She wasn’t responding and oh God, the blood! Jacko needed to get up and find something to staunch the bleeding but he didn’t dare leave her side. He picked up her hand, that pretty hand he loved to hold, but she didn’t curl her fingers around his as she usually did. Her hand was slack in his.
She was slick with blood now and he was frantic. The bleeding between her legs was heavy and he pulled the top sheet off the bed to stuff between her legs when all of a sudden her belly bulged obscenely and something appeared from her vagina. A black head of hair. Her body was pushing it out though she was unconscious, head slumped back, bloody eyes closed.
Jacko was sweating, frantic, not knowing where to help her, how to help her. He needed to call someone but in the meantime she was giving birth, bleeding, unresponsive.
“Lauren, look at me, honey, don’t close those beautiful eyes, I want to see them, I want to see you looking at me, Lauren, honey—Lauren.”
He kept up the litany, in a panic. He never panicked but the situation was barreling out of control. A head slithered out from between her legs, one shoulder, the other—coarse black hair, deformed features. Eyes alive, watching him.
As Jacko watched, the creature pulled itself out of Lauren’s body with long, spindly arms, this freakishly disjointed thing, slithering out in a gush of blood, blood Lauren didn’t have to spare. The thing cracked her open, thin black fingers tearing her apart from the inside.
Jacko heard the crackling sound of Lauren’s pelvic bones breaking. The pain had to be horrible, but she was unconscious, pale face still, eyes unmoving behind their lids.
The thing finally clawed its way out of her ravaged body, blood spurting, the white splinters of broken bones visible. Jacko reached for it to kill it but it slithered out of his grasp.
The thing scampered to the edge of the bed, multi-jointed legs working like a spider’s legs. It crouched there for a second, head cocked, watching as Jacko frantically tried to soak up the blood that was rushing from Lauren, shaking her, shouting her name. He lifted up her shoulders and her head lolled, as if she were…
No. No!
With a hateful cackle, the creature leaped from the bed, scuttling like a cockroach across the room, disappearing out the door. Jacko couldn’t race after it because he held a motionless Lauren in his arms, blood pouring from her ravaged body.
“Lauren,” he whispered. Sound barely made it out of his tight throat. He was strong but there was nothing he could do against the damage that her body had suffered. “Honey, come back to me.”
She shuddered in his arms and he pulled her tightly against him, holding her, rocking her. She didn’t embrace him, her arms lying slack at her sides, hands open on the blood-soaked sheets.
He had one hand against her back and felt a long breath leaving her body. No breath coming back in. He held her even more tightly, his own harsh breathing loud in the silent room. Panic filled his head, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t think.
Another small shudder, a rattling sound in her throat, and he could feel life slipping from her. One last sigh and she collapsed in his arms. Pulling back, Jacko stared at Lauren through tear-swollen eyes and all he could see was a beautiful corpse, ravaged beyond recognition.
“No!” he screamed. “No no no!”
Her blank eyes stared back at him accusingly. He hadn’t been able to save her and now she was dead.
The creature across the room stopped and looked back over its misshapen shoulder, head cocked, studying him out of black, fathomless eyes. Crooked lips lifted over bloodstained teeth. “She’s dead,” it hissed.
No!
Jacko bolted up in a rush, shaking. He was breathing hard, panting, sweat pouring off him in rivers. His head swiveled, looking around the room. Empty. He looked at his hands. Empty. Not holding a dead Lauren.
He checked the bedsheets. Not covered in blood. There was no monster creature across the room staring at him, taunting him.
Lauren wasn’t dead.
It took a long time for his body to recognize that. It was shaking and shivering, convinced he’d watched her die.
Finally, he sat up against the dusty headboard, more exhausted than when he’d arrived. Somehow he’d fallen asleep and had a nightmare. If that was what he could expect when he fell asleep—watching Lauren die, torn apart and bleeding—he’d stay awake the rest of his life.
There was nowhere to go with his horror and dread. He couldn’t go back to Lauren this way, simply couldn’t. He was a wreck, convinced his child would be a monster that ripped her apart. Even when he closed his eyes for more than a minute, he could see the creature slashing its way through her, a goblin from the bowels of hell. His goblin. His hell.
