The Other Side of Me - 14. Chapter 14

Thanks to Jim for editing!

There was a lot about the night’s events that Frank was certain he’d never forget, and a lot that he thought was just plain insane, and even more that he had no way of comprehending; but at the moment, nothing confused him more than David Martin. In fact, as Frank sat on the ground at the bow of the boat, his arm around Oliver as they tried to get his nose to stop bleeding, Frank decided that he was tired of trying to figure David out.

David was crazy. End of subject.

Made perfect sense. But not really.

The last long minutes of Frank’s life hadn’t made sense at all, because no one had seemed more shocked to see David on that boat than Brian Martin. In fact, Frank was under the impression that Brian had never expected to see David again, but now that he’d figured out that wasn’t the case, Brian seemed overly pleased with the more unstable of his two sons. He’d even produced a second weapon, and disturbingly, David seemed to be very comfortable with it in his hands as he watched over Oliver and Frank.

Braving a glance over his shoulder, Frank saw his father watching him from above where he was seated next to the wheel. Brian was now in charge of navigation, and both of them looked irritated, but then, both of them had faces swelling in places due to badly aimed punches.

And it was quiet. Except for the sound of the engine, the water hitting the sides of the boat, it seemed too quiet. The tension was suffocating, and the fear... Frank didn’t really want to think about the fear.

“What are you doing?” Frank whispered. He didn’t know exactly why he was talking to David, but it was likely out of desperation.

David smiled at Frank, much like a parent amused by a confused child. “I’m surviving, Frank.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Frank retorted. “Look what your parents did to you... Your mom’s dead, David... and your dad...you’re helping your dad.” Nothing about the notion was comprehensible for Frank. “He was going to go to jail for a very long time. Now what do you think is going to happen to you? Neither of you will get away with this. Jay called people from your house... someone’s gonna know what happened. And what about your brother, David? What happens to Oliver?”

Oliver frowned at Frank, as if he’d really rather not think about that himself.

“If I were you,Frank,” David replied, “I’d be more worried about myself. See, it doesn’t really matter when it comes to anyone else. Think about it; if you don’t survive, and let’s face it, there’s a good chance you won’t, then what does it matter what happens to everyone else after you’re gone. They’re their own problem. It’s out of your control...I mean, unless you take control.”

“And is that what you’re doing?” Frank replied.

David shrugged. “Maybe. I might as well have it, right? I don’t trust anyone besides myself... and lately I’ve been thinking that it was stupid to think I could.” He seemed to direct this last remark at Oliver, who became visibly upset by it.

“I don’t want you to be in trouble anymore, David,” Oliver said.

“I know you don’t,” David replied. “But the thing is, that just isn’t up to you anymore, Oliver. Never was.”

“David!” Brian suddenly called. “Stop playing around with them and help me look for a good spot.”

David looked in his father’s direction calmly, right before he held his middle finger up in Brian’s direction. Brian snorted, and David rolled his eyes as he stood from the railing he’d been leaning on and flicked the barrel of his gun in Frank and Oliver’s direction. “Don’t go nowhere,” he remarked. “You won’t wanna miss what happens next.”

Above them, Sam released a frustrated breath that he hoped covered his nervousness and looked at Brian. “This is ridiculous. Why don’t you just let the boys go, alright? We can settle this ourselves.”

Brian laughed. “Sorry, Sammy. I just can’t bring myself to do that.”

“They’re just kids!” Sam snapped.

“I know, and trust me, we wouldn’t have nearly as much fun without them.”

....................................

In the sixth grade, Jeremy Flaskis tried to join the football team at school. Twenty minutes into his first practice, he was tackled during an exercise and fractured his collarbone, and learned exactly why an athletic cup was invented. So after careful consideration, he decided that he wasn’t one to do pain and took up photography instead. But he’d always wondered if giving up on becoming the school’s most popular jock, perhaps the future homecoming king and maybe even superhuman babe magnet, had been worth abandoning just to avoid a long series of injuries that he would likely endure as a result of following those dreams. Waking up in the Seaberg’s bathroom with broken glass stuck in his hair only convinced him that he had, indeed, made an appropriate decision.

“Jeremy? How many fingers, Jeremy?”

Jeremy opened one eye, then the other as he stared up at the woman talking very loudly over him. “You’re pretty.”

Jessica Seaberg liked to think that she had a sense of humor, but this didn’t seem like the time to display it. “Can you get up?” she asked.

Jay thought about it for a minute, among other things. He thought until he remembered exactly how he’d ended up on the bathroom floor with sore places that he hadn’t even known he had, and then he answered her question by bolting upright, looking around as if he half expected to be assaulted again.

“Are you alright?” Jessica asked. “Do you know where you are?”

Jay gave a short nod, partly in response, and in part to test his stiff neck before his eyes settled on Rudy, who was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, looking pale in the face. Suffering a moment of confusion, the redheaded little girl he saw was his sister and his concern was immediate. “Stephanie?”

Both Rudy and Jessica looked at him oddly, and he shook his head, attempting to pull himself together. “Rudy,” he corrected himself. “Are you doing alright?”

Rudy sniffed, wiping away invisible tears. “He took Oliver.”

Jay looked towards the door, and with Jessica’s assistance, found his feet.

“We think they left the house,” Jessica explained. “Jay, what’s going on?”

“We have to get out,” Jay replied, moving to try the doorknob.”

“It’s jammed from the outside,” Jessica said, but she’d hardly finished the sentence before the bang of Jay’s body hitting the wooden door echoed through the room, and then again, and again as he repeatedly rammed the side of his body against it, and then for good measure, he started to kick.

“Jay...” Jessica started to object, but realizing that the boy’s idea was better than any she currently had, she ended up next to him, the two of them attempting to knock the door in.

“Mommy!” Rudy objected, covering her ears.

“Maybe we should wait for help,” Jessica suggested, causing Jay to pause and look at her.

“If they left the house, I don’t think there is help coming,” he replied. “Brian killed his wife... he knows we know it, and if he doesn’t already have Frank, I think he’ll be going after him next.”

Jessica took a moment to digest what she was hearing, and a moment later she was kicking at the door with Jeremy again.

