Blood Tears

by JD Nixon

  “It’s too late, Tessie, my girl,” he said in my ear. “It’s too late.”

  I started crying, huge heaving sobs of tears that I thought were going to rip my body apart. I knew what he said was true – nobody could have survived in that inferno, and it must have started burning while we’d been sitting outside Lola’s place.

  At some point, his restraint turned into an embrace, and I lay on the patchy lawn of my front yard, engulfed in his arms, crying, while my whole life burned behind us. And if someone at that minute had offered me a choice between living and dying, I would have gladly chosen death.

  “That’s enough, Maguire,” said the Super in an unusually subdued voice.

  He rolled off me and helped me to my feet. I stared at the burning house, sobbing my heart out, the sound of the fire engine in the distance. I couldn’t imagine ever being able to stop crying.

  The Sarge hugged me again, before he stepped away, presumably at some silent order from Fiona.

  “Tessie, darling,” said the Super and hugged me. I clung to her, wetting the shoulder of her uniform with my tears.

  After five minutes, when the firies had set up and were battling the fire, the Super said, “Maguire, take her back to your place.”

  The Sarge led me by the hand to the patrol car and buckled me up. I felt numb and completely unresponsive to anything he said or did.

  At his place, he again had to lead me into his house and sat me down on the lounge. And I sat there for the next – hours? minutes? I couldn’t tell. People came and went and I sat and stared at the wall, unstoppable tears flowing from my eyes. At one point, the prison doctor came to examine me, a passive examination in which I didn’t answer any of his questions.

  “She’s in a severe state of emotional distress,” I heard him say in a low voice to the Super and the Sarge. But that wasn’t quite true. I was, instead, building up to a severe state of anger – white-hot anger; anger like I’d never experienced before in my life, and I would be the first to admit that I was quite practiced in anger.

  Oblivious to my emotions, the doctor continued, “She also has a number of injuries, none of which I’m particularly concerned about, though they’ll be painful over the next few days. Here are some sleeping tablets for her. Try to get her to bathe, have something to eat, and go to sleep. I can’t say for sure she’ll feel any better when she wakes up, but it will assist her physical recovery in any case.”

  The Super murmured something in response.

  “I honestly don’t know,” said the doctor. “This place looks like a war site. It’s unbelievable. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  The Sarge also murmured something.

  “Definitely not. Let’s talk about that in a few days. Look, I have to go, but let me know if you need me. This is a terrible thing. Terrible.”

  The low voices conferred for a while before the Super kneeled in front of me, taking my hands. I focused on her.

  “Tessie darling, I have to go now.” She looked away, blinked rapidly a few times before turning her eyes back to me. “I just don’t know what to say to you, except that I’m going to bring down every last one of those fuckers. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said dully. But what she said only served to reinforce the immense rage stirring in my mind.

  She kissed me on my dirty, blood-encrusted forehead, and jerked her head to one side to indicate she wanted to speak to the Sarge in private. I listened into their conversation.

  “Those fucking maggots in the media are already crawling everywhere over this place. I don’t want Tessie anywhere near them. Understand? I don’t want them to see her, to speak to her, or to even know that she’s here. That is your sole responsibility at the moment. I’m leaving a force of uniforms around the clock. All the Bycrafts in town are under house arrest at the moment until I can send a team of dees to give them the third degree. So for now, consider them none of your business. Just look after Tessie for me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She slammed the door behind her without another word. The Sarge came back to me, and it was his turn to kneel in front of me, taking my hands.

  “Tessie, we’re both filthy and stink of smoke. Why don’t you go have a shower?”

  I shook my head. I wanted him to think that I was apathetic, the thought of moving too much to contemplate.

  “Please. For me.” I shook my head again. He sighed and stood. “Will you be okay for ten minutes if I go have a shower?”

