Jack Kursed (9 page)

"What part of
no bedroom
didn't you
get? She sleeps on the floor. I swear, I don't know why I put up
with you. Eating my food, destroying my house-"

She ranted as she closed
the bedroom door behind her. After her footsteps disappeared down
the hall Tiffany climbed off her bed and hugged Sara around the
shoulders. Sara sobbed as she put a hand over Tiffany's.

"You shouldn't have dropped that
dish," Carrie said. "You should have been more careful."

Sara looked at Carrie,
fury in her red eyes. She shouted and ran toward Carrie. Tiffany
kept her arms locked around Sara, slowing her down as she neared
the bed. Carrie curled into a ball near the headboard.

"Get away from me!"

"Shhh!" Tiffany said. "Miss Simmons
will hear!"

Sara balled her fist and slammed it
down on Carrie's bed. She had been with Miss Simmons longer than
anyone. Tiffany knew it was hard for her, like it was hard for all
of them. Sara skulked across the room and sat on the floor next to
Tiffany's bed.

"You can have my bed,"
Tiffany said.

"Didn't you hear what Miss Simmons
said?"

"I'm running away."

Sara and Carrie traded
looks as the plucky eight-year-old dropped to her hands and knees
and pulled items from under her bed. A pair of shorts, sunglasses,
a hair clip. Also her two most prized possessions, her digital
camera and photo album.

"Do you remember the last time you
tried to run away?" Carrie asked.

Tiffany remembered. Miss
Simmons found her not even an hour later, two blocks from the
house. The discipline was severe. Tiffany had to spend an entire
day locked in the closet with no food.

"I won't get caught this
time."

Sara grabbed her by the
shoulders.

"Tiffany, don't be stupid. Where will
you go? Who will take care of you?"

"I don't know. But I don't
want to stay here."

Tiffany shoved her few belongings in a
backpack and slid open the window next to Carrie's bed. Their
bedroom was on the first floor, not a far drop at all.

"We should stop her," Sara
said.

"Let the stupid girl
leave. She'll get caught...again."

Tiffany dropped to the
ground and adjusted her backpack on her shoulders. It was dark,
although she had no idea what time it was. She moved in between the
houses to the alley. The alley had no lights, and would let her
make it to the next street without Miss Simmons knowing.

She simply walked. She
wasn't familiar with the town. The only reason she remembered her
house address was because Miss Simmons forced everyone to memorize
it before the social workers came. She turned down one street, and
then another, watching the few people around her. Eventually she
made it to the beach, but turned and went in the other direction.
Tiffany loved the beach, although she'd only been a few times. But
she certainly couldn't live on the sand.

She sat on a bench under a
street light. Cars, buses, and late party-goers passed by. She kept
her head low as a group of men and women crossed the intersection
near her. They noticed Tiffany and wondered aloud what a little
girl was doing out so late, but didn't stop to talk to
her.

Tiffany felt tears coming
on, and wiped them away with the bottom of her shirt. Tears were
bad. Miss Simmons lost her temper very quickly when she caught one
of them crying. Tiffany pulled out her camera and took a picture of
a couple walking across the street. She loved taking pictures. Her
photo album was full of pictures she'd taken, along with a few from
her old home. Photos of people smiling and having fun made her
happy. They took her away from her life with Miss Simmons, if only
for a moment.

She had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide
for the night. She had nothing to eat, and no one to care for her.
Her own father didn't want her.

She had nothing.

Tiffany stood up and
walked once again. She nearly headed for the beach, but changed her
mind and continued walking the streets. There was no way she could
find her way back to Miss Simmons now.

What would the discipline be this
time?

All of the alleys looked
the same, but Tiffany took a chance turning down one. With luck,
perhaps she'd recognize Miss Simmons' backyard, and could sneak
back through the window.

She was halfway down the
alley when she realized there weren't any houses. There were only
the backs of businesses on both sides. She turned on her heels and
took a step, but froze when she heard a voice.

"You made a mistake, Paul.
I'm not trying to be a dick here. But mistakes cost me time and
money. Do you understand?"

Tiffany knew she should
have kept on her way, but curiosity got the better of her. Dropping
low to the ground, she made her way along the brick wall and
crouched behind a large trash bin. Her camera still dangled by the
strap from her wrist. She peered around the side and saw three men
talking near a single light pole.

"Hey, this is all on you.
You said she'd be gone all night. She came back home, and caught me
stealing her shit. I had no choice. I had to kill her."

One man was dressed like a
policeman. Blue uniform, blue hat, gun on his belt. The other two
looked like normal men to Tiffany, although the man standing next
to the policeman was taller than the rest of them. The tall man
didn't say a word.

"You're supposed to be a
professional," the policeman said. "I've given you three jobs.
You've screwed up two of them."

"This is bullshit. I've done
everything you've asked. I can't help it if-"

The policeman nodded at
the tall man. The tall man stepped forward and grabbed Paul by the
face. From Tiffany's angle, it looked like the tall man leaned in
and kissed Paul on the neck. She cringed. Kissing of any kind was
gross.

Her mouth fell open when
she saw blood running down his neck. Paul screamed in pain, like
Miss Simmons had given him discipline. Then the strangest thing
happened. Paul looked like he was beginning to enjoy being bit,
even as more blood coated his shirt. The tall man made the most
disgusting noises Tiffany ever heard, sucking and slurping like
Paul was one big lollipop.