Down the hall, past the kitchen and in the living room there was a coffee table wedged up against the back of the sofa. A keepsake Jessica had acquired from her late grandfather. Unbeknownst to her, someone had carelessly left a pile of old receipts and pages from one of Rudy’s many coloring books scattered over the surface, beneath a low-burning candle that had recently been standing decoratively atop the dresser in her bedroom. A stray cat that Frank had refused to place outside sat on the floor, wagging its long tail as it watched the shadows from the flame with interest, releasing a loud mew as a colored picture of a horse caught fire and went up in flames; and as the small fire slowly spread the feline’s instincts did exactly what they were supposed to do as the animal fled out a crack beneath the kitchen counter, into the woods, and away from the danger.

.............................................

“How long was I down there, Frank? How long was I...nothing.”

It had started sprinkling again, the raindrops tapping the trees, water feeling unclean as it dripped down from above. Frank’s shoes were soggy, his pants drenched from tracking through waist-deep water as they made their way into a little cove, away from the boat. No porch lights in the distance, no lights from the dock. He felt disoriented as he looked over his shoulder at David, who trailed the line Brian Martin led with Frank, Sam and Oliver somewhere in the middle.

“You weren’t nothing,” Frank replied, insisting to himself that now was not the time to say anything cruel, anything provoking.

“Just answer the question,” David responded.

“Nine days. I think.”

David released a bemused little sigh. “That’s all? Felt longer.”

“I’m sor–”

“Of course you are. Now,” David interrupted.

Frank continued walking, sharing a glance with Oliver, who was in front of him. It was meant to encourage each other, but if that was the purpose, their efforts failed miserably.

“Do I get to ask a question now?” Frank asked David.

“You don’t have to,” David replied. “I already know what you’re thinking.”

“I doubt it.”

“It’s not that hard to figure out. You’re wondering the same thing that I was wondering for... what was it?Nine days.”

“David...”

“You want to know what’s going to happen to you,” David continued. “You want to know if this is really happening, if you’re going to die before the sun comes back up. Bet you’re wondering if it’s gonna hurt.”

“Okay. Just stop,” Frank stated.

“Wouldn’t that be nice? If we could all just stop... wake up in our beds tomorrow and know...”

“Know what?” Frank asked.

“That we’re somewhere better.”

“You can stop this,” Frank whispered, his voice becoming a little more shaky than he was comfortable with. “David, you can...”

“You’re not listening,” David cut him off. “You can’t ask for my help. You have to trust yourself... you’re the only one out here you can trust. So... aren’t you going to ask?”

“Ask what?”

“What’s going to happen to you.”

“I would... if I didn’t think you were going to tell me it was up to me.”

“You don’t think it is?”

“I don’t know, David,” Frank responded irritably. “If I had a choice I’d run... but then you’d shoot me in the back.”

“So don’t run, it’d be a bad choice.”

“David...”

“It’s all about choices,” David said. “You’ll see... and if you let him in your head, you’ll probably make the wrong one. But it’ll happen, Frank. He’ll be in your head. He’ll put you in the dark.”

“Is he in your head, David?”

“D’you think so?”

Frank simply shook his head. “What I think... is that you’re all a bunch of fucking lunatics.”

David laughed something that was so void of humor that it only proved as another reminder that he was definitely not Oliver, and thinking of Oliver had Frank picking up his pace to catch up to him. Oliver, who had no place out here. It was a mystery to Frank as he wondered how Oliver could have turned out the way he had with a family like this.

“I wanna go home, Frank,” Oliver whispered.

“I know you do,” Frank replied, lifting a hand to squeeze his friend’s shoulder.

Up ahead of them, Brian Martin suddenly looked back, his eyes settling on Frank. Sam saw it, and purposely moved in front of his son, but it did little good as Brian shoved him aside and grinned at Frank again.

“Why don’t you come up here with me, boy,” Brian said. “We’ll get to know each other better.”

“No,” Frank replied. “That’s okay.”

Brian frowned and looked at Sam. “Nice boy you’ve raised,” he remarked, and then pointed his rifle at Frank. “I wasn’t asking.”

Frank looked at Oliver, who shook his head. Frank couldn’t tell if Oliver was telling him to follow orders or to ignore them, but having a gun aimed in his direction didn’t really give him any desire to be disobedient. He glanced at his father, who had paled over the last few moments. Maybe, Frank thought, if he could keep Brian distracted then his dad and Oliver could get away. Maybe they could get past David. But then, the look on his father’s face was enough to tell Frank that that wasn’t going to happen. His dad wasn’t going anywhere. There was something funny about that; the fact that he had to be in mortal danger to get the old man to stick around. Something about it made Frank angry, and he found himself moving towards Brian Martin, now not only to avoid getting shot, but also in a blatant display of disobedience towards his father. He just wasn’t sure if it was worth it when Brian Martin threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him against his side.

Walking stiffly, Frank tried to ward off a sudden burst of nausea as they continued forward.

“Nice out here, isn’t it?” Brian remarked, as if they were supposed to be on a peaceful nature walk. “I’ve been taking my own boys out here since the day they’ve been able to keep up. It’s good for fathers and sons to do things like that, don’t you think?”

Frank found it in his best interest not to answer.

“I bet there was a time when you and your dad spent a lot of time together,” Brian continued. “But that was a while back, wasn’t it? Now you don’t want to listen to him, do you? That’s disobedience, boy. A sin, you know. But, I’m sure you shouldn’t blame yourself, Frank. ‘Cause it’s not your fault, is it?”

Frank found himself glancing back at Sam, wondering how he found the energy to be irritated with his father at a time like this.

“Why don’t you tell me what he did, Frank. I know you don’t get along with him. But what did he do to make you so angry. You are angry, aren’t you?”

Frank continued on in silence, but only until Brian Martin seemed to squeeze him harder. Something about it was smothering, warning Frank that he couldn’t get away with allowing this conversation to pass him by, and that was an irritation in itself. Not only had Brian Martin kidnapped him, now he was forcing him to think about festering wounds that Frank wasn’t yet willing to deal with, let alone during a crisis.

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be angry right now?” Frank finally responded, causing Brian Martin to laugh out loud.

“Of course you’re angry right now, but we’re talking about the old man, Frank,” Brian responded, lifting a fist and rubbing his knuckles against the top of Frank’s head in a way that caused him to wince.

“Hey,” Sam said, “leave him alone!”

