Jabberwock Jack (29 page)

"Why haven't you blown it?" I asked as I walked over to them, my breathing still heavy.

"That's why," said Delilah, almost speechless.

Across the gap I watched Jack turning his head away from us. There was the sound of boots on metal behind him. Someone had walked onto the bridge from the other side, right near the charges. I recognized the black coat and harpoon. It was Jericho.

"This moment has been coming for a long time," said Jericho, pointing his spear at Jack. "You've taken from me everyone that ever mattered. You've taken my leg and I've taken your eye. You and I have much to settle. It's time we ended this."

Jack let out a snarl and a keening roar. Then that massive head lunged toward Jericho. The old man let out his own battle cry as he leapt at the beast, dodging Jack's jaws and driving his spear into one of Jack's coils. Jericho had clearly thought long about this fight. He knew Jack's jaws and mobility were his greatest strengths. So he moved in close on Jack, trying to stab Jack's body, preventing Jack from wildly biting without risking chomping down on his own white flesh.

"We can't blow the charges with him there," said Delilah. "We'd be condemning him to same fate as Jack."

"Can he maybe reach the rope?" I asked.

Meat shook his head. "Not with Jack in between."

"God fucking dammit!" I said. "What is the fucking point of this with him there?"

Meat looked at me. "You understand Jericho as well as any of us. Think what you would be doing if you were there."

I understood. "He wants us to blow it with him on it. He's keeping Jack in place."

"I'm not just killing him," said Delilah. "I can't make that decision."

Jericho was putting up a valiant effort, causing Jack to bleed from many wounds, but there was no way he could beat Jack himself. The close range and the bridge had evened the fight, but Jericho was still one man. Without being able to use his jaws, Jack was resorting to his snake-like nature. He was trying to crush Jericho between his coiling body. The old man was slipping through the gaps when possible, but he was just barely escaping. And then it was too late. We watched as Jack's coils closed around him and started to squeeze. Jericho wasn't dead, but it looked dire.

"What are you waiting for?" shouted Jericho to us. "Do it!"

"I can't," said Delilah quietly. "I kill monsters, not people."

"Do it!" shouted Jericho, pain turning his shout into a scream.

"I can't!" said Delilah.

I had never killed another human being. I had seen plenty die, but I had never made the decision to kill someone. I had never pulled the trigger or held the weapon. Like Delilah, I just killed monsters. A human life was not for me to decide. It was a strict rule we all had. My brother was the only one who had flirted with crossing it, something we had argued over.

Was this a different situation? Jericho wanted us to do it. Szandor would want me to do it - I think he would. If we didn't do this, Jack could get away. The trap would fail. This had to be done.

I reached over and gently grabbed the detonator from her.

"I'll take this one on my conscience." My voice was soft, but I was deadly serious. I successfully hid the nervousness, the pain and the guilt. I knew what I was doing. It's not a decision anyone should make easily. I also knew the consequences. I thought I did, at least.

She said nothing, instead she just nodded.

My thumb felt the smoothness of the detonator button, noticing the grooves to tell an operator where to press without looking. It's funny how a button could be as powerful as a sword or a gun. In this case, it would do more than any weapon could do. I looked over to Jericho. He groaned as Jack began to crush the life out of his body. Blood was spilling from his lips, the harpoon falling from his hands.

I would have said something noble, like Godspeed, but that didn't seem right. Not for Jericho, not for Jack, and not for this. Instead, said this: "Drag him down to Hell with you."

I pressed the button.

I expected a huge explosion, something with flames, something like an oil tanker exploding in the movies. But not in this case. These were expertly deployed charges set for a specific job. They were much louder than they were actually visually noticeable. There was a series of massive booms that echoed in the cavernous chamber. The bridge broke, but it wasn't a clean break. First the metal walkway lurched downward, stopping at a sixty degree angle as one of the charges hadn't completely severed the metal. The realization of what was happening rushed across the two mortal enemies. Jack's head whipped to one side, looking right at the breaking bridge. I'm not sure if we can really attribute any emotion to Jack's serpentine face, but I'd like to say there was a moment of panicked realization, that it
knew
what was about to happen. Jericho's face, previously twisted in pain, relaxed. Despite the agony, there was a look of calm, of peace, of relief. A second later, the bridge finally came completely free and fell.

