In The Company Of Monsters

Everybody Hurts

Mitch stood in the file room, hands jammed into his camo jacket pockets. Around him, rows of metal filing cabinets stood silent, packed with the documentation of years of effort. He took a step forward toward the large windows, then stopped, remembering Ian’s encounter with the .50 caliber round. He didn’t see any snipers, but had no doubt they were out there.

The road outside was quiet, which added to Mitch’s unease. Normally, a steady flow of trucks rumbled by outside, moving freight in and out of the port. Today, all commerce had stopped. Takes some serious juice to close a port. We are in real trouble.

Behind him, Jack entered the room. He saw Mitch and knew something was bothering the man. Shoulders tensed, staring out into space. Not a happy camper. Should he slip back out, and leave the guy in peace? 

“Hey, Jack,” said Mitch, not moving.

Jack walked in and came around to see Mitch’s face.

“Y’ok, Mitch?” he asked. Marine or not, his fighting days were a long time ago, and Jack didn’t know how Mitch was holding up under the pressure.

Mitch grunted in response. “Fuckin’ peachy.”

Jack wanted to make the guy feel better. Tell him some kind of easy, happy thought, but nothing came to mind. Mitch let him off the hook.

“I’m just tired,” he said. He pulled his hands from his pockets and rubbed at them.

Jack nodded. “Hey, find a spot and get some rest. I’ll keep an eye on Lily.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, with a grudging smile.

“Literal 'sum bitch, aren't you? I kinda like that, actually. Keep things simple.”

“You're not-“

“I’m tired of fighting, Jack.”

Mitch turned around to face Jack. The cop meant well, he could see. But this wasn’t exactly the shit you can plan for.

“When I took Lily in, I was a young hard charger. All mouth and muscle. Now look at me. My hands hurt every day.” Mitch realized he was still massaging his hands and he made himself stop.

“Hey, come on,” said Jack. “I think you do pretty damn good-“

“-for a man my age,” Mitch cut in. “Yeah, I have to. What's Lily going to do when I'm gone, huh? She'll get this place, but the debts will eat half of it. She'll be lucky to scrape by, like I have. I don't want that life for her.

“So you're folding your hand, and leaving the table? Some role model for her.”

“Shut up.”

Jack squared off in front of Mitch. “What? You're the only one with problems? This is how you teach Lily to deal with life?”

Mitch’s face grew hard. “You will want to shut your pie hole now.”

Jack was on a roll though. “Should I be here? Am I invited to this pity party?”

Mitch’s eyes narrowed. His fist clenched, and his feet shifted to support throwing a punch.

But then the energy drained from his body. His fist relaxed and his shoulders slumped.

“The bank is taking our business,” he told Jack.

“What?”

“Yeah. Foreclosing,” he said, pointing a finger in Jack’s face. “And don't you say one word to Lily. Got it?”

“Damn.”

“Got it?!”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Mitch relaxed a little. “Good.”

Jack ran his hand through his hair, processing the news. “Jesus. How long have you got?”

“A month. Maybe two. I just haven't found the right way to tell her. And now all this. Unfuckingbelievable.”

“I’m sorry, Mitch. Really.”

“I know.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Whatever I have to,” said the Marine.

* * *

Just breathe. Victor sat on the floor, meditation style, his back to the door. He tightened every muscle in his body, held it, then relaxed and exhaled. Another deep breath in...

Behind him, Blair stepped in. She was dressed, but visibly shaken from her ordeal. Her mascara had run down her cheek in a thin black line.

“Victor?” she whispered.

He jumped up to a crouch, alert and ready. In a flash, the revolver was in his hand, aimed at her chest. His eyes tracked her carefully, scanning for any sudden movements.

He peered down the barrel at her.

“Is it you?” he asked.

She nodded. “It's me.”

He studied her, then lowered the gun.

She let out the breath she’d been holding. A smile broke across her face and she stepped forward, arms out. “I am so sorr-“

The gun snapped back up. “You stay right there,” growled Victor.

Blair froze, lowering her arms. Her smile faded. “It's me!” she cried.

“Yeah. Seems that way.”

He had never raised a gun at her. Was he really doing this? “I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry, baby. I couldn't stop it.”

“You mean you knew what you were doing?” His tone turned hostile, interrogative.

“No,” she said shaking her head. “Well, yes... I knew what was happening, but I couldn't control it. Something... else just took over. It's like I was just along for the ride.”

She wanted to go to him, to be held tight. Didn’t he understand how terrifying that was for her too? To be out of control of your own body?

Victor’s voice was sharp and accusatory. “So you knew what you were doing.”

Blair sighed. “What can I do, honey? Tell me!”

“Right now? Turn around, and keep walking.” He stood unmoving, the gun raised on her.

Blair didn’t want to leave and she stood her ground. “You can trust me! Well, as much as any of us can.”

“Rather not shoot you,” he warned.

“Victor! Forgive me!” she pleaded with him.

Victor cocked the hammer. He wouldn’t take pleasure in it, but he’d shoot her dead if forced to protect himself.

Blair’s breath wouldn't come. The tension wrapped her in cellophane. A sauna would be less stifling. Blood pounded in her ears. He really would kill her. Her love for him wilted. She turned and left him.

She stumbled from the room, uncaring where she went next. The rush of blood in her ears roared like white noise. Blair walked, absently turning corners, until she found a quiet corner away from everyone.

She took out her cellphone and dialed. She leaned against the wall and stared at her shoes as it rang.

A man’s voice answered. Deep, comforting. “Hello?” he asked.

Blair smiled, eyes moist.

“Hi, Daddy...”