Dark Creations: The Hunted (Part 4) (8 page)

More than one hundred cumulative months in combat had left him weary and with innumerable ailments.  He would never admit to any of them, least of all to his troops, but his knees had been badly damaged, his shins ached constantly, and roadside blasts had left him with both recurring headaches and a perpetual ringing in his ears.  But he would have gladly reenlisted, ignored each of them; were it not for the impending birth of his first child.  His unborn child was his primary concern.  Everything else was secondary.  Fatherhood beckoned him, made him realize that a civilian life was the only choice he had if he wanted to watch his child grow up.  Too many of his fellow soldiers had shared cautionary accounts of missing birthdays, first steps, baseball games and dance recitals for him to ignore.  Each one had struck a chord, made him realize he did not want to be a phantom father, and that military service does not end with a soldier.  His family serves as well.  And their sacrifice is great.  He wanted to be present for all of the firsts, for every holiday and special event, even if it meant leaving behind a family he was more familiar with than the one he was born to.  He knew that adjusting to civilian life would be a challenge he was ill prepared for.  But he would do his best.

He turned off Interstate 8 and navigated several side streets until he reached their humble home on Rocky Pass Road.  The windows were dark and he was sure his wife, Dawn, was asleep.  His early arrival would surprise her.  The notion of surprising her made him smile for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.  He parked in the unpaved driveway, but was careful to turn off his headlights first, then climbed out and stretched.  It felt strange to be standing on a main road unarmed and not in imminent danger.  Ordinary sounds filled the air, birds cawed, dogs barked and the few cars that drove by made soft whooshing sounds as they passed.  The world sounded safe, and unfamiliar, as he strode up his walkway.  Fortunately, someone very familiar slept beyond the front door.

He unlocked the door and crept in. 

To his surprise, Dawn was awake.  She saw him, and to his delight, surprise did flicker in her eyes.  She covered her mouth with both hands and tears began streaming down her cheeks. 

“Hi baby,” he said and felt his chest swell.

He watched as she quickly moved her hands from her mouth and flung them out before enveloping him in her arms.

“Jack,” she whispered and buried her face in his neck.

He breathed deeply, inhaling the floral scent of whatever soap she’d just used, and realized he was finally home.  Tears threatened but he blinked them back feverishly, afraid that if they started, they would never finish. 

He gently pulled her back, away from him so he could see her face, the face that he’d dreamed about and missed so badly it had physically hurt at times.  She reluctantly complied and stepped back, but entwined her fingers with his.  She held firmly as if afraid to let go, even for a moment.

“Look at you, Dawn, pretty as ever,” he said earnestly.  He felt her grip tighten further as she gave his hands a gentle squeeze.

“Fat as ever is more like it,” she worried.  “Look at me for goodness’ sake.  I wish I could look slim and sexy for you, but instead I look like, well, like
this
.”

“You look gorgeous, and sexy and slim and much prettier than anything I’ve seen in the last five months.”

And she did.  He had pictured her in his mind a thousand times since he’d been home five months earlier, more maybe, but seeing her in person was different, better.  He could see the clarity of her pale blue eyes, the brightness of her blonde hair, and now, the roundness of her small belly.  He stared at it.  It resembled a small basketball tucked inside an otherwise slight body.  She looked adorable.  He could not help but smile.

“I’ve missed you so much.  I can’t believe you’re really here,” she said and wrapped her arms around him again. 

Although she embraced him tightly, he was reluctant to return her intensity for fear of hurting his growing baby.  Instead he cupped her face in his hands, tipped her chin toward him and kissed her like he’d longed to for nearly half a year.  Once his lips touched hers, every defense he had, every bit of macho strength, seemed to seep from him.  He felt tears build behind his eyes at first, then sting and overflow with abandon.  Years of intermittent visits with the woman he loved had not been enough.  He allowed himself the luxury of missing home, of missing her, rarely.  Compartmentalization had been essential, a necessary evil really, when confronted with the realities of self-preservation.  As a soldier, allowing himself to ruminate about his life at home when engaged in battle would have been as futile as it would have been dangerous.  Both remained as an active reason to live, as a rally cry, but that had been where it ended.  Now, however, with his wife in his arms and a child on the way, the floodgates had been broken.  Everything came rushing back.  He did not want to let go of Dawn.  He kissed her harder, held her tighter, until he realized his lips had been crushing hers, and that with his tears, came an inherent need to be as close to her as humanly possible.  She hadn’t protested, but he felt he needed to give her a chance to breathe.

“Wow,” she said when their kiss ended. “I
did
miss my soldier.”

“And I missed you.”

She began walking slowly toward the kitchen.  He was reluctant to let go of her hand, but did.  He leaned against the molding of the entryway and watched as she opened cabinets.

“How about some breakfast?  You must be starved,” she said as she searched cupboard shelves.  “I’ll make your favorite, French toast, if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.  Just make me whatever you were going to eat.”

In truth, he had no idea what she ate for breakfast each morning.  He did not know of her everyday routines.  Her life was completely foreign to him.  But he looked forward to learning them, to becoming a part of them again.

“Inconvenience me?  You’re joking right?  Babe, anything you want that I can give you is yours.  You want bacon, I’ll kill a pig myself if I have to, okay?  After everything you’ve sacrificed for your country,
for me
,” she said and rubbed her hand across her swollen belly then added, “trust me, nothing is an inconvenience.”

Her gratitude embarrassed him and he did not know why.  He had joined the military voluntarily and with full knowledge of what it entailed.  He did not expect thanks or praise, especially from his wife.  Dawn had suffered in his absence, had struggled financially.  She had given up proximity to family, friends and jobs to move from base to base, to be a soldier’s wife.  He did not feel that she owed him a thing.  In fact, he believed
she
was the one owed reparation.

