Portals

by Johnson, Dustin

  “Do you know where the portal is going to open?” Chris asked.

  “You don't really need to worry about that, but it's going to open right outside of this cabin, on the street somewhere,” Steve said. “Why do you think I was in the cabin next door? It wasn't because of the great living commodities. Not that these are half bad, but come on, I'm here for one reason and one reason alone.”

  That's good news at least, Chris thought. As long as we can convince him to leave us alone and go after the portal, we still might have a chance after he's gone.

  As if in response to Chris's thought, Steve replied. “You won't have an opportunity to see it. Help Mike into this bedroom over here.” Steve waved the gun toward the main floor's bedroom, signaling that they should head that way.

  Chris complied, gripping Mike's arm and helping him as he hopped along. Each jump caused Mike to wince and the blood to flow more regularly from his gunshot wound. Chris's only goal at this time was to get Mike to the room safely; they'd have to worry about the gunshot wound later.

  “Sit him down in that closet over there and shut the door.”

  It was an awkward fit, since a shoe holder was suspended from the clothing bar, but Chris managed to get Mike in and sitting on the floor. They shared a worried glance before Chris shut the closet door, leaving Mike in the darkness.

  “Now sit down on this bed, and place your hands through the head board,” Steve said. Chris complied and gripped his hands together. “C.J., wrap tape around your dad's wrists, just like you watched your dad do to Mike, and then around the posts. Got it?”

  C.J. nodded in agreement and began the process. It took him longer than it had for Chris, and he had trouble tearing off pieces from the roll of tape. Chris could feel the nervousness and shakiness emanating from his body and wished he could do or say something to reassure C.J. Instead he just remained in place, trying as hard as he could to not provoke Steve any further than he already had been.

  Steve walked over, checked C.J.'s work, and stepped back. “All right, now what should we do with you?”

  “How about you take him with you and get him through the portal?” Chris asked. “Look at him. He's sick and needs to go through. It wouldn't take anything away from you, and we'll stay here minding our own business,” Chris said. “I swear, we won't even attempt to follow you, if you just take C.J.”

  “Not that you have a choice. Hence the whole taping you in place,” Steve said, smiling. “What do you think, C.J., should we take you to a portal?”

  C.J. shook his head. “I don't want to leave my Dad.”

  “If he'll take you,” Chris said, “then you are going to go.” He gave C.J. a stern glance signifying that he would not accept any argument. “Mike and I will find our own way. You just get to the portal.”

  C.J. began to cry weakly, and Chris watched streaks of clean skin appear as the tears carried dirt away. The sight made Chris want to tear up himself, but he restrained himself, trying to appear sure of his decision.

  “Dad, I'll–”

  “No arguments, C.J. Just do what I say.” He turned to look at Steve again. “Please, take C.J.”

  “What the hell, why not,” Steve said, shrugging and waving the gun. “Let's go.” He grabbed the collar of C.J.'s shirt and yanked him from the room. The door to the bedroom closed, and just like that, Chris and Mike were left alone. The room remained silent; Mike sat alone in the dark of the closet, and Chris sat unmoving on the bed. They both listened as Steve assembled his supplies, instructed C.J. to carry the tape, and not long after they heard a door slam shut.

  “What now?” Mike asked, his voice carrying hollowly through the door.

  “I suppose we try to get free. I said I wouldn't, but we can't really trust Steve. Part of me didn't even want C.J. to go with him, but he doesn't seem quite low enough to harm a kid. I sure hope he isn't, at least.”

  “Don't ask my opinion on the man. He shot me in the leg. I'm not a fan,” Mike said.

  Chris wriggled his bound wrists, trying to create some play. It took a while, but eventually the duct tape stretched, and with a bit of force he was able to pull one of his hands free. He used the hand to remove the remaining tape. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The feeling of pins and needles crawled through his arms. He twisted his torso back and forth briefly, restoring the blood flow. He walked to the closet and opened the door.

