BackTrek (13 page)

He glanced at his watch and stared at the
little blinking dots in between the six and the fifteen. Penelli
would be on his way to work by now. Jack walked into the bedroom
and grabbed his phone.

“Yello.” Penelli answered.

“Penelli. Jack.”

“I heard. God man, I’m sorry. Is there
anything that I can do? Are you doing okay?” Jack was startled.
News normally traveled fast around the precinct, and even precinct
to precinct, but Penelli wasn’t even at work yet.

“I don’t know. I just called to let you know
what happened.”

“Captain Howe called me about an hour ago. He
thought that you might call and wanted me to be prepared.”

“Then he told you about the blood?”

“Your blood?” Penelli asked.

“Yeah. On the back door.”

“Yeah, I think he mentioned it.” Penelli
said.

“You know that I couldn’t have-”

“Jack. You don’t have to explain anything to
me. You know me. And I know you like my own brother. It’s just a
detail that they’ve got to iron out, Jack. You know how it is.”

“Yeah but-”

“Don’t worry about it, Jack. I’m on the case,
and I’ll let you know when we get anything, okay? You just relax.
Chill out, and get your head on straight, you hear me?”

“Yeah. I’ll be okay.” Bullshit, he
thought.

“If you need anything...anything at all, you
know I’m here.”

“Thanks, Penelli. If you hear anything, or if
you find out-”

“Don’t worry, Jack, I’ll call you. You know,
we take of our own.”

“Thanks.” Jack said as he hung up the phone.
‘Take care of our own’, Penelli had said. Jack wished that he had
been there to do just that the night before. Maybe everyone would
still be alive. He poured himself a cup of coffee, took a sip, and
then sat the cup down on the counter. The phrase, ‘take care of our
own’, continued to run through his mind, like he had heard it
before, and that it meant something. Then suddenly he remembered.
It was the last time that he had talked to Tracey, or more
accurately, the last time she had spoken to him. As angry as she
had been, he could not get a word in edgewise. But he clearly
remembered that she had told him that he had to learn to ‘take care
of his own.’ Seconds passed as he stared blankly at the cup, before
he finally broke down in tears. He slammed the cup into the sink,
where it exploded into shards. He laid his head on the counter and
sobbed.

Hours had passed by the time Jack finally got
himself together enough to drive. He had showered twice, tried to
sleep, and tried to eat. But he knew that the crime scene still sat
there. That the blood of his loved ones still sat there as it
congealed inside the house that he loved. On the furniture that he
and his beloved wife had picked out together. On the couch where
his two precious children had sat, as they held one another in
fear. Where his brother had fallen to the carpet. The more he tried
not to think about it the more it became the focus of his thoughts.
Tracey had said to ‘take care of his own.’ Penelli had said that we
‘take care of our own.’ Now it was time for him to take care of his
own. It was his duty as a husband, a father, and a brother to scrub
those stains. To try and cleanse the wrong that had been done. To
do something. Anything. Anything besides sit in this lonely
apartment and crucify himself for not having been there when they
needed him the most. He absentmindedly gathered some cleaning
materials from under his sink and left.

When he arrived at the house, his mind
wandered back to the night before and all of the commotion and
emotions. He sat in his car for a moment and cried, before he
finally wiped his eyes and got out of the car. He sat the bucket
from under his sink down beside the front door. He inserted his key
into the lock, opened the door, and quickly stepped towards the
alarm keypad. The keypad beeped insistently until Jack had entered
his code, and then it fell silent. As Jack returned to the front
door to get his bucket, the coppery smell of stale blood reached
his nose. It caused his empty stomach to turn. He braced himself as
he grabbed the door frame, and took a few breaths of fresh air
before he reached down and picked up his bucket. He began to shut
the door, but remembered that if he did so it would automatically
re-arm the perimeter alarm, and decided against it. If he suddenly
needed to run out the backdoor for fresh air, he didn’t want to set
the alarm off.

