In The Company Of Monsters

Pity Party

Jack sat slumped forward next to Robert’s body. Behind him lay another body, where Ian had fallen from the sniper fire. But this was the only death that mattered. And so preventable.

Why had he talked Robert into this? He could have held back and everything would have been fine. But he knew why. Because of that long, hot day years ago. Because of her. A man desperate to prove himself could be as lethal as a gun.

Mitch had taken off the latex gloves, covered in Robert’s blood. Lily poured bottled water over his hands and onto the floor while he rubbed the last of it away. 

When the water ran out, Mitch rubbed his hands dry on his jeans. Lily kissed him on the cheek, then approached Jack, her cane tapping back and forth in front of her. When she found him, she sat it aside and joined him on the floor. He didn’t look up.

“Go away,” he growled. 

“I’m so sorry about your friend,” she offered.

Jack’s head tilted up at the sound. He dimly noticed a locked metal grate in the floor behind her desk. 

“What is that? In the floor?” he asked.

She paused. “Oh, the grate? Just an old maintenance shaft. Not an exit, I’m afraid.”

“Hm,” he said, distantly, his eyes falling back on the body before him.

Jack’s slack expression tightened. “I think he hated me.”

Lily pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Um.... He was your partner?”

Jack nodded. “Argued with our Lieutenant one time too many. So... assigned to me. Punishment.”

“I see.” She rubbed the back of her neck.

“Barely know anything about him. ‘Cept I got him killed.”

Jack reached into his jacket and pulled out his silver flask. He slowly, carefully unscrewed the top and brought it to his lips. The burn of the rye whiskey was both hot and cold.

“That wasn’t you,” she said.

“Same result.”

He held the flask up and toasted the body that slowly cooled before him. “Here’s to you, partner. Couldn’t protect you either.”

He took a gulp, appreciating the familiar smolder in his throat. Did Robert have someone at home waiting for him? No ring on his finger, but there could be a girlfriend. He should have at least known that much.

This was the second time he’d sat beside the body of someone he knew. The memory of that night flashed in his head. Walking beside the gurney in a daze, police lights strobing in his eyes, ignoring the wall of reporters being held back behind the line. The predictable vultures, eager for a fresh slice of misery. And if the dead happened to be a young girl, so much the-

Lily’s voice snapped him back to the here and now. “That won’t work for long.” 

The memory hadn’t been a pleasant one, but it had the benefit of being cushioned by the years. It wasn’t immediate and bloody and in his face, the way Robert now was. Why couldn’t this chick just let him be?

He looked about the room. Mitch was packing up the med-kit.  Victor and Blair had stepped just out of the office, talking intensely in low tones. And Lily was standing over him. 

“Would you please shut up?” he asked her, his voice louder than necessary.

She could tell Jack was unused to yelling at women. He had a slight Southern accent. In all this insanity, only a Southern boy would combine “shut up” with “please”. Stereotypes do come from somewhere.