  Mike was still sitting in the spot where Chris had left him and met Chris's gaze. “My hero,” Mike mumbled.

  “Roll on your side, and I'll undo your hands first.”

  The tape unrolled easily for the most part, once Chris found the end and pulled at it. Mike rubbed his wrists for a few seconds and proceeded to free his own legs. Chris took the opportunity to walk to the bedroom window and carefully look out through the blinds. The street was clear, so either Steve had been lying, or they were hiding. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he assumed the portal must be opening soon if Steve had decided to leave the cabin already.

  Mike had succeeded in removing the tape from his legs and stood, bracing himself against the wall. He removed some of the tape from the ball he held in his hand, unbuckled and lowered his pants, and then placed a piece across the gunshot wound in his leg. It didn't stop the bleeding, and barely even stuck due to the wet blood, but Mike figured it couldn't make things worse.

  Mike limped over to join Chris at the window. “Do you see him?” Mike placed two fingers between the blinds and peeked through himself.

  “No. I'm not sure if he's waiting for it to open, or if he lied about where the opening is.”

  “If he lied about it, then what can we do?”

  “I don't know,” Chris replied. “We definitely can't go sneaking up on him again.”

  “You really thought it was okay to let C.J. go with him?”

  “No, but I didn't know what else to do.”

  “I suppose it was the better of the two evils, given the circumstances. At least there's a chance that he'll go through a portal,” Mike said.

  Chris wrung his hands together and tried to distract his mind from the nagging loneliness and dread that was overcoming him. It didn't feel like he'd said his goodbyes to C.J., and he wasn't sure that C.J. was safe. It was gnawing at him, and he didn't know of any way to ease his frustration. Why did everything have to be so darn complicated? “I'm torn, I want to make sure C.J. gets through a portal, but I don't trust Steve to take him. I don't know what to do.” He turned nervously toward Mike, “What do you think?”

  Mike sighed, not turning to meet Chris's gaze. “I don't want to be the guy that says we go after Steve, and then something ends up happening to C.J. because of it. This decision kind of has to be on you. I really wish I could help, but in this situation I just can't.”

  Chris understood that, it made sense. If he were in Mike's place, then he'd probably feel the same way. Should I try to make sure C.J. gets through the portal, Chris wondered. Or should I hope that Steve takes him? On the other hand, should I risk Steve not taking him, or even worse, hurting him? I can't imagine that Steve would hurt a kid, but who knows. The man had killed Brent and shot Mike, but people that hurt children were on a whole different level of depravity. Even in prison they were considered despicable. Those people often didn't make it back out alive.

  Chris sighed. “Let's go try to find them. We have to be really careful though, if he's really going to take C.J. with him then I'd prefer to just let them go. I just don't fully trust that he will.” They headed to the sliding glass door and, after making sure the coast was clear, exited through it. Chris led them along, skirting the right side of the house, until they reached the edge. He leaned his head around the corner, but only the silence of the day greeted him.

  “Steve said the portal would be right out here,” Mike said. “He was probably lying though.”

  “That could be. Or... never mind.” He didn't really want to think of any other option. Any other option would involve C.J.
hurt. Chris remembered a picture that had struck him as simple and obvious, but that had changed his life, from the time he'd read 'The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.' It had displayed a large circle labeled the 'Circle of Concern', with a smaller circle inside of it labeled the 'Circle of Influence'. The author, Stephen Covey, made the point that proactive people focused their efforts on the Circle of Influence, which allowed them to impact the future and over time enlarge their Circle of Influence. On the other hand, reactive people focused their efforts on the Circle of Concern, in which there were many things which could not be influenced, such as the weather. With the memory of that picture in mind, he made a conscious decision to just focus on what he did know and on what he could do. Anything else would have to be ignored for the time being.

  “I think I hear something,” Mike said, interrupting Chris's thoughts. He held up a hand to request silence, and his face tightened in concentration. Chris watched him, attempting to hear what Mike must be hearing. There was something all right, but he couldn't determine what it was. It sounded and felt like the beginning of a tornado, that eerie moment when the clouds hang low and the air feels like it's filled with static electricity.

