And We All Fall (Book 1)

by Michael Patrick Jr. Mahoney

  Chapter 18

  Jax awoke to the sound of water running from the motel room sink. He sat up and squinted as he eyed the brightly lit crack beneath the cheap, navy blue curtain that revealed Wednesday morning had arrived.

  He saw Jumper sleeping against the motel room door and hopped out of the bed, grabbing his GoPro before his glasses. He turned it on and strapped it to his chest as he walked over to the sink to get his glasses.

  “Morning, dad,” he said as he looked up at his father who was shaving, wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist.

  “Good morning, buddy,” Jackson said looking into the lens with a smile. “Filming already, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Jax said with a smile. “Want to record as much of the trip as possible.”

  “Including me shaving?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Jackson grinned and continued shaving. “How did you sleep?”

  “I slept well. How about you?”

  “I slept fine. Even the bed in this fleabag motel is better than the one in Afghanistan.”

  “I had an awesome dream.”

  “Yeah? What happened?”

  “We rescued that mom and her baby. Just like we did yesterday in real life, except in my dream we flew down to the wreck. You, me and Jumper.”

  “Jumper was flying too?”

  “Yes. We walked through the fire and tore the car apart with our hands. Pulled them both out. Then we used our super cold breath to blow the fire out. We even saved that tree. Then we all just flew away with the mom waving at us.”

  “Wow. Like Superman.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “What do you think that means?”

  “Could mean a lot of things. We can Google it later. Sounds like you are proud of what we did, that’s for sure.”

  “I am. I’m proud of you, dad. Really proud. You are like superman to me.”

  “Awe.” Jackson blushed a little. A feeling of warmth washed over him. “You’re pretty super yourself, Jax. I’m sure that you’ll fly in some way or another when you are all grown up. Maybe you’ll be President someday! Save the world.”

  Jax laughed. “Yeah. Sure. I can’t even handle Betsy.”

  “You’ll get better at that. Promise. You can do anything son. Anything you want. Be anything you want. Just believe. Hear me? Believe.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Do you want to take a shower before we get some breakfast and get back on the highway?”

  “Yeah. I’ll take a quick one.”

  “Okay. Go for it.”

  Jax eyed the long scar that dissected his father’s chest.

  “Does it hurt at all?”

  “My scar?”

  Jax nodded as Jackson cut his neck with the razor. “Ouch! Damn.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yes.” Jackson stuck a piece of toilet paper against the cut.

  “Course you are. You are Superman.”

  Jackson smiled. “Superman bleeds.” Jackson stared at the long scar in the mirror. “It only hurts when I look at it.”

  “You have a lot of scars.” Jax started touching different ones.

  “Scars remind us that we’ve been alive.”

  “You’ve done a lot of living. You ever wish you didn’t go in the service at all?”

  “I regret missing time with you and mom, but otherwise no, I don’t. I believe it was my destiny. My destiny to get shot that day.”

  “You do?”

  “Heck yeah. Who knows what would have happened if I wasn’t there that day. It was fate, just like me and your mom. Destiny waits on us all, buddy, whether we want what it has planned for us or not.”

  Jackson dried his face off with another towel. Done shaving. “Go ahead and take your shower so we can hit the road.”

  Jax gave his father a hug and then closed himself in the bathroom.

  Jackson turned the television on and finished getting dressed.

  “I’m going to take Jumper for a walk,” he yelled with his face pushed against the bathroom door.

  “Okay,” Jax yelled back over the sound of running water.

  Jackson picked up his cell phone on the way outside with Jumper.

  “Go ahead, Jumper,” he said to his four-legged comrade. “Do your business.”

  As jumper lifted his leg to pee, Jackson pushed the speed dial on his phone to call Jamie.

  “You’ve reached the voicemail for Jamie Mills. I’m sorry I missed your call. Please leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

  “Hey, babe,” Jackson said on cue. “I was hoping to catch you this morning before you got busy. Jax wants to say hi too. Call me back when you can. We love you.”

  Jackson hung up and put the phone in his pocket. He eyed Jumper began is long pooping process. It involved quite of bit of walking in circles, look for just the right spot.

  “Good boy,” he said to Jumper as he kicked up the grass with his back legs, finally finished. “Alright. Enough of that,” Jackson scoffed. “Come on. Let’s go back inside.”

  Jackson and Jumper walked back inside the room. Jax was sitting on the bed channel surfing with his hair still wet.

  “Jumper pooped,” Jackson said to Jax. “I need to get some toilet paper to pick it up.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to pick it up for you?”

  “Nah. I’ll get it. We’ll head to the office to check out when I get back. Do a scan of the room and make sure we have everything.”

  Jackson headed to the bathroom.

  “Okay, dad… Whoa!”

  Jax landed on CNN. The sea of police cars on the screen forced him to stop channel surfing. A familiar story and a familiar face appeared on screen.

  “Dad!” Jax yelled. “It’s that story again. About the girl here that was murdered.”

  Jackson walked over from the bathroom with toilet paper in his hand. He sat on the bed next to Jax. “That’s the same reporter we saw last night. Now on CNN?”

