Remnants Ch. 04

"I saw a girl like the one he was talking about," Jack says suddenly. "I had fainted because I was so hungry and when I woke up I was in a soft bed and there was this--girl--in the room. A pretty girl, with weird cloudy blue eyes and she gave me a bowl of noodle soup. Everything was okay until she said somebody named Moon wanted to see me and so I got out of there. Quick."

Jeremiah says nothing for a time, simply gazes into the fire. He doesn't have the answers, never did.

"I think we should go back," Jack says, breaking into Jeremiah's thoughts. "That house was safe and warm. Why not stay, at least until spring? It doesn't really make any sense to leave, cause where the hell are we going? I miss that soft bed." He flashes a smile, already confident that Jeremiah will see that he's right, and Jeremiah does see it. It was a foolish move to leave the safe house. He seems to be making more and more foolish mistakes, so many that he's not even sure he can trust himself to make any sort of decision, so he merely nods in agreement with Jack and sets about breaking camp. After a while, it begins to snow.

(Jack)

"I gotta find Liam, you know that! I don't want to be here, I need to find him so I can kill him and I can't kill him if I'm stuck here." The boy's eyes are wild, his face pale and sweaty because he's not well, any fool can see that, even Jack. The kid's sickness is in his head and not contagious, but you never know.

"You can wait," Jeremiah says in his calm voice, trying to soothe the beast. "Liam's probably holed up somewhere, too, waiting out the snowstorm. If you go out there now, you'll die. How will you get revenge if you're dead? Think, Gabriel."

The reasonable words affect Gabriel like a bucket of cold water, and Jack thinks that maybe he's not as far gone as he thought. Still crazy, though. No getting around that. Surprisingly, the kid returns to the house with them despite his noisy protests. He continues once they are back and get a nice warm fire going. If only some quiet could be had. No such luck, though. It's like the kid's trying to make the rest of them miserable as well.

Finally, after an interminable time of grousing, Gabriel's shoulders slump, his mouth turns down and he's blessedly quiet. Jack considers the crazy kid: Is that really all he has? Revenge? Jack's not a big fan of forgiveness, and he can understand Gabriel's rage at Liam, but there's a point, you know? There's a point when you just admit that it's a lost cause and eat it. Although,Jack thinks, watching the kid pound his fist into the wall, Gabriel seems far away from eating anything, unless it's his gun, and one can only hope it's soon.

He expects Jeremiah to stop Gabriel from trying to bust a hole in the wall, maybe keep him from breaking his hand, but he doesn't, just continues to watch. The thud of the boy's fists pounding into the wall is loud in the room, because he's using both now, over and over, until finally he quits, his head resting on the pulverized gypsum, dust puffing into the air like a dusty halo.

Gabriel's shoulders start to heave, and he slides down the wall, no tears, bloody hands cradled in his lap. Gasping, like a freaky weird fish, he cries or something, Jack's not sure, he doesn't want to know he certainly doesn't care in the slightest.

Jack looks to Jeremiah again, to see what he will do, but the man only turns away, both hands sliding over the smooth skull on the mantle, and Jack's stomach twists a little at the misery choking the room.

He goes back into the kitchen and opens a can of fruit, shovels it in his mouth as fast as he can.

(Jeremiah)

The snow continues to come down, big grey flakes that feel greasy on the skin and when melted have a metallic taste. More than likely it's not safe to drink, but what choice do they have? The jug of distilled water is long gone. Only a rusty trickle comes out of the faucets, so they collect the snow in pans and bring it in to melt. It would be safer to boil it, but the stove's electric. The water leaves a strange taste in the mouth, makes Jeremiah's head hurt if he drinks too much.

He wishes he could be one of those people who always knows the right thing to say, especially in painful situations, but he's not. He can't think of anything even remotely comforting to say to Gabriel. Not that the boy would even have listened, because he's even more disturbed since spilling his guts, not that Jeremiah can blame him. It's a wonder the kid hasn't blown his own head off yet. He's probably waiting until he finds Liam and then he'll put himself out of his misery.

Is there any way to reach Gabriel? He spends all his time staring out the big picture window, his skinny arms poking out of his T-shirt, eyes too big for his face. It's tragic, really, but what in this messed up world isn't?

He remembers the big-nosed kid and the hulking one, his knife slicing through fabric and then flesh, the grief he'd felt then, the grief he feels now. So many ghosts--Aiden, his wife, Marie, Zeke--too many. He doesn't want to add Gabriel to that list.

The kid's unbalanced, dangerous. Probably Jeremiah should put the poor kid out of his misery, just one bullet would do it, because Gabriel's a loose cannon, unpredictable, but when Jeremiah slides his hand over the gun butt, his stomach clenches painfully and he knows that's not the answer. Maybe the boy can be reached, if Jeremiah can pull himself out of the black hole Zeke's death thrust him into, but he's not sure if he can, or if he wants to get out. It's comfortable in the hole, smooth like the skull, quiet. It's when you start caring about people that it gets hard, it hurts, it drags you down.