“Is that what you want Frank?” Brian asked. “D’you want me to leave you alone, or do you want him to leave you alone?”

“I want both of you to leave me alone!” Frank snapped, and with no further regard for his current situation, he found himself furiously pulling away from Brian Martin until Brian suddenly shook him, and Frank found himself face to face with Oliver’s father, the barrel of a rifle pointed at his chin. He stilled, his eyes intensely on his captor.

“It’s time to calm down, Frank,” Brian warned. “I’m just trying to help you here.”

“Go help someone else,” Frank retorted.

“I would, but I think I’m better with solving father-son dilemmas,” Brian said thoughtfully.

Frank raised an eyebrow. “If this is an example of your credentials, it’s not that impressive.”

“Frank,” Sam warned, as if to say don’t antagonize the guy holding the gun.

“You stay out of this,Daddy,” Brian growled, glaring at Sam. But his warning only escalated the situation when Sam took a threatening step forward, wanting nothing more than to separate his child from a threat. He was stopped short, though, when he found the rifle in David Martin’s hands aimed in his direction.

“Don’t!” Frank shouted, speaking to David this time. He looked at Brian. “I’m angry, okay? Now just stop... please, just stop.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Brian asked, giving Frank a pat on the back that the boy visibly shied away from. “So let me ask you something, Frank. Why are you so mad at your dad, huh? Your parents got divorced, did they? I bet your dad didn’t work hard enough to keep the family together. Keeping your own together’s important, you know.”

“Is that why you killed Mom?” David suddenly asked, drawing attention from everyone and a dirty look from Brian. David seemed pleased with himself, but nonetheless, shrugged and added. “I don’t really miss her or anything, I just think it’s funny... you talking about togetherness and all.”

“You getting bored, son?” Brian asked him irritably.

“A little,” David replied unapologetically. “But go on, maybe we’ll get this done sooner.”

“Look,” Sam interrupted. “Why don’t you just tell us what you’re planning to do... better yet, just take us back home; no one has to know anything, I’ll take my family and...”

“Now you want your family back?” Brian cut him off. “What do you think about that, Frank? Kinda highhanded of him, ain’t it? I mean, the nerve of this man, right Frank? First he leaves, now he wants you back? I’ll bet he’s already got that little sister of yours won over.”

“Don’t talk about Rudy,” Frank snapped, his stomach knotting as he wondered where she was, and his temper flaring as he thought about his dad having lost track of her. Frank knew it was a mistake the moment he divulged those feelings to his father with one look, but it was too late. Brian Martin had already seen it.

“Why don’t you just tell him, Frank. Tell him you don’t want him anymore. I can see it in your face... this bastard had the nerve to hurt you and yours, and now he’s back to do it all over again, ain’t he?”

“That’s not true,” Sam insisted, looking at Frank as if he was losing him, but again, the look on Frank’s face told him he might have already. “Look, just leave my son alone!”

“You don’t have a son anymore,” Brian replied. “Ain’t that right, Frank? Why don’t you tell your old man to get lost... then you and I can talk about things. What d’you say?”

Frank stared at Brian Martin for a long moment, trying to understand the meaning behind his words before he gave a slow, careful, nod. “Okay,” Frank said quietly. “I don’t want him here.”

“Because you’re angry,” Brian said.

Frank looked at Sam. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I am.” And he meant every word.

“Good,” Brian said gently. “Now you’ve just gotta show him, Frank. Make it all better... I can help you do that.”

Frank wasn’t sure when it happened, but suddenly Brian Martin was turning him, turning him to face his father, and there was something cold and hard beneath his hands. “What are you doing?” Frank demanded, a panicked edge entering his voice as he looked down to see the rifle in his hands. “What are you doing?”

“Shh. Shh, Frank,” Brian insisted. “It’ll be okay. I just can’t do this for you.”

“Do what?” Frank shouted, but the answer to his question came when he found himself with a gun aimed at his father.

...................................

 

Andrew Dron opened his eyes. He’d done that a few times before, too, but each time he’d considered keeping them open just damn inconvenient. This time was different, though. Perhaps he was slow to realize it, but Mr. Andrew Dron was pretty sure that not all was right in the world. He was also pretty sure that when this was over, he’d be grounding a few members of the town’s youth himself, if he couldn’t get their parents to do it first, and at least one of them would be working off any damage to his truck.

He wanted to get up and see how bad it was; of course, that would have been made if easier if Andrew Dron had actually been in his vehicle. But he seemed to be in someone else’s. Looking up out the back window, he found it difficult to conclude where exactly he was, too, but there seemed to be something wrong with the sky. It was glowing crimson, and dark clouds seemed to be covering the sky, swirling about in unnatural patterns. But then, he wasn’t seeing it right, because as Mr. Dron slowly pulled himself upright he realized that he wasn’t seeing clouds at all, but a mass of smoke beneath quickly growing flames spreading through a structure that looked an awful lot like the Seaberg house.

Fumbling for the door handle, Mr. Dron forced his way from the vehicle, catching himself on wobbly knees that didn’t feel as strong as they used to be and he stared up at the house, mouth agape and eyes wide before reflexes took over and his gaze drifted around him, taking in the family’s vehicles, the occasional fleeing cats, and most importantly, what he couldn’t see. He didn’t see the Seabergs, and common sense would dictate that if Andrew Dron could see a black cat disappearing into the woods fifteen feet away, then he’d likely see people fleeing a burning house, and anyone with the slightest bit of common sense would most definitely be retreating from the house in front of him.

But, what Mr. Dron didn’t know was that behind a narrow bathroom door jammed with a chair and barricaded with a heavy dresser full of keepsakes, Jeremy Flaskis was trying very hard to get out as Jessica Seaberg shoved a wet towel against the crack at the bottom of the door to keep out the thick smoke that had recently assaulted them.

“Jeremy, get away from the door!” Jessica screamed as she went back to her daughter, but didn’t dare get between the adamant teenager and the wooden surface he insisted on assaulting. It had cracked in three places already, but unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be enough.

