And We All Fall (Book 1)

by Michael Patrick Jr. Mahoney

  The fleeting thoughts sent a shiver down Jackson’s spine as the officer stopped a foot behind the window. He wasn’t even thinking about what happened in Maine earlier today, distracted by the affliction that he felt was consuming him. It wasn’t all clear anyway, as if pieces of the memory were missing. Just like the locust banging around the walls of the habitat, suddenly, all Jackson wanted was to be free.

  “Do you know how fast you were going?” the officer asked Jackson as he took cover just a step behind the open truck window.

  “No, sir.”

  “License, registration and insurance please.”

  Jackson handed all of it to the officer, who had yet to get a good look at the driver. “Here.”

  “Ninety-seven on my radar. That’s dangerous to everyone on the road. What’s the hurry, Mr. Mills?” the officer asked as he leaned into the window after a glance at the license.

  “Trying to get home with my son and our dog, officer.”

  “Get out of the car!” the officer suddenly commanded. “Now!” he continued as he backed away and drew his gun, pointing it at Jackson’s head.

  “Alright! Alright! Don’t shoot!” Jackson stepped out of the truck slowly with his hands in the air. “What did I do, officer?”

  “Get on the ground! Now! Hands behind your back!”

  “Okay!” Jackson laid on the road. “What did I do?”

  “You’re covered in blood,” the officer said more calmly as he fasted the handcuffs.

  “I can explain.”

  “I’m listening.” The officer put his hands under Jackson’s left underarm and yanked him up. Jackson squealed out in pain, his face the portrait of torture. “What?”

  “My shoulder!”

  The officer noticed Jackson’s elbow. “What the hell happened there?”

  “I was bitten by a mosquito,” Jackson replied as started another coughing spell with his neck turned, face towards the officer.

  “What the shit?” the officer asked aloud as blood sprayed against his uniform. “You’re coughing up blood, fella!”

  “I know,” Jackson replied, after catching his breath. “I think I have an infection.”

  The officer patted Jackson down from behind and then spread his legs by kicking them apart. Jackson felt his legs almost give out.

  “What happened up here?” the officer asked after he lifted Jackson’s shirt once blood began to seep through the stitch work he did. It was giving way after the deadly battle in Maine.

  “I was shot.”

  The officer looked frustrated as he patted Jackson down in the front. “When? Why?”

  “We were in a robbery yesterday. In Virginia. I was shot. Ask my son.”

  Jackson and the officer looked to Jax. He looked petrified.

  “Is that right?” the officer asked Jax as he looked into the truck.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jax hoped that was the last question. It wasn’t.

  “What’s your name, son?”

  “Jax.”

  “What’s that?” the officer asked, eyeing the locust in its habitat on the dashboard.

  “A grasshopper.”

  “It’s a locust!”

  The officer and Jax both looked at Jackson after his intense protest. The officer then watched the bug for a moment.

  “Can you reach into my pocket for a phone number?” Jackson asked the officer. He sounded like he belonged in a mental institution, his inflection bizarre. Extreme.

  “Why?”

  “Someone who can help clarify things.”

  The officer reached into Jackson’s pocket and pulled out Detective Chamber’s wrinkled business card. “Who is this?”

  “He’s a detective in Virginia. He can explain it all to you. The gun shot. My wounds.”

  The officer turned Jackson around and escorted him to the truck. “Lean on the hood. Don’t move a muscle. You going to be cool?”

  Jackson nodded.

  “Are you cool?” he looked into the truck and asked Jax. He also nodded, not wanting to speak another word.

  “That dog cool?”

  The father and son nodded simultaneously as Jumper tilted his head adorably.

  The officer walked with his head down to his police cruiser and sat down in it the driver’s seat with the door wide open.

  “What’s happening, dad?” Jax yelled out to his dad quietly.

  “He’s just doing his job. Nothing to worry about.”

  “What about those men?” Jax asked thirty seconds later, noticing the officer was talking jovially on the phone.

  “What men?”

  “The men in Maine. What you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything except protect us.”

  There was silence again as the officer laughed, still on the phone in the cruiser.

  “You killed that man.”

  “He…” Jackson started to talk, but coughed instead. Dark red blood spray covered the hood of the truck. He was handcuffed and couldn’t cover his mouth. “He was coming at us with a knife,” he said as the coughing ceased.

  Seconds later the officer stepped out of his car and walked briskly up to the truck. “Go ahead and face me. Jesus,” he continued, noticing the blood on the hood. “That ain’t good.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jackson turned around to face the officer.

  “So all that blood is yours then? Coming out of you, everywhere.”

  Jackson hesitated briefly as he thought back to what happened today. “Yes, sir.”

  “The detective spoke very highly of you. Sounds like you are some kind of hero, Mr. Mills.”

  “Thank you,” Jackson said, trying to focus his eyes on the officer, so dizzy again. He coughed again, and with no way to cover his mouth, the blood spattered all over the officer’s shirt. His dog tags fell out of his shirt and dangled in plain view as bloody drool fell from the Marine’s mouth.