  I nodded numbly. With a reluctant glance backwards he went to his bedroom and returned with a stack of fresh clothes, entering the bathroom. When I heard the shower running, I took my chance and let myself quietly out of his house.

  Before I did what I was planning to do, I needed to psych myself up, so I ran to the pub. I flew past a surprised Abe in the middle of patching up his entrance, and headed straight to his lounge bar. I threw off the cover of the piano that was sometimes used for live entertainment, opened the lid, and sat down.

  I played and I played and I played. And the more I played, the angrier the music I played became and the angrier I became, until I reached the point of no-return that I needed to reach. When I stopped I spun to leave, only to find both Abe and a still-damp and hastily dressed Sarge standing in the doorway, both eyeing me with apprehension.

  “Tessie,” started the Sarge in a gentle voice.

  “I’m going to kill them,” I told him calmly, checking my utility belt. “I’m going to kill all of them. I’m going to shoot as many as I can, and when my clip runs out, I’m going to slit the necks of the rest of them. The babies, the children, the teenagers, and the adults. I’m going to kill them all. Especially the adults. I’m going to rid this town of Bycrafts once and for all.”

  “Tessie,” the Sarge said again, his voice taking on a more warning tone. “Come with me.”

  “No.”

  I took off in a sprint, ramming my way between them, heading for the entrance. From what the Super had said, I knew their houses were being guarded, but I was a cop and they would let me pass. And if they wouldn’t, I would shoot the cops too. I would shoot anyone who got in my way. And if I ended up as a suicide-by-cop, it would be the perfect end to a crappy life, as long as I took as many Bycrafts with me as possible.

  “Shit,” said the Sarge, running after me and catching me by the arm, stopping my progress.

  “Let me go!” I yelled at him, shaking my arm and kicking out at him.

  He twisted my arm behind my back in a painful way, managing to catch my other arm and twisting it behind as well. He kicked at the back of my knees so they buckled and I was forced down on the floor in a kneeling position. He then pushed me down to the ground with his foot in my back.

  “Abe,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Take her knife and belt off her.”

  “No!” I shouted, thrashing around underneath his foot. He dropped down so that he knelt on my back, almost squashing me.

  With fumbling fingers, Abe unfastened my knife and utility belts.

  “Place them over there, far away from her.”

  The Sarge pulled out some quick restraints and cuffed my hands behind my back.

  “What are you doing?” I shouted at him. “Let me go.”

  “I’m doing this for your own safety, Tessie. I’m sorry.” He turned his head again. “Abe, can you carry the belts out to the patrol car and put them on the front seat?”

  Carrying them gingerly, Abe did as requested. The Sarge hauled me to my feet and with a gentle push, forced me to walk forward. He opened the back door of the patrol car.

  “No,” I said, struggling, in the process cutting the restraints into my wrists. “You’re not putting me in there.”

  “Get in, Tessie. Please.” He pushed down on my head and forced me on to the back seat, slamming the door behind me.

  I lay across the seat, silent tears streaming down my cheeks.

  “Thanks, Abe,” the Sarge said in a grim voice, climbing into the driver’s seat.<
br />
  We drove off back to his house. When he stopped, he came around and helped me out. I thought he’d take me inside, make me have a shower, and feed me the sleeping pills. I would have been happy to comply, all my anger dissipated.

  But instead, he led me around to the back of his house to the garden shed he’d installed over winter to house the station’s mower and his tools.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, struggling again.

  “It’s for your own good, Tessie. If the lockup was still standing, I’d put you in one of the cells overnight.”

  “You’re not putting me in there.”

  “I don’t have a choice. The Super ordered me to keep you out of sight of the media, and that’s for your own protection. But I’m exhausted, and I need to sleep. The second I go to sleep, you’re going to run off again. I can’t risk that. I can’t chance you doing something that’s going to put your life in danger.”

  “No. Sarge, please don’t do this. I won’t run off. I promise.”

  “Tessie, please don’t cry. It’s hard enough.”