“It’s the only way out!” Jay retorted, coughing as he drew an arm over his mouth and nose, hoping to keep out the smoke that was already making him feel light-headed. He could hear Rudy crying, not the most encouraging of sounds, and as he turned to look at Frank Seaberg’s family he found himself experiencing a strong sense of helplessness as he saw the look on Jessica’s face and silently agreed with what she was thinking. Even if he got the door down, there was a still a chance they wouldn’t get out. The thought made him nauseous, made him feel cornered. Sweat broke out over his face as once again he scanned the small room for another way out, all his hopes eventually moving back to the door.

“I don’t want to die in here,” he said decisively, and once again the side of his body felt the sting as it collided with the wood.

.................................................

I don’t want to die out here. Frank wasn’t sure where the thought came from, but he was certain that he needed to have it. Furthermore, he didn’t want to watch anyone else die out in the cold woods, either. And as he realized that those fears had been somewhere on hold in his mind since the moment they’d left the boat, he’d never once considered that he’d be the cause of any of it, and yet Brian Martin was forcing his shaking fingers into place, and there was nothing Frank felt he could do to avoid it. One wrong move, he thought. That’s all it would take, and any number of things could go wrong. Things Frank didn’t want to think about while he was the one aiming the gun at his father.

“What are you doing?” Frank asked again, his lips seeming incapable of producing a more intelligent question. He didn’t even know who he was asking, what answer he expected. His eyes locked with Sam’s, and Frank felt himself go numb from head to toe.

It all felt so strange. Frank Seaberg of all people knew how delicate a relationship between a father and son could be given the right circumstances. And this man, his father... just that morning Frank had wanted nothing to do with him. He hadn’t wanted to talk to him, he hadn’t wanted to look at him. Now, nothing could have been further from the truth. There was so much Frank wanted to say, all the things he wanted his dad to understand. But, now that Frank wanted it, he felt like it was already too late. Over. And so completely out of his control that all he knew how to do was shut down.

“Get away from him,” Sam demanded, but there was hardly as much heat behind his voice as there was behind the look on his face as he glared at Brian Martin. “Just leave my son alone... Frank... Frank, it’s okay.”

Frank blinked, and quickly decided that he couldn’t have disagreed more. But then, he was having trouble giving his father any response at all with Brian Martin so close behind him, holding him in place. The man smelled like mint, and Frank had never been more disgusted by it. “All you gotta do is squeeze right here and this all goes away,” Brian said as he adjusted Frank’s fingers, which Frank had managed to paralyze somehow, as if he were willing one little digit to be stronger than Brian Martin’s entire body. “Take your time now, son. There’s no hurry. D’you feel it? D’you feel it, Frank? You’re in control now. You just do what you know’s right. This is the way it’s gotta be. You just let your old man know it now.”

Frank would have attempted to look over his shoulder in disbelief at Brian Martin just then, if he wasn’t already eyeing David in the same fashion. David, who was suddenly avoiding his eyes, but still looking obnoxiously relaxed. And looking down at the rifle in his hands, Frank realized that he was in control. It didn’t matter that apart from the water gun he used to torture his sister with, he’d never had one in his hands before, or that Brian Martin was right up on him, ready to stop Frank from doing something that he would disapprove of. And for the briefest moment as he considered it, David Martin made sense to Frank.

“Dad?” Frank said, so quietly that he swore the entire woods became still and a few people stopped breathing just so he could be heard.

“Frank,” Sam replied, and Frank met his eyes again, his tired, red eyes that looked so much older than they had during past father and son talks, late night basketball games and unplanned weekend vacations that Frank had once been accustomed to. “Frank, you don’t have to do anything that...”

“Yes I do,” Frank cut him off, causing not only Sam, but also Oliver to start looking very worried. “I have to say it. I am mad at you... I mean, I am really... just, pissed. And I didn’t want you to come here, and I don’t want to listen to you. I don’t want to hear what you have to say, because it won’t matter. It won’t change that you left.”

“That’s right,” Brian interrupted. “You let him know, Frank. Tell’im you don’t need him anymore.”

Frank’s brow creased, his grip on the rifle becoming increasingly nervous as Brian Martin’s grip tightened, as if he were becoming excited over what was supposed to happen next. Frank took in a deep breath, released it, and then found himself with half a smile that found very odd on his mouth given his current predicament. “I can’t do that,” he finally said, still looking at Sam. “Because I don’t want you out of my life. I never did.”

Sam nodded. “I know,” he said, while his eyes begged Frank not to do anything stupid, and he didn’t mean by shooting him. As it seemed, Frank realized, that was the least of his father’s concerns. But, that didn’t change that Frank’s finger was still way too close to the trigger, or that he was entirely unsettled by it.

Frank moved his hand carefully, hoping that Brian Martin wouldn’t notice. He moved it away from the trigger, his forearm over the top of the long gun, and pushed down. Brian Martin still had control over where the rifle was aimed, but from the current position, neither of them would be getting a shot off, and as Frank stiffened his posture, and Brian tightened his grip, it became clear that if either one of them tried to make another move they would be inducing a struggle, and while being on equal footing with Brian Martin for the moment did tend to ease a little of Frank’s nerves, the fact that David was still holding a weapon simply did not.

“Oh, Frank,” Brian said, sighing heavily. “I’m afraid that this isn’t going to work. Obviously, you’re a very misguided young man. I’m disappointed. And, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask, one more time, for you to do the right thing here.”

Frank swallowed hard, adjusting his grip on the weapon in front of him as Brian did the same thing. “I already did... why don’t you just give it up, alright? No one’s getting shot.”

“Frank...” Brian warned.

Sam glanced sideways towards David, his hands becoming loose at his sides as he contemplated his next move, but the boy seemed to sense it, and suddenly Sam found himself standing between two rifle barrels instead of one. “Frank,” he called. “It’s okay... it’s okay, Frank... you just...Frank...”

“They’ll kill us all, anyway,” Frank said, matter-of-factly, his voice becoming strained as he turned slightly to eye Brian Martin. “But I swear you’re not gonna get away with it.”

For the first time since Frank had found himself with his hands on the rifle, he looked at Oliver, who’d not only been silent, but had also managed to effortlessly fade into the background. He hadn’t left, though. In fact, he seemed to be taking in every detail, every face, and every terrible moment as he became torn apart inside. And now he was looking at Frank in a way that seemed so helpless that Frank decided that he wanted to be anything but that. He tightened his grip on the rifle, looked to see where David was, and then spoke to Brian Martin one more time. “Get your hands the fuck off me.”

