Saving Jack - Excerpt

 

COMING SOON

Excerpt:

Jack had no idea where he was. He had crossed a couple of state lines, driving like a maniac, only ever stopping to pee and once to relieve himself in the woods, all the while freaking out Trevor was right behind him. Then running back to the car, he saw a truck in the distance the same color as Rick's, Trevor's old pool buddy. Was Trevor sitting on the passenger side? Was he laughing and pointing at him, shouting that Jack would see now what it felt like to die? Jack scrambled into the car and tried to turn the key, but it stuck like it did all the fucking time. He pulled the key out of the ignition and slammed it back in. Oh God, the truck was nearly on him. He was out of fucking time. Yes! This time the piece of shit car did turn over, but now he knew for sure the fucking car was going to stall but thank you, Jesus, it didn't. Fuck, it didn’t matter, because Rick's damn green truck was right there and so was Trevor. He hadn’t escaped after all…

The truck simply flew around him and kept going.

It wasn't Rick's truck.

Oh, sweet Jesus, it wasn’t Rick’s truck.

Jack had to take a couple of hits from his inhaler after that, recognizing the signs of a looming asthma attack. Well, probably not. But he definitely had trouble breathing in that moment.

It hadn't been Trevor after all.

Jack only pulled back onto the road once he'd stopped shaking.

And just like he packed no food, he grabbed no money, so when the car choked to a stop outside of a tiny town called Benson, Jack pushed it into a parking lot of a small, busy diner and walked away. He had no idea how many miles he had walked since then. He needed to get as far away from the abandoned car as he could, though, and in a totally different direction, because they would find the car and they would connect it to Trevor. Trevor would know Jack came through here. He would be pissed as all hell he would have to come and get the car—furious Jack took it in the first place. Somehow Jack needed to disappear.

And now he stood on some high bridge in the middle of nowhere.

The water rushed below him, the sound lulling him into a trance. He could use a drink of that water. He could use a bath. Stepping into the cold water would wake him up too. But it was a long way down a steep bank. He wouldn't have any trouble going down but coming back up might be an issue. However, even the prospect of little resistance on the descent seemed too much an effort to make. Maybe he would just climb over the rail and drop down from here. The fall would probably kill him though.

He sighed. That was the only real way to disappear. What did he have to live for anyway? He was so fucked up—no job, no home, a backpack that held, at this point, all his worldly possessions. And what the fuck was in it? Some old jeans and T-shirts. Shockingly, he had grabbed underwear and a toothbrush, but he hadn't even thought to take a coat. He was broke, hungry, freezing, and knew of no way to change any of it.

A vehicle had stopped behind him, the headlights were shining out of the corner of his one good eye. He should be concerned as a door opened and closed and the crunch of footsteps came closer. But he couldn't care enough to turn around. The rushing water held him spellbound. Suddenly, a powerful light was on his back, casting his shadow far down into the deep water.

"Sir? May I ask what you're doing on the bridge in the middle of the night?"

The question was followed by a radio-sounding voice saying something about a car broken down on some road somewhere and someone needed to respond. Ah, it's a police officer. At least it wasn’t Trevor. Not that it mattered anymore. Jack still didn't turn, and he remained silent.

"Sir? I need to ask you to step away from the railing, please."

The police officer thought he was going to jump. Well, he had thought about it.

"Sir. I will ask only one more time for you to step away from the rail."

The deep voice had come closer, the light dancing a little. Jack finally tore himself away from the lure of the water and turned to face the police officer. Of course, he couldn't see a damn thing; the officer had aimed the flashlight directly into his face.

"Sorry, Officer, I was…" What was he doing? "Sorry. I'm just passing through. I'll get out of your way." Jack turned and walked out of the light, away from the officer. He wanted to cry. He had nothing left inside.

"You didn't answer my question, son. Don't make me ask it again."

Son? Jack turned back, holding up his arm to block the light from his eye. "What question?" Had he asked a question? Fuck. He was dizzy with exhaustion.

The officer huffed. "What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"Noth-nothing. I… said I was just passing through. I'm not going to cause any trouble."

"There's been a number of break-ins in this area. They've been happening in the middle of the night. You know anything about those?" The officer had taken a couple of steps toward him again, holding the large flashlight steady on Jack's face.

"No! I-I only just got here! I-I don't know anything about that!" Oh fuck. There came the adrenaline again. His body had gone into fucking overdrive producing the shit over the last couple of days. Didn't it ever run out?

"What's your name?"

"Jack. Jack Demar. I'm… like I said, I'm just passing through. I had nothing to do with any break-ins."

"Well, Mr. Demar, I would like to make sure. I'm going to ask you to take a seat in my cruiser while I check you out."

"Check me out?" What the fuck did that mean?

"Check out your story, son. Come on." The officer lowered the flashlight and pointed it back toward his police car. "I trust you have some ID on you?"

"Um… yeah. I have a driver's license."

"Good. We'll start with that." He held out the hand not holding the light.

Jack walked toward him as he reached into his pocket for his billfold. Taking out his card, he handed it to the officer who shined his light on it for a moment before reaching up and taking a firm hold of Jack's arm. He guided him to the car. "You have any weapons on you?"

Weapons? Good God, was he serious? Nope. No more jars of pennies, Officer. "No… no, sir."

"Mind if I check?" Not waiting for an answer, he turned Jack around and gently pushed him up against the vehicle, tapping with his foot on Jack’s legs until he realized the officer wanted him to stand with them apart. Then he took away his backpack.

Was this legal? Did a police officer have the right to do this without a warrant? Well, if the person didn’t protest maybe.

There was the sound of the zipper. The officer had to be going through his things. Again, it wasn’t right. But he just didn’t care. Suddenly those big hands were on him, running up and down Jack's body. Jack now knew how tired he was. The pat-down was police procedure, but the large firm hands felt incredibly good on him. They felt sure; they felt safe.

Delirious. He had to be delirious.

When he was done, the officer opened the door to the back seat and indicated with his hand for Jack to get in. Jack looked hard at the officer's hand, wondering what it would feel like if he touched it. It looked work-rough, but for some reason, he also thought it would be soft and gentle. He sighed as he climbed into the back seat and the officer shut the door. Then the officer opened the driver's door and maneuvered his large body in too, throwing Jack's backpack onto the front passenger seat. Looking up into the rearview mirror, he said, "Just relax while I check this out. I'll get you on your way soon."

Yeah, on his way. Where? But he would relax because the first thing he realized was how warm it was in the car. The second thing was how wonderful it was to sit down. Third was the smell. It was a mix of leather and something else he couldn't identify, but whatever it was, it smelled nice. Secure. This officer would not allow Trevor to get to him. He sank into the seat and warmth and the wonderful feeling of being protected. Fuck, he was tired. He didn't even realize he had shut his eyes.