  “Jesus Christ, man!” The officer wiped at the blood on his uniform, smearing it. “That blood don’t look right. Dark. You need to see a doctor!”

  “I plan to when we get home.” Jackson could barely speak. “Can you let me out of these cuffs? Please.”

  The officer looked again at the license. “Atlanta? That’s a long way from here. You sure you don’t want to have someone take a look at you now? I can call for EMS.”

  “No. Thanks, though. I’m good until we get home.”

  “Alright.” The officer walked behind Jackson, stuck a key into the handcuffs, and took them off. “Here’s your license.” The officer noticed the dog tags hanging around Jackson’s neck as Jackson put his license back in his wallet. “You a vet?”

  “Yeah,” Jackson replied as he rubbed the marks the cuffs left on his wrists. “Active duty.”

  “What branch?”

  “Marines.”

  “I see.” The officer handed the registration and insurance card back to Jackson. “This truck is registered to a Stanley Mills. That ain’t you.”

  “My dad.”

  “Does he know you have his truck?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “He died yesterday.”

  “Oh shit. I’m real sorry to hear that, Mr. Mills. My condolences to you and your family.”

  “Thank you.”

  The officer could see the sadness consume Jackson’s face, thinking about his father again. With all that had happened, the sadness didn’t have much of a chance to weigh heavily on him. Too many other things were doing that, and he found himself having a hard time keeping his thoughts straight. His head was pounding with the worst headache he ever felt in his life.

  “I’m going to let you go with a warning this time. Watch your speed, Mr. Mills.”

  “Will do,” Jackson said as the thought again about snatching the officer’s gun and beating him in the face with it before assassinating him with a shot to the forehead. He felt his fingers twitching, ready for battle. “Thank you, officer.”

  “Thanks for your service,
Mr. Mills. Get home safe. You hear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Jackson hopped back into the truck.

  “Keep an eye on him,” the officer said to Jax, but Jax made no comment. He was grateful the questions would end, at least from the officer. Jax had plenty of his own that needed to be answered.

  Seconds later, the truck was back on the interstate heading south. Father and son didn’t say a word for a long time.

  “Are you hungry?” Jackson finally asked Jax, breaking the lingering silence. He stared at the GoPro, realizing that it recorded him bashing Craig over the head with the exhibit.

  “I guess. Are you?”

  “Not really,” Jackson said as he continued staring at the GoPro, not able to organize his thoughts well enough to know what to do about it. “Strange. I was so hungry earlier. I guess we should eat dinner now.”

  “Can you? I mean, are you too sick?”

  “Think I’m okay. Feeling a little better now. Coughing has settled down. My stomach feels alright. Just a little headache now. Whatever it is, I think it’s clearing up.”

  “That’s good,” Jax said with a crooked, half-smile. “I’ve been really worried about you, dad. You haven’t been yourself.”

  “I know, buddy,” Jackson said with sorrow in his eyes. Jax had the same one. Jackson looked at the GoPro again. “You know I only did what I had to this morning. Don’t you?”

  “I know. He had a knife.”

  “He did. Something’s bothering you though.”

  “We just left. Why didn’t we call the cops or the ambulance or anyone?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I panicked. I just wanted to get out of there.”

  They both looked at the locust, still trying to escape.

  “That’s not like you. To panic. You never run away.”

  “I don’t feel myself. That’s why I just want to go home. Sort it all out. I promise I will call the authorities once we get home. Let them know what happened there, with those two guys. Okay?”

  “Alright,” Jax said, looking straight ahead through the windshield, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin for the first time in his life.

  He knew his father was protecting them both in Maine, but it was the way it all went down. The hateful slur. The look in his father’s eyes when he slammed the frame onto Craig’s head. And there’s that minute his father was in the house with Thomas. We ran like criminals. They just lied to the state trooper, and didn’t tell mom about any of it. This was not the Jackson Mills that he and everyone else knew.

  He was changing.

  “There’s a rest stop with food service coming up at the next exit. We can stop there.” Jackson put his hand on Jax’s shoulder. “Everything will be okay, Jax. We just need to get home and straighten everything out. You’ll see.”

  Jax didn’t say anything. He looked at his dad for a second and stared straight ahead again. He wanted to get home too, wished he could see his house in view right now with his mother’s blue mustang in the driveway.

  They both reached out their hands and stroked Jumper’s soft, comforting fur, not saying a word. They gazed at the winding mountainous highway ahead as Jackson flicked on the turn signal, wondering what else could possibly happen on this trip.

  Chapter 32

  “Jackson? Jackson? Damn it!” Jamie cursed at her desk after the phone line went dead.

  “What?” Franco asked her as he stopped in her doorway, on the way to his own office. “What’s the matter?”

  “His phone died,” she said as she put the handset back on its cradle. “I was talking to him and the battery died.”

  “Who?”

  “Jackson.”

  “I’m sure he’ll call you back. Don’t get upset.”

  “Something’s wrong, Franco,” Jamie said as Franco started to move past her doorway. He stopped.

  “What do you mean?” The look on his face told Jamie that she was thinking the same thing he was.

  “He’s sick.”

  “Who? Jax?”

  “No. Jackson.”

