BackTrek (23 page)

“Are you up to this?” Jack asked. Ted turned
to him slowly.

“You’d have to shoot me to keep me away.” He
said, as a small grin ran across his face.

“You were always the joker, weren’t you?”
Jack said, as he commented on his friend’s lack of comedic
protocol. At any other time the statement might have been humorous
at best, but in light of the fact that Ted had indeed been shot,
repeatedly, Jack found little to smile about. “Come on, let’s get
you inside and look at the damage.” Jack reached to help Ted
towards his room, but he shrugged him off.

“It’s not all that bad. Just my side, mainly.
That bastard hit me point blank.” He walked to the door of his
room, and tried not to grimace as he reached into his pocket and
retrieved the key card. He inserted the card into the lock and
quickly removed it. The small light changed from red to green. He
grabbed the door handle and opened the door. His small room had
been made up since he had left that morning. His belongings
gathered together and placed on the dresser next to the TV. Jack
walked in and shut the door, while Ted made his way towards the
bathroom. He stopped in front of the mirror which covered the wall
next to the bathroom and began to remove his shirt. Ted
methodically unbuttoned his shirt, and stared intently at the holes
in the front as he did. The front completely unbuttoned, he
unbuttoned the sleeves and then carefully removed his shirt. He
held it up the light and inspected the numerous holes ripped
through the front, before he tossed it into the trash can next to
the wall. He looked intently at the holes that had punctured into
his bullet proof vest. As Jack watched in amazement, Ted began to
dig one of the bullets out of the vest. To get it free, he finally
had to tear it loose. He held it up to the light. The once missile
shaped projectile had flattened into a lead mushroom. Its copper
jacket was ripped to shreds and hung off of it like a frightening
propeller designed to shred human flesh.

“Jacketed hollow point.” Ted said.

“Thank God it wasn’t a full jacket.” Jack
offered. He knew that many officers were killed every year by such
ammunition, regardless of whether they wore body armor or not.
Hollow points and other light ammo would spread out on impact,
which allowed the specially treated Kevlar mesh to catch the bullet
before it could ever enter into the body. Heavy loads most often
would penetrate deeper, but they too would mushroom out and allow
the body armor to do its job. Heavy loads covered with a full outer
shell of copper or some harder metal often penetrated completely,
leaving a protected officer dead. Kevlar was a wonderful material,
but even it couldn’t stop everything. Ted began to undo the Velcro
straps which held his vest in place, and tossed it into the trash
as well. Jack watched in amazement as he saw the reddened welts
that covered Ted’s side, and felt for him. Though he had never been
shot, with or without a bullet proof vest on, Jack knew that the
pain had to be immense. He had heard that often when one was shot,
the numbness from the impact actually covered up the intense pain
from the bullet itself. They said that when you were wore body
armor and were shot, it was like you had been hit with a ball peen
hammer. Even though the bullet may not penetrate the armor, it
still came to a painfully abrupt stop, that often resulted in
broken or fractured ribs. Ted had been lucky.

He changed shirts, and they reloaded their
weapons, and soon were on the way to Tracey’s house. Ted cautioned
Jack to drive slowly. A traffic stop for speeding would be a major
problem in a stolen military vehicle. He parked down the street.
They made their way stealthily past the parked vehicles in the
driveway, and headed towards the backyard. As they passed the
living-room window, Jack peeked in. He was barely able to make out
the figures inside. Bella and Brandon sat on the couch, as Bella
hugged a large bowl of popcorn. He could hear the booming chorus of
music that was inherent to all ‘B’ class horror movies, and smiled
slightly as he realized that Mike slowly snuck up on the kids from
behind. Suddenly a look of horror spread over his face, as he
realized what Mike was about to do. He would scare them and they
would start to scream. These would be the same screams that would
wake up his other self that sat asleep across the street from the
house. He had mistimed when the attacks had actually occurred. It
would happen at any moment.

