by Ryan Casey
He was accepting the sacrifices he had to make in order to save his children.
He swam for what must’ve been ten minutes. Listened to the footsteps of Ranger and the group holding his children captive. He felt so close to them. So close, there in the pitch-black darkness, and yet so far away.
He had to time things right. Play things right.
He had to play the escape perfectly.
He hadn’t heard the footsteps or the gasps for a long time. Nothing but water dripping, rodents squeaking in the distance. The heavy breathing of Ranger’s group, the whimpering of his children.
“Can’t we just put the light on now, boss? Ain’t heard nothin’ for—”
“You can shut your fuckin’ mouth and keep walkin’, that’s what you can do. What’s wrong? Scared of a little dark?”
Although it was completely dark, Jack’s other senses were in overdrive. He could feel Travis beside him. And his kids, just in front of Travis, as he poked a gun in their backs.
He just had to climb up. Climb onto the pathway. Kill Travis as silently and as quickly as possible with the scissors, then get away with his kids.
Or pick them all off, one by one. Bring the numbers down.
He had to get his kids out of the way before the runners came. Because they would come. They always did.
He stopped swimming. Stopped, waited for the footsteps to pass, and put his hands on the side of the pathway. He waited for the footsteps to get a bit further ahead and then when he was absolutely sure no more of the group were coming past, he lifted himself up.
Water trickled off his body, made a noise, but there were no flinches. No stopping of the movement.
He let the water slide off him, held his breath, and he crept towards the group.
It didn’t take him long to reach the back of the group. For Travis to be right in front of him. He knew that any movement, any halting from Travis, and he’d bump right into him.
He kept his bare feet moving softly against the hard, soggy ground.
Lifted his arms, felt the heat, smelled the sweat coming off Travis.
And then as quickly as he could he wrapped his hands around Travis’ mouth, pulled him back and stabbed him in the neck again and again and again.
Travis’ body contorted but he put him down on the ground, laid him down there for the runners to get. Travis wasn’t the first he’d stabbed in his time, that was for sure. That’s what came with being an “odd-job” kind of guy. He’d done things in his past he wasn’t proud of.
But he had no regrets about stabbing Travis, that was for sure.
He picked up Travis’ gun and crept forward.
His heart pounded. Muscles tightened. The rest of the group hadn’t even stopped moving, but he could sense his kids were dawdling a bit, confused about the sudden movement of the gun from their backs.
Jack crouched down. Pressed the gun against Jenny’s back, and then against Sam’s, just to keep up the illusion. He didn’t want to scare them, worry them, or even excite them just yet. He had to keep the illusion going while he took out Ranger and the other three men.
He had to use the shadows to his advantage.
He didn’t want to use the gun, not too much. It’d be too noisy. Draw too much attention down here.
So he got back in the water and swam around the side of the group again, to where the footsteps continued.
“Scaredy-cat’s gone quiet,” one of them said.
“Shit yourself yet, Trav?” another voice asked.
They stopped moving.
“Travis?”
The second they started to walk back towards Travis, Jack grabbed one of their legs and pulled the man into the water.
He pressed the sharp end of the scissors against his stomach when they were submerged and he stabbed three times. Felt the warmth of the guy’s blood break through the icy-cold sewerage.
He saw a light flash above. The torchlight shone at the water.
He swam from underneath the guy he’d killed and looped around away from the light, confident that the sewer water was so murky he wouldn’t have a problem.
He emerged from the water. Ranger was crouched over Travis. The two other remaining guys looked all around—ahead into the light shining at Travis, then back into the darkness. Somewhere down the sewer, the scratching started again.
“Gotta get the fuck away from here, boss. Don’t fuckin’ like this.”
This guy, dark and greasy hair, was holding Jack’s kids. Standing over them, gripping their shoulders tightly.
It was at that point that Jack saw the blood dripping from Sam’s hand, and his heart sank.
Sam’s middle finger. That’s the one they’d snipped away. Fuckers. Sick fuckers.
He climbed back up from the water and he grabbed the mouth of the guy holding his kids and slit his throat. Sent blood splashing all over Sam and Jenny.
And then the next guy, a balding guy, turned around and Jack pressed the knife against his chest and into his heart and stabbed.
Scratching getting closer.
Footsteps picking up.
“Dad?” Sam whispered, total fear in his voice.
Jack pushed his kids behind him. Looked at Ranger as he crouched over Travis’ body.
Ranger shook his head. Smiled.
“Go on then. Get your revenge. Do what you gotta do.”
Jack lifted the gun. Pointed it at Ranger’s head.
“I’d rather the runners tore you to pieces.”
He lowered the gun and he fired six shots, three in the front of each of Ranger’s legs.
Ranger yelped. Squealed and winced with pain.
Jack started to walk away as the gasps echoed around the sewer, as shadows appeared in Ranger’s torchlight.
And then he turned around. Went back to Ranger. Twisted him onto his front and searched his pockets.
“I will take something though. For good measure.”
He pulled Ranger’s huge knife out of his pocket. Put it in his back pocket.
Took out his scissors and pressed them as hard around Ranger’s middle finger as he could.
