Saving the World - Awakening

Desperation

Eliot woke up to the sunlight for the first time this year.  His mother was away last night, and apparently didn't get back.  He rolled over and instantly remembered his senseless stunt the day before. He felt nauseous, which was to be expected.  His bandage was stained red around his wound, but it looked to be doing its job.  He closed his eyes and relaxed, trying not to strain himself any more.

After a few minutes of calm, he heard the sound of glass shattering on the floor, coming from the kitchen.  It must be late in the day if his father was up.  He sighed impatiently and groaned as a new spurt of pain charged up his gut.  He slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  Taking a deep breath he stood up.  As he did the pain hit him as expected, and he closed his eyes, attempting to endure it.  After waiting a few seconds for it to dull, he completely left his bed.

Limping out of his room, Eliot didn't really know what he would find in the kitchen.  Perhaps his father was just feeling unwell from another night of drinking.  There was only one way to find out.  He rounded the corner and found his father sitting at the table, head in his arms and a piece of paper in his hand.

"Dad?" Eliot croaked, dehydrated from his sleep. "What's wrong?"

His father lifted his head from his arms.  It was clear he had been crying. "Your mother is gone.  She ran away yesterday, while you were...providing for the family."

Eliot's first response was joy.  His mother had been the scourge of his life for the past thirteen years. She was one of the reasons that his father drank every night.  Then he realized that there was no one to pay the bills besides himself.  His father was in no shape for working, and unless he sobered up, Eliot would be the sole provider for the now two person family.  On top of that, Eliot was nowhere near work-ready.

"I'm sorry, dad.  We'll get through this, though.  You and me.  We've got this, we always have and always will."

Eliot started tearing up. He yelled at himself internally for it. Why did all the bad things in life have to stack up?  His father was an overt drunk, his mother gone, his own self nigh useless, and they had no money besides Eliot's own stash.  There were only two options right now: to sell all they had until Eliot could work, or to find some kind of miracle treatment for his wounds.

Eliot sat down next to his father, hoping to calm him down.  The last thing that his father needed was alcohol, and if Eliot let him be, that's exactly where he would go.

"Dad, listen to me." He grabbed his father's hand and looked into his eyes. "I'm gonna find a way out of this, and we will get through this."

"Have you ever wondered what I did before we lived here?" his father asked.

Eliot shook his head slowly, intrigued.

"Before you were born, I worked for an organization dedicated to national peace."

Eliot smirked, confused but amused at the idea of his father being a global peacekeeper.  He studied his father, but he was dead serious.

"I worked as a doctor, and oh was I good!  I could treat any kind of wound.  People would call me 'Pope Green' because they thought I was performing miracles on my patients.  Then, the bomb hit, and ruined everything.  Your mother...she died that night.  I was away on a mission, and I left her-" 

His father's voice broke, and it was clear he couldn't go on.  He looked into Eliot's eyes, his own eyes red rimmed and wet from tears.  Uncomfortable, Eliot got up.

"I told you not to worry. We are gonna get through this!" he called out desperately, walking to his room.

He went into his room and took the brick from the wall.  The bag was still inside, so he pulled it out and pulled two pistols and two 100 pound notes out.  After extracting the items, he slid the bag back into the hole and returned the brick to its place.  He tucked one pistol into his waistband and the other smaller one inside his coat pocket.