Zero at the Bone

by Jane Seville

  At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

  His eyes drifted shut, and right away it started. Images of Jack, of him and Jack, of what he was really trying not to think about. Every time he closed his eyes he saw it. D sighed and let his head fall backwards to rest against the couch cushions and gave in, letting the memory of Jack’s skin and his body and how it had felt with him to wash over him like the surf, hard and pounding on the rocky shore and obscuring its rough breakers and jagged edges.

  Jesus, Jack. Don’t fuckin’ do this ta me. Don’t dig up all that shit I locked away.

  D got up and paced. It was pointless, but at least it made him feel like he wasn’t losing it completely. Had been a time, though it seemed like a mirage now, that nothing affected him. He was goddamned bedrock, and everything rolled right off without leaving any trace. But Jack Francisco was like a million years of rain, carving channels and caverns all through him, sinkholes down into the dark depths that he never thought would see the light of day again. Right now he felt about as rock-solid as Swiss cheese.

  They can’t know that when they call. You gotta be cold as a fuckin’ glacier. Cain’t give it away that ya give a rat’s ass what happens ta him cuz that’ll jus give ’em more leverage.

  The phone rang. D jumped, then immediately cursed what was left of his nerves. He picked up the phone, took a few breaths, and answered it. “D here.”

  “Ten miles west of here on Highway 267 there’s an old gravel access road that splits off just past Harlan Creek Road. It’ll lead you over the Truckee Gorge Dam. Be on the east end of the dam in one hour.”

  D cleared his throat. “And, uh… what’s s’posed ta happen there?”

  “Do you want Francisco back alive or not?”

  “You think I give a shit?”

  “You do, or you’d already be a hundred miles away.” D sighed. They had him there.

  “What d’ya want?”

  “Just you.”

  “Me for Francisco?”

  “That’s right.”

  D bit his lip. “What ya want me for?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “How do I know he ain’t already dead?”

  “He isn’t.”

  “Lemme talk ta him.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “I ain’t comin’ unless I know Jack’s alive.”

  “He’s fine. And even if he isn’t, you’ll come anyway just in case he is.”

  Fuck. And I thought I had ice water in my veins. “I guess you think ya got me all figgered out, don’tcha?”

  “I don’t know any more than what you’re telling me, D. I had heard you were smart and cautious. My informant must have been thinking of someone else.”

  D ground his jaw tight and somehow managed not to unleash a comeback. “One hour. I’ll be there.” He hung up and sank down onto the couch, already dialing X.

  He (she?) must have been waiting for his call, because he picked up on the first ring. “What’d they say?”

  D repeated the instructions he’d been given. “Not much ta go on.”

  “No. Jack could be dead, and they could be planning to just shoot you when you show up.”

  “Seems like an awful lotta trouble ta go to just ta shoot me.”

  “Agreed. They’re probably going ahead with a trade, which means they’d need Jack alive and walking so you could switch places. They know you wouldn’t give yourself up until you saw him.”

  “So? What do we do?”

  “All you do is get there on time. Leave it to me.”

  D blinked. “I cain’t jus’ leave it ta you.”

  “Isn’t that why you called me?”

  “I ain’t that guy.”

  “Which guy?”

  “The guy who goes along with the plan. I’m the guy with the plan.”

  “Fine. Let’s hear your plan.” D’s mouth opened but no sound came out. “Yeah, I thought so. Besides, you shouldn’t be calling the shots here. Your judgment isn’t trustworthy right now.”

  D’s temper flared. “Why the hell’s that, then? Was good enough for you in the past!”

  “You’re emotionally involved. You can’t make rational decisions in this state.”

  “My decision-makin’ saved yer life, as you’ve told me a million times, or didja forget?” D snapped. There was a pause, just long enough for him to wonder if he’d crossed the line.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” X said, and D thought he heard a little sadness coming through the synthesized voice-masking. “Which is why I want this to go right for you.”

  “I’m sorry,” D mumbled.