It took a lot of force to break a bone. A lot of pressing and twisting and turning and sawing.
The scissors snapped before Ranger’s middle finger came off.
But once it was dangling off, once Ranger was screaming at the top of his lungs, Jack knew he’d got his revenge.
He kicked Ranger in the face. Sent his head cracking back against the concrete pathway. Watched the runners get closer to the light—loads of them, all clambering for light, for a life to take.
Jack wrapped his arms around his kids. Turned away from Ranger as he screamed, struggled.
“Let’s go,” he said.
They ran down the sewer pathway and back into the darkness as Ranger’s screams got even louder.
FIFTY
Jack and his kids didn’t speak much as they ran through the pitch-black darkness of the sewer, away from Ranger’s screams.
There was an understanding between them though, as their footsteps scraped along the hard ground. An understanding, as they ran side by side.
They were reunited.
They were together.
They weren’t safe—nobody was safe anymore. But the kids knew their dad was there for them. That he’d fought for them.
That he was a dad to them.
The stitch returned to Jack’s stomach when they’d been running for what felt like ages. Crippled him. Made him weak at the knees, the smell of the shit and piss and the taste of it on his lips hardly helping matters.
But he just had to keep on going. Get his kids to somewhere safer than here.
Do the things a dad would do.
“My—my finger’s sore,” Sam said. He sniffed. Cried a little.
“It’s not sore,” Jenny said. “It’s gone.”
“Okay, okay,” Jack said, as Sam winced with every step. “Come on, kids. No arguing now. We’ve… we’ve been through enough as
it is. All of us. Let’s just… let’s just find a way out of here.”
But finding a way out of this place wasn’t easy. Jack figured there had to be some ladders leading to a manhole cover somewhere, but finding them was hard in the darkness.
Besides, he wasn’t all that keen on seeing what might be above a manhole cover. He was growing used to the darkness. Adjusting to it.
“How much—how much further do we have to…” Sam said, panting as they ran. “Because I… I really don’t feel—”
“What’s that?” Jenny asked.
She stopped moving but Jack and Sam hurtled ahead. They slowed down too as soon as they realized Jenny had stopped. Slowed to a walk.
“What?” Jack asked.
“That noise,” Jenny said. “That… in front of us.”
Jack couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of flowing water, of dripping and echoing, of…
He heard it.
The footsteps.
The panting.
The gasping.
He stepped back with Sam and moved beside Jenny. Raised the gun he’d taken in one hand, Ranger’s knife in the other.
The footsteps got closer. The panting heavier. But there were no scratching sounds. No scratching, like the runners made.
Or did they always make those? Did they scratch when they were on their own? Solo?
He waited for the footsteps and the panting to get closer and readied his knife to take a swing.
Before he made the lunge, he heard a moaning. A weird cry, like no other runner he’d ever heard.
“Is that…” Jenny started.
“A dog,” Jack said.
He crouched down. Patted Blofeld on the head.
“Oh, boy. You’re soaking wet,” Jack said, as Blofeld licked Jack’s face with his stinky breath.
“You know this dog?” Sam asked. “Is… is he our dog now?”
Jack stroked Blofeld. Stroked his fur, stroked the parts where his fur had been torn up. “I suppose he is.”
“Yes!” Sam said. It was about the most excited Jack had heard him in days. “I… I always wanted a dog.”
He want to stroke the dog but then wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck. Squeezed tightly.
“I love you, Dad. You’re the best.”
Jack felt the warmth of his son holding on to him as Jenny petted Blofeld. They sat there in the dark, a family, together again. And although Jack was hurting all over, although Sam was still bleeding from his severed finger, they were together.
They loved him and he loved them.
He was their dad.
“Why can I see better?” Jenny asked.
Jack hadn’t really thought much about his vision as they sat here beside the river of sewerage. But as he held his two children, stroked Blofeld, he realised he could see. He could see Jenny’s skinny frame. See Blofeld’s light fur. See the outline of Sam’s greasy curly locks.
Light was coming from somewhere.
He squinted. Looked around. Looked for a source of light of some kind.
“Over there,” Sam said. “The light—look!”
Sam looked across the river of sewerage and he saw it.
Some ladders, and where the ladders climbed up the wall, light.
An open manhole cover.
He stood up. Patted Blofeld on his head. He knew what he had to do now—what they all had to do to get out of here.
“You aren’t gonna like this but we’re gonna have to swim across.”
“In that stinky water?” Jenny said. “That’s gross!”
“Don’t be such a girl,” Sam said. “I have a finger missing and—and I’m being tougher than you.”
“Didn’t seem tougher when you were crying—”
“Ssh!” Jack said.
He turned back down the darkness of the tunnel. Back in the direction they’d come.
He could hear them. Footsteps. Light footsteps. And the scratching, only it was getting closer and louder very fast.
Blofeld stepped into the darkness and growled.
“Quick,” Jack said. He picked Jenny up and lowered her into the water. “We’re gonna have to go across. There’s… there’s others coming.”
Jenny got into the water. Let out a few retches as she was surrounded by the filthy water.
Sam stood and stared at the water, stared at the oncoming sounds.
