And We All Fall (Book 1)

by Michael Patrick Jr. Mahoney

  “I’m freezing.”

  The sound of the old window unit air conditioner couldn’t be ignored as it struggled beyond its means to cool the motel room.

  Jackson stumbled over to the thermostat. “Sixty two? Jesus! No way it’s sixty two in here!”

  Sweat dripped from his forehead as he lowered the temperature another twelve degrees to fifty, as low as the unit would go. He moved back to the other side of the room while he took off his shoes and peeled off the rest of his sweat soaked clothes until he was naked. Jax gasped and turned away as his father turned out the light on the nightstand between the two beds.

  “God, dad. You could have warned me.”

  Jax had never seen his father naked.

  “Jesus, I’m thirsty!” Jackson walked into the bathroom and drank out of the sink faucet for two minutes before crawling under the covers. “So hungry!”

  “You had three cheeseburgers and two milkshakes an hour ago,” Jax said, perplexed by everything his father was doing and saying. “After you didn’t even touch those chicken wings.”

  “Don’t stay up too late. More driving to… mar…” Jackson said as he faded into sleep.

  “I won’t. Should we try to call mom?” Jackson snored the loudest snore Jax ever heard. “Dad? Dad?”

  With his clothes still on and the GoPro still taping, strapped to his chest, Jax turned to his back and thought about the day that was ending. He always thought of his father as a hero, but until the last two days, he did not know what that word really meant.

  “I want to be just like you,” he said proudly as he turned to his side so he could watch his hungry hero sleep. “Big breakfast in the morning, pops. You’ll feel better. Goodnight, bug,” he said to the creature flying around inside the container on the bedside table, trying desperately to escape its prison. “Goodnight, Jumper,” he continued, smiling when the German Shepherd raised his ears, only for a moment.

  Jax’s eyes shut seconds later.

  They stayed that way until just before 3:00 a.m., when the sound of terror stirred him, not to mention the biting cold that took over the motel room.

  “No!” Jackson cried as he turned his head hard to the left and then to the right as he laid on his back above the covers. Cold beads of sweat covered his naked body as he repeated his cry. “No! No!”

  Jax could barely keep his eyes open as he watched his naked father toss and turn wildly all over the bed, pushing all of his pillows to the floor, mumbling intelligibly.

  “And we all fall! And we all fall! And we all fall!” he chanted while his bare body shivered as if it was covered with ice, the GoPro capturing every second.

  “And we all fall,” Jax said softly as he shivered, mimicking his father, half asleep. He buried himself under the covers and drifted back to sleep, curled up in a ball.

  He didn’t wake again until daybreak, to the sound of his father in the bathroom, throwing up again. The shower came on. Jax didn’t move, just listened and waited for Jackson to come out of the bathroom, growing nervous about his father’s condition.

  “I really think you need to see a doctor,” he said as Jackson came out of the bathroom wearing a towel a few minutes later. He seemed better now though. There was a little blood seeping from the brown thread he’d sewn into his shoulder. His elbow looked like something out of a horror movie.

  “No doctors,” Jackson insisted with that familiar edge in his tone as he adjusted the towel. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t seem fine. You were all over the bed last night. You were sweating like you do when we play basketball back home in Georgia.”

  Jax shivered after spending the night in the Arctic.

  “I said I’m fine,” Jackson replied sharply as he pushed the up arrow on the thermostat until it reached 78. The frigid air shut off, finally. “Why don’t you get a quick shower before we head out again?”

  “Okay.” Jax headed for the bathroom, stopping to give his father a hug, noticeably tentative this time.

  “Sorry I snapped at you,” Jackson said as he and his son hugged again. He looked up at the ceiling as he took a deep breathe, trying to understand what he was feeling.

  “Are you sure you are okay, dad?”

  “I don’t know.” Jackson sat on the bed. “I feel… off. Can’t put my finger on what it is. Maybe something I ate.”

  Jax looked incredulously at the wound on Jackson’s arm. Jackson did the same. The skin around it was gray.

  “That ain’t right, dad.”