Perhaps Frank had tried to produce a certain amount of authority with his words, but he wasn’t very surprised when it didn’t work. He did think, however, it was rather rude for Brian Martin to laugh at him before he said, “David, seems Frank isn’t going to cooperate. Why don’t you show’im what his choices are.” And then to Frank’s surprise, Brian Martin did let go of him. Of course, it didn’t make much of a difference now that David was at his side, seemingly not bashful when it came to aiming a rifle at Frank’s head.

“Your choice, Frank,” David whispered as Frank glanced sidelong at him.

“Your choice, David,” Frank retorted, and then jumped when Sam raised his voice.

“Frank! Look at me... just... do what they say,” Sam stated, nervously taking in his son’s situation and ready to get Frank out of it the only way he knew how. “Please... just do what they say, Frank.”

Looking at Sam as if he’d lost his mind, Frank shook his head. “Fuck you!”

“Frank!” Sam said again.

“David, time’s up,” Brian said.

Frank heard a soft click, a muffled noise as David took aim, and closed his eyes tightly. He heard his father as Sam started to yell, but something had stopped his dad short, and the shot never came. The lights didn’t go out, and when Frank opened his eyes to look in David’s direction, he was horrified to find the back of Oliver’s head separating him from Oliver’s twin.

“Get out of the way, Oliver!” David ordered, for the first time sounding truly angry.

“No, David,” Oliver replied firmly. “I won’t forget anymore... I won’t forget anymore, David. If you hurt Frank, I won’t forget.”

David stared at his brother for several long moments before a strange smile curled his mouth and he narrowed his eyes. “You act like it would be hard for me to go through you to get to him.”

“David!” Brian suddenly said, moving to get a better view of his children, and for a moment, David’s eyes drifted to his father, waiting for the old man to remind him that Oliver always had been, and always would be the favorite. But this time something was different. This time it didn’t happen. “David...it’s getting late. You better get on with it if we want time to bury your brother next to your mama... least we can do before we get out of town, don’t you think so?”

....................................

Jeremy Flaskis cried out in pain as his body collided with the door again. He seemed to lose a little bit of the force he was putting behind it each time, and this last time, seemed to be all that he had left in him as he sank to the floor and looked at Jessica Seaberg, who had attempted to get through the drywall in the shower with broken pieces of glass from the mirror, only to reach bricks. Rudy, on the floor between them, looked tiredly about before she suddenly went to Jay, the currently available body in the room, and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

He hugged her back slowly, falling into a state of numbness as he realized that he’d just given up. Jessica must have seen it, because a moment later she was pulling them both off the floor. “Jay, turn on the shower,” she ordered. “You and Rudy get in and stay in.”

“What?” he asked dumbly.

“There’s too much smoke,” she said, coughing. “The fire could be in here any second--stay under the water!”

When Jay didn’t budge further than standing up with Rudy still wrapped around him, Jessica turned on the water by herself and shoved him towards it before she took her already bleeding hands towards the bathroom door and attempted prying open the cracks that Jay had already left in the wood.

Behind her, Jay carefully placed Rudy in the tub, adjusting the water temperature when she shied away from the cold shower. He lifted one foot to step in after her, trying his best not to think about the prospect of burning to death, and then found himself ducking as the sound of glass breaking somewhere in the house came before Rudy’s high-pitched scream.

Jessica, whose reaction had been similar to Jay’s in front of the door, looked back at the two other sets of wide eyes in the room before hearing a crash outside the bathroom door that sent her stumbling backwards, deeply inhaling the smoke managing to make its way in as she struggled to pull herself together. But then Jay was there, pulling her away from the door and halfway across the bathroom floor before they both jumped as it flew open.

Seeing the tall shadow standing before them as the smoke flooded the room and the flames became visible from the hall, Jay yanked Jessica Seaberg to her feet and pulled her back further. All he could think was Brian Martin, and how this time he’d manage to take him down. He’d need his arms for that, he decided, which made it inconvenient that Jessica’s hands were cutting off the blood flow in his left one. Jay didn’t let that slow him down, though. Breaking free from Jessica, he charged the man standing between himself and the way out of the burning house.

Jay hit the man’s body hard, but didn’t find nearly as much resistance as he’d expected, only two hands gripping his shoulders in surprise as they both toppled over into the hall where the weight of their bodies crushed the chair and Jay could feel the heat of the fire on his skin as the flames reached the dresser. Feeling blind and disoriented, Jay drew back his fist, paying little attention to the way that his victim was violently coughing and struggling beneath him rather than fighting back.

“Jeremy, wait!” Jessica suddenly shouted, and her voice was followed by one that snapped Jay’s attention from his anger and fear to utter confusion.

“You idiot! Get off me before I beat your backside so hard your grandbabies’ll feel it!”

“Mr. Dron?” Jay demanded, just before an uncomfortable fit of coughing hit him and he lost control of everything going on around him until Andrew Dron pulled him to his feet and Jessica was pushing Rudy into his arms.

“We can get out through Frank’s room,” he heard Jessica say, and assuming that Frank’s room was away from the flames he took Rudy and headed further down the hall, keeping low when the ominous black cloud seemed to surround them so thickly that he only knew Mr. Dron and Jessica were still with them when he heard them choking on the smoke or bumped into another body every so often.

“Which way?” Jay finally shouted, feeling overcome and heavy with Rudy still strapped to his chest. He didn’t startle this time when Mr. Dron grabbed him by the waist and hauled him up, and he didn’t fight it as he was led to a broken window.

Feeling the fresh air on his face through the cloud of smoke, Jay set Rudy down and after a quick look around, pulled the blankets from Frank’s bed to throw over the broken glass before climbing through the window. His feet hit the ground outside, and upon turning around, Mr. Dron was pushing Rudy into his arms.

“Get back now!” Mr. Dron ordered, and deciding to take the old man’s advice, Jay took Rudy back, holding her against her own coughing as he watched the girl’s mother and their neighbor escape the burning house.

......................................

Silence. So much silence that for a moment, Frank almost wanted to hear a gun go off. To break it. To end the tension. And then...

“It was never Oliver.” This coming from David, didn’t seem directed towards anyone, but as his eyes cleared it became clear that that was in fact his brother who he was speaking to. “It was never you.”