Jacko sat on the sad bed in the dirty motel room until the sky outside the smeared windows turned faintly lighter. He exited the motel room, got into his truck and turned south, hoping to find something that would let him sleep without dreaming of demons.
He reached San Diego mid-morning, turned east onto 94 and the road started climbing up into verdant hills.
At San Diego he barely thought of Coronado, which was weird. It was just the turnoff point, not the turning point of his life.
San Diego was where he joined the Navy, Coronado where he underwent SEAL training. The Navy and the SEALs had turned his life around. In a very real sense, his life began the day he walked into the Navy recruitment office. The most important place in his life had been San Diego.
Until Lauren. Until Portland.
The day he first saw Lauren—that was the day his real life began. The day he was no longer alone in the world. The SEALs gave him brotherhood, so did ASI. But nothing in his life had prepared him for what it meant to be a couple. To know he would be with Lauren till—as the saying went—death did them part.
To be loved.
Before Lauren, he’d have laughed if anyone said he’d fall in love, and now look at him.
No one had ever loved him before Lauren and he was running away from her, just when she needed him.
But God, the image of that goblin, tearing her up from the inside…
He rolled into Rancho San Diego. It was a pretty, upscale dormitory town, full of expensive shops, galleries and restaurants. Mayer’s office was on Catalina Boulevard, which turned out to be one of the main thoroughfares. It was so devoid of traffic he was able to park right outside the lawyer’s offices.
Jacko got out of his SUV slowly and stretched. He felt stiff and creaky, like an old man. Like he’d had a bad flu for a couple of decades. He hadn’t slept beyond the time of the nightmare but that wasn’t it. On one op in East Africa they’d gone for two weeks on an average of a couple of hours’ sleep every twenty-four hours, and he’d still been going strong when the op ended. Now he was wiped out with worry and self-loathing and homesickness and terror. He was feeling all of them, all at once.
There it was, a four-story brick building, big potted plants outside a brass and glass entrance. Jacko pulled out his cell, called the lawyer. He had called from the road to say he’d be arriving Sunday and Mayer had promised he’d keep the office open. Mayer answered immediately and told him to come right in.
Jacko was dirty, tired. His clothes were rumpled and he was smelling none too fresh after so many hours driving. He hadn’t shaved either.
Jacko had no pretensions to elegance, didn’t even want any. Off-duty, he dressed in jeans and tees that, though clean, were well worn. When he was on official ASI business, he usually wore turtleneck cotton sweaters and sports jackets and occasionally slacks instead of jeans. He made an effort for his bosses to be presentable. He’d even removed his facial piercings and in winter, long sleeves covered his tribal tats.
But right now he was presenting himself as a rumpled thug with two days of stubble.
Fuck it.
He walked into the building, found a big brass board with company names etched on it and saw that Mayer & McLean Law Office was on the third floor. He took the stairs two at a
time, needing the physical exercise.
Inside, it was everything he imagined a law office should be. Prosperous and quiet as they sued the pants off people on behalf of their clients. Jacko avoided having any dealings with doctors and lawyers if possible.
A very blond woman in clothes Lauren would approve of lifted her eyes, then widened them when she saw him.
“Yes?” she said in a voice that was supposed to make him cringe.
He just stared her down. “Morton Jackman. Here to see Mr. Ernest Mayer.”
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t check anything. He didn’t fit the profile of a Mayer client. That was okay with Jacko. He was used to not fitting anyone’s profile. “Mr. Mayer is fully booked up. Today and tomorrow.”
Fuck that. “Check your boss’s schedule. See if he made room for me.”
“I’m sure that—” She clicked and her heavily mascaraed eyes widened. She looked back up at him. “I was—um—mistaken. You can go in, Mr. Jackman, first door on the right. I’ll announce you.”
A Mr. Jackman to see you, sir, he heard as he went through the polished teak door with Ernest Mayer, Esq on a brass plaque to the side of it.
