Authour's Note: I decided to group together the parts into "blocks." I don't know if I'll make Block II in someone else's point of view, or if I will switch to third person to show events from an omnipresent viewpoint. This never was just a simple run-a-way story; it always has been something entirely different, a plotline I have completely figured out in my little head. Thanks to those that take the time to read; comments/critiques/suggestions always welcome.
Tomorrow Does Not Exist – Block I; Part IV
By: Joseph Dean
©2008.12.24
The bloody knife was safely concealed in my jeans pocket. Jacob and I advanced along the sidewalk that evening, the house engulfed in flames behind us. I could probably think of so many different approaches we could have done to cover up my mistake – now. But then, we were both scared. I had always tried to act mature and adult for my brother, but as I stared at those glossy eyes, I became a child again. My stomach knotted. My knees weakened. My breath faltered.
Jacob fell to the floor, tears streaming from his eyes. He could not handle knowing his brother was a killer, the one he looked up to the most. I tried to walk towards him, to explain. Jacob threw his arms up in defense, protesting any contact with me. Water formed in my own eyes as well, but I could not appear to be as weak as I felt. Seeing the fire extinguisher hanging on the opposite side of the kitchen gave me the idea. I hoped that for some reason it would look as if Tara had been the arsonist, not the two runaways who had broken in the previous night.
Although I was shaking as I fumbled around the kitchen for matches or even a lighter, my mind was at least clear enough to remind me to get food. Jacob had not eaten since the previous night, almost twenty hours ago, and I had not in at least a day or two. It was a priority.
There was a small community park on the northern edge of Wohlstand, closed for the day. Barriers only served as welcoming signs to us. I tried to help Jacob through the hole in the center of the wire fence, but he only shook my hands away. He kept his head down and his mouth shut. Jacob proceeded in a normal fashion, quick enough to be a few steps ahead of me though. He found a stone picnic table in the wooded area of the park. I emptied the backpack, another item that Jacob told me not to pilfer, onto the table and told him to take whatever he wanted. Jacob took enough to make a simple sandwich – bread, cheese, and bologna without the rotted circles around it – and the opened bag of potato chips. The moment I sat down he threw himself to the ground with his back to me. He would not even eat at the same table.
“We’re going to need a new place to sleep, huh?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. Jacob did not like the joke.
“Yes,” he replied. “Let’s try not to set it ablaze this time.” Sarcasm again. He was getting better at it.
I hated the silence between us. We were brothers; we should be able to talk to each other about anything – no matter how disastrous. Siblings were supposed to be supportive of each other. At least I thought.
“Jacob,” I addressed.
He all ready knew what was coming. “Don’t,” he replied. “Please, Grayson. My mind still has yet to even wrap around that.”
“It was necessary –”
“Quit using that word!” he screamed, jumping to his feet. I jerked back, caught off guard by his sudden exclamation. “Nothing is necessary when it comes to what we are doing!” My mouth opened in objection. “And don’t you dare say that you had to,” he warned. “We could have just escaped again. Sure, Connell would know where we had been, but at least that poor woman’s life would not have ended!”
I leaped off the table’s bench. “Connell would have found us!” I yelled back in defense, completely unaware of the volume we were both reaching. “If I didn’t do what I did, he would have found us no matter what. You know that. One life spent to save two.”
“One innocent life,” he scoffed.
I sat back down. I let my head fall again. Jacob let his legs reluctantly move in my direction. He sat down in front of me, but he still refused to make eye contact.
“I shouldn’t have blown up like that,” he muttered.
I wished I could find out what was going through his head, what was causing him to go between soft-spoken and furious so quickly. Puberty? I thought.
“No, you had the right to,” I told him. “You’re right. I tried to justify the worst action conceivable.”
Jacob smiled. “Well, it’s not like I’m going to run and tell on you,” he said. I was not sure if this was one of his attempts at sarcasm or if he was trying to lighten my attitude a little. Either way, I went along with it.
“We really should find shelter,” I said. Jacob reached into his back pocket and placed the two hundred dollar bills onto the table. My jaw dropped as I stared at the money in awe. “Jacob?”
He rolled his eyes. “I know,” he said. “It’s hypocritical.”
I was the one to smile this time. “It’s instinctual,” I corrected, trying to assure him it was acceptable.
“Still theft,” he mumbled.
“If it will make you feel better, I promise that one day in the future, we will donate to a charity to make up for it. Okay?” I laughed.
Night had fallen as we strolled into the small motel lobby. I was going to just pick the lock of one of the rooms, wanting to save the money, but Jacob refused. His mood swings were killing me. First he objected to any immoral actions, but he stole a large amount of money. And now he wanted to be honest and spend it properly?
The clerk eyed us suspiciously, even more so when I placed the hundred dollar bill onto the counter. He ran the marker across the bill as I silently hoped it was legit. The line showed up yellow, and he placed it into the cash register, giving me back a fifty and a ten in change.
“Rip-off,” Jacob muttered as we exited, gesturing to the conditions of the building.