Jack grabbed Ted by the shoulder, and as Ted
saw the look on Jack’s face, it answered all of the questions that
had popped into his mind. They hurried to the gate that led to the
backyard. Ted tried the gate, but it was locked. Jack budged past
him, and tried it again, but to no avail. Jack realized that Tracey
must have added a lock after he had left. He raised his foot and
kicked the gate, but the gate didn’t give at all. Suddenly, inside,
Jack could hear the muffled screams of his daughter and son. Mike
had gotten to them, scared them, and now they screamed
hysterically. Jack knew that his other self would be startled awake
at any second. Jack kicked the gate again, as he tried his best to
open it. Again the gate held fast. He looked at Ted with a
questioning look, and hoped that his friend might have some answer.
They glanced around. There was no place to get a foothold to climb
over, and nothing to stand on. Suddenly, as the sound of someone
banging on the front door echoed around the corner, Ted clasped his
hands together, and created a stirrup to boost Jack over the gate.
Jack didn’t hesitate. He placed his foot in Ted’s interlaced hands
and leapt upwards as Ted heaved him up and over the gate.

Jack somersaulted over the gate, without a
trace of grace, and landed flat on his back in the backyard. He
grimaced in pain, as he tried to get his breath. In the distance he
could still hear the pounding on the front door, and was glad at
least that he wasn’t too late. He leapt to his feet and ran to the
rear of the house, and took the three stairs that led up onto the
rear deck in a single bound. He crossed the deck in less than a
second, and paused to briefly look through the French doors that
led into the living-room. Everyone was still there, and still
alive.

Jack came to the window which was at the end
of the hallway, and looked through. He could see the front door.
The hallway was empty. Down the hallway and through the single
glass pane at the top of the front door, he could see his other
self as he frantically tried to open the door and failed. Jack drew
his gun and leaned against the frame of the window. His thumb slid
the safety lock off as he prepared to fire. He knew that he might
have only one brief shot at Smith. Probably when he hit the other
Jack over the head. But that’s that all Jack needed. Just one shot.
He would have to make it count.

Suddenly the door flung open and the other
Jack entered the house. Jack watched in amazement as simultaneously
the hall closet door began to open behind him. Smith stepped out of
the closet. He slowly raised his arm above his head. He slammed his
gun down into the back of the other Jack’s head, and sent him to
the ground. Jack squeezed the trigger of his semi-automatic. The
sound deafened him, as the glass of the window exploded inwards and
flame shot three feet into the house. Jack’s hands and arms were
covered with falling shards of glass as the smoke from the gunshot
began to clear. The house echoed with screams, and Jack realized in
horror that Smith was no where to be seen. In a panic, he backed up
from the window, tiny bits of glass fell from his clothes as he
did. In fear of the worst he went back to the glass French doors
and saw as Mike struggled with Smith in the living-room. Smith’s
gun was up in the air as both men fought to control it. Jack
reached out with his left hand, his empty hand, and tried to open
the door. Locked. Again, his own security measures had slowed him
down. He backed up and lunged at the door. He crashed through in a
cloud of glass, wood, and curtain sheers, and tumbled to the floor.
He fought his way loose from the tangled mess, and ignored the
newly obtained scrapes and cuts that had already began to ooze
blood. As he rose up to his feet, gun in hand, Smith’s weapon fired
into the ceiling.

Across the room, Tracey huddled closely with
the kids as they tried to climb further into the couch. They were
pinned down, with nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Mike still fought
with Smith, and they were so intertwined that Jack couldn’t get a
clear shot. The gun fired again, and Jack finally saw a clear shot
at Smith and fired. Smith’s gun again fired into the ceiling, as it
ejected an empty shell at Tracey and the kids who cowered with
fright. Smith fell backwards towards the entrance from the hallway,
just as Ted ran up the hall from the front door. Smith landed
heavily on the carpeted floor. His gun fell beside him. The acrid
smell of burnt gun powder filled the air, along with the hysterical
sobs of Bella and Brandon. Tracey was too shocked to scream, but
instead hovered over her children, as a protective shield, though
her insides shook like jelly. Jack ran to Tracey, and hugged her
and both of the kids. Finally, he had saved them. It was over.

“Look out, Jack!” He heard Ted scream as
another shot came from Smith’s gun, and slammed into the couch just
inches from Jack’s head. Jack snapped his head around. Smith stood
in the living-room entrance, his arm around Ted’s neck, and his gun
aimed at Jack.

“What’s the matter, Mr. King. Cat got your
tongue?” Smith said matter-of-factly. Jack’s mind was going a
hundred miles an hour as he tried to reason out how Smith could
still be alive. “Missed me? Did you?” He said cryptically as he
pushed Ted towards the couch.

