The Trial (The Tree House) (3 page)

We made our way through the crowded room and Ben took a seat at the bar. I slumped down on the stool next to him and buried my face in my arms, paranoid that someone
could see the gun hidden under my baggy sweatshirt.

I felt naked, exposed like there was a giant neon arrow over my head. If I turned around, I'd find every eye on me.
Every mouth gaping open in a silent scream.
He's got a gun! He killed a man! No! I'm innocent, I swear!

“What'll it be?”

I looked up to find the bartender standing in front of Ben. He held up two fingers and mumbled something I couldn't quite hear. Not long later, a frosty tumbler of whiskey was set down in front of me. My brother picked up his own glass and
clinked
it against mine. “Cheers,” he muttered then tipped his head back. The ice
clacked
against his teeth as he downed his drink in one gulp. I followed suit, feeling the alcohol burn its way down my throat and set my stomach ablaze. Two more and I was finally beginning to feel less exposed.

“You're still a bottomless pit
I see,” a woman said from the other side of Ben.

I leaned forward a bit so I could see her. She was blonde, older, good looking and had a hint of a Scottish accent.

“I've been practicing,” my brother replied tipping back his third glass. “I think we're in trouble, Aly.”

So this was the girl. She leaned forward to make eye contact with me.
I turned my head so I was staring down into my glass. I must have looked pathetic.

“Trouble, how?” she asked Ben after a bit.

This was good whiskey. Down the hatch it went.

“There was someone waiting for me at my parents' house.”

The woman – Aly – sighed heavily. “It's finally starting here,” she whispered.

“What's starting?”

I don't think either of them heard me. Their voices began to melt together leaving me to stare down at the slowly thawing ice cubes in the bottom of my glass.

“You alright, J?”

I tilted my head to the side so I could see my brother with one eye. “Hmm?”

He clapped me on the shoulder. “Let's get you another drink.”

Another glass of whiskey landed on the bar in front of me. Down it goes. Five. Six. Eight?

I lowered my head back down so the rim was cradling my face and I breathed out through my nose so the chill from the ice cooled my
skin. Closing my eyes, the bar, the people, the conversations around me all disappeared and I was standing ankle deep in thawing ice cubes and watery whiskey. I pulled Ben's hoodie tighter around myself.

Can I just stay here? I thought to myself. Even though my shoes would get soaked and the legs of my pants were going to get wet, couldn't I just stay in this glass
until the diluted alcohol seeped deep into my skin and replaced the blood flowing through my veins? Sure it was cold. Sure the glass was filling faster as the ice melted, but couldn't I just stay down there instead of having to deal with everything? I didn't want to have to face the fact that I'd never see my parents again. I didn't want to think about the very real possibility that my brother and I were going to die. I just wanted to feel my feet go numb from the cold.

“Everything that happened in London,” Ben said from somewhere fa
r above me, “You think they're coming here? I thought I'd be safe in the states.”

“No one is safe, Ben,” Aly replied. “That's kinda the point.”

I've heard that when a person is dying from hypothermia, they just lie down and fall asleep. Then it's all over. Could I lie down in the water without drowning and just drift off to sleep? That sounded nice. I just wanted to sleep. Maybe I'd float down the watery whiskey river and then when I wake up I'd be somewhere nice and warm. Away from Seattle. Away from everything that had happened. Away from my brother. The one who killed a stranger by shooting him –
pop
– right in the forehead. My brother, the murderer.

“We shouldn't be talking here,” Aly said. “You better come home with me. It'll be safer there.”

“Come on, J.”

No, I want to stay down here in this glass where it’s safe. I'm finally beginning to get used to the cold.

“Jack.”

I felt a hard tug on my arm and I was pulled away from the bar, away from my frozen sanctuary. Everything was a blur. Even though my feet weren't numb anymore, I couldn't seem to control them. I suppose the seven or eight – nine? –
shots of whiskey had something to do with that. There were so many things, so many people now to run into; I felt like I was pushing my way through a can of moshing sardines toward the exit.

Outside wasn't any better. The night air was bitterly cold, unlike the air back in my cup which felt comforting like a big snowman bear-hug. This is what I imagine it feels like to hike to the top of a mountain where the air is so thin, you can
breathe in and breathe in and breathe and still feel like you can't inhale deep enough.

Everything was a contrasted blur. Neon signs and blinding white streetlights interrupted the black as I was pulled down the sidewalk. My feet
slapped the concrete hard with every jarring step. I wanted to tell my brother to slow down.
Just hang on a second!
But my tongue was too big in my mouth to form the words I needed.

I began to fall backward toward the sidewalk – Oh man, this was going to hurt – and landed instead on a cushy leather seat. Ben cursed under his breath. “Geez, Jack, pick your feet up.” I lifted my feet up and he shoved me further across the bench seat so he could sit down next to me. “No more whiskey for you, buddy,” he muttered and slammed the car door beside him.

“Buddy,” I repeated under my breath feeling my lips tingle as I formed the word sloppily.

I put my head against the window as we pulled away from the curb. Now
, the blurs zoomed by faster making me dizzy. My stomach churned like my insides were stuck in a blender. Any minute now the lid was going to fly off and the contents were going to spew out everywhere. Any second now...

“Agh!
Jack!” Ben screamed as everything around me turned to nothing.

* * *

Ahhh myyyyy heeead...

“Did something...when you left?”

Myyyy stoommmmaaaccchhhh.

“...I thought....lost my trail...wasn't coming....the US.”

“That...never the plan...whole world...”