  “As you can see behind me,” Jewell Hill said with a microphone in her hand, “though the incident happened here late on Sunday afternoon, there is still a heavy law enforcement presence here this morning.”

  “Jewell, why are there still so many policing agencies at the park? What’s going on there in Peterton?” the CNN desk anchor asked the local reporter, now reporting for CNN.

  “I’ve been asking the same question for days now and officials are refusing to comment on that at this time.”

  “What can you tell us about the perpetrator’s home? We’re getting calls at the news desk that it’s on fire?”

  “Really?” Jewell sounded truly surprised. “This is the first I’ve heard of that. I’ll definitely see what I can discover.”

  “Perhaps some kind of retaliation.”

  “Could be. The home appeared vacated last night. Dark.”

  “What’s the status of the park, Jewell?”

  “As you can imagine, with all the activity here, the park has been closed to the public, though there is plenty of public hanging around outside the caution tape. Lot of people are curious, including me.” Jewell turned away from the camera and opened her gate to the bustle behind her.

  “As are we. You’re saying that none of the law enforcement information officers are providing any information at all?”

  “No. Not a single one.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “Indeed. You’d think the President was coming through here today given the level of attention and secrecy.”

  “Interesting. Well, maybe he is. Guess we will see. We’ll check back with you in a bit, Jewell. Thank you.”

  The anchor moved to another story as the image of the female reporter standing in Charlie Monroe Park swiped off-screen.

  “Wow.” Jackson looked stunned.

  “What do you think’s going on, dad?”

  “I’m not sure, but I saw someone with a FEMA jacket walk behind the reporter while she was talking. Let me t
ry mom again. I called her while I took Jumper out but got her voicemail. I’m not sure if she is at work already.”

  Jackson repeatedly called Jamie’s cell phone, but her voicemail answered every time. He decided to call her office.

  “She is in a meeting,” her personal assistant Sherry told Jackson. “I’ll let her know you called.”

  “Okay. What the hell is going on in Virginia, Sherry? Do you know anything?” Jackson asked her. “The news is here is crazy right now.”

  “You’re in Virginia? Now?”

  “Yes. Like five miles from what looks like all hell breaking loose in some park. I see FEMA on TV. What’s up?”

  “I don’t really know, Jackson, but I can tell you that I’ve never seen Jamie like this. She hasn’t had a moment to breathe since yesterday morning. She didn’t even go home last night.”

  “She didn’t?”

  “No. No one here did.”

  “Oh, God. What the hell is going on, Sherry?”

  “I promise I will have her call you as soon as she can. In the meantime, please be careful, Jackson. There’s bad mojo in Virginia.”

  “Careful of what?”

  “Just be careful, Jackson,” Sherry insisted as she hung up.

  “Wait. Sherry? Sherry?” Jackson shook his head as he stuffed his phone in his pocket. “What the hell?” he asked aloud rhetorically. “I keep getting hung up on. This is crazy.”

  “What?” Jax asked.

  “Your mom stayed at the office all night. Everyone at her office did.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because of what is happening at the park. What they have been talking about on TV.”

  Jax agreed.

  “What do you say we get out of Virginia before the sky falls on our heads?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Jax said with a laugh.

  With that, the father and son loaded everything into the truck, including Jumper. Jackson ran into the office and turned in the motel key. They were back on the interstate heading north after a quick stop at the Burger King drive through for breakfast.

  When the phone rang a few minutes later, Jackson expected it be Jamie. It was someone else that he expected a call from someday soon, just not today. Not now, while he was so far away from Atlanta, and getting further away every second.

  “I’m so sorry, Jackson,” Cynthia said after they exchanged greetings and she let him know she was calling about his father.

  Jackson’s face turned to stone as she continued. The sky had fallen.

  “He passed about fifteen minutes ago. I’m so sorry.”

  Jackson didn’t say a word as he stared straight ahead through the windshield of his father’s truck.

  “Jackson? Jackson?” Cynthia asked. “Are you there?”

  “Thank you for letting me know.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll be in touch later to discuss the arrangements.”

  “Okay. Are you alright, Jackson?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll be in touch.”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  “I said I’m fine!”

  “Okay. I’m sorry.” The air was uncomfortable dead on the line. “Okay. We’ll have him taken over to the funeral home. Is there anything I can do for you now? Anyone you need me to call?”

  “No. Thanks. I’ll talk with you later. Bye, Cindy.”

  Jackson hung up. Jax could see the tears in his father’s eyes as he focused straight ahead stoically, not speaking a word, not moving a muscle, even as the truck glided slower and slower over rumble strips on the interstate. He breathed rage hard from his nose, and it seemed like he was going to explode.

  “Dad? Who was that?”

  Every memory Jackson had of his father flooded his brain. Guilt, sadness and anger waged war inside him, a storm of conflicted feelings.

  He settled himself. “Grandpa.”

  “What about Grandpa?”

  Jax began to fight the tears he felt forming in his eyes, but he failed. He knew.

  “He died a short time ago.” Ad infinitum, Jackson thought and stared through the windshield at the sky. And we all fall. He ran his hand across his bald head. “He’s gone.”