The door didn’t open when he got within three feet from it like the ASI doors did. It was a good office, it smelled of money, but it wasn’t anything compared to his company.
What the fuck was he doing here when he could be back in Portland, working at the coolest company on earth, then going home to the most beautiful woman in the world? He stood before the door until he heard a click and a female voice coming from a small box by the side of the door, asked him to come in
Ernest Mayer Esquire’s office was guarded by a dragon lady—a middle-aged woman with steel-gray hair and glasses with those chain thingies attached to the temples. She looked like trouble and Jacko braced himself—but she surprised him by smiling warmly. “Go right in, Mr. Jackman. Mr. Mayer is waiting for you.” She pressed a button and a red light went on over the door to Mayer’s office. “I’ll make sure nobody disturbs you.”
Jacko opened the door a little warily, unsure what to expect. The last thing he expected was a hug.
This tiny guy—a hobbit, really, only with shoes instead of hairy feet—was clutching Jacko’s waist, head full of wiry gray hair buried in his chest.
Jacko froze, arms at his sides, afraid to make any kind of move. What the fuck?
The geezer pulled back, snatched his wireless eyeglasses off his face and wiped his eyes. His hand wasn’t enough so he pulled out a blindingly white handkerchief as big as a sheet, wiped his eyes with that and honked into it.
“Mr. Jackman.” Jacko wasn’t tall but this guy had to tilt his head back to look him in the eyes. “Please forgive me, emotion got the better of me.” He indicated a client chair. “Please, sir, sit down. This is an amazing pleasure.”
Jacko barely kept himself from looking behind him to see who the geezer was referring to. He sat down, gingerly, prepared to get back up fast if Mayer had mistaken him for someone else.
The guy didn’t speak, just beamed at him in silence.
Okay. Jacko would have to get the ball rolling. “Mr. Mayer,” Jacko began.
“Oh!” The geezer jumped in his chair. “How remiss of me! May I offer you something? Coffee? Tea?”
“Coffee. Thank you. Black, no sugar.”
“Indeed.” He pressed a button. “Marsha, could you please bring a cup of coffee and my usual tea? Thank you.”
He folded his hands in front of him and just stared at Jacko, big smile plastered on his face.
This was getting very weird. Jacko tried again. “Mr. Mayer—”
“Your grandfather would have been so proud of you,” Mayer said quietly. Alarmingly, his eyes were wet again. “I checked your records, Mr. Jackman. You have a very distinguished service record, and I suspect there were many brave acts that weren’t in the official records. A SEAL.” He shook his head. “Amazing.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mayer. Now the reason for my visit—”
“Lee had no idea of your existence,” Mayer interrupted. “None. His daughter Sara ran away and he never heard from her again. Broke his heart. Alice never recovered and died of a stroke five years later.”
“I had no idea I had grandparents, either,” Jacko said quietly.
“I did some checking,” Mayer said. “You were in and out of foster homes, while Sara was in and out of rehab and in and out of prison. I want you to know that if your grandfather had had any inkling of your existence, he would never have let you stay one day in foster care. Unthinkable. You had it rough in your childhood.”
Jacko nodded. Yeah, he’d had it rough. But it was a long time ago.
“But you turned into a fine man, a brave soldier. And from what I could see on the website of Alpha Security International, a very successful businessman. Notwithstanding a brutal childhood. Sara has a lot to answer for, besides breaking her parents’ hearts.”
“Had,” Jacko said. “And I guess she paid for her addictions. Her life was short and miserable.”
Mayer nodded. “Cut off from her own family and from her own son. I cannot imagine anything worse. Her parents loved her dearly but after running off, they never heard from her again. They had no idea if she was dead or alive. It broke them.”
“I didn’t know them, I didn’t know they existed. But I’m sorry they went through all that pain.”
“Well.” Mayer looked down at his desk and drew in a deep breath. He looked up and smiled. “A lot of harm has been done, but that’s over now.” He pushed a set of keys across the wide expanse of polished desk to Jacko. “The red keys open the gate, the blue key opens the front door, the green key opens the back door and the garage.”