“Oliver,” Frank whispered, his hands once again adjusting over the rifle, “Oliver, get out of the way.”

“Yeah, Oliver,” David mimicked. “Get out of the way.” He shook his head, frowned at his brother. “I always thought you were in the way, you know. Just didn’t say so... didn’t wanna hurt your feelings. It would’ve, wouldn’t it?”

Oliver seemed to consider his brother’s question for a moment, along with David’s strange posture before giving a short nod.

David sighed. “Thought so. You get your feelings hurt too easy. Like I’ve always told you...”

“I can’t let people in to hurt me,” Oliver finished for him, and the comfortable moment of understanding that passed between them seemed to be an awkward one filled with silence and tension for everyone else.

“I wouldn’t have hurt you on purpose,” David continued.

“I know that, David.”

“But I did think you were in the way,” David said. “You got everything, all because you were...because you got hurt, and I hurt you, right? But you know what? I wasn’t the one. It was Mom, did you know that?”

Oliver’s weren’t the only set of eyes that widened.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Brian demanded.

“She dropped him,” David said easily. “I remember.” But that was the only explanation he offered his father before he found himself speaking to his brother again. “See, she hated me anyway… I always figured they both did, and sometimes I thought that if you weren’t around, things would be different. That if I didn’t have to watch out for you no more...but they wouldn’t have been different. And you know what else? Dad never hated me. Did you, dad?”

Frank found himself turning his head slowly, and in the dark he could see Brian Martin, seemingly growing uncomfortable. And making Frank uncomfortable, it seemed that he was looking at the rifle in Frank’s hands, regretting that he’d given it up for his game. But that was unfortunate for Brian because Frank, who’d felt like the weapon was burning his hands moments before no longer felt very eager to give it up. He gripped it tighter, and when Brian’s eyes lifted to his Frank was quick in his attempt to distract the old man from whatever he was thinking about.

“He didn’t hate you, David,” Frank said, sounding louder than he’d intended. “But he was wrong. When he told you that you were bad... he said that because he wanted you to be. He wants you to do this to us because he doesn’t wanna get his hands dirtier than they already are, David. And you’re probably right... he’d be proud of you for it. So maybe you should take some of your own advice, because right now you might have the gun, but you’re not the one in control.”

“Frank,” Oliver whispered. “I don’t think you should say anything else, Frank. David looks angry.”

Perhaps Frank would have thought it was thoughtful for Oliver to keep him informed if he’d actually given a damn about what David was doing at the moment. Not that Frank didn’t see David Martin as a threat anymore. Frank Seaberg had simply found a bigger threat, and it was currently staring him in the face in a way that had his back quite literally up against Oliver’s.

Frank wasn’t sure if Brian Martin had actually been listening to his little speech, or if he’d sensed a sudden change of energy now that Frank was no longer pointing the rifle at Sam, but it was clear that things were no longer going as the twins’ father had anticipated, and it agitated him. His eyes continuously drifted to the weapon he’d handed over to Frank, and his feet moved one at a time, small steps forward in a way that suggested he hoped that Frank wouldn’t notice. Of course, Frank did notice, and he wasn’t the only one.

When Sam had come to attempt righting things with his family, he’d expected a challenge ahead of him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, it was still difficult to see Jessica. Regardless of the fact that their marriage was irreparable now, it was nearly impossible to be in the same room with her without thinking of her as his wife... and without thinking about how angry she was with him. And the kids... Rudy, he had been confident he could win over rather easily, not that that made his reunion with his daughter any easier. Guilty. That’s what Sam was, every single time she asked him where he’d been, and she’d asked a lot since he’d arrived. Frank wouldn’t even talk to him, and if he’d had one goal to accomplish while he was in town, it had definitely been to reconnect with his son. He’d known that would be hard, too. But, what he hadn’t anticipated was that Frank had a whole new life and a new excuse to avoid him every time they crossed each other’s paths. That very morning, Sam had hoped to find away around that and the very least, discover what his son was up to. Now, however, he wasn’t sure he still wanted to know.

Perhaps it had something to do with the impression that everyone currently standing around him had developed a case of the crazies that had Sam feeling so lost. And while he had no idea what his own son had been talking about moments before, he was pretty sure that Frank had said the wrong thing, and Sam was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the way his son seemed to be boxed in. A quick evaluation of the turn of events had him somewhat confident that no one was pointing a gun at him anymore, and looking at Brian Martin, he wondered if that would change if he made a move.

It didn’t matter, he was quick to decide as it became clear that Brian Martin intended to get a rifle back into his hands, and if that happened, all bets were off. It might have been selfish, but Sam found himself almost relieved that Oliver’s head was between Frank and the threat of David Martin, and that meager reassurance was enough to convince him to make his move. Sam caught Frank’s eyes, urging his cornered son to be calm, even while Sam’s actions were the last thing in the world that were going to help accomplish that.

Frank, so watchful of Brian Martin and wondering what he was going to have to fend off next, felt panic rise in his chest as a shadow from the side rushed him, and before Frank could begin to comprehend what was happening, his hands were fighting to remain on the rifle as a strong force violently twisted the long piece away.

“Frank!”

Hearing his father’s voice so surprisingly close to his ear caused Frank to see more than his fear as he mentally shook himself, looked up into his dad’s familiar eyes, and relinquished the rifle to him. Seeing the barrel rise, and only knowing that he wanted to get out of the way, Frank turned, expecting to see Oliver. Only, something had changed during the brief struggle, and once again Frank was face to face with Brian Martin.

“Look out!” Sam shouted, but in the chaos it was unclear who he was talking to. Still, Frank took it as good advice and was quick to backpedal away from Brian, who was quick to reach out and grab the front of Frank’s shirt. For a moment, all Frank could hear was the sound of tearing fabric as Brian pulled from the front and someone from behind grabbed him around the waist and pulled him past his father. He turned his head, alarmed before he determined that the eyes now facing him were Oliver’s, and not David’s.

Meanwhile, Sam Seaberg was granted the pleasure of seeing the look on Brian’s face as the rifle aimed towards him stopped him cold, and at the moment, it didn’t seem to matter to either man that Sam had never fired a gun in his life. But then, it wasn’t exactly information that Mr. Seaberg was about to share now that the situation had turned in his favor, or so he thought.