  In a flash, a dark blue swirl appeared in the yard of a cabin across the street. “Looks like he wasn't lying after all,” Mike said. “I wonder where he's hiding. Maybe in that cabin?”

  “It could be, we should see shortly. We just have to stay out of sight.” Chris shifted his feet nervously. He felt like he had to go to the bathroom, but he knew it was just his nerves. He just wanted to know that C.J. was okay, he wanted to get him to that portal, and he felt the memory of the portal he'd touched attracting him as well.

  “How long do you want to wait if we don't see–” Mike didn't have to finish the thought because just then Steve and C.J. walked out of the front door of the cabin across the street. C.J. carried Steve's duffel bag of items with both hands, and Steve followed behind, his gun held at waist level but pointed to the ground. At least he isn't pointing the gun at him, Chris thought. Come on. Just let him go in the portal.

  “Put the bag by that light pole over there,” Steve's voice carried to them across the street. Steve continued walking forward and toward the portal, turning his body only slightly to make sure C.J. was complying. As C.J. faced away, walking the bag to the requested destination, Steve raised the gun and aimed it at C.J.'s back. The hair on Chris's arms and neck stood on edge, and he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to vomit. Please God, no, Chris thought. Before Chris had time to react, Steve fired one shot directly into C.J.'s back, without even slowing his walk. The force of the bullet forced C.J.'s back to arch violently, and he fell to the ground.

  “No!” Chris yelled, abandoning his position behind the house and sprinting across the lawn. “You piece of shit! Why would you shoot him?” The blood pumped noisily in his head, and beads of sweat ran down the side of his face, a side effect of the effort he was expending. The exertion didn't bother him though, in fact he didn't even notice; he was focused on one single thing. He was going to kill Steve and he wasn't going to let anything stop him.

  Steve turned the gun toward Chris, and it filled Chris's vision before he knew what to make of it. Steve smiled and somewhere in Chris's mind he heard Mike screaming at him, something about stopping, or that it wasn't worth it. The exact words didn't matter. Regardless of what they were, it couldn't matter.

  The gun erupted, and a bullet tore into the outer edge of the soft flesh of Chris's stomach. Chris felt the burning sensation as the bullet passed through him. That's one way to be rid of your love handles, he thought. Logically he knew the thought was ridiculous, but it didn't seem like the right time to be worrying about censoring his thoughts. He reminded himself again of the Circle of Control, kept his vision locked on Steve, and continued barreling forward. A part of him was even glad to feel the pain; he felt that he deserved it. He had been entrusted to protect C.J.'s life; he was the sole remaining person responsible for making sure that C.J. was safe and secure, and he had failed. The pain prepared him for whatever would happen next. Either Steve was going to die, or Chris was going to die, and it just had to be that way.

  Steve was trying to ignore Chris for the most part and was trying to make his way to the portal. The distance between Steve and the portal was much shorter than the distance between Chris and Steve, but Steve couldn't seem to push past a certain distance in the direction of the portal. His face demonstrated his frustration, and the raised gun wavered in the air, as an invisible force pushed him away from the portal. Just like at the other portal, it had the reverse effect on Chris. He was pulled toward it as he continued his charge toward Steve. Each man was forced to counter-balance the effect of the portal, Steve to get closer, and Chris to stay away.

  He knew that Steve wouldn't reach the portal before he could get to him, it was like struggling so hard to reach the top of a hill; suddenly you were over the pinnacle and you could let gravity do the work. All he had to do was keep going. The gun went off again, but the force of the portal pressing against Steve had skewed his aim, and the bullet went past without affecting Chris. Steve's eyes reflected the realization of the errant shot, and he tried to move out of the way of Chris's hurtling body, but it was too late.

