny and curled myself in a ball breathing in short, gasping outbursts.

“See what it feels like?” Pat screamed. He stepped closer and shouted into my face, “See?”

Behind us I heard the familiar bam! of the front door slamming open. A voice I recognized called, “County Sheriff!”

Curzon.

Startled, Pat turned to look and I took that opportunity to swing around again and uncurl my good leg with every ounce of force left in me. I connected right on the bull’s-eye.

Pat screamed. Then he fell down.

Jenny screamed.

I didn’t scream, even though I wanted to-real bad.

Curzon stepped into the melee and whipped out his phone. He called everyone but his grandmother to assist, while he pinned Pat’s hands behind him in handcuffs.

“Maddy, Maddy, Mommy.” Jenny rocked herself side to side on the floor. “Mommy, Mommy.”

The sound of Jenny’s panic made it hard to feel any pain, any relief.

“Help me, Jack. Help her.” I crawled toward her. “It’s all right, Jenny. It’s all right.”

Curzon scooped her up off the floor and carried her to the couch in the family room. I got myself upright but had to lean hard on Curzon to make it there.

“I got you now. I got you, Jenny.” I pulled her into my arms. I didn’t realize tears were slipping down my face until I tasted them on my lips.

Curzon dropped in front of me and examined my leg with a light touch. “How bad?”

A creepy, unhinged laugh came out of me. “Not as bad as him.”

I pulled Jenny close. Less than half a minute after we started shivering, Curzon produced a bag of frozen peas for my leg and an afghan from my sister’s bedroom.

The ice and warmth helped my insides calm, but my hands would not be still. I petted Jenny’s back, her head, her shoulder, over and over. “So brave, you are so brave. You came to help me, didn’t you? You are so brave,” I told her. “Everything’s safe now, Jenny. We did it. We did it together.”

We shook and leaked and sniffed. And gradually, calmed.

Curzon bustled around in the kitchen. I thought I heard the microwave beep. He appeared with two warm mugs. “Drink.”

Jenny sipped hers and handed the cup back with a grimace.

I took a swig. It was warm, watered-down juice.

“I was hoping for something stronger.”

“EMTs will set you up. Drink. It’ll help.”

“Where did you come from?” My body was in full stop, but my brain was still revving on the instant replays. “How did you know?”

“Jenny flagged me down. She came running into the street, saw my car at the corner and started hopping up and down, waving her hands.”

Jenny smudged her face against my already wet robe-front and dragged the afghan over her head, hiding beneath the familiar scent of comfort. It seemed to help, so I didn’t stop her.

Curzon put a hand on my shoulder, gave it a squeeze. “Paramedics will be here any minute.”

I thought he would walk away again, but he didn’t. He let his hand fall on my head and he stroked my hair once, twice. It seemed to help, so I didn’t stop him either.

7:05:59 p.m. Sign off

The rest of our evening was a party of paperwork and helping professionals. I had to promise I’d go to the station tomorrow for more of the same.

The paramedics looked me over but nothing they said could convince me to get off the couch. The bruise was going to be awesome but nothing appeared broken. They packed me in ice and fed me eight hundred milligrams of my favorite snack. After Jenny was checked and re-checked, they took off with Pat strapped tight in the back of the ambulance. I heard the phone ring while the guys were loading. Curzon answered it.

“You want to talk to your boy at the office?” he called from the kitchen.

I held out my hands and Curzon tossed the phone to me.

“Maddy?” Ainsley sounded upset. “What’s going on? Why are the police there? Is it bad?”

“Your camera work’s passable, College, but your questioning skills suck.” It took about ninety seconds to fill him in. He supplied the “no way’s” and “oh man’s.”

“It’s been a long day, College. What do you want?”

“Well, I have good news.” Ainsley’s voice went all breathy and excited. “I talked to Uncle Rich. Everything is copacetic with network and everybody. It’s totally cool.”

“O’Hara?” Gatt’s voice interrupted. I could hear Ainsley complaining in the background about the phone being grabbed from his hand. “Why the hell didn’t you just tell me you had a kid in the hospital? Am I some kind of asshole, I can’t make exceptions for somebody who’s got a sick kid? What are you thinking?”

“Uhh-”

“That’s what I thought! Christ! Get over yourself and start acting like a team player, you hear me, O’Hara? Do I look like I’ve got time for this kind of shit? I ripped up that stupid resignation and put it where it belonged-in the garbage. You’re goddamn right, I did. Whoever heard of somebody resigning in pencil? Garbage!”