  He opened the door, uncuffed me, and gave me a shove. He closed the door and I heard him putting a padlock on it.

  Infuriated, I kicked at the door with every remnant of strength I had left. But because he lived in Little Town, he’d bought a shed with a reinforced door, impervious to vandalism and theft. That didn’t stop me from trying for a long ten minutes. And when my legs started aching, I began to ram the door with my shoulder, taking as big a run up in the confined space as I could.

  “Tessie, stop it,” he said from the other side of the door. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “I hate you,” I sobbed in frustration.

  “I know you do now, but you’ll be glad that I did this later,” he said, anguish in his voice.

  “I’m going to hate you forever for this.”

  Shattered and sore, I searched around in the dark for somewhere to lie down. I found a couple of hessian sacks to use as a mattress and a bag of potting mix as a pillow, and I lay on my makeshift bed, crying.

  “Tessie, please don’t cry. God,” he said, kicking the door himself. “This is so fucked up.”

  It was peaceful then for a while, and despite the uncomfortableness of my bed, I drifted off into an exhausted sleep. The opening of the door roused me, and though I briefly thought about rushing him to escape, I was too tired to move.

  As there was no light in the shed, I couldn’t see his face.

  “I’ve brought you some water and food. They’re just here by the door,” he said gently. “Are you okay?”

  I didn’t answer him.

  “Tessie?”

  I stayed silent.

  “Try to have something to eat. Please.”

  Eating was the last thing on my mind, but I was extremely thirsty, so when he’d locked up again and I thought he was safely gone, I crawled over to the door, reaching out with one hand to find the bottle of water. I gulped it down in three swallows. I felt around and my hand closed over another bottle, which I took back with me to my ‘bed’.

  As if my mind was being kind to me for once, I didn’t spend hours thinking about what had happened, but my sleep was restless, filled with chaotic, fiery dreams causing me to toss and turn until the early rays of sunlight filtered through the joins of the shed.

  Not long after, the door opened again and the Sarge’s bulk filled the door. I stood and stretched out all my cricked muscles, glaring at him resentfully the whole time.

  “I had to pee in the corner like an animal,” I said to him accusingly.

  “I’m really sorry, Tessie. I didn’t want to do this to you,” he said before cuffing me again, and guiding me up his back stairs to his kitchen.

  “Can you uncuff me, please?” I asked with sullen tiredness. “I’m not going to do anything.”

  “Do you promise that?”

  “Yes.” And I meant it. I was completed exhausted in every possible way.

  “Why don’t you go have a shower and change into some fresh clothes?” he asked gently, uncuffing me.

  I laughed. “I don’t have any fresh clothes. I guess I’ll be wearing this dirty uniform for the rest of my life. They’re the only clothes I own now.”

  I started laughing at that, and once I started I couldn’t stop, because it seemed so terribly funny to me.

  “Tessie.”

  I laughed so much that tears rolled down my face, and then soon they were real tears.

  “Tessie, my girl,” he said, coming to me and cradling me tightly, even though I was filthy and smelly.

  It was exactly what I needed. I buried my head in his shoulder.

  “They’ve won,” I mumbled tiredly. “They’ve finally beaten me. I’ve fought them for years with my all, but they’ve managed to take everything I love away from me. Everything.”

  “Not everything,” he said, stroking my matted, smoky hair. “You still have lots of people who care about you.”

  I snorted with snotty inelegance, and pushed him away. “I’ll be okay.” I couldn’t meet his eyes, so looked down at my filth-begrimed boots. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I guess something snapped inside me.”

  “Perfectly understandable.” He considered me. “I’ll lend you some clothes for now, but we’ll sort something out for you.”

  I gave him a teary half-smile. “You really want me wearing your undies?”

  He smiled. “Whatever turns you on, kid.” He paused. “Have you checked to see if any of your clothes are still here?”

  “No.”