  “I know, Jax. I know. I’ll have it looked at when we get home. Okay?”

  “Promise?” Jax asked as he sat down next to his father. They hugged each other again.

  “I promise.”

  “Okay. I love you, dad.”

  “Love you too.” Jax stood up and Jackson slapped him on the butt. “Go get in the shower so we can get the damn bugs and get back home.”

  Damn bugs? Jax couldn’t imagine his dad really saying that about the whole reason for the trip as he turned on the shower.

  Jackson got dressed. It felt good to wear a clean shirt that didn’t have evidence of heartache and death all over it. He grabbed his phone, wallet, keys and the business card Detective Chambers gave him off the nightstand and stuffed it all in his jeans pockets. He flipped on the television and took Jumper outside while Jax took his shower.

  The lingering, sick feeling Jackson felt inside passed as he felt the sun on his face while he walked across the parking lot to a spot Jumper could relieve himself. Jumper took in the smell of the green grass under his feet as he meandered barely into the woods across from the motel room.

  “Good boy.” Jackson praised Jumper, who peed for a solid minute. Jackson looked over to a woman who was standing in front of her room with the door open, throwing up.

  “Are you okay?” Jackson yelled out to her from across the street as he began to move towards her. She waved him off and after throwing up violently once more, walked back into her room, and shut the door.

  “Must be going around,” Jackson said to Jumper who ran up to him wagging his tail. He dialed Jamie on the phone again. “Or a late night of partying,” he continued about the woman as the phone rang. Once again, he reached Jamie’s voicemail. He didn’t leave a message as he looked to Jumper. “Where is she?” he asked his dog. “Come on. Let’s go get Jax and get out of here.”

  As Jackson walked back into the room, a familiar story was once again on CNN, the channel unchanged from last night, but the face on the television was different.

  “We have CNN reporter Mick Nelson joining us from city hall in Peterton, Virginia. Mick, what’s the latest update on the situation there in Peterton? And has there been any word from CNN correspondent Jewell Hill?”

  “Enough of that,” Jackson complained and leaned forward to turn off the television. “Let’s go get those bugs and get back home.”

  Five minutes later, all four of the living things that froze their asses off in the motel room last night were back in the truck heading to Maine. The locust had been moving slow, but had thawed now and was flying around desperately in its prison once again.

  The temperature in the truck was comfortable, but Jackson was absolutely uncomfortable. Most of the ride north to Maine was uneventful, but that changed when Jax asked his father what those words meant.

  “What?” Jackson asked.

  “And we all fall. You kept saying that in your sleep last night.”

  Jackson was stunned. The words that haunted his thoughts were out in the open, spoken once again after all these years by the original source. No subject is off limits. He reminded himself of what he said to Jax before the trip began.

  “They are your words, Jax.”

  “Huh?”

  “When you were little, your mother was singing nursery rhymes with you on video so I could watch them while I was overseas. You were singing Ring Around The Rosie and couldn’t quite get the words right. Man you were so cute.”

  “Oh. I did
n’t know that. You were remembering that last night?”

  “Not really. I haven’t been able to get the phrase out of my head for ten years now.”

  Jax shot his father a puzzled look.

  “I watched the video the morning I was shot, before we left on the mission. When I was lying there with Jumper, both of us bleeding out, all I could see in my mind was you singing it. So sweet. Innocent. It was burned into my head, and been there ever since.”

  “Why? Why did you focus on that so much?”

  “I don’t know. I thought I was going to die. Never see you again, I guess. That nursery rhyme is about death you know. Plague.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah. Popular belief anyway. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”

  “Oh man. I never thought about that. Creepy!”

  Jackson looked at the locust trying hard to escape the habitat. “Most people don’t. But, it’s true.” He thought about his father. “We all do fall down, sooner or later.”

  Jax looked at his father’s drawn, haggard face. The dark circles under his eyes were menacing, and his skin didn’t look the same, as if it had aged twenty years overnight. That gray area around his elbow looked ghastly.

  “Yeah,” the boy agreed.

  “What are you thinking?” Jackson could tell Jax was uncomfortable.