“...Whole world
?...don't understand...”

My eyes creaked open slowly. I was lying down in a dark room. Soft yellow light filtered in from a streetlamp outside the open window. I could see two figures, one standing out on the fire escape, the other sitting on the ledge. Two trails of smoke drifted up from cigarettes in their hands and intertwined for a second before disappearing into the air. With a groan, I rolled over onto my aching stomach and tried to push myself up. The whispering immediately stopped.

“J?”

I groaned again in response. Ben got up off the ledge and walked quietly over to me. I caught a glimpse of the glass of water in his hand as he held it out to me then I shut my eyes again trying to squeeze out the pain hammering in my temples. “Drink this,” he said and touched the cup to my hand. I wrapped my fingers around it and blindly brought it to my lips. The water was cold and refreshing
relieving my parched throat and my queasy stomach.

“Thanks,” I croaked then set the glass down in front of me and promptly passed out again.

*
* *

This time when I opened my eyes, the headache was almost gone, though my insides felt like a pumpkin after getting its guts carved out with a spoon. I rolled onto my stomach with a groan and hit something. My brother groaned back and stirred pushing me onto my back again.

“I don't remember mentioning anything about wanting a cuddle buddy,” I muttered bringing my arms up to cover my eyes.
“Unless I started talking in my sleep again last night.”

“I knew I'd moved to London for a reason,” he grumbled in reply and got up off the floor.

I sat up resting my elbows on my knees. “Was smoking the only stupid habit you picked up while you were there?”

“After last night
you aren't allowed to judge me.”

“You're the one that kept buying me drinks,” I retorted.

Ben let out a sigh. “Just drop it.”

I sat there for a minute as he rummaged around in his duffel bag for a clean shirt. “What were you talking to Aly about last night?” I finally asked.

He froze, his hands gripping the hem of the shirt he had on. Then he continued to pull it off over his head. “Just about what happened at Mom and Dad's.”

That was a lie. Even though I had been a bit out of it, I knew for a fact they were talking about something that happened in London. Whatever it was, it was connected to what had happened to us.

“Did Aly have anything to say about it?” I asked.

Ben pulled the clean shirt on and straightened it out. “Not really.”
Lie
.
“Nothing I didn't already know.” Lie
.

“Which is...what exactly?”

“Not much.” Definitely a lie. Ben shrugged halfheartedly. “Let's talk about it more after we get something to eat. I'm starving.” Then he disappeared out of the room and down the hall.

I sat there for a little longer. There was obviously something Ben wasn't telling me. Not just something, I guess. More like everything. I could tell he knew what was go
ing on, at least to an extent. But why didn't he want me to know? Why was he being so secretive? It seemed like he was only talking to this Aly girl while I was left in the dark. Aly was the key. She'd played a part in this. I had to find a way to talk to her without Ben knowing.

Having been passed out the night before, I hadn't had a chance to get a good look at where I was staying. The place was small
, to say the least. Everything seemed to be cramped together; things shoved anywhere they would fit. I stopped in the hallway to look out one of the barred windows at the street below. We were a few stories up in an apartment somewhere far enough away from the Space Needle that I could see it without having to look up.

“Jack?”

I turned around to find Aly standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Oh hey,” I said with an awkward wave. How long had she been standing there?

“I got the blood out of your clothes,” she said holding out the shirt and pants I had changed out of yesterday. “Now
, I just need you to change so I can get the vomit off of those ones.”

I looked down at my pants to find a crusty smear down one leg. “Uh...thanks,” I mumbled taking the clean clothes and twisting them in my hands. “Sorry about that,” I said. “Last night was kind of suckish.”

“No kidding,” she chuckled. “Ben was telling me you two got into a bit of a tussle. You alright?”

“I guess.” I brought my hand up to rub the back of
my sore neck. That floor wasn’t very comfortable. “I think the whiskey helped.”

“It usually does,” Aly winked then turned and started back for the kitchen.

“Uh...really quick,” I began and she stopped walking and turned back around. “How do you know Ben?”

A polite smile appeared on her
pretty face. “We worked together in London.” Then she started for the kitchen again.

“Doing what?”

Now, when she turned, the smile was gone. “Oh,” she started. “Just running errands, fetching coffee, picking up dry-cleaning, you know.” Seriously, was this Lie to Jack Day?

“Is that what you're doing here in Seattle too?”

Aly paused for a second, the small smile back on her face. “No,” she finally said. “I got promoted and relocated to Seattle. Come on then. Breakfast is getting cold.”

“Right,” I muttered then gave her a half smile. “Thanks for letting us stay here.”

She just nodded and disappeared through the doorway. I followed after her and found myself in a kitchen the size of my parents' bathroom. Ben was already sitting at the tiny table in the center of the room shoveling oatmeal into his mouth as if he were starving. I sat down across from him and stared for a second, feeling my top lip pull up in disgust. After a bit, he looked up to meet my grimace.

“What?”

“A little hungry there?” I asked raising an eyebrow.

Ben narrowed his eyes at me, chewing slowly.
“Yeah, so?”

I picked up my own spoon and stabbed it into the oatmeal in front of me. “Smoking like a chimney must really work up an appetite.”

“Shut up,” he muttered with his mouth full.

“You shut up.”

“Geez!” Aly interrupted. “You two bicker like toddlers.” We didn't say anything else, just glared down into our bowls. Aly glanced at her watch. “Alright, children,” she said. “I have to go to work.” Then she picked up her keys off the counter.

“What are we supposed to do?”