Jack made his way to the kitchen, careful not
to look into the living room as he passed by. In the sink, empty
glasses sat, where Tracey had left them the night before. One by
one he sat them on the counter, and then emptied the items that he
had brought from his bucket. He sat the bucket down in the sink,
and began to fill it with water. As the water trickled into the
bucket, he added some cleaner to it, and then a large sponge.
Satisfied that he had enough water, he started the long walk into
the living room. Blood was still everywhere, but the M.E. had left
no other evidence that the room was once filled with bodies. As
Jack kneeled beside where his brother had lain, tears began to flow
down his cheeks. He reached into the bucket, and brought out the
soaked sponge, and slowly began to clean the puddle of blood that
had once given his brother life.

Hours passed as Jack slowly and methodically
cleaned first one mess then another. He had cleaned the carpet
where his brother lay, and then worked furiously on the couch where
his children had been huddled. He dripped as much water from his
eyes as he did from the sponge. Finally he was at the last spot in
the room. He stepped over to the wall where Tracey had fallen. He
crouched on the floor and he began to scrub the smeared wall, when
suddenly he had a feeling of being watched. Jack felt a silent
presence in the room, and more on instinct than fear, he quickly
drew his weapon and whirled around as he rose. Ted stood in the
doorway, his hands at his side.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asked as he
flipped the safety off of his weapon. He stepped towards him.

“I just heard.”

“I don’t give a shit what you heard. What are
you doing here?” Jack said as he stepped even closer, his firearm
aimed steadily at Ted’s head.

“Look, Jack, I don’t want any trouble. I
just-”

“Stop stalling asshole, and answer me! What
are you doing here?” Jack’s arms shook with rage, much like the
confrontation the day before. Ted could see the anger in Jack’s
eyes, but it was the wildness of that look that caused him to
slowly raise his hands over his head as Jack pushed even closer.
The barrel of the gun was now inches from Ted’s face, and Jack’s
finger was taught on the trigger. Ted knew that if he sneezed, he
was a dead man.

“I’m sorry Jack. I just came to say I’m
sorry.” Ted said sincerely. Jack faltered for a moment. The
sincerity in his voice unsettled Jack. “I heard what happened, and
no matter what you think...I still care about you...about what
happens to you.” Jack’s anger flared again.

“Bullshit!” He yelled. Suddenly Ted took
advantage of the momentary distraction as Jack’s emotions welled up
inside him. He brought his hands down, and struck Jack’s hand. The
gun sailed across the room. An explosion echoed through the small
room as Jack’s gun went off when it struck an end table. A bullet
hole appeared in the wall where Jack had been cleaning. Jack
tackled Ted, and they tumbled into the hallway. Jack climbed up on
Ted and punched him in the face. Stunned, Ted bucked Jack back into
the living room, and tried to get up. As soon as Jack landed, he
scrambled for his gun. Ted saw his imminent demise in the near
future, and leaped onto Jack to stop him. Jack once again smacked
Ted in the face, but Ted held him even tighter. Finally, wild with
rage, Jack managed to free one leg, and kicked Ted in the jaw. A
bright flash of light went off in his head, and in that instant, he
released his hold on Jack. In a fraction of a second, Jack
retrieved his gun. He pounced on Ted. As he straddled his still
dazed assailant, Jack pushed the barrel of his gun against Ted’s
forehead. Again his finger tightened on the trigger. Ted froze.
Slowly Jack rolled off of him, but continued to hold his gun
steady. As he stood up, Ted dared not to move. Jack backed away a
few steps, and continued to stare down the barrel of his weapon. He
eyed Ted as his chest rose and fell slowly.

“I want answers.” Jack said, as he finally
calmed down enough that he had stopped shouting.

“I’ll tell you what I can. What do you want
to know, Jack.”

“Why? Tell me why you lied to them? Tell me
why you ruined my life?”

“I can’t discuss it, Jack.”

“You damn well will discuss it, and you’ll do
it now!” Jack said as he crowded Ted again.

“Look, Jack. That’s still top secret.”

“You don’t even work for the Army anymore,
Ted. Try again!”

“Not the Army, no. But it’s still a branch of
the military, and what you’re asking about, is still classified
information.”

“I’ve had it with you, your lies, and your
damn bullshit!” Jack said as he approached Ted. His hand began to
tremble, as he stopped beside him. Ted looked up into his eyes as
if he hoped to find some sentiment of mercy, but only found cold
hard hatred.