  “Nothing. Just that you were really sick last night. That thing on your elbow looks horrible.”

  “I feel much better right now, actually. Just a little tired. Comes and goes actually. Some moments I feel this surge of energy, like I could lift the truck in the air with my hands. Other times, I feel too weak to stand up. Stop worrying though. Okay? Everything will be fine.”

  “Okay.”

  Jax had his own edge. He didn’t say another word, even when he heard Jackson hacking up gobs of phlegm all of a sudden. He’d stopped scratching the open wound on his arm and didn’t seem nauseous anymore. That didn’t make Jax feel any better though. Something was different about his dad. Something Jax didn’t like at all.

  When they were about thirty minutes away from the collector in Maine, Jackson phoned him to let him know. “Great,” he said to Thomas Long. “We’ll see you then.”

  Jackson knocked twice on the front door of the modest little house twenty-five minutes later with the Gulf of Maine in the backdrop, Jax by his side, and Jumper still in the truck.

  “You must be Jackson.” Thomas answered the door dressed in white, skinny jeans and a tight, dark long sleeve t-shirt. A colorful scarf covered his neck and clashed a bit with his yellow shoes. “Thomas Long,” he continued. The two men shook hands. “Come on in,” Thomas offered with a smile.

  Thomas led the father and son into the kitchen where the large flat, glass framed exhibit lay on the kitchen table, covering most of it.

  “Hi,” the homeowner’s large, muscular boyfriend said as he stood in the far corner of the kitchen as the trio entered.

  “Hello,” Jackson replied to the 6’5” titan, noticing a large knife sitting on the counter next to some strawberries.

  “That’s my partner, Craig.”

  “Hi, Craig,” Jax offered, trailing behind his father who nodded to Craig.

  “This is my son, Jax.”

  Thomas and Craig said hi to Jax while Jackson heaved the weighty exhibit closer to his face and began to identify the insects preserved inside.

  “You like?” Thomas asked.

  “Phengodid beetle. Assassin bug,” Jackson said with a fascinated, focused smile. “The rare Peanut Head Bug. Very nice.”

  “You know your insects.”

  Jackson nodded in a way that revealed his excitement. He tapped on the glass that kept the bugs safe. “Thick.”

  “Of course. It’s a valuable collection. Needs to be protected. Here’s the land lobster.” Thomas pointed to the insect as he walked up to the table, next to Jackson.

  “Wow. Valuable collection indeed,” Jackson continued and then coughed hard for nearly twenty seconds before finally catching his breath. Everyone in the kitchen could see the blood in his hand.

  Thomas stepped back. “Oh my. Are you alright?” he asked, concerned. “What’s wrong with your arm?” he asked, noticing the grotesque limb for the first time.

  “I’m fine.”

  Jackson wiped the blood on to his pants and retrieved a thick wad of cash from his pocket. He peeled a combination of different denominations from the roll before stuffing what was left back in his pocket.

  “$500,” he said to Thomas as he held the money out for the seller to take.

  “How valuable exactly?” Thomas asked Jackson seductively as Craig moved his mass closer to the table. Thomas wasn’t trying to be flirty, but he couldn’t help the way it came out.

  “What?” Jackson asked, puzzled.

  “You agree it’s a valuable collection. How valuable is it to you?”

  The two men glared at each other.

  “It’s worth $500,” Jackson said firmly. “That’s the price we agreed I would pay. Now take the money and we’ll be on our way.” Jackson fluttered the money at Thomas.

  “I think it’s worth a thousand,” Craig said. “Looks like you have at least that much in your pocket.” Craig picked up the exhibit with ease, gripped it tightly and wheeled it like a sword.

  Jackson coughed again, so hard it bent him over. More blood covered his hands, and now the money as well.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, man,” Craig yelled as Jax rubbed his father’s back tenderly.

  “He’s sick! It’s okay, dad. You’re okay.”

  Jax continued nervously rubbing Jackson’s back.

  “We have a deal for five hundred,” Jackson said in a deadly voice as he stood up. He grimaced and bent over again moaning as pain filled his core.