Behind him, Frank and Oliver weren’t so confident that this was a good thing, especially when they saw what Sam couldn’t.

“No!” Frank suddenly shouted, moving forward even when Oliver pulled him back, and ultimately, he was too late from stopping David Martin from reaching his father.

Sam turned at the last moment, only to take a hard blow to the bridge of his nose. Gritting his teeth to keep a pain-induced wail from escaping he lifted his hands to his face, not paying attention to the way the gun fell to his feet, and upon opening his eyes, he found himself staring down not one, but two barrels aimed directly at him, and behind one of those weapons, Brian Martin looked very ready to shoot him. Which, was likely the reason why Sam chose David to reason with.

“Look,” Sam said carefully, “this doesn’t have to happen.”

“Yes it does,” David responded adamantly. “Enough talking! Get back!” To make his point, David moved between the small space separating his father and Sam, pressing his rifle firmly against Sam’s chest as he walked him back, until Frank could reach out and touch his father.

“Oliver!” Brian shouted. “Get out of there!”

Oliver looked at Frank, and then towards his brother.

“Oliver,” Frank whispered. “Just do it...don’t let them hurt you, whatever happens to us... just don’t let them hurt you, not anymore.”

Oliver, still looking at David, seemed to find something that he didn’t like in his twin’s eyes as he shook his head and huddled closer to Frank and Sam Seaberg.

“Oliver!” Brian said again.

“No!” Oliver suddenly snapped, his eyes moving accusingly to Brian. “You killed my mom.”

“She had it coming,” David casually remarked, before Brian had a chance to react. He studied Oliver for a long moment and then disapprovingly shook his head. “You pick the worst times to stop actin’ like a puppet, Oliver. Makes it fuckin’ hard to keep saving your ass. And y’know something? I’m sick of trying.”

“I’m sorry I’m making you mad, David...” Oliver started, but stopped when Frank elbowed him.

“And I’m sorry this has to happen,” David replied. “But see... it’s all I’ve been thinking about for... what did you say, Frank? Nine days.”

“What do you mean? What you mean that’s all you’ve been thinking...” Frank demanded, but David continued as if he hadn’t heard him at all, and Frank became too busy resisting Sam’s attempts to shield him to repeat the question.

“Sorry you’ve gotta see it this time, Oliver,” David said, his weapon becoming more apparent in his hands to those standing on the wrong side of it.

“Hold it, David!” Brian suddenly said, surprising everyone. “You could hit your brother!”

Frank watched David’s face in the shadows, that strange smirk growing across it again, and then his eyes widened as he watched David Martin spin around suddenly, the gun going with him.

Brian froze in the step he’d been taking forward, his mouth agape as he stared at David, his own rifle pointed foolishly towards the ground.

“I don’t think so,” David whispered.

“Boy,” Brian hissed, his posture becoming intimidating in a way that suddenly seemed pointless.

David looked his father up and down, meeting his eyes in the end. He’s looking at me now, David decided, and ignoring the sudden objections coming from behind him, David Martin fired a rifle for the last time in his life, and moved in to claim his kill.

It seemed strange somehow. Brian Martin wasn’t really an intimidating man. Not like this, anyway, choking for his last breath on the forest floor. And David couldn’t stop looking. And there was no remorse: just fear. The kind that had him worried he’d develop a condition similar to Oliver’s and forget. He wanted to keep watching, and while he was watching, he realized that his father had stopped breathing, just as he mildly realized that Frank’s father was slowly prying the rifle away from his fingers. But then, he couldn’t watch anymore because Sam Seaberg’s shadow was blocking his view. Startled by this, David looked up into eyes that seemed to pity him, that made him vulnerable. He didn’t like it, and when Sam reached out for him, he took a step back. Sam hesitated, reached again, and then he did what no father had ever done before and wrapped David Martin in his arms.

Feeling uncomfortable, but suddenly unable to retreat, David turned his head to find his brother’s eyes, which had become familiarly confused, but strangely accepting as Oliver focused on David, and not their deceased parent. Beside him, Frank was watching, too. He was once again trying to figure David out, and while the muscles in David’s face suddenly felt like they weren’t working right, he managed to smile over it. Taking a breath, he stepped away from Sam Seaberg and gave a small shrug. “What’re you looking at, Frank? You’re the one that said he’d pay.”

...........................................

Jessica Seaberg was a firm believer in crying. When she was sad, when she was angry, or even if she just plain felt like it, she’d find a quiet place and cry until she just didn’t feel like crying anymore. But she’d always made a point to do so carefully, and never in front of her children to avoid making them worry.

This time, however, with her house in flames and her son missing, Jessica Seaberg made an exception. Or rather, the exception was made for her when she couldn’t seem to stop, let alone communicate to Mr. Dron that it wasn’t her burning home that was upsetting her so much, which is why she left it to Jay Flaskis. It seemed to be a good choice, especially when Jessica discovered that Jeremy knew a lot more than she did, but what he was telling Mr. Dron hardly made her feel any better.

“What does Odetta Grover have to do with this?” Mr. Dron was asking, as it became apparent that Jay’s nonstop outbursts concerning the night’s events weren’t helping his head injury.

“Aren’t you listening?” Jay demanded, equally frustrated. “Brian Martin killed her! It was no accident, her getting in that boat! And he killed his wife, I saw Mary’s body! There’s a chance he killed David... but we don’t really know that for a fact yet... But look, if Frank was here, then he has to have Frank... don’t you remember how you got here, Mr. Dron?” Jay pointed towards the newest vehicle on the lot. “That’s one of the Martins’ cars... Frank could have brought it here.”

“Mommy!” Rudy suddenly interrupted. “The fire’s getting bigger!”

“Alright,” Mr. Dron said, “we should move away from here, closer to the water, and hopefully it won’t spread too far after all the rain.”

“Hopefully?” Jessica repeated, sounding hysterical. “We can’t even call anyone, everything’s burning... half my family is missing! Hopefully?”

“Jessica, I know it’s hard but you’ve gotta be calm now,” Mr. Dron insisted. “I promise you, someone’s seen the flames by now and help should be here soon. From there, we’ll try to get this fire out and organize a search party.”

