Marilyn (20 page)

SIXTY-SEVEN

Something hard and heavy bowled into the back of O'Sullivan's legs and lower back, taking him completely by surprise, he couldn't keep his balance. He tossed the weapon as he grabbed an overhanging branch, barely keeping himself on his feet.

'Get your hands off my mother,' the high pitched voice cried.

Jack pushed as hard as he could, giving it everything his worn out, eight-year-old body had left.

     The monster spun around, reached around and gripped Jack under the armpit, squeezing and tearing until Jack had lost his grasp.

'You stupid fucking boy,' snarled O'Sullivan, hot-tempered. 'You've come to join your mother, have you? How sweet.'

***

Marilyn squirmed on the ground, dragging her blood-splattered, mud-clumped hair from the dirt to see the best thing she had ever seen. The biggest rush of emotion she had ever felt swirled through her, filling her with new life.

'Jack, baby. It's you,' she rasped through blood drops that fell from her stained teeth.

***

O'Sullivan back-handed Jack with a cold, hard slap, splitting his eye. He threw Jack to the dirt, kicking him in the stomach while he was down.

'I'll deal with you in a minute.' He snorted. 'You can watch your mother die first.'

Marilyn charged. She held a bat-like log in her hands, raised above her head. O'Sullivan caught it as she brought it down across his head. It burst over his forearms, hacking his face with a barrage of fine, wooden, nail-like staples. They tussled together, neither overpowering the other. They turned in tight, small circles, almost head to head. Marilyn bit down on O'Sullivan's forearm, piercing the skin through the coat.

She kicked out at the monster's groin, missing the open goal. O'Sullivan released his hold of Marilyn's wrists and took the back of her head in his fist, head-butting her, splitting the fine skin across her forehead and chopping her to the ground. He pushed at her shoulder with his muddy foot, keeping her floored. He had no words left. He had said everything he wanted to. It was time to end this. The chase had come to an end. He raised his foot and hovered it over her face.

'Are you watching, Jack?'

O'Sullivan turned to see what had become of the boy, his unsteady leg still raised. His eyes widened as they rested on the bruised and bloody figure holding the gun.

Jack held it in two hands, one around the trigger and grip, with the butt placed neatly in the palm of his other hand. He had his feet planted firmly in the sinking mud in a sidewards stance, ready, waiting for the recoil.

He cocked his head, imperceptibly, and fired.

Blood splashed from O'Sullivan's neck in rhythmic, fountainous spurts, spilling evil coppery red onto the greenery. The monster slapped his hands over the wound, plugging the hole with his fingers.

'You...'

O'Sullivan dropped to his knees, light-headed and woozy. Jack was just a wobbly outline amongst the trees and distant, flickering lights.

Jack fired again, moving forward in a steady fashion.

O'Sullivan toppled backwards, bent on the backs of his knees. His hand fell from his neck, letting the blood fly. Fluff and fibre still hung around in the air from where the bullet tore through the coat and entered his chest. O'Sullivan was dead before his head touched the dirt.

***

Jack didn't stop firing. He had to be sure. He stepped up to the monster and cast his long shadow over O'Sullivan's pummelled corpse. The gun was heavy now, he was frail and tired. He let his stance drop, holding the gun with one hand. He had it pointed directly at O'Sullivan's face. Jack sealed his eyes and screamed as he pulled the trigger for a third time, trying to shut out everything he had heard and seen from his mind. He didn't like what he was doing, but he couldn't stop himself. He blew the monster's face apart, splatting brains and skull against the green backdrop, in pieces small enough for the birds to feed off. The shot reeled Jack's arm and shoulder, dislocating it. He screamed again, crying away all of his pain. He let loose everything that he had ever gone through and pulled the trigger for the fourth time.

It knocked him to the ground, his roar was louder than the last. He had never felt anything like it, it was as if all of his muscles and fibres were pulling and stretching apart in any way they could. He didn't know how he did it, but he forced himself onto his knees, taking the gun in both hands this time. He looked away, he didn't want to see what the monster looked like dead, it was hard enough when he was alive.

Jack pulled for a fifth time.

Click.

Empty.

He pulled again and again, shouting with each click.

The monster was gone, he was no more. Jack couldn't be harmed any longer.

Walter O'Sullivan was dead.