She raised her camera and held it
steady. As her finger hovered over the shutter release, the tall
man turned and looked in her direction.

Tiffany screamed.

The tall man had large
teeth with blood dripping onto his chin. His eyes were black and
red. He held Paul easily with one hand around his neck. Paul didn't
move, and Tiffany could see his eyes looking up blankly into the
night sky.

It wasn't a man, but a
monster.

She took a picture, and
then turned and ran.

She didn't dare take a
peek behind her. As fast as she ran, the alley didn't feel like it
was coming to an end. One car sped by, and then another. They
looked like they were miles away. She expected someone to grab her
from behind at any moment.

No one did.

Tiffany would have run clear across
the sidewalk into the street, had it not been for the man crossing
her path. She ran right into him, her nose crushing into his side,
and fell on the ground.

*****

Jack looked down at the
young girl at his feet, his eyes narrowing in anger. It had not
been a good night for him. His garden was coming along smoothly,
but his favorite all-night ice cream place had closed down. The
movie theater wasn't showing anything worth watching, at least not
at two o'clock in the morning. The beach was always nice late at
night, but a bunch of twenty-somethings were making idiots of
themselves, starting a bonfire that certainly would get them
noticed by the cops. To kill his boredom, Jack figured a walk
around Parkville would be nice.

He didn't count on little kids
assaulting him.

"You want to watch where you're going
there, munchkin? The last thing I need is mutant kid snot all over
my pants."

The girl said nothing. She
had a look of pure terror in her eyes. Scrambling to her feet, she
ran down the sidewalk. Her backpack bounced on her shoulders, her
camera swinging as she moved her little arms. Jack laughed at the
sight.

He took a step to resume
his walk, and then paused. The strangeness of what just happened
settled over him, and curiosity took over. What was a little girl
doing running around the alleys of Parkville at two in the morning,
like she'd seen a ghost?

Craning his neck, he
peered down the alley. There was a single light, but no people that
he could see. He certainly didn't hear anything, except for what
sounded like critters running around, maybe rats.

The little girl continued
to run ahead of him. He was maybe a full block behind her. She
would stop for a few seconds, rest against a pole, and run once
again. Jack laughed. She wasn't very fast, but she was determined
to get somewhere. He half-expected someone to sprint past him,
maybe an upset mother or father.

Jack kept walking, not gaining ground,
but not losing any either. If he caught up to her, he'd ask her
what she was running from, to settle his own curiosity. If she got
away, he'd just have to press on with life.

There were four men
standing on the street corner ahead, drinking beer and smoking. The
little girl moved around them and stood near the curb to look for
traffic. As she took a step, one of the men grabbed her under the
arms and hoisted her in the air. Jack was close enough to
hear.

"Whoa, there. Where you
going, kid? You got any money in that bag of yours?"

Jack smiled and shook his
head. They were just some young punks having fun. His smile faded
when one of them actually looked through her bag, and another tried
to grab the camera from her.

"I need me a camera. Hey, Mitch, get
her camera."

Jack didn't bother walking faster. The
girl held on to her camera with all her strength as he approached.
The one named Mitch noticed Jack and stepped forward to cut him
off.

"This isn't what it looks
like," he said, faking a smile. "This is my little sister. We're
trying to get all the stuff she keeps stealing, and give it
back."

"Yeah," the punk holding her said.
"That's what we're doing."

"Okay, guys, you've had
your fun. Zip up her backpack, put her down, and leave."

"And what happens if I tell you
to-"

Jack cut him off with a kick to the
groin. As Mitch doubled over, Jack punched him in the throat. The
punk fell to the ground and assumed the fetal position, gasping for
breath.

Jack looked at his three
friends. The punk in front pulled out a knife. He was opening his
mouth, no doubt to say something stupid, when Jack snatched the
knife from his hand by the blade. It stung for a moment, but healed
quickly. He spun the knife in his hand and stabbed the punk in the
shoulder. The punk fell to the ground next to his
friend.

The other two decided their health was
more important than their friends. The little girl was dropped on
her rear on the ground, and off they went.

Jack had learned over two
hundred years that humans loved to talk, but it didn't always get
results. He could have traded witty banter for ten minutes and not
be any closer to achieving his simple goal of having the girl on
her own two feet on the sidewalk.

Direct action was needed,
something he excelled at.

"You alright, kid?"

The girl climbed to her feet. Jack
didn't offer a hand to help her, and she didn't ask for one. His
respect for her went up just a little.

She pushed long brown
bangs out of her eyes and looked at the two men on the ground. They
still writhed in pain.

"Wow," she said.

"Let's get away from the stooges
here."

Jack used Mitch as a step,
planting his foot on his chest and stepping over him. The girl
stuck her tongue out at them, and jogged to catch up with
Jack.

"What's your name?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to
strangers."

"That's good advice. So, I'll go
first. I'm Jack."

The girl hesitated. "I'm Tiffany.
Tiffany March."

"Good. Now that that's
settled...what were you doing in the alley back there? You weren't
turning tricks, were you?"

Tiffany turned and looked behind her
at the mention of the alley. The terror returned to her face, and
she reached for Jack's hand.

"Don't grab my hand," he said, yanking
it away.

"What's turning tricks?"

"If you have to ask, that's probably a
good thing."

She looked up at him, her eyes
wide.

"I...I think I saw a
monster."

Jack laughed. "That wouldn't surprise
me. There are all kinds of monsters in this world."

"You don't believe me,"
she said, frowning. "I took a picture."