With a wailing scream, the twisting white mass of Jack fell into that great abyss, quickly swallowed by the darkness. Still crushed in between those coils, so too went Jericho. I heard nothing from him as he fell. I only heard Jack's scream. That went on for a moment, but then even that was lost in the dark depths of the chamber.

"Are we sure that's enough?" said Delilah, the first to break the silence. "Maybe there's water down there or..."

"It's enough," I said flatly. There was some deep intuition that burned brightly in me and made my scar tingle. Jack's centuries long rampage was finally over. So why did I feel so terrible?

"Should we say a few words?" said Delilah hesitantly. "For Jericho."

Meat nodded. "He was a good man, though his obsession often got the better of him. Despite his single-minded focus, he had saved many lives over the years."

"He, uh, seemed like he was a good hunter," said Delilah.

"He got the moment he waited thirty years for," I said. "That's all he ever really cared about." I turned and walked away.

Sky

No matter how much you walk away, your actions come with you. I wanted to leave my decisions buried in that chamber far underground. But they stayed as close to me as my skin. My hands were stained with blood, even if Meat and Delilah didn't mention it on the way up to the surface. I knew it. I wouldn't let myself forget.

Even if it was the right thing to do,
even if he himself wanted it
, I had still killed someone. And that was not sitting well with me. It was not okay. I wasn't okay.

When I had grabbed the detonator and pressed the trigger, I knew that it was a decision with weighty consequences. I knew that it would change things. But I had still thought that it was the right thing, that it needed to be done, and that justifying it would make it okay. I thought the right reasons would allow me to deal with the aftermath easier. I felt that if the action was just and necessary that would make it easier to handle.

It didn't.

"Just" and "necessary" are foolish words. Those are words of misplaced hope or self-deluding regret. No matter what the reason, when you cause someone's death, you carry that with you. A weight on your shoulders, an ice in your veins, a sickness in your stomach, and tears behind your eyes which can never be shed. It's a consequence you can't give back. It's something you may learn to live with, but it's not one you ever forget.

I realized that for all my thoughts of vengeance, of doing what my brother would have wanted, I had been wrong. I should have stayed above ground. I should have stayed in that hospital room at the side of my brother's bed along with the woman I loved. I had risked everything going underground to kill Jack: my life, my love, even the chance to be there the moment my brother passed on. And I was no better off, no more satisfied. I didn't have a sense of justice being served. I had a new pain I'd carry with me until the end of my days. The death of the serpent did nothing to ease that burden.

All these feelings weighed heavily on me in the silence in which we made our way up to the surface. We talked little, which was probably intentional; Meat and Delilah were giving me space. For once, I couldn't wait to get above ground. I had been down under the city too long, especially now that I knew I should have been above ground with my loved ones the entire time. I just wanted to see the sky, to not feel so claustrophobic, to not feel my emotions pressing on my heart like the dark walls around us. I felt dirty, uncomfortable, and alone, despite my company.

Above ground, the city was in the middle of a downpour. Normally I'd complain about the rain, but I found I wanted the rain. When I pushed the manhole cover open and heaved myself up into the alley, something inside me felt like it was a new birth. I wanted it to be a new birth. I stood in the rain for a moment, just letting the water cover me, letting it drench me. I wanted it to wash away the pain. To wash away my actions. I realized that I carried more than just personal pain. There was also shame. I was afraid of what Szandor would think of me. What Carly would think of me. The rain was cold but the pain remained.

I helped the others put the gear in Meat's SUV. Their moods were better than mine. For them, this was a success. They were sad about Jericho's loss and they knew I was dealing with things, but they weren't the ones who killed him. They had survived Jack and helped kill the beast. The great cost was mine and mine alone.

