RUSTY | frank castle

TWENTY FIVE

Rusty's phone buzzed. Unknown caller again. She answered, looking out of the van's window. 

"Rusty?"

"Yeah, I'm here. What's wrong?"

"Curt is here. He's-" Frank sighed. "Just come inside."

"I'm coming."

Rusty opened the van door, telling her dogs to stay in the back. "Be quiet, okay?" Fender laid down and Lexi sat, following the command.

Rusty jogged across the road, up the steps and opened the flat door. She immediately covered her nose with her jumper sleeve, trying to rid the stench that capped the apartment. It smelt like a dead body. 

Frank called to her, "In here!"

Rusty, with a glock in her hand, rounded the corner to see Frank with a phone to his ear and Curtis with a beaten up face and a . . . bomb strapped to his chest. 

"Oh, God, Curtis." Rusty whispered. 

Frank looked at her, putting a finger to his lips and then pointed to the phone. He put the call on loudspeaker.

Rusty mouthed 'the bomber?' and Frank replied with a nod. 

"Kid, what does this have to do with Curtis?" Frank asked.

Kid?

"Curtis . . . Curtis chose the wrong side."

By the voice, Rusty could tell that the person on the other line was young, probably in his early twenties. Oh, God.

"No." Frank spoke. "No, you're wrong there. I promise you, he's never been on the wrong side of anything in his life. You gotta trust me on that one."

Rusty walked over to Curtis, taking a look at his battered face. She whispered, "What the hell happened?"

The man shook his head. "He beat me with my own leg."

"Jesus, Curt." Rusty sighed. She went into the kitchen, silently taking some kitchen roll and running some tap water. She quickly rummaged through some cabinets, finding one with some medical supplies and fished out a disinfectant spray. She walked back to Curtis as Frank continued talking.

"Come on, Lewis. What's the plan here, huh?" Frank looked around. "How does this end? You gonna wait for the cops to show up? You gonna blow them all to hell? You take on the establishment, kid, that- that will not end well. They will find you and kill you before you even make a dent, I promise you that."

"I already made a dent."

There was a few seconds of silence as the three of them left no faith in their luck. Rusty covered Curtis's eye with the kitchen towel and sprayed the medical disinfectant on his wounds, making him hiss. She whispered, "Come on, doctor, you've lost a leg and now you wince?"

"Listen to me." Frank licked his lips. "You need to let Curtis go, all right? You let me get him out of here and then you turn yourself in, all right? Just do it, yeah?"

Not a Nike commercial, Frank. He's not gonna do it. 

"Nobody else needs to get hurt."

"Is that what you did, Frank?"

"What?" He frowned. 

"No, you fought your war, and now I am fighting mine."

"You are nothing like me. You are nothing like me." Frank's breath shuddered ever so slightly. He looked at Rusty, who gulped, swallowing her nerves. "I looked them in the eye before I put 'em down. Not you. You're a coward. You hide behind these goddamn bombs. You got two United States Marines here! United States Marines!"