“Jack, I want to-”

“Shut up asshole. I don’t want to hear any
more of your damned lies. You’ve done nothing but lie to me and
I-”

“That’s it damn it!” Ted said. He began to
stand up, and ignored the gun which held him under constant
surveillance.

“Sit back down or I’ll-”

“You’ll what! Blow my head off? Fine! Do it!”
As he began to stand, Jack tried to push him back down, but Ted
resisted.

“I don’t want to kill you, Ted, but I’ll-”
Finally Ted got to his feet and began to aggressively approach
Jack. Jack stepped back, confused at his actions, and though Jack
was still armed, Ted matched him step for step.

“Do it, Jack! Just shut up and do it! I am
sick and tired of your damnation for what I had no control over!
I’m fed up with all these years of hating myself for what I was
ordered to do! You have no idea how many times I’ve picked up my
own gun, intending to blow my own head off for what I did to you!
So just shut up and do it!” Ted was in Jack’s face. The veins in
his neck pumped as the adrenaline rushed through his body.

“What the hell are you saying?” Jack asked as
he shook his head. The onslaught of information had overwhelmed
him, and even though he still held his gun in his hand, the fight
was over.

“Do it, Jack! It won’t change a single thing,
but if it gives you peace of mind, then by God, do it!” Ted knelt
down on one knee and bowed his head in front of Jack. “Do it Jack!
Finish this! End it!”

Jack was shocked at the sudden change in
Ted’s attitude and his actions. And even as his mind tried to
accept what he saw and heard, Ted reached up and grabbed the hand
which held the gun. He aimed Jack’s weapon at his own head.
Suddenly the rage fled out of Jack as confusion flooded in. He
pulled his gun away from Ted, and stepped back. He stared at Ted.
For so long he had thought of nothing else but having his old
nemesis in a situation just like this. But now, he realized, it was
all wrong. He didn’t want to kill Ted. He just wanted to understand
what had happened. He wanted to realize what it was that had driven
his friend to turn against him so unjustly. He wanted to ‘end it’
all right, but not this way.

“No.” Jack said quietly, as he stared wide
eyed at Ted, as he still knelt on the floor. “This isn’t the
answer.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Jack? My head on
a platter? Well you’ve got it.”

“No. I don’t want you dead. I just want
answers.” Ted looked into his eyes, and a slight smile begin to
twinkle in them.

“In that case, put that damn gun away and
let’s talk.”

“The truth? Or more bullshit?” Jack asked,
his gun still in his hand.

“The truth, Jack. Probably more than you want
to hear.” Jack eased his gun back into his holster as Ted stood up
and straightened his clothes. He looked back up at Jack after he
had composed himself. “You got any beer?”

“Uh...I’m not sure.” Jack began as Ted turned
and walked out of the living room. Jack stood there dumbfounded,
when suddenly Ted popped his head around the corner.

“Come on man. Do you want answers or not.”
Ted motioned for him to follow, and in a near state of shock, Jack
did. He followed Ted into the kitchen and sat heavily in the chair
that Ted had pulled from the kitchen table. Jack stared blankly at
him as he opened the refrigerator, and then returned to the table
with two long necked bottles of beer. He twisted off the top of the
first bottle. Ted expertly flung the cap into the trash can, after
it ricocheted off of the wall, and then sat the beer in front of
Jack. He opened his own beer, took a long drink and sat down across
from Jack.

“What happened?” Jack asked. His beer still
sat in front of him, untouched.

“No questions. Just listen and you’ll
understand. What I’m about to tell you is beyond top secret. Even
the CIA has no idea what’s going on. This is between you and me,
Jack. If anybody ever finds out, then I’m as sure as dead.” Jack
nodded quietly and finally reached for his own beer. Ted paused and
took another drink from his. He eased the bottle back to the table
and began.

“Ten years ago, Jack, there was a murder. A
guard. Remember?” Jack nodded. “He was one of our guards. High
security clearance, top secret and all that crap. One morning he
was found dead inside the locked lab.”

“But the body was found outside.” Jack
interjected.

“No, that’s where we moved the body.”

“Damn it! I knew it!”

“I know you did, Jack, and that was part of
the problem. Your superior was actually on our payroll. His job was
to make sure that nothing would jeopardize the project. When you
reported to him that you thought the murder had been committed
elsewhere, that’s what started the ball rolling.”