  Jax began to cry a little as his father pulled off the road and rubbed his own face so hard that he almost rubbed it off.

  “Are we going back?” Jax asked as the truck now idled on the emergency stopping area of the small bridge connecting the asphalt and concrete.

  “No. There isn’t anything we can do for him now.”

  “You going to call mom?”

  “She still hasn’t call me back from the message I left a little while ago. I’ll tell her when she calls.”

  Jax looked down at his lap, pondering his own memories of the man he called Grandpa, as the GoPro recorded. He was worried about his own father now. The look on Jackson’s face was foreign to Jax. He had never seen it before, and it bothered him.

  Jackson looked back at the rifle as the halted truck’s engine reverberated off the metal surface that covered the little bridge over Doglick Creek. “There is one thing we could do for him.”

  “What?” Jax asked as he wiped the tears away from his rosy face, scared now that there was a gun in the truck.

  Jackson reached over to the glove box and pulled out a weathered box of bullets.

  “What’s that?”

  “Ammo.”

  Jax gulped. “For what?”

  The heartbroken Marine tensed his upper body while looking up at the ceiling with tears streaming down his face. He reached up and released the Enfield from the rack that held it with Jax filming every second, wondering what his father planned to do.

  “Dad? What are you doing?” Jax asked nervously.

  Jackson put his hand out to silence Jax and then loaded five bullets into a magazine that was secured to the gun rack. He then turned off the truck. “You’ve always wanted to shoot a gun. Right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’ve always wanted to shoot this one.” Jackson popped in the clip. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

  “Here? Now?”

  “Yes. To honor Grandpa.”

  Jax was relieved. Mostly. “Those are some big bullets.”

  “Thirty caliber.” Jackson pushed one more bullet into the chamber. “Let’s go,” he continued as he rolled down the window for Jumper and then opened the door. “Stay here, Jumper. Protect,” he said to Jumper while signaling with his hands after he closed the door.

  He reached inside and retrieved the white plastic grocery bag of fruit.

  The father and son trampled on the wild, purple roses that grew near the sign that read ‘Bridge of the Roses,’ marking their location near the Virginia town border as the heavens grew dark. The pretty flowers grew as far as their eyes could see. The hastening wind whispered a warning of an approaching storm.

  It was coming.

  They traveled fifty yards down the moderately wooded terrain of the steep hill before they stopped. A magical blue light saturated the ambience there, some fantastic, strange law of physics at work.

  A drop of rain made ripples on the surface of the creek nearby, reminding Jackson of something his father use to say as he held the man’s beloved rifle in one hand and the bag of fruit in the other.

  “A single drop can send waves all the way to China.”

  “Huh?” Jax asked.

  “Something Grandpa use to say.”

  “About what?”

  “The significance of little things.”

  Jackson stared at the lonely tree at the water’s edge. “Wow. Beautiful.” His eyes followed the tree up until he saw it blending in with the thunderous sky. “Big one. At least fifty feet tall.”

  “What is it?”

  “Willow tree.” Jackson looked left then and then right down the shoreline of Dog Lick Creek, a narrow body of water that fed into a lake a mile away. “Interesting.”

  “What?”

  “Thi
s is the only one here. A weeping willow, all by itself.”

  “Weeping willow? Why do you call it that?”

  “Lore. There are a lot of different legends and religious stories related to the willow tree. It’s an amazing thing.”

  “How do you know so much about it?”

  “Your grandma. My mom. She loved trees. Every kind of tree you can imagine. The willow was one of her favorites. There are like four hundreds different kinds of willow trees.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “Yep.”

  “What kind of legends?”

  Jackson tenderly ran his hand along the willow’s trunk a few times, like it was an old friend. “Well, they have really strong roots. ‘A great persistence to hang on to life’, grandma use to say.” Jackson grinned briefly, remembering her being much like the willow in that regard.

  “Medications have been made out of the leaves and even the bark of the willow. I once saw a painting of a willow tree that was crafted from the charcoal that was made from the trees itself. Life transformed. It was in a museum Grandma took me to when I was about your age. Isn’t that awesome?”

  “Yeah. What else?”

  “Well. These beauties are supposed to be wise. You can tell the willow all your secrets. Ask and they will answer you. They are a symbol of sorrow and grieving too, hence the name weeping willow.” Jackson turned around, and marked another tree in the other direction. “Come on.”

  Jackson walked about ten steps away from the shoreline with Jax following and positioned him where he wanted him. “Stand right here. Don’t move.” Jackson noticed a green compass on the ground, left over from the camping trip here less than a week ago. “Finders keepers,” he said and handed it to Jax. “Put that in your pocket. It will ensure that you never lose your way,” Jackson continued with a half-smile.

  Jax smiled back and stared momentarily at the compass before putting it in his pocket.

  Jackson placed the bag of fruit on the ground and wiped the moisture from his eyes. The flood of emotions he felt now were almost too much for him to manage.

  He stood at attention with the Enfield at his side vertically, gripping the end of the barrel with one hand. The stock butt rested against the ground. He turned sharply a quarter turn as if an invisible drill sergeant commanded him. He held the rifle in both hands diagonally against his scarred chest and broken heart.