  “Don’t apologize. Just do as I say.”

  “Okay,” D said, half to himself. “Okay.”

  “Go ahead with the trade however they want you to do it. I’ll take care of the rest. Be ready to move fast.”

  “Always am.” He frowned, a thought occurring. “How’s it that yer close enough ta get ta the site in an hour?”

  “I’m in Tahoe, D. Have been for a week.”

  D was blindsided. “You watchin’ me?”

  “Not directly. I just… want to make sure that you do what you’re trying to do. I’ve been waiting a long time for you to want out of the business, and this is your way out.” An electronically distorted sigh. “One thing you should probably know, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I wouldn’t have let you kill Francisco.” The line went dead. D stared at it, his mind and expression blank, trying and failing not to pay attention to the man behind the curtain.

  ~~~~~

  Once they were in the car and moving, Jack’s blindfold and earplugs were removed. He hissed at the sudden assault on his retinas. Everything seemed very loud. He squinted out the windows at the passing trees but didn’t recognize anything. “Where are you taking me?” he asked, hoping he sounded confident and defiant instead of terrified, which he was.

  “Letting you go now,” one of the two men in the front seat said.

  “Just like that. Sure.”

  “Well, we’re getting something in return.”

  Jack swallowed hard. “D?”

  The henchman (as Jack could only assume these men were) chuckled. “Heard he was such a hard-ass, but he rolled over like a puppy and gave himself up.”

  “Wh… what are you going to do to him?”

  “That isn’t any of your concern,” the driver said, speaking for the first time and glancing at Jack in the rearview mirror. Jack shrank back against the seat, his mind racing. There had to be something he could do. He couldn’t just let D trade himself.

  Why not? Might be a fitting end for him. A chance to redeem himself.

  Jack’s jaw clenched as he thought about D taken, beaten, hurt, killed. I don’t care if he’s never redeemed; I just want him safe with me.

  ~~~~~

  D pulled up to the dam right on time. There was a nondescript black car parked on the other side. “Motherfucker,” he muttered.

  He couldn’t see Jack in the other car. He turned off the motor and sat there gripping the wheel for a moment, hating everything about this but most of all the fact that he didn’t know exactly how X was planning to handle this. He could guess that it probably involved a sniper rifle and a couple of dead henchmen, but there was just too much wiggle room in that scenario for his liking.

  He got out of the car and stood by the hood. The doors of the other car opened and two men in suits got out. “Lemme see Jack!” D yelled.

  “Step away from the car,” the driver said.

  D took a few steps forward. “I ain’t comin’ no further ‘til I see Jack,” D said.

  The driver nodded at the other henchman, who opened the rear door of the car and drew Jack out. D felt relief rush through him as he saw Jack, alive and apparently unharmed. Their eyes locked like they’d found magnetic north. The henchman undid Jack’s cuffs and shoved him forward. Jack started walking, not taking his eyes off D’s. The driver pulled ou
t a gun and aimed it at Jack. “Don’t try anything, D,” he said. “I can still kill him.”

  D nodded and started forward. Jack’s eyes were full of questions. How are we getting out of this? You’ve got a plan, right? I’m ready to go along. Just let me know. You’ve got it all under control, right? D tried not to let his own uncertainty show as they drew nearer.

  “Get in the car,” D hissed at Jack when he got close enough to hear. “Anythin’ happens ta me you jus’ drive. All our stuff’s in the trunk. Got it?”

  “What’s going on?” Jack stage-whispered. “What do I do?”

  “Jus’ get in the fuckin’ car and get outta here.”

  “You’re not really going to….” They were passing each other now. D saw Jack’s arm twitch as if to reach out to him, but he didn’t. The urge to just grab Jack and hit the deck was strong, but he resisted.

  “Don’t worry about me, jus’ do as I say.” D kept walking, not allowing himself to look back. He took slow, deliberate steps, watching the driver’s gun aimed past him, keeping a bead on Jack’s retreating back.