“You shit!” Ted said.

“Ah...ah...ah. Leave the gun here. Drop it
before I drop you." Ted looked down and saw that he still held his
gun. He dropped it at his feet.

“What do you want?” Jack asked.

“You, evidently. I thought that the mother
loving bastard in the corner was my target.” He said, pointing
towards Mike who was slumped against the wall beside the couch. He
wasn’t hurt, not physically anyway. “But, now I see it was you.
Quite a family resemblance that you two share. Brothers?” Smith
asked.

“Fuck you!” Jack said, as he spat the words
at Smith.

“Now, now, Mr. King. Is that any way for a
father to act?” Ted sat next to Tracey on the couch. He moved
slowly as he tried to not alarm Smith. As he sat down he saw that
Jack still held his own gun, hidden from Smith’s view, as he held
his wife. Ted looked up into Jack’s eyes. Jack stared at Smith
coldly.

“Why?” Jack asked.

“Why?” Smith answered, as he repeated the
question. He appeared honestly confused by it. “Oh. Why all this?”
Smith asked as he gestured towards the group huddled on the couch.
“That’s beyond your ability to comprehend, Mr. King. Money, maybe?”
He offered. “Maybe at one time, it was all about the money." He
said as he smiled. The overhead light glistened off of his bald
head. “The root of all evil, and all that rot. Oh it’s much more
complicated than that I assure you. You might even say…it’s
divine.” He laughed.

“Who’s paying you? Who ordered this? Who
wants my family dead?” Jack demanded.

“Yes. There will be money. There will be
payment.” Smith said. “And, what? It’s time for your life to come
to an end and you just think I will spill my guts to you. You watch
too many movies, Mr. King. My employer is my business. And yours,
now, is to die.” With that said, Smith began to raise his gun
again.

Suddenly, Ted launched himself off of the
couch, and lunged for the entrance to the hallway. Smith fired.
Jack leapt to his feet and brought his own gun up and fired.
Smith’s tall frame lurched backwards. He fought to regain his
balance as Jack began to approach him. Jack fired again, and the
bullet ripped another hole in the man’s shirt right above the last.
Again he stepped closer. No blood poured from the holes. Jack
realized that Smith wore body armor, as he fired again, and again,
a hole ripped into the cloth next to the other holes. Jack fired
again at almost point blank range. The impact slammed Smith against
the wall. Smith slumped, apparently unconscious against the wall
and Jack fired yet again into the man’s battered chest. Jack kicked
away the gun that had been in Smith’s hand.

“Ted? You okay?" Jack called out, as Ted
walked back into the room. He rubbed his shoulder where he had
landed.

“I’m getting too old for this, Jack.” He said
as Jack walked towards him.

“Jack!” Tracey screamed and Jack whirled
around to face Smith again, who was not unconscious but fumbled
with a small revolver that he pulled from his ankle. Without
hesitation Jack fired. Smith’s head snapped back and slammed
against the wall, as a small neat hole appeared just above Smith’s
left eyebrow. His body slumped over, and slid down the wall. A red
smear was left behind his head. The brass shell ejected from Jack’s
gun, and flew across the room. The slide locked back, he was out of
ammunition. Jack released the slide and holstered his weapon. He
turned back towards Ted.

“You’re not too old. Just out of practice."
Jack turned back to his family, but Ted grabbed him by the arm.
Jack turned to him with a perplexed look on his face.

“I think you need to see this.” Ted said as
he led him towards the hallway. Jack followed, and as he rounded
the corner, he realized why Ted hadn’t said what it was that he
needed to see. Prone on the floor by the front door, was his other
self. As Jack approached him he began to stir. Jack knelt down
beside him, and wondered what he would say. How he would explain
that everything was now fine. He reached his hand out to his fallen
persona and touched him softly on the shoulder. Blue sparks flew
from his fingertips, and Jack yanked his hand back as a jolt of
electricity seized his arm. Before his very eyes, the one small
spark spread like wildfire over his other self, and then in an
instant, the other man was gone. No trace that he had even been
there existed. Jack ran to the open front door and looked out
across the street to where his other self’s car had been parked
earlier, but now the street was empty. He turned back to Ted.