“No,” Jackson replied calmly as he stared the man down.
“Well, you’re fixin’ to get one you don’t shut your mouth and mind your own business.”
Jackson moved Jax away without taking his eyes off the man. He clinched his fists as the other customers in the McDonalds began to gather around for the looming fray. They gave the two men plenty of space.
“Wait! Wait! Wait! Take it outside guys. Take it outside. Amy, call the cops,” the manager said as he rushed away from the counter, out of sight.
“There’s no need to do that, Amy,” Jackson offered, still calm, as he stepped away slightly from the customer. “Our friend here is just a little upset, rightly so, because his order wasn’t right. That’s frustrating to us all. What’s your name, friend?”
“I ain’t your goddamned friend.”
“Here’s your new burger and an apple pie on the house,” the manager said nervously as he re-appeared next to the men with his hands shaking, now on the other side of the counter. He handed the bag of food to the customer. “Again, we’re very sorry about the mix up.”
The customer snatched the bag away from the manager and turned his attention back to Jackson.
“You need to learn to mind your own business before you get yourself hurt.”
Jackson stared at the man, but said nothing. The man backed away, staring Jackson down with every step.
“You gonna end up burying him, son, if he don’t watch himself,” the man directed to Jax without taking his eyes off of Jackson.
Jax’s face turned red and he took a step towards the man with his eyes focused like knives on the behemoth. “I am not your son.” He was stopped by his father’s arm against his chest, both of them surprised.
The man roared a deep laugh. “Look at that! Little man’s ready to fight me without battin’ an eye while his chicken shit father just stands there.”
He continued laughing.
“Enjoy your meal,” Jackson said sternly but peacefully, though peace didn’t seem to belong here to anyone watching.
The customer shook his head. “Pussy.” He turned around and walked through the door.
Jax started to move towards the door after the man, but was stopped in his tracks again by his father who grabbed him by the shirt collar. “Let him go.”
The ambient noise returned inside the McDonalds as a faint but noticeable sigh of relief filled the air while the other customers got back into line.
“Thank you,” Amy said to Jackson, trembling. “May I take your order?”
“That’d be great, Amy. Don’t screw it up. Okay?” Jackson said with a wink with the manager standing next to him.
Amy and her manager held their breath momentarily and then laughed, though they both looked like they could pass out at any moment.
“It’s on the house for you and your boy,” the manager said with a look of gratitude and relief as he patted Jackson on the back. “Thanks for handling that so well.”
The father and son placed their order.
“And we need a double cheese burger for our dog too.” Jax pointed to the truck outside where Jumper’s nose was sticking out of the window.
“No problem,” Amy said as she typed the order into the computer.
“Jumper shouldn't be eating cheeseburgers let alone ones from here,” Jackson said to Jax. “No offense,” he said to Amy.
“None taken,” Amy said and then handed a bag of food to Jackson a moment later.
“That was fast. How much do I owe you?” Jackson asked her.
“It’s on the house.”
“No. No. Here,” Jackson said as he handed her a twenty-dollar bill.
“But…”
“Please. Take it.”
“That food doesn’t even cost that much.”
“It’s okay. Please.”
“Okay.” She hesitantly took the folded bill. “Thank you.”
Jackson nodded. “Let’s go, buddy,” he said to Jax.
A few minutes later, the inside of the truck smelled like McDonalds as the Chevy headed north.
“Were you scared?” Jax asked with his mouth full.
“What?” Jackson asked his son after he swallowed his own mouthful of fries.
“Were you scared of that guy at McDonalds?”
Jackson was stunned by the question, but quickly realized why his son might wonder.
Jackson sipped sweet tea through a straw. “Why do you ask, champ?”
“I don’t think you’re scared of anything.”
“Okay. Why are you asking me that then?”
“Because you didn’t fight the guy.”
“You think I should have fought him?”
Jax thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. I mean, he was being such a jerk. He called you a puss…”
“Hey. Watch your language.”
“I didn’t say it. He did.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, sir,” Jax said and hung his head.
“No worries, kiddo. It will be our secret.”
“Cool.”
“We’ll just have to doctor the video you have of it, so your mom doesn’t know.”
“Oh, that’s easy.”
Jax went on to explain all the complex sounding steps he would take to do that.
“You scare me, sometimes. So the guy called me a name. Does that mean I should have fought him?”
Jack thought about it for a moment. “No, I guess not. Didn’t it make you mad though?”
“A little. Is being mad a reason to fight someone?”
“No.”
“Okay. Good. When should you fight then?”
Jax pondered the question. “When you have to protect yourself or someone else.”
“That’s right. To be honest, I was ready to put that asshole in the ground, excuse my language, if he tried to hurt you or me, or anyone at that McDonalds.”
“But he didn’t.”
“Exactly. He was just a big, fat, stupid bully. The best thing to do with a guy like that is stand up to him and do nothing else. They usually back down and he did. Left with his free apple pie. No one got hurt.”
