Blood Love

Now: Day 1

"You have five days to give us what we want, or the girl dies."

            He knew the voicemail by heart. It played through his head every minute of every day, thrumming the space between his ears with relentless brutality.

            "You have five days to give us what we want, or the girl dies."

            Like hell.

            The sink water ran red as he rinsed the blood off his hands, and then peeled off his shirt to wring the excess crimson from the fabric. He jabbed his phone and switched to the next voicemail, more recent, and it caused him to pause.

            "Jason," Ricky's voice began. "I know what you're doing. It's stupid. Going on some homicidal killing spree won't bring her back any sooner. Talk to me. She wouldn't want this."

            How would he know? How would he know? He didn't come back to blood and splintered furniture and windows broken by bullets and no Hayley.

No Hayley.

            No Hayley.

            An animalistic howl escaped his lips. White knuckles gripped the sink. He watched the water until it ran clear again, breathing deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out. In, out. In . . .

            Crash.

            Blood wound down his knuckles. He stared ahead into his fractured reflection, bits and pieces of the mirror embedded in his hand. The pain was enlivening. God, he just wanted to feel something. Anything was worse than the bottomless pit his stomach had become.

            As he was drying his hands with a towel the phone rang. It was Ricky. He ignored it, choosing to shuffle into the main space of the motel and reload his gun. Alfred Jenkins. He hadn't wanted to burn a bullet on that stupid, cocky son of a bitch, but he wasted thirty minutes of his precious time that should have been used to find Hayley, and that was simply unforgivable. Pulling back the hammer and firing the shot into his head was frighteningly easy. Kind of, Jason thought, like riding a bike.

            Killing wasn't something you just forgot how to do. Not when you were practically raised around it.

             The phone rang again. And then one more time. And Jason never answered it. Why should he? It would be the same message, the same request. Stop seeking vengeance, don't break his promise to himself, don't kill anybody, etcetera, etcetera.

            But it was a bit too late for that.

            After a quick shower he grabbed his phone and deleted all the missed calls from Ricky. Then he dialed one of the many numbers engrained into his mind. Just another thing that would never go away.

            "Who is this and what do you want?"

            His lips twitched at the old man's hard voice. "Oslo, it's me."

            A moment of crackling silence preceded a harsh, "I'm sorry, please specify."

            He rolled his eyes. "Jason, you old bat. Jason Lambargo."

            "Pfft. The Jason Lambargo I knew dropped off the planet and let some fine piece of ass domesticate him."

            The old guy was still worse than a sailor. "Her name is Hayley, and if you call her a 'fine piece of ass' again I'll shoot you. I need your help, Oslo."