“Come on, son. You can do this. Just one more hurdle then we’re out of here.”
Sam nodded. Took in a deep breath, wincing as his hand continued to bleed.
Jack picked him up. Lowered him into the water.
“Just try… try not to touch the water with your bad hand. Okay? I’ll help you.”
When Jack sat himself down on the edge, Blofeld threw himself into the water. He splashed around, followed Jenny to the other side.
Jack gulped and listened to the oncoming gasps, the piercing scratching.
They didn’t have long.
He didn’t have long.
He slipped into the water. Swam across. Helped Sam, who was struggling a little to swim with one good hand.
They passed the halfway point and the gasps and scratches were so loud, so close now. He could feel them coming. Feel them coming, as Jenny climbed up onto the other side, as Blofeld hopped up and growled at the oncoming runners at the other side of the river.
“Don’t turn around,” Jack whispered to Sam. “Just… just think of the Ticklemonster. Imagine it’s just the big silly Ticklemonster. Okay?”
Sam nodded as the gasping, the scratching, stopped right behind them at the other side of the sewer, screamed so loud as they watched.
Jack gulped down a lump in his throat as he reached the other side of the stream. He pushed Sam up, Jenny helping him.
And then he climbed up and dared himself to turn around.
The runners were all enshrouded in darkness, but he could see them. He could see their dark silhouettes. Tons of them—over fifty, maybe more.
They stood at the other side of the water and they screeched. Gasped. Scratched.
“You two go first,” Jack said. “When you get to the top, open up the manhole. It’s a bit open anyway if there’s some light coming down.”
“But my hand—”
“You need to be brave, Sam. You two need to go first. I can’t… I can’t leave any of you down here. So be tough. Action Man tough.”
“Action Man isn’t tough.”
“Then whatever.”
He felt that numbness in his chest again as his kids stood in the glowing light coming down from the manhole. As they stared at him—stared at him like they’d stared at their mum as Jack had driven them away.
Stared at him with love. With realisation. But with understanding.
Blofeld started to bark.
A barrage of splashing—a crashing against the water—kicked up.
Jack nodded in understanding. In acceptance.
They were coming.
“Climb up that ladder,” he said. “Now.”
“But Dad—”
He grabbed the sides of Jenny’s face and kissed her on the head as tears streamed down her cheeks, salty tears of his own pouring out as Blofeld continued to bark at the oncoming runners crossing the water.
“You stay tough. You keep your brother safe. Look after each other. Okay?”
“But I… I love you, Dad.”
He kissed her again. More tears. More of a lump in his throat. “I love you too, sweetheart. I love you so, so much. You brave girl. You brave, brave girl. You know what you have to do now.”
Jenny nodded as Jack handed her the gun. Sniffed.
And then she stepped away.
“Daddy, you—you can’t go,” Sam said. He was crying. Hysterically crying. Blofeld was barking as nastily as he could as the sounds of splashing, of gasping, reached the halfway point of the sewer.
Jack stroked Sam’s hair. Pressed his forehead against his son’s chest and felt his fast-beating little heart. �
��I’m not going anywhere. I’ll… I’ll always be here.” He tapped Sam’s head. “Remember what I said? Always… always alive in your memories. Just think of me and… and I’m here. Always in here. You keep your sister safe, okay? You keep her safe.”
“But I can’t—I can’t climb—”
“You can do anything, my man,” Jack said, his voice breaking. The runners were so close now. So, so close. “Remember that. You can do anything you want.”
He tucked the knife into Sam’s pocket and pushed him away gently.
“Go on,” he said. Jenny was already partway up the ladder looking back at her dad, tears streaming and lips quivering. “Go on. Go on or… I love you. Don’t… Go on, or the Ticklemonster will get you.”
A little smile quivered at the sides of Sam’s mouth.
And then he turned away and ran to the ladder.
Jack helped push him up. Helped him get a grip, as Jenny got closer to the top, closer to the opening, closer to the sunlight.
He heard Blofeld stop barking. Heard him yelp, heard something snap, as the sound of the runners getting out of the water and the water pouring off them echoed around the tunnel.
He held his breath as Jenny reached the top of the ladder. As she pushed and pushed with all the strength she had to get the manhole cover away.
He held his breath as Sam struggled his way up, battled his way up, forced his way up with all he had.
He held his breath as the footsteps and the gasps came up just inches away from him.
And when Jenny pulled herself to the side, grabbed her brother’s hand, he smiled.
He let his breath go.
He was so proud.
The crowd of runners swallowed Jack, knocked him face down onto the concrete, but the last feeling he felt wasn’t pain. It wasn’t suffering.
It was the warmth. The warmth of being a dad. The warmth of fatherhood.
It was a kind of sunlight.
FIFTY-ONE
When Sam reached the top of the ladder, his eyes stung with the light.
He looked back down into the tunnel where he’d climbed up. Saw a mountain of bodies. A mountain of the bad people’s bodies, all of them surrounding Dad.
And then he saw them push Dad over.
Saw them pull at his arms and his legs, bite his neck and send his blood splurting out like a burst pipe. Heard cracking and squelching, and then his dad was gone.