Fracted (Book #2)

Chapter 49: Target

Hunter sat next to the door, handcuffed to the door knob with a pout on his face.
I've always felt that connection between us, I'd say to both Hunter and Jackson. I never knew that that person has been there this whole time.
While we sat on the floor with the three and Hunter cuffed to the door, Jackson spoke first, "You didn't need to force him to go back. He's free to go look for his family."
"He wouldn't stand a chance. Look at him; he's hopelessly lost."
He's dazed. The glossy look in his eyes, so blank. You could point a gun at his face or anything but he wouldn't try and fight you. Inside, the killing machine is destroyed. The death trap is closed, and Hunter is snared.
"Later on...wanna help me look for his parents?" Patrick asked.
"If it's not too much trouble," I said.
"I'm in," said Jason.
"Me too," Clare added. "Gosh, I can't stand his face. I wanna hug him, but I still wanna live the rest of my life with a head."
"We'll drive around later," Jackson offered. "You guys need a little tour around NYC."
"Then we look for his parents?" Jason insistently asked.
"Yeah, sure."
One by one, Jackson treated our wounds, literally. First was Jason, who was brave enough to get the back of his head stitched. Then Patrick, who turned out to be slightly burned because of the grenade's explosion. Patrick's hand got stitched as well after the gun accident I caused. I was burned too, because of the surrounding fire at the stonehouse.
We, as usual, looked disheveled. Heavily bandaged and stitched. Clare was the only one with no injuries, guess she was well protected--lucky. Hunter had to have a tight gauze around his nose, making me feel more bad for him. I know that's not the only injury he had. No blood, no foul, no gash, no burn, but his heart was shattered into million different jigsaw puzzle pieces. I don't think he can get himself together if he doesn't find his pieces.
Can same the same thing be said for me?