  “That’s right,” the driver said. “Don’t be a hero.”

  “I ain’t no hero,” D growled. Behind him, he heard the car door open and then shut again. The driver swiveled his gun toward D.

  “Okay. Now get in the car.”

  D actually felt the breeze past his ear before he heard the faraway, faint spit sound. A circular hole appeared in the driver’s forehead, drilled with laser precision. He went stiff and D saw the life leave his eyes; it was a familiar sight. He glanced at the other man, who didn’t even yet realize what had happened, just in time to see an identical hole appear in his forehead.

  Both men fell in heaps. D ran forward and grabbed the driver’s gun. He tucked it into his waistband, reached inside the car, and popped the trunk. All at once Jack was there, ducking and covering his head. “What’s happening? Who’s shooting?”

  D seized the driver under the shoulders. “Grab his feet. Let’s get these guys into the trunk.”

  Jack picked up the driver’s legs and tucked them under his arm. They hauled him off the ground, Jack looking a little green. “Oh, God… he’s still twitching.”

  “You okay?”

  “Shut up and let’s just get him in the trunk,” Jack said through gritted teeth, red-faced. They carried him around the back and put him in the trunk.

  “Other one now,” D said, glancing at Jack to see if he could take it.

  Jack nodded. “Let’s get it over with.”

  D had just shut the trunk when his phone rang. “Yeah?”

  “I’ll dispose of the car. You guys get lost.”

  “You sure?”

  “You’ve got less than an hour before somebody realizes they aren’t coming back with you. How far away can you be by then?”

  “Right.” D took a breath. “Thanks.”

  “Watch your back.”

  “Are you still going to be watching it?”

  Pause. “I’ll let you wonder about that.” The line went dead.

  D stared at the phone for a moment, and then slipped it into his pocket. “Come on,” he said to Jack.

  “We’re just leaving their car? With bodies in it?”

  “It’s bein’ taken care of. We gotta get outta here.”

  They ran back to the car. “Where are we going? Redding?” Jack asked as he buckled his seat belt.

  “Yeah.” D shook his head. Was it really only five o’clock in the afternoon? This day was never going to end. He backed off the dam, did a Y-turn and headed back to the highway. He glanced over at Jack, who was sitting stiffly in the passenger seat with his arms crossed over his chest. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “They didn’t… hurt ya or nothin’?”

  Jack shrugged. “Hit me in the face a couple of times.”

  D frowned. “Lemme see.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Get a black eye or anythin’? Did they—”

  “I said I’m fine,” Jack snapped, tossing a glare at him. D let it go and kept his eyes on the road. Trade yerself fer a guy and get yer head bit off fer yer trouble, I guess.

  A few moments passed in tense silence. “You wanna tell me what’s up yer ass?” D said, immediately regretting the unintentionally loaded metaphor.

  Jack didn’t seem to notice. “Who the hell was doing the shooting, D? Someone else you haven’t told me about?”

  “Now look here, who says I gotta tell you about every damned thing in the world?” D said.

  “When somebody’s shooting a rifle in my direction and narrowly missing your head I’d like to be kept in the loop.”

  D sighed. “Jus’ a friend a mine. Well… not a friend, really. Somebody I trust.” Somebody who may or may not have been watchin’ me without my knowledge fer weeks now. “Is that what yer ticked off about?”

  “Who says I’m ticked off?”

  “Yer actin’ awful pissy if you ain’t.”

  Jack stared out the passenger window, his chin on his hand. “If your friend hadn’t been able to help you, would you still have traded yourself?” D didn’t answer. No answer was required. Jack sighed. “Yeah, I thought so. I just…. I almost got you killed.”

  “Wasn’t you.”

  “The hell it wasn’t. You would have given yourself up to save me. Why?”

  D’s jaw tightened. “Right thing ta do.”

  “I don’t know what the right thing is anymore.”