  I trailed after him as he went into his spare bedroom, successfully finding a pair of jeans, t-shirt, undies, and a much-coveted bra, the one clothing item with which he couldn’t supply me.

  Those clutched in my hand, I happily showered, realising just how many physical wounds I carried from all the stinging the hot water induced. But they were nothing compared to the emotional wounds I’d sustained.

  When I’d finished, I came out to the most delicious smell of bacon and eggs cooking, my tummy growling.

  It felt wrong to enjoy eating after what had happened to Dad and Adele, but my body wouldn’t be denied its energy, and yesterday had been an intense day.

  When we’d finished, the Sarge regarded me with an uncertain look on his face. “Tessie, I have to show you something, but I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

  “What is it?”

  I followed him into his office where he reawakened his computer. He pulled up the online version of the Wattling Bay Messenger, the local paper. The main story, an ‘exclusive’, was headed with a photo of the Sarge holding me tightly, my face turned to the side facing the photographer, full of grief, the Super visible off to the side. I stared at it in shock.

  “Who took that?” I became angrier. “Who the hell took that?”

  “The Super’s trying to find out. It must have been a local, or a media photographer who was hanging around the fire at your house.”

  “That’s . . .” Words failed me. “Sensationalising my loss. It’s unconscionable.”

  “It’s distressing.”

  “I’m going to write to the editor to complain.” I thought for a moment. “In fact, I’m going to go into that editor’s office, and I’m going to –” I caught his eye. “I’ll just write to them.”

  “Good idea. It’s an appalling thing to do.”

  I examined the photo again. “I seem to spend half my life saying this lately, but thanks for stopping me, Sarge. Thank you. I really appreciate it.” I blinked quickly a few times, my eyes dampening. “And Dad would thank you too. I know he would.”

  He leaned over and kissed my cheek, his lips warm. “Wouldn’t want to lose you, otherwise my life would be very dull. But there is one thing you can do to repay me.”

  “Sure.”

  “Please start calling me Finn. I’m quite bored of you calling me Sarge all the time,” he smiled.

  “I’ll try.”

  “What did
you call Des?”

  “Des.”

  “What did you call Baz?”

  “Baz.”

  “What do you call Finn?”

  “Sarge?”

  He tweaked my nose. “Wrong answer.”

  “Finn.”

  “I’ll consider it a work in progress.”

  Someone knocked on the door and he went to answer while I read the article attached to the photo.

  The Sarge returned, his face grim.

  “Jake wants to see you. Will I tell him to piss off?”

  I froze for a moment, then straightened up in the chair. “No. Let him in.”

  Chapter 38

  I went out to wait for him. When he walked down the hall, I flew at him, pounding him everywhere with my fists.

  “Did you kill Dad? Was it you? You were missing from the list. Where the hell were you? He was like a father to you, you bastard!”

  He was taken aback, startled by my fury. He grabbed my fists to stop me assaulting him.

  “No, Tessie. No. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t involved in any of what happened, I swear.”

  I deflated immediately. “I suppose you were with Dorrie.”

  His eyes were earnest as they looked into mine. “No. I went back to work. I was at the prison the whole time. You can check if you want.”

  “What? Why did you go back to work? You were on leave.”

  “I thought the funeral was a disgrace. I couldn’t believe my family’s behaviour. It was so disrespectful to Denny. It was as if nobody cared about him at all. And I could only bear thirty minutes at the wake before I left, because I could tell it was going to turn into a gigantic piss up. I can’t even speak to my family at the moment, I’m so angry with them.” He let go of my wrists and captured my hands, and I let him, lost in those beautiful amber eyes again. He rubbed his thumbs across the tops of my hands.

  “Tessie, I’m devastated about Trev. As you said, he was like a father to me. I’ve never had an older man treat me so well and teach me so much. I can’t believe what’s happened.”

  “It was your family who did it, Bycraft,” said the Sarge in a nasty voice.