“I think he wanted to fight though.”
“Sure. Bullies do want to fight. Who do they want to fight though?”
“People they can beat up.”
“People they perceive as weaker than them. He tested me, to see what I would do. He waited for me to hide.”
“You didn’t.”
“Nope.”
“Sometimes doing nothing except standing tall is the best course of action then, right?”
“I guess so. “
“You sure were ready to fight the guy. You weren’t hiding either kid. What was going through your mind? That guy outweighed you by at least a hundred fifty pounds. Maybe two.”
“I don’t know. Nothing really. I was just mad at him.”
“Mad and ready to do something about the injustice?” Jax shrugged. “I must say. I was really impressed with your bravery.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You were ready to though. That’s all that matters. Just be careful not to fight someone that has a one hundred percent chance of destroying you.” Jackson rubbed Jax’s head briskly.
“Why didn’t you want to take free food? We could have a free apple pie too.”
“Why should we have?”
“Because they were trying to thank you.”
“I didn’t help them because I wanted something from them. If I took that food for free, it would have become a transaction between us. Business. I got involved because it was the right thing to do. Taking something for it would have cheapened it. Do you see?”
Jax thought for a second. “I guess.”
“Good,” Jackson said and smiled as he looked at the road ahead. “Good,” he repeated.
They didn’t stop the truck again until they reached northern Virginia, a sleepy little community just south of Peterton where they checke
d in to a cheap motel for the night.
In the motel room, the first one they found that allowed dogs, the father and son brushed their teeth and got ready for a good night’s sleep. Jax stared at the long scar now that his father’s shirt was off.
“I’m really, really glad they fixed you, dad.”
Jackson could see what Jax was looking at. “Me too, buddy.” At least my body. “Me too.”
Jumper found his spot to sleep on the floor between the two twin beds as the father and his son each slid under their covers.
“Little TV before we shut the lights out?”
“Sure,” Jax replied.
They moved through a few stations and stopped on one that was playing Motown music videos.
“Oh. I love this stuff,” Jackson said as he sat up. “Take a good look at my face,” he sang as he snapped his fingers in rhythm while he bobbed his head and moved it side to side while he belted out more lines.
“This is old music.”
“It’s good music. Some of the best ever made. Nice to have playing when you are close to a woman.”
“Oh, God. Stop, dad. Just stop. What else is on?”
Jackson moved through a few other stations and left it on a local Virginia news station. A story grabbed their attention.
“There is very little information to report tonight about the Peterton man that was shot and killed by local authorities in a local park after he raped and killed a local high school girl.”
The father and son each sat up.
“Wow,” Jax commented as he and his father watched the rest of the story.
“Reverend Kenneth Rally had no history of violence and no criminal record of any kind. He was a well-respected member of this shocked community. More on this story from our reporter at the scene. Jewell, are you there?”
“Yes. I’m here near the spot where Reverend Rally’s body was before officials wearing protective white suits loaded it into a dark, unmarked van last night, along with the body of his victim.
“Mr. Rally was gunned down by Peterton police yesterday after he killed a young girl. She was reportedly kin to Reverend Rally. Her immediate family has declined to comment to Action News.
“I spoke with the Rally family early this morning. They reported that Reverend Rally’s behavior had changed dramatically over the last few days after he returned from a youth camping trip.
“His wife said he had been ill for the last couple of days, and she didn’t know that he had left the house yesterday evening. That is, until she was contacted by authorities with this very tragic news. More on this story to follow. This is Jewell Hill with Action 12 news reporting live from Monroe Park.”
“Never a dull moment here in BFE,” Jackson joked as he studied the people walking around behind Jewell. “Looks like every policing agency in the state of Virginia is there.”
“That’s a lot of flashing lights.”
“Sure is. You know, I just realized you’re mom still hasn’t called.”
“Oh yeah. I hope she’s okay.”
“Me too. I think I’ll call her.”
Jackson dialed her cell phone number but reached her voicemail. He hung up and tried again, reaching voicemail once more. He decided to leave her a message.
“Love you, mom!” Jax yelled loud enough for it to be recorded on the voicemail.
Jackson hung up the phone. “Hopefully we will hear from her in the morning before she gets stuck at work.”
Jackson used the remote to turn the television off.
“Time to get some sleep, kiddo. Is that thing still on?”
Jackson eyed the GoPro on the bedside table.
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you give the GoPro a rest? We have a lot more trip left for you to record.”
“Alright.”
He leaned over and hugged Jax tightly.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, dad.” Jax switched the GoPro off. “Goodnight.”
They both tucked themselves under the covers and Jackson turned out the light.
“Goodnight, my son,” the military veteran said, happy to go to sleep in the cheap air-conditioned motel room instead of the dry hot air of the Afghanistan desert, though he missed being next to Jamie more.
Chapter 17
“Let me speak to Arty,” Jewell said hastily, barking orders to the Action 12 news station’s evening manager’s secretary on the phone.