  “The deal has changed. It’s a thousand, or there is no deal,” Craig insisted.

  “My son and I drove a long way to purchase this collection.” Jackson straightened up again, the pain passing. “For five hundred dollars. We aren’t leaving here without it.” He wiped the blood off his mouth, and flung it across the kitchen, onto a flowery wallpapered wall. “For five hundred.”

  Craig laid the exhibit back on the table and marched over to Jackson with Thomas staring horrified at the blood spatter on his beloved wall covering. Their chests collided and they stood toe to toe, nose to nose, though Craig’s nose was a little higher.

  “It’s a thousand or you can take your sick ass right out of here and go back home without the bugs.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Jackson said as he stepped away and pulled Jax with him.

  Jackson stared at the two men in silence for a moment, alternating his gaze between them. Then he coughed again, with more blood spraying his hand. “I can’t fucking believe this! You fucking faggots think you can shake me down!”

  Jax looked up at his normally tolerant, open-minded father as Craig tightened his fists and stared at Jackson as if he was ready to rip out his throat. He reached over to the counter and grabbed the knife before he stepped towards Jackson.

  “Let’s just go dad,” Jax pleaded as he got in between the two men. He tugged on Jackson’s shirt. “Come on! Come on!”

  Jackson moved Jax aside with force, never taking his eyes off Craig. He shifted his gaze to Thomas, who looked like he was quivering.

  “We made a deal. I drove over a thousand miles and you motherfucking fairy ass pirates want to change the deal?”

  Jackson felt a rage like never before growing inside him as Craig stood a foot away clutching the knife at his side, breathing like a bull.

  Jackson stepped forward and pushed Craig back with all the force he had as the blood stained money flew into the air, along with the knife. Craig fell hard onto the tile as the knife clanged against it.

  Jackson grabbed the exhibit off the table as Thomas frantically snagged the bloody twenty-dollar bills that rained down.

  “Let’s go, Jax,” Jackson insisted as he moved quic
kly towards the kitchen entryway with the exhibit in one hand and Jax’s hand in the other.

  Before they could get out of the kitchen, Jackson felt the force of a truck crash into him. He fell to the ground, bringing Jax down with him. He felt Craig’s hands wrap around his neck. He couldn’t breathe.

  “Stop! You’re choking him!” Jax started hitting Craig on the head as hard and fast as he could, but it didn’t faze him as the two men wrestled for the advantage.

  Jackson struggled to turn his body over just enough to gauge Craig’s eyes. He released his grip from Jackson’s neck as he covered his watery, fluttering eyes with his hands while kneeling on one knee on the kitchen tile.

  Jackson tensed his core and flung himself up off the ground without using his hands. He simultaneously kicked Craig in the face, breaking his jaw and putting him on his back. He kicked Craig in the stomach with all the force he had.

  “Stop! Don’t hurt him!” Thomas begged as he started to lunge towards Jackson, but stopped. “Please! Just take it and go!” Thomas yelled.

  “Come on, dad! Let’s go!”

  Jackson stared at Thomas for a moment; an intense, wild look consumed his face. He was just about to break him in half when the pain in his stomach returned. He was coughing again. Bloody phlegm hung out of his mouth and blood dripped from his nose as he picked the exhibit up off the ground.

  Craig reached out for the knife and groaned while staggering to his feet. “I’ll kill you, mother fucker!”

  Jackson took one last look at the insects in the exhibit, as if he would never see them again. He ran his finger softly over the thick glass cover as Craig hurried towards him with the knife ready to stab.

  Jackson smashed the exhibit over Craig’s head, shattering the thick glass into what seemed like a million little pieces. Many of the insects fell to the tile. Craig’s head was cracked open and blooded poured down his face. His legs wobbled for a moment and he collapsed to the ground.

  “Oh, my God! Craig!” Thomas rushed to his partner who lied on the ground lifeless. “Craig! Craig!”

  Thomas looked up to Jackson who was stepping backwards to the kitchen exit.

  “You killed him!” Thomas said with tears in his eyes. He looked to his cell phone on the table. “You killed him you asshole! I’m calling the police!”