Jacko hefted the set of keys in his hand. They were like artifacts of a bygone era. Perfectly normal keys for locks that could be picked in a second by a toddler. Security clearly wasn’t a big priority for Lee Garrett. He felt safe in his world. Jacko hadn’t ever felt safe. His house was as protected as high tech could make it.
“Keypad codes?” he asked the lawyer.
Mayer’s eyes went blank. “I beg your pardon?”
“Any keypads to access the property? I’d need the codes.”
“Ah.” The frown lines eased up, leaving only the lines of old age. “No. No keypads, no codes. Everything you need to get into the Garret estate is right there in your hand. I don’t think Lee ever even contemplated keypads.”
Or any other form of security, apparently. “Okay.” Jacko wanted to get going. To get to this place, get a feel for it, find out what he could as fast as he could and then get back to Lauren. “I’ll get these keys back to you when I’m done.”
Mayer smiled. “No, sir, you will not. The keys, the farmhouse, the land and everything on it is now officially yours.” He leaned forward and suddenly he no longer looked like a kindly hobbit, he looked like the worldly man he was. “I’ll tell you a secret, Mr. Jackman.”
“Jacko,” he said steadily.
“Jacko, then. I may have stretched the law a little. Lee’s will was very clear. He left his entire estate to his daughter, Sara. I could have had her declared legally dead. God knows I wanted to. Wanted her dead, actually, may God have mercy on my soul. I hated her because she caused my best friends so much pain. But, the fact is I didn’t have her declared dead because Lee didn’t want that. As long as he lived, he hoped she’d come home and wouldn’t hear of her being declared dead.
“And there’s something else. I am a lawyer, Jacko, and as such, I am legally bound to the facts of any case that crosses my desk. But I had a feeling I can’t explain that something—someone—was out there. That Lee would find justice, even if after death. I think I somehow felt that you would someday show up, and by God, you have. I will expedite all the paperwork and forward it to you. As fast as the law allows, I will make sure the property passes over into your name. Lee deserved that, and you deserve it. I’ll forward the deed to you at your company or your private addres
s, whichever you prefer.”
His words were like arrows piercing his chest. Jacko had never once thought of anything good coming from his mother, and here he found himself with a property. Belonging to his grandfather.
His grandfather. His grandmother. The words sounded strange, like rocks in his mouth. These two people he’d never met, never even imagined could exist. People who looked nothing like him but people who might have loved him had they known he existed. Who knew?
The only person who had ever loved him was Lauren. That was a bedrock fact of his life. But maybe…
Maybe he would have been loved by his grandparents. Who the fuck knew?
Now he was itching with curiosity to see the place, a place tied to him by blood and, if the geezer across the table from him was right, tied to him by tears.
Jacko rose and Mayer rose with him. He reached out a tiny, soft hand and shook his with a surprisingly strong grip. “Mr. Jackman, it’s been a pleasure. Stay at the ranch as long as you like, of course. The deed will arrive in a few days, but I can assure you that the property is yours, free and clear.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mayer. I’ll keep the keys then but if—when I come back, I will be sure to let you know.” He’d come back with Lauren. With his pregnant love. To look at the property his grandfather had left him.
Such crazy notions. Pregnant lover—soon to be his wife. Wife. Kid. Grandfather. Grandmother. For someone who’d been alone all his life, he was accumulating connections like crazy.
The old guy’s eyes were wet as he shook Jacko’s hand. “I’d be very grateful if you could give me a ring when you come back, Mr. —Jacko. It would be an honor to invite you out to dinner. Lee Garrett was like a brother to me. Alice, your grandmother, was one of my wife’s best friends. My wife was devastated when Alice died. So do please let me know.”
“Sure.” The geezer was moved and damned if Jacko wasn’t moved too. He was looking at the lifelong friend of his grandfather. Mayer had loved Lee Garrett like a brother, he said. Which made him practically Jacko’s uncle. Great uncle.
MIDNIGHT QUEST: A Short 'Men of Midnight' Novel Page 7