“He’s in a meeting.”
Jewell checked her watch. “At 11:35 at night? Get him out of it.”
“He said no interruptions, Jewell.”
“He has left four messages on my phone in the last half hour. I would say that means he wants me to interrupt him. If you want to hang on to your job, I suggest you let him know I’m on the phone.”
“Hold on.” The secretary made no effort to hide her sour tone. She never liked Jewell’s in-your-face style of doing everything.
Jewell heard hold music for two minutes until the station manager, Arty, finally appeared on the line.
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you.”
“Do you have me on speaker?”
“Yes. Why haven’t you answered my calls?” Arty asked, pacing around his office.
“I left my phone in the van. You know, while I reported on the news! What the hell is so important you couldn’t wait a half hour to talk to me? And why haven’t you gone home yet?”
“Why haven’t you? Where are you?”
“Peterton.”
“I mean where are you exactly? Where did you go after your broadcast thirty minutes ago?”
“We drove over to the Rally house.”
“Why?”
“Jesus, Arty. I have been interviewing some of the neighbors. What’s the problem?”
“This late?”
“Yeah. That’s what they said, actually.” Jewell chuckled.
“Damn it, Jewell. Have you seen anything suspicious?”
“Like what? A well respected Catholic man raping and killing anyone? No, Arty. That happened already. I missed it, I’m sad to say.”
“Strange activity, Jewell. Strange people. Strange vehicles. Strange things.”
“No. Nothing strange. But there is a really weird vibe at the Rally house.”
“What’s going on there?”
“Nothing. I don’t think anyone is there now. That’s the weird thing. I’ve knocked several times with no response. The family was there this morning, and I am not sure why they wouldn’t be home now, after everything that has happened. What’s going on, Arty? What’s with the twenty questions?”
“You’re in danger, Jewell. You need to get away from there right now and come back to the station.”
“Danger? Why?”
“Come to the office so we can talk.”
“Why can’t we talk about it now?”
“Jesus Christ, Jewell! Why can’t you just do what I ask for once?!”
“Calm down, Arty. Take a breath, man. Just tell me the problem.”
Arty took a deep breath. “About a half hour ago, I received a call from a news director at CNN. As I hung up the phone, a man who said he was from the CDC was looming over my desk. He just showed up here. He was scary as hell.”
“And?”
“He told me it would be bad for your health and mine if you continued reporting on the Rally story.”
“CNN called! What did they want?”
“Damn it, Jewell! Did you hear what I said? Bad for our health! That was a threat if I’ve ever heard one!”
“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. The CDC can threaten us all they want. My uncle works for the CIA. I mean, my uncle fixes copy machines. What did CNN want?”
Arty grumbled, debated being truthful. “They want you to be their special correspondent for the Rally story.”
“Really? Oh, my God! That’s great! What did you say?”
“That is was your decision. You aren’t understanding my point.”
&nbs
p; “Did the news director leave a number?”
“Yes, but I think it’s a bad idea to continue covering this story, Jewell. A very bad idea.”
“Why, Arty?”
“The CDC! Haven’t you heard a word I said?”
“I’m not afraid of the CDC, Arty. Bunch of nerdy scientists. As far as I know, we still live in America where we have freedom of the press.”
“He didn’t look like a nerdy scientist. He looked like he could rip me apart with one hand and you with the other. I think he was lying about what government agency employs him.”
“Whatever. What’s the CNN news director’s number?”
Arty hesitated, but gave her the number.
“Thanks, Arty! This is awesome!”
“I’m cutting the story from local coverage, Jewell.”
“What! Why Arty? This story is hot and it seems to only be getting hotter. National coverage!”
“Yeah. Too hot. Hot enough to get burned, Jewell.”
“You’re such a stick in the mud, Arty.”
“Good luck, Jewell. Watch your back.”
“That’s funny. That’s the same thing the chief said.”
“Chief Batton told you to watch your back? Oh, my God.”
“Give it a rest, Arty. Nothing is going to happen to me. You watch your back and I’ll watch my back. What’s that?”
“What’s what?” Arty asked as his body froze with panic, trying to imagine what Jewell was experiencing, imagining the worst.
“A dark van just pulled up to the Rally house.”
“Oh no! And?”
Jewell could feel Arty’s blood pressure escalating through the phone.
“I don’t know, Arty. You need to relax and I need to go. Oh! It’s leaving. Got to go. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
“Wait! What’s…”
“Goodnight, Arty!” Jewell said fleetingly as she hung up the phone.
“Jewell! Jewell? Shit.”
Arty tried to call Jewell back but her voicemail came on every time. He sat in his office chair and turned on the television in his office.
“Be careful, Jewell,” he said to himself aloud as he turned the station to CNN. He loved Jewell like a daughter, and she was his best reporter. He feared one day she would leave the station for bigger and better things. Now, he feared something far worse would take her away from him.
And We All Fall (Book 1) Page 14