A careful hand wrapped itself around Jack's, lowering his weapon. He didn't know the voice, but it was caring and soft, he liked it. He trusted it.

SIXTY-EIGHT

'Shhh… calm down, Jack,' the voice breathed. 'It's over. It's all over. He's gone. Give me the gun, come on, son.'

Elwood took the gun from Jack's tiny hands and placed it on the floor next to them.

'Are you hurt, Jack?' asked Elwood. 'Jack, can you hear me, are you hurt?'

'No.' He shook his head and dropped it to his muddy feet. 'Just my arm, but... My mom...'

'Come on, son, what do you say, let's get up?'

Jack used Elwood like a climbing frame, lifting himself to his feet.

'Do you know my mom?'

'Well, I guess you could say that,' laughed Elwood. 'I've been helping her look for you.' He coughed to clear his throat. 'I'm Elwood, Elwood Bailey. It's really nice to meet you, Jack. I've heard a lot about you.'

Jack smiled, sincerely. 'Nice to meet you, too, Mr Bailey.' He watched as Elwood picked up and nurtured Marilyn against his shoulder, rubbing her back with a loving touch.

'Marilyn, can you hear me?'

Jack crossed the fingers on his good arm and whatever toes he could. He didn't want to cry anymore, he stopped his tears, saving them for when she woke up. They could cry it all out, together.

Marilyn's face sent shivers down his spine, it was coated in cuts, bruises, dry and fresh blood. It was not how he wanted to see his mother. He couldn't even tell it was her.

'Come on, mom. Wake up. It's me. It's Jack. Please,' he demanded, sweetly.

Her eyes were black circles, sunken, misshaped, garnished with the trials of a lost battle, but they twitched.

     'mom. mom. It's Jack, please, open your eyes,' repeated Jack.

'Jack, honey. Are you OK?' she gargled. 'It's so good to hear your voice.'

SIXTY-NINE

'Come give your mother a hug,' she said, forgetting every cross word they had ever spoken to one another, every fight they'd ever had, every misunderstanding.

They had been dragged through hell and back, ripped apart, but still managing to find each other in the dark, they were the light that the other needed, and it burned brighter than it ever had. They had fought so hard for this moment, and it meant everything.

Marilyn outstretched her wounded arm, waiting for the touch of her son. When it came, she didn't want it to end, ever, neither of them did.

'I love you, Jack.'

'I love you, too, mom.'

Jack let his tears fall, they landed in his smile and he licked them away.

They cried in each other's arms.

'Can we go home, mom?'

Marilyn pulled him closer, tighter, kissing his wet eyelids.

'I'm sure we can work something out, but I'm going to need some help getting up. I feel about a hundred years old,' she laughed painfully, not letting her smile break, she had earned it. 'Hell, maybe we'll even get that dog. What you say, huh?’

'Can we call him Elwood?' asked Jack.

'If Mr Bailey has no objections,' she smiled

Elwood held them both up, his arms wrapped around them both, he had no way of drying his eyes.

'Only if you come and visit once in a while.'

They chuckled, huddled in a bloody mess on a wet, broken track in the middle of nowhere, where the love almost made the forest glow.

'Elwood, the sheriff? I, I don't know if he...'

Elwood just closed his eyes.

'Thank you for everything, Elwood,' she sniffed. 'I'll never forget everything you've done.'

Marilyn coughed, swallowing the blood in time not to get any on Jack. Her grip went limp.

Elwood slipped his arm down to the bottom of her back to keep her upright.

'Marilyn, can you walk?' questioned Elwood. 'We need to get you out of here, both of you. Jack, can you give me a hand?'

Together they heaved Marilyn off the ground, facing away from where the mutilated body of Walter O'Sullivan lay, with no one to miss him.

Marilyn, Jack and Elwood made their way down the path for the last time.

     'Jack..' gleamed Elwood. 'A little birdie told me that you like cars, is that true?'

'Uh huh, you should see my collection back at home. It's huge,' he answered with a shortness of breath that made his chest pound.

'Well,' he started. 'I made a good friend of mine a promise. I promised that when I met you, I would take you out in the police cruiser, your mom, too. How does that sound?'

'Only if it's OK with my mom.' He winked.

The sirens came, filtering through the trees, filling the forest, and the lightless melody fell upon them like soft snow.

Help was coming.

They were going home.

***