  “What kind of sick?” Franco asked with alarms ringing that only he and Jamie could hear. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s coughing. A lot.”

  “So what? A lot of illnesses cause a cough. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

  “Blood. He’s coughing up blood, Franco.”

  “He told you that?”

  “No. Jax told me. I barely got to talk to Jackson before the phone died.”

  “That doesn’t mean he has it. Maybe his throat is just a little irritated from the coughing. Don’t get yourself worked up. I’m sure you are just missing him. It’s been a rough few days here. It’s easy to think that everyone has it.”

  “He was bitten by a mosquito. In Virginia.”

  It hit Franco like a sledgehammer to his gut.

  The room began to shrink. The air thinned. Franco didn’t know what to say. He and Jamie stared at each other for a few seconds. Their eyes said the things that neither of them wanted to say with their tongues.

  “I’m sure it’s a just coincidence.”

  “What if it isn’t, Franco? Do we even believe in coincidences anymore? Can we afford to think there are coincidences?”

  “It has to be, Jamie. It has to be.”

  “What do I do?”

  “What can you do? Huh? Alert the monsters at the CDC so they can throw him and your son and likely your dog too, in that tank. Just so they can get torn apart and eaten by this Bob character? Jesus Christ, Jamie. You don’t even know if he has it. Let’s just wait for him to call you back. Okay? You’ll know better what we are looking at once you get to talk to him.”

  “My son is with him, Franco. What if he is in danger?”

  Franco pondered her words for a moment. “He isn’t going to hurt Jax, Jamie. You know that.”

  “I know Jackson wouldn’t, but it’s not him I’m worried about, Franco. We both know that doesn’t matter. Not with this thing.”

  “Jax is going to be fine. Be patient and wait for Jackson to call you back. Bene? Alright?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good.”

  “Have you talked to Isabell?”

  “Yes. I just spoke with her an hour ago.”

  “How is she?”

  “Pazzo! Really mad. But she’ll just have to deal with it. Now tell me everything that happened with Bigsby. Leave nothing out.”

  Jamie thought back to the last half hour she spent at the CIA warehouse, arguing with Lars; demanding he drive her back to the CDC, where her car was parked. Jamie had been at that facility all night long. She had actually been worried that they weren’t going to let her leave and had to resort to creativity.

  “I need to get my medical books, Dr. Bigsby.”

  “Why can’t you just use the computer we have here?” he asked.

  “Things I need to know can’t be googled, Lars,” using his first name to try to plead with him, soften his resolve. “Please. Just take me to my car and let me get what I need.”

  Jamie could still feel the blood pumping hard through her veins, as though it was the same moment she started the mustang, smoked the tires, and sped back to the FEMA office.

  Lars had done his best to stay with her in his Maserati, but she got there first and told security to stall him. He was in the lobby with the security staff now, trying to get Jamie on the phone.

  Failing. There was no way she was coming back down.

  “I was this close to sending out a search and rescue party for you,” Franco said as his phone rang and rang. They both knew who it was. “I was starting to wonder if you were ever coming back.”

  “I wondered that myself, Franco.”

  Chapter 33

  “What’ the hell is wrong with you?” Jackson asked himself in the mirror at the rest stop bathroom, his face the portrait of anguish. He didn’t recognize himself. The precise, battle tested control he has felt for so much of his life was slipping away.

  Fast.
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  He pounded the countertop with his fist. He couldn’t deny the bizarre yellow tint that appeared in his eyes. “Get your shit together, soldier,” he said to himself as he finished washing the blood off his hands.

  He took off his bloody shirt and pulled out a fresh one from the camouflaged duffel bag he’d brought into the restroom with him. It was his last clean shirt. He splashed some water on his face and then dried himself. He pulled the clean shirt over his head, grabbed the bag, and met Jax in the crowded food service area.

  “What do you feel like?” he asked Jax over the noise in the busy food service area. “Salad?”

  Jackson reached into his pocket, feeling around for what was left of his cash as he and Jax stood in front of the salad case.

  “Maybe a sandwich.”

  “Damn it. Where is it?” Jackson asked aloud, looking confused.

  “What is it, dad?”

  “I think I left our money in the truck.”

  “Oh. That’s okay. We can just go get it.”

  The two started to walk towards the automatic sliding glass doors that opened to the parking lot. Jackson stopped abruptly just as they slid open. Jax didn’t notice until he’d walked out of the door, finally realizing his father wasn’t next to him after a few steps.

  “Dad?” he said as he walked back inside and towards Jackson, who was standing in the crowded store with no expression. “Aren’t we going to the truck?” he asked as he stood next to Jackson.

  His dad didn’t answer. Instead, Jackson turned around and walked back to the main food service area. He seemed to be lost in a trance as Jax watched him grab two plastic wrapped deli sandwiches out of a bin and stuff them into the camouflaged bag.

  “What are you doing?” Jax asked his dad as he ran up to him.

  “Quiet,” Jackson demanded as he stuffed two bags of chips in the bag along with a bottle of water. “Let’s go.”

  “What are you doing?” Jax asked as he followed his dad past the register and towards the exit. “We have to pay for all of that!”