  Chris lowered his head, aimed his shoulder for Steve's stomach, and they collided hard. He kept driving forward long after he made contact with Steve, and both sets of their feet left the ground. Chris managed to get his left foot to touch the ground again, but momentum had taken over and it just dragged along as momentum carried them forward. Steve's body remained disconnected from the ground entirely, and his head crashed through a sign that jutted from the lawn about an upcoming Independence Day celebration that had long since passed. Steve's body crashed onto the lawn, with Chris arriving on top, his face pressed against Steve's chest.

  Mike had moved to C.J., and was looking him over. Chris couldn’t even think about that now. His goal was to take care of Steve once and for all. He let his fists fly, hitting him in the ribs, the face, the stomach, everywhere that he could reach. Steve's hands reached out desperately, attempting to hold Chris down and restrain him, but Chris broke free with ease. Steve rolled to the left and the right, trying to buck Chris from his mounted position, but Chris's weight was too much. Blow after blow Steve tried to place his hands and arms in the way, to prevent the raining damage, but each time Chris just shifted his target.

  In desperation, Steve spit in Chris's face. It surprised Chris, and he only stopped his assault for a second, but that second was all that Steve needed. He placed his hands on Chris's waist, arched his hips, and threw Chris to the side. He scrambled to his feet and took off for the portal.

  Chris rubbed his face with his sleeve to clear his vision. When he had succeeded in recovering enough to locate Steve again, he noticed that Steve had resumed running toward the portal in an awkward, strained gait. “Where is it?” Chris asked himself, running his hand through the grass in an attempt to locate the gun. “I know it's right here, it has to be.” He crawled around on the ground, his eyes still watering in an attempt to remove the irritation.

  His fingers bumped across the small bumps of the handle's grip, and he raised the gun from the grass. He turned back to Steve, who was still limping forward in an aggressive lean toward the portal. He tried to aim it at Steve, but his eyes kept blinking to remove the water, so he rubbed them on his upper arm to clear his vision. I'm only going to have one shot at this, Chris thought. This scumbag killed my son. Oh my God, C.J. is dead! An innocent child. This bastard has to pay. His arm shook in anger and physical strain, but his aim remained true enough, and when he fired the gun the bullet found its mark.

  Steve's body lifted slightly at the impact. His momentum kept him traveling forward, though now it was more of a fall than a run, and a red blot spread on the back of his shirt. It was visible for only a moment, and then Steve's body reached its destination and crossed into the portal. Chris wasn't even sur
prised when his body erupted into fine dust and floated in front of the portal.

  It was done. One way or another, Steve was gone. Chris punched the grass lawn with his fist and pounded it with his forehead. The tears rolled harder and fuller then, tears of frustration, stress, anxiety, and worry. Sobs tore through him, and he didn't know how he could possibly deal with the loss of C.J.

  “Chris, come help me!” Mike screamed, but the words seemed to be coming from the other end of a long hallway. He heard them, but they had a tinny quality in his head, and he couldn't focus on them. Mike ran over, grabbed Chris's shoulders, and shook him. “Snap out of it! C.J. is alive, you have to see this!”

  The realization that C.J. was still alive hit him like a truck. He hadn't even considered the possibility. He had thought C.J. had died for sure, he had seen the way he had fallen. His small body had jolted from the gun shot straight to the back, how could he still be alive? He scrambled to his hands and knees and crawled to where C.J. lay. C.J.'s eyes were open, and the black crud was more dominant in them than ever. It appeared the infection was still spreading despite the medication, but given the circumstances, Chris could care less. The infection was the least of his worries. Chris looked all over C.J.'s body, but didn't see an exit wound. That meant the bullet must still be inside him.

  “Should we turn him over? I don't see an exit wound.”

  “We can,” Mike said. “Be prepared to be shocked.” They carefully rolled C.J. over, as he lay there mutely. The shirt was torn a bit where the bullet had struck, but when Chris looked closer there was neither blood nor a wound. It was like the bullet had simply disappeared after it tore through the shirt.

  “I don't get it, where did the bullet go?” Chris asked. “It... it has to be here. I saw him get shot.”