I looked in the direction of the hospital. It was time to face the music. Would my brother still be alive? Would Carly still be there? And what would they think of me when they found out what I did? I had been so excited to get up the surface to be where I should be and see the sky. But rain clouds covered everything. I was suddenly afraid to go to the hospital.

My phone finally connected to the nearest tower and I felt it buzz in my jacket. I pulled it out and found I had a bunch of text messages. There were ones from Lem, Dickie, and Paulie, but it was the one from Carly that I stopped to read.

Come to the hospital!

Something must have shown on my face when I read the text. "Go," said Meat. "We can finish up here."

I nodded and took off. I didn't even bothering trying to hail a cab in rain like this. I just ran. We had come up in Southend again, so the hospital was not that far away. I ran through the rain, knowing I needed to be at the hospital. It felt right, despite my fear and shame. My brother and Carly were there and there was nowhere else I should be. Nowhere else I should have ever been.

Running into the hospital, I was drenched to the bone, my boots making squeaking noises with every step I took on the floor. I did not stop for anyone, passing by nurses who started to question the rain soaked man running through the lobby and the watery trail behind me. But I walked with enough purpose and speed that they gave up before they caught up with me. I may have been strange, but they must have figured I wasn't dangerous. Maybe they've seen desperate people trying to get to a sick loved one's bed just in time. I made my way to Szandor's room.

Lem was just stepping out, the door closing behind him. He took one look at me and then at my face. He said nothing at first, he simply smiled and gave me a hug.

"I was just leaving," he said. "But I'm glad to see you here." Then he walked off, knowing he shouldn't keep me from the room a second longer than necessary. He was a good friend.

I opened the door slowly, but it still squeaked, which revealed my presence. I stood in the doorway, my clothes still dripping water on the floor. Inside I saw Carly sitting in a chair by Szandor's bed, a book in her lap. As I stood there, she craned her neck to look at me. "Mikkel!"

And unbelievably, behind her my brother's eyes opened and turned to look at me. "Mikkel?" His voice was drowsy, but undeniably alive.

I rushed to his side. "You're awake!"

Szandor nodded weakly. "Just don't drip all over me, brother." He had a tube in his nose, another in his arm, but nothing in his mouth. He feebly gestured toward Carly. "She's been keeping me company while you've been gone. She's been telling me about Moby Dick. All this time I thought the moral of that story was 'Be Yourself'."

"That's a good moral too," I said with a quick look at Carly, my eyes questioning her about her the Moby Dick talk. She just shrugged silently.

"Dickie and Lem came by already. Wasn't Lem just here? Or was that a long time ago?" said Szandor confusedly, glancing at Carly for confirmation.

"Yeah, I bumped into him on the way in. That's good, friends are good," I said.

"Dickie's going to try to sneak me in a bottle of Maker's. You might need to help him."

"I got a bottle of Bushmill from Delilah for you," I said. "A birthday present."

"Sneak that in here instead!" said Szandor with a feeble smile and all the excitement he could muster, which wasn't very much.

"Sure," I lied.

"You should get me out of here," he said, trying to sit up and doing a poor job of it. "This place is probably costing us a fortune."

"Just lay down and relax," I said. "We'll get you out of here as soon as we can. But I don't want you dying a block away."

"I gotta go kill me a sea serpent," he said, but it came out as a confused ramble.

"You don't have to, it's done." I said, then turning to look at Carly as I said this next part. "Jack is dead. It's over." She nodded solemnly, but said nothing.

"That's a fucking relief," said Szandor, laying back in bed. There was a pause. "Anyone else die?" He didn't look at me. He said this almost as if he was asking about the weather.

There was no way he didn't know Diego was dead. Fala was not worth mentioning. I frowned and said nothing.

"Who else?" persisted Szandor.

"Jericho. I..." I didn't know how to say it.
I pressed the button to kill him
seemed a bit much for this conversation.

"The old man?" He laughed, but it came out as coughs. Then it ended in a frown. "Shit. If that asshole's dead, how are we going to get paid?"