  “Yeah. Story a my fuckin’ life, Jack.”

  ~~~~~

  They arrived in Redding just before ten. D pulled up to a comfortable-looking ranch house in a quiet neighborhood. They’d barely spoken for the entire trip, but it had been excruciating anyway. Seemed like the air was shimmering inside the car, like heat rising off a highway, zinging around in the space between them like they were giving off radiation. The kind that burned you.

  D could tell that Jack was tense. His whole body was giving it off, that keep-it-together vibe. What was it that he wanted to say? Or do? Did he want to touch D, or make some kind of heartfelt confession that neither of them were ready for? D prayed that they could pass the time inside this forced proximity without incident, and was profoundly glad to climb out of the car and away from that shimmering that laid on his skin like a night sweat.

  He found the key to his brother’s house, a new trepidation rising in his chest as he approached the front door. He’d never brought anyone here before, and it felt dangerous. It was too close to what he’d left behind. There were things inside that connected him to who he used to be, things that Jack would undoubtedly ferret out with his nose for the sensitive spots, things that D wasn’t ready to confront or explain.

  He opened the house and they carried their things inside, leaving them in the middle of the living room for the time being. Jack put their groceries in the fridge, opening a bottle of water for himself. D checked the doors and windows, making sure everything was locked up tight.

  When he returned to the living room, Jack was standing at the window looking out, silhouetted by the glow of the streetlight outside. D just stood there and watched him, paralyzed by indecision, struck mute by too many years of self-censor.

  Yer fuckin’ foolin’ yerself. Or tryin’ to, and not doin’ such a good job. You want him. You need him. And it’s got ya so petrified you cain’t even reach out ta him after ya both just narrowly escaped gettin’ killed.

  D shut his eyes, every cell in his body pushing and pulling at him… pulling him toward Jack, pushing him away, a tug-of-war where nobody won.

  He shuffled forward, slow and hesitant steps that drew him up behind Jack. He didn’t turn from the window although he surely knew D was there. D’s hand rose from his side, a marionette arm on strings, his breath going shaky and panicked like a spooked horse. Jack didn’t move.

  Fuck it. D let his hand fall to Jack’s shoulder. He felt him flinch a little at the contact, but he didn’t turn. The feeling o
f Jack beneath his hand, warm through his shirt and solid and strong and alive, sent another blast against that vault door, shuddering it on its hinges. He put his free hand on Jack’s other shoulder, his head sagging down. He could feel Jack thrumming, like putting his hand on the hood of a car with the engine running.

  D gave up. He couldn’t fight this, at least not now. The horror of seeing Jack’s jacket pinned to the front door of the cabin, the fear of what had happened to him, the ease with which he’d decided that he’d trade himself for Jack, and now the relief of having him back safe—it was all too much, even for him. He tilted forward until his forehead was resting against the back of Jack’s neck. A great exhale rushed from him and he found himself hanging on to Jack’s shoulders for dear life.

  Jack didn’t move. D didn’t really need him to; he just needed to stand there, feeling the warmth of Jack’s body and the pulse in his throat, the life that he’d spared and to which his own had quickly become secondary.

  All at once, D felt the tension leave Jack’s shoulders. Jack turned quickly and pressed hard against D, a sharp exhale rushing from his throat. D sucked in a breath and shut his eyes, clutching Jack to his chest and holding him fast, Jack’s arms around his shoulders.

  “I can’t believe you came for me,” Jack whispered against D’s neck.

  “Hadta,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Shhh,” D said. “Jus’….” He hesitated. “Jus’ lemme hold ya fer a minute, okay?” he whispered. Maybe if he was quiet enough, it wouldn’t really be him saying it. “Don’t ask me no questions. Jus’ lemme feel yer safe.”

  Jack sighed and his arms tightened around D. “D?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I might want to hold you longer than a minute.”

  “Hmm. I s’pose.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Standing there in front of the window with D’s arms wrapped around him, Jack had to wonder if it hadn’t been worth being kidnapped and roughed up after all.