“Please,” he said as he closed the distance between them and grabbed a box of cold cereal from atop the refrigerator.  “This is fine, as long as you’re eating with me.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she said and took the box from his hand. 

As she gathered bowls, spoons and the carton of milk from the refrigerator, a knock at the door startled both of them.

“What the hell?” he said and stood up.  “Who would be here this early?”

“Beats me,” Dawn replied, uncertainty lacing her words.

“Stay here,” he warned her.  “I’ll get it.”

“Jack, you don’t have to worry.  I’m safe here,” she said soothingly and smiled.

“Be that as it may, I’m still going to answer the door, okay?  Will you stay in here please?”

“Yes sir, Sergeant Downing,” she said jokingly.

“I’ve only been home a few minutes and already with the wisecracks,” he joked back.  “Let me get rid of whoever this is and I’ll give you a wisecrack.”

He wanted to engage her in some sort of flirtatious banter, but far too much time in the company of mostly men had left him without a decent repertoire of come-ons. 

“Huh?” she asked and knit her brow in confusion.

“I have no idea what that was supposed to mean,” he admitted.  “I was trying to flirt with my pregnant wife,” he said sheepishly as another knock sounded to the front door.

“You don’t need to flirt, babe, I’m a sure thing,” she teased and rubbed her belly again.

He moved to the front door, smiling all the way, and opened it. Two uniformed police officers stood in his doorway.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

He detected the faintest look of surprise cross the faces of both officers.  He could not quite place what it was about that flash of an expression that unsettled him, but he placed his body directly before them, felt his posture straighten, stiffen.

“We’re sorry to bother you,” one of them began.  “We’re just here to tell you that there have been several break-ins reported in this neighborhood and wanted to give you a heads-up and ask you if you’ve seen anything unusual, any strange people roaming around?”

Though initially, their presence seemed odd and their expressions unorthodox, Jack dismissed his intuition as growing pains, kinks in his reintroduction to civilian life.  He twisted his body and called to Dawn to ask whether she had seen any suspicious people in the area.  As he did so, he felt an explosion of pain against the back of his head.  The sting was followed by white-hot throbbing and bursts of light in his field of vision.  The attack had stunned him.  He spun to face his adversaries, only see a nightstick connecting with his face.

He felt his body drop to the floor, helpless to stop it from falling.  His vision flickered, alternating between darkness and flashes of color.  He fought to stay conscious as blackness encroached, peaceful, silent, stillness.  He drifted in and out of nothingness, seduced by its serenity, and heard the officers distantly.  They seemed to be arguing as one said, “What should we do?” and the other said, “I don’t know, kill him.”  Then oblivion summoned him again, briefly urged him with its quietude.  When he returned, he heard one of them say, “She was supposed to be alone.  We can’t kill him without orders.  Just grab her and we can come back for him if we have to.”

Just grab her
. 
Who are they going to grab?
he wondered.  His thoughts were muddled, fragmented.  Nothing seemed to make sense.  He floated between darkened silence and the sound of men’s voices.  But none of it had meaning.  And then he heard a woman’s scream,
Dawn’s scream
.  The sound ripped him from the silent void, returned him to consciousness.  He lifted his head as another shriek rang out but was abruptly muffled and followed by a scuffle.  Suddenly, the seemingly meaningless phrases held significance.  The strange appearance of police officers at dawn, the peculiar expressions they exhibited fleetingly, none of it was related to his adjustment from war to home.  They had come for something else.  They had come for Dawn.

Rage coursed through his veins like lightning and resurrected him from obscurity.  He staggered to his feet and called out her name. 

“Dawn!” he heard himself scream as he stumbled into the kitchen.

The officers saw him and began shoving something out of the back door.  His feet began moving beneath him as he raced toward them full speed.

“Get your fucking hands off her!” he ordered.  Thin rivulets of blood trickled from his forehead, burned into his eyes.  He was able to make out two large shapes and one smaller one. Charging toward one of the larger shapes, he lunged headlong.  As he was about to collide with it, the large shape raised his hand high above his head.  In his hand, he held a long slender baton that he brought down without delay.

By the time Sergeant Jack Downing realized what was about to happen, it was too late to stop it.  He felt the nightstick strike him again, heard the distinct cracking sound of hardwood meeting with his skull.  He collapsed to the floor
instantly, and felt his body go limp.  Darkness swarmed like innumerable locusts, crowding out the sun, frightening and sudden.  He was powerless against it.

An unmistakable thump caused Melissa to sit bolt upright.  Her abrupt movement disturbed Gabriel’s grip around her body.  He stirred briefly then saw her sitting up, alarmed.  She had been sleeping happily, nestled in his arms, until something thudded loudly in the room beyond the bedroom door.  He sat up beside her and they both were still, listening.  Footsteps fell in the living room.  Gabriel heard them too and was out of bed and on his feet instantly.  He found his pants on the floor next to the bed, slid into them and moved dexterously to the door.  She scrambled to the edge of the bed, found his shirt and quickly pulled it on then quickly moved to his side.  He looked at her with an expression she’d seen before, his face etched with concern, and determination.  He looked to the door again.  Her eyes followed his eyes, his movement.  She watched as he slowly turned the brass knob and opened the door a little more than an inch.  He pushed his face to the opening, peered into the darkened room.  He turned back to her and shook his head.  He hadn’t seen anyone, or anything.  He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear.

“Stay here,” he breathed.  “I’m going in there to see what the hell that noise was.”

She panicked immediately.  Thoughts raced through her mind.  Memories, potentially disastrous situations, monsters and more appeared and disappeared like supernatural visions.  They cautioned her, like phantom messengers, to stay with him.  She heeded the preternatural warning.  Every cell in her body shivered in agreement that they should
not
separate.