The key stuck in the first-floor room’s doorknob, but I was glad it worked. Jacob went in first and turned on the lights, illuminating the decent room. There were two queen-sized beds, both with horrible yellow quilts. The bathroom was on the other end of the room; its door was closed.
I told Jacob to go lie down; finally he would have a comfortable bed to sleep on.
The television’s remote control was securely fastened to the nightstand in between the beds. I felt like the motel was mocking us, as if we were going to steal it, too. I turned the television on and was glad I did not have to sift through the channels to find the news; it was all ready there. Just as I had suspected, the burnt house was displaying in front of us.
“…a female corpse inside the home; authorities say the woman’s burns are too severe to accurately reveal her identity,” the female reporter was announcing. She seemed to care more about how her hair looked on camera than she did about the wreckage behind her. “The fire chief has confirmed that the house was victim to deliberate arson, and the one responsible is thought to be the woman who remains not only lifeless but nameless.”
“Any word on how the woman was killed?” the anchorman asked.
“Suicide seems to be the most likely cause.”
Suicide? I thought. I saw Jacob holding the same silent question. I know it definitely did not look like a suicide. Who would cut their own throat? But I didn’t care. As long as they were not claiming it was homicide, I felt that false sense of safety, the sense one feels before the next horrible event happens.
I pressed the power button again, and the images on screen faded away. I told Jacob we would actually have breakfast in the morning, a luxury we hardly ever received, but the still growling sounds coming from our stomachs let us know that we were not going to make it till then. The small portion of food we had eaten definitely was not enough. I placed the backpack we had retrieved by Jacob’s bed.
“Wait here,” I told him. “I’ll get us food.” He eyed me suspiciously. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll pay for it.” I did not intend for it to come out so cynically, but I assume Jacob took it that way.
It did not take long for me to rush to a nearby fast food restaurant, keeping my head down, not looking anyone directly in the eye. From the looks they all gave me, it was like everyone knew what I had done.
I rushed back, dodging a green Chevrolet whose driver obviously did not understand the purpose of the brake pedal. I presented the food to Jacob, who tore into it immediately. Fries, a couple of chicken sandwiches, and drinks. Jacob started shoveling food into his mouth; I cautioned him not to choke for I did not know how to perform the Heimlich maneuver.
Hesitantly, I bit into my sandwich. It had been too long since non-infected meat had passed through my teeth. I was unsure if I would like it. The taste was off-putting at first, but the more I chewed, the more I craved. After a minute or two, I was mimicking Jacob’s eating style, eating hurriedly as if it would disappear if I acted otherwise. I didn’t understand why I hated food at that moment; it was so welcoming. The warmth as it passed through your throat; the satisfaction you felt when it hit your stomach. All pleasant things that I had dismissed just because we only received the lower end of the food spectrum. I never thought I would have wanted to stop eating.
Finally the food was gone, and Jacob and I just stared at the empty wrappers. I sighed and took them to the trash can. It was unhealthy, I knew, to go straight to sleep after eating, but we were both too tired to care about our health. Relaxation was the only idea in our minds.
I flipped the light switch and walked through the darkness to my bed. A bed. Yes, Jacob finally had a decent one to sleep on, but I actually had one… at all. It does not feel right to diminish Jacob’s happiness for my own, but I know I was more excited about slumber than he.
I slowly took the blade from my pocket, not even being able to look at it, and placed it on the floor. I was not about to cut myself unintentionally in my sleep.
My head fell onto the pillow, my body lying atop the sheets. I did not want to bury myself in them; I know I would never want to leave it. But on second thought, I do not think that would have been a problem. If the odor from the pillowcase was any indication, the sheets must have smelled much worse. Did motels even clean their rooms?
I heard Jacob’s breathing and knew he was all ready asleep; he tired out so easily it seemed. I tried to sleep. I cleared my head, deepened my air intake, and slowly shut my eyes. Nothing. I tried squeezing my eyes shut. That only succeeded in pain. I assume it was all of those times where I skipped trying to rest. My body was used to it, but I had slept so easily in that house.
That house. My thoughts not only came roaring back but brought along with them actual emotions. It started to sink in more clearly. Not twelve hours ago had I thoughtlessly and simultaneously destroyed two families. If Tara had not appeared, for whatever reason she did, she would still be alive, and I would have had no reason to destroy the extravagant building. Now that family will return to see their possessions in ashes, police tape surrounding their yard. But it was Tara’s fault. I kept telling myself that. She entered the house; she confronted us; she made the mistake. I only corrected it.
Thoughtlessly. Who was I kidding? It was just another lie I told myself to get the pain, the sign of a conscience, to go away. I could not take responsibility for it. Not then. I wasn’t strong enough to handle acknowledging myself as a killer and at the same time an older brother.
I was terrified as my eyes scanned the dark ceiling. The most chilling part of the entire experience was that one tiny bit of emotion that flew through my veins as I saw Tara’s eyes hollow out. Witnessing the light leave that woman’s eyes made me feel accomplished, proud of what I had done. I looked down at my own hands.
What was wrong with me?
*goes to edit further*
Hopefully I’m still of some help to you.
