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Return of Jack Collier (Chapter Twenty-One)

The Return of Jack Collier

A Jack Collier Story

By Brett N. Lashuay



Last week’s entry can be found here.


Chapter Twenty-One: Jill’s Last Day


            What is strange is that until it happened, I hadn’t thought about Jack all day. I got up for my last day at Saint Brigit’s Preparatory School (home of The Virgins) and he wasn’t there with me. He’d come with me when I came to St. Brig’s, he was with me during the three years I’d spent here. I’d come here with the memory of him, when mother finally stepped in and made my father send me here. I had been thinking of him less and less lately though. I think I must have been under stress, or excited by all the extra things going on, because it’s not like I didn’t still love him when I did think of him. No one had replaced him and no other man had stepped in and taken the mantle of his love. It wasn’t like I wasn’t saving myself, keeping myself pure for him. I hadn’t allowed a single boy to touch me. I had kept myself clean for him.


            It was habit though and there were days when I didn’t think of him at all. That day was almost one of those days. I didn’t think of him while I was taking my shower, not once while I brushed my teeth. I have spent some days not thinking of him before, but I should have thought of him that day. To not think of him, there must have been some force interfering. If something hadn’t been invading, making me not think of him, I would have known it was coming and I would have sent him signals. I didn’t though, which clearly means someone was casting black runes in my direction, clearly.


            I got dressed, and I didn’t think of the feel of his lips. I went to my last classes at St Brig’s and I didn’t think of his body moving. I had my last few meetings, arranged to have my things moved into the storage facility after move out day, and I never even thought of the shape of his beautiful nose. He had completely slipped my mind, what a horrible thing to have happen.


            When I waved to a few of the girls and walked to the lake, I didn’t think of him. I looked at the still waters, where if anything was still going on there might be the rowing team practicing to give The Virgins another victory over those girls who go to Fisher of Men Academy, home of the Fighting Snappers. Today though, last day of school, no one was practicing. There wasn’t even much wind to break up the glassy surface of the water.


            I wasn’t thinking about him, I didn’t even feel the absence of thinking about him like I did the first few times. Jack was leaving me, I can see that now. I would still have thought about him, from time to time, but he was fading from my memory. I didn’t even know if he ever came out of that coma, and here he was dying inside my mind. It’s horrible to think about, him vanishing from my thoughts like that, but it was happening.


            It doesn’t seem fair that I should lose him, not like that, not a second time. I watched him get shot, right in front of me, and then I almost lost him again. It hurts thinking that I might not have ever thought of him again. I might have lost him forever.

            But I didn’t, because while I was watching the lake I heard someone coming up behind me. I turned and saw the four of them. They were dressed in black jeans and leather jackets, I think they were Eastern European, they had that look. You know the look I mean? Yeah, that look. They spoke to each other in deep rasping voices in a language I didn’t understand but it sounded like Czechoslovakian to me. I looked around at the four of them, and for the first time that day I suddenly thought of him.


            “Oh Jack,” I suddenly thought to myself as they closed in. “I’m in trouble again. I’m in real trouble. Please come help me.”


            I know he could hear me, I knew I’d broken though the wall. Whatever connection we had, whatever they had used to break the connection between us temporarily, my panic broke through it and we were connected again. I could feel him, I knew he was out of the coma that he’d been stuck in for so long and he would soon come to rescue me.


            One of them jumped at me, putting his foul hands on me. The smell of them was really something that can’t be described using the written word, one would have to be around it to appreciate how truly awful it was. His body smashed up against me, but they clearly didn’t know that the reason St. Brig’s Virgins were able to keep the name so long was that the nuns gave quite competent self-defense classes. I twisted my hip and gave him my knee between his legs, then brought the heel of my shoe down on his knee cap.


            I could hear him screaming as I started to run away, and that was when it hit me. Not some new idea, but a pair of barbed Taser leads. The shock was horrific, and I went down to the ground. It was like all my muscles suddenly rebelled and refused to comply with any commands I might make. I couldn’t help but wonder where the sisters were, why was no one helping me?  I felt a pair of plastic zip line style hand cuffs tighten around my hands and looked down to see that they were indeed bound.


            Two of the men grabbed me and dragged me to a white panel van with something written on the side, something about them being a plumber or something. I could manage to see around me when the door was opened and I saw the mattress as they threw me in. One of them grabbed an ankle in each hand and I knew I was about to be gang raped. They might even be the sorts who videotape this sort of thing and distribute it on the internet. They didn’t pull my legs apart though, but wrapped another pair of plastic cuffs around my ankles to stop me from kicking too much.


            As soon as they’d done that, they slipped a canvas sack over my head that stopped me from seeing anything. Because of the sack, I have no idea how long the trip was or how far we went. We might have been going round in circles for all I know, but it did seem to take a while. I began to feel the van going up and down hills after a while, and then there wasn’t any more traffic or lights, because we didn’t stop for a long time.


            No one touched me or anything. I wasn’t bothered at all for a long time while we rode along. I was just allowed to sit quietly on the mattress and wait for further developments. I hate to admit it, because I should have been too terrified to even consider it, but I actually went to sleep for awhile. It’s not like there was anything else for me to do anyway. That would be another reason why I didn’t know where we were when the van stopped, because I’d fallen asleep.


            There was some talk when the men got out, but I couldn’t see anything because my head was still covered in the sack. They didn’t take it off me to take me in, and they didn’t trust me to walk either. Someone pulled me out by my shoulders and held me by them while someone else took my legs and they just carried me along like that. We went over carpeted floors, then tile, then maybe some kind of stone. Eventually there was a door opened in front of me and I was put down on a bed. I know it was a bed because a few seconds after there was the sound of a door closing, the hood was taken off me and I was facing a man who looked like he wanted to be Buddy Holly one day.


            “Good evening Miss Piper,” he said lifting his hand and popping open a switchblade in front of my face. “You’re going to be with us for a while.”


            He cut the plastic cuffs off my hands and then off my feet before leaving me alone in the room. I was alone before I knew what had happened, and I found myself in a white room. The carpet, desk, chair, bed… everything was white. Where it wouldn’t normally be white, someone had painted things so they would be white. I opened the dresser, where a lot of white clothes had been placed for me, and found even the insides of dresser drawer had been painted white. I pulled the drawers out of the desk and found that even the slot inside, where no one would normally look had been painted white. I pulled some of the clothes out, examining them so as to find what level they were at.


            They were white, with only a few pieces of color. Those small stripes, bits of accent really, must have been bleached because they were all the same faded shades of light beige, pink, and very light blue. Everything was white and where they weren’t white it had been blasted to the point where it might as well have been white. A purity room, like the last time.


            I had been given back to them then. Not Cole again, but it was the same situation. I was once again placed in the purified room, and I would have to await my fate. The only thing I could try to do was to signal Jack as to where I was and that I was in trouble. I sat down on the floor with my legs crossed and concentrated on his face, transmitting the message that I needed help. This wasn’t just a little girl playing on a crush for an older man, this was my only hope.


            I knew only Jack would be able to find me, he was the only one clever enough, strong enough, and interested enough to come save me. All I could do was to send him a signal that I was in trouble, focus my psychic energy his way. There was nothing else I could do besides that.


            All I could really do is wait.


November 12, 2010 Posted by | Fiction, Jack | | Leave a comment