"Can't sleep?" Jackson asked.
My feet dangled over the railing of the emergency exit.
"Having a short nap is the only suitable one," I answered.
There was a long pause, then he examined me.
"What's wrong? Something's bothering you, I know that look. Amd don't tell me you're fine because you're never fine. And where's Eiffel? Haven't seen her since I last punched you in the face."
"See, that's exactly it," I said.
"What?"
"When we tried to escape from the island, we were being chased by an army of Zips."
Even though it was difficult to express, I did it anyway.
"Then what?"
"Benjamin, Eiffel, Hunter, and I ran from them but there were just too many of 'em. So we split. Eiffel and Benjamin and me and Hunter. We came back to the stonehouse and retrieved Clare, and while we were at it we collected our stuff and our weapons. However, the Zips intended to burn the house, trapping us inside."
"How'd you even escape?" he asked.
I stripped off my shirt, the rough cloth running through my burnt patch of skin.
"Oh gosh. What have they done to you?" His fingers touch my burns. I flinched and shifted away. I could tell he was dying inside, seeing me get hurt like that. "Oh, child, why do people keep on hurting you?"
"Because I've appointed myself as the target, you guys are the wall I've covered, and our enemies are the darts."
"If only I could shake the target off the wall and get hit by the darts instead."
"That's absurd. What's the target's purpose then if it's not on the wall?"
"I guess you have to be something else then." I nodded. "I'm gonna clean your shoulder, wait here."
Jackson came back with a basin filled with warm water and a rag. He smoothly scrubs the dust and dirt off my shoulder, up to my elbow. My skin burns from every scrub. Good thing the water's hot enough to make me feel warm, it's starting to frost up here.
"What's today, Jackson?" I asked.
"November 2nd," he frowned. "I can't believe the year's almost over and we still haven't found a safe haven."
"For a place that's full of dreams, this sure does feel like a nightmare."
"Not that I wanna trigger any bad memories but, do you still want to continue the story?"
"Sure...why not?"
"So you were trapped in the burning stonehouse, right?"
"Yes. So we had little time running from the army, then we found Patrick and Jason on our way to the yacht. The men gained on us, so we had no choice but to fight. We shot a couple men, but they're still too many. Patrick suggested we had to hold them off with greater force, so he threw a grenade at them."
"Did dad...make it at least?"
What does he think? The fact that there are only five of us kind of answers the question. But I forced myself to continue.
"As the grenade touched the ground, I last saw Eiffel and Benjamin running toward us, behind the men coming after us. And that was it."
I tremble in sadness and coldness of the weather.
"Dad's--"
"I know...Are we alone now?"
"From now on, I will be the target and you're the wall."
"What? No, I won't let you do that, Jackson. What makes you think you can do that?"
"What made you?"
Silence.
"Come here," he said.
I put my shirt back on and hugged my brother. Tight enough to not let him go.
"I love you, you know that right?"
"Right," I said. "No letting go. And this time, even if it's just about some girl, I'm not releasing."
My arms wrapped tightly around his neck and his around my waist. His hair smelling like Axe and waterfalls.
Our dad is gone, and he's my protector now. But all I wanted was more time with him.
"Get some sleep," he said. "I'll keep watch in case André comes back to get you."
"All right."
"Hold on a sec--what's that?" His index finger touches the back of my neck.
"Don't touch," I shifted away again, pushing his hand away.
"No, it's...it's glowing, see?"
"My what is glowing?"
"Your neck. There's a bright red light glowing, it's..." Then he gasped.
"What?"
"It's a chip. On your neck, it's glowing."
"How'd that get in there?"
I want him to take it out right before it affects my brain. If it's capable of doing that.
"I can't take it off. It'll kill the host if I did."
"No, no, no, there has to be another way!" He shushes me, telling me things would be okay. "André must've done this so he could track me. No wonder he's always following us."
"You're right. And somehow, it's affecting your moods. I've been noticing since you first came in."
"Come on, Jackson, you gotta take it out before he comes back!" I held his hands tightly, begging.
Mildly heavy footsteps came close to us. I shut my mouth completely.
"What are you guys doin' out? It's freezing," Patrick sat with us. "So...you havin' some brotherly talk?"
"We were," Jackson chuckled, bothered by his Patrick's presence.
"Okay, sorry to bother but, uh...isn't it like time to go? It's almost eight."
"Almost eight," Jackson pointed out. "Give us some time, yeah?"
"Alright, we'll wait. So you want to get some breakfast while driving?"
"Yeah sure."
His footsteps departed, I was relieved. Like that feeling when you passed gas in a desolated classroom with only a few classmates hoping they don't smell it, and they didn't.
"Maybe we can just scrape it off?" I suggested, feeling grim. "That'll work, right?"
"Yeah if you're attempting suicide."
"We can unscrew it then?"
"Nope, still gonna die."
That was my last suggestion, I give up.
"We'll find a way soon, but this isn't our priority right now. Now, Hunter's parents are in need of seeking."
He's right, I'm just being self-contained, it's Hunter's need we're worrying about. Maybe it's just the chip-tracker thingy making me go wonkers about my emotions.

Patrick and Jason slipped on Jackson's spare clothes while I let Hunter borrow mine. It took him a while to accept, I even had to make a pouty face, similar to the one he did earlier.
It's pretty difficult sitting with four people on the backseat without making it awkward for yourself. Jason was totally elbowing my ribs and Patrick could not stop moving his hips. Lucky, Clare was at the front seat with Jackson, taking up all te space she can get. But Hunter was the most firm out of all of us.
"I'd rather get inside the trunk!" Jason shouted at Patrick.
"No, I wanna be inside the trunk!"
"Guys!" Clare yelled at the two.
"What?!" They shouted at the same exact time.
"Shut up!"
"You shut up, at least you get that much space over there. This is like shoving a ten-pound bowling ball inside a teacup."
"Guys, focus!" Jackson said calmly. Unbelievably, they all stopped clamoring. "Why don't we play a little game, huh? It's called, 'Look For Any "Missing Child" Flyers On These Posts'. That sounds fun, right?" They chuckled nervously, then glared at each other.
We stopped at the red light, allowing three pedestrians to walk across. One guy remained after the mother and daughter crossed in a rush. I stare at the windshield, confused of what I'm seeing. I whisper his name under my breath:
"Henry..."