“That boat’s gone,” Jay pointed out. “They could be anywhere...I could take a car and get to my house, my parents could call out of town, get real cops here in an hour’s time.”

“You’re not going off anywhere on your own,” Mr. Dron replied, guiding everyone further from the house as he spoke.

“No. Please don’t go, Jay,” Jessica insisted, suddenly latching onto his arm like a lifeline. She felt like she was in a whirlwind of tragedy, and she didn’t think she could take losing another boy tonight. Closing her eyes, only half paying attention to Jay’s insistence that he go, Jessica made an effort to calm her nerves, but the tension building in her chest over her missing son was threatening to overwhelm her completely. The relief of having escaped a potential fatal situation had been short-lived as it became clearer and clearer that not everyone was safe just yet.

Jay started to argue with Mr. Dron, and Rudy was clutched to her side. Jessica could hear the crackling from the flames as they took everything she owned, and she felt like covering her ears. The light rain, either coming from the sky, or just the trees, or perhaps both, tapped at the ground, and a low humming sound was coming from the lake, getting louder, closer. Jessica opened her eyes, and turned towards the water, squinting in the dark as the lights of a boat became visible.

“Mr. Dron!” she shouted. “Is that them? Is that them?”

As the arguing stopped, Jay and Mr. Dron moved closer, but it was Jay who shook his head.

“No, the boat’s not big enough... Shit, I think that’s the Hills’ boat.” And sure enough, as it grew closer, Jay could see streaked hair behind the wheel and a blond head next to it. “Jenny’s with Jeremy, she probably got my message.”

“Does that boat have a radio?” Mr. Dron asked, but didn’t receive an answer as he and Jay were already trudging through the water to meet them.

“What the fuck happened here?” a wide-eyed Jeremy Hill asked as he stared towards the burning house while Jeremy boarded the boat and hugged his girlfriend.

“You got a radio on this thing?” Mr. Dron demanded.

“Yeah, but...” Jeremy started.

“Outa the way!” Mr. Dron demanded as he caught sight of what he was looking for and pushed Jeremy Hill out of the way.

“Is everyone okay?” Jenny asked, and then seeing Jessica and Rudy on the shore, she forgot about any response she was expecting, grabbed a few blankets from beneath the passenger seat and held them over her head as she stepped down into the shallow water and made her way towards Frank Seaberg’s family. She reached Rudy, but as headlights from the road became visible Jessica ran in the other direction to meet Howard Crook before she all but yanked him from his vehicle and began to speak hysterically.

“This is a mess,” Jeremy remarked to Jay.

“Yeah... so, I need your boat. There was a kidnapping.”

Jeremy, who obviously wanted an explanation, but was reasonable enough to know this wasn’t the time to ask for it, simply nodded as Mr. Dron’s voice raised to speak to one filled with static over the radio.

“You got a gun on this thing?” Jay asked Jeremy.

“Jeremy shook his head, but a moment later, he was opening a box and retrieving a flare gun.

Jay considered it for a moment, and then shrugged. “That’ll work.”

“We’ve got more help coming,” Mr. Dron announced.

“We can’t wait, we’re gonna go look for Mr. Martin,” Jay said firmly, as if he expected an argument.

But, Mr. Dron only nodded. “I’m going with you.”

“Well, where are we going?” Jeremy wanted to know.

“We’ll check the coves first, anything that can’t be seen from here,” Jay said.

“Hold on!” Mr. Dron suddenly interrupted. “We might not have to go anywhere.” He pointed out over the water where more running lights were visible as they moved straight for them, and as Jay took a closer look, he was quick to determine that it was the boat he’d seen earlier outside of the Seaberg’s house.

“Jeremy,” Jay said quietly as he held out his hand. “Give me that flare gun.”

....................................

The sounds of the boat moving through the water and the wind blowing past Frank’s ears was met with silence as he stood at the bow of the boat with Oliver, making eye contact, but unable to say anything. And really, what could he say? All things considered, he thought that Oliver was handling all of this well enough. He just seemed to be in a strange daze, was all, looking at Frank as if he expected to hear something soon that would make everything better.

“You’re going to be okay,” Frank said, for the tenth time since they’d made it onto the boat. Because that was all he could say, and Oliver would nod, and they’d go back to their silence.

And Frank couldn’t even bring himself to look back at David, who’d sat himself on the stairs next to the cabin when Sam had taken up the chore to drive them home. But he knew that David was there, watching silently thinking about... well, probably things that Frank couldn’t begin to imagine. And David seemed to be handling things well, too. But then, unlike Oliver, it was terrifying for Frank to see David like that because David Martin was most certainly not Oliver.

David Martin had shot someone dead right in front of all of them.

And he wasn’t sorry.

Maybe it was understandable, Frank had decided. Maybe after everything, it was acceptable, what David had done. He’d been living in a nightmare his whole life, and wanted out. And if he hadn’t shot his father, maybe everyone else would have been dead, including Frank. So maybe, Frank thought, he should be grateful. But still, for David to kill his own father... murder, self-defense perhaps? Frank wasn’t sure what to call it. He just knew that after having been made to point a weapon like that at his own father, anyone who could do it without feeling would have had to be someone completely numb. Empty. So David Martin was a frightening individual, and so sad. It seemed that Frank didn’t know if he wanted to keep his distance, or reach out and comfort him.

“David’s not bad,” Oliver whispered, as if reading Frank’s thoughts. “I don’t want them to take him away from me, Frank.”

Frank had no response for that. Mostly, because he didn’t know what was supposed to happen next. The lines between right and wrong had somehow been blurred tonight, and as he looked up at his father, he felt that Sam was thinking the same thing. And something about that gave Frank the courage to tell Oliver what he needed to hear one more time. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Oh my god!” Frank suddenly heard his father say, and instead of looking back, he looked forward towards the shore, his eyes resting on the orange glow of flames lighting the sky. It took another moment for him to realize what was burning, and when he did, he nearly fell over the railing before Oliver caught him.

“Dad!” Frank shouted, as if the one word could destroy what he saw. But, the boat only moved faster, and Frank could only take in the scene. He saw another boat on the water, three figures on it. Decidedly, they weren’t his mother and sister and the fact sent him into a full fledged panic. “Mom!” he screamed, regardless of whether or not he was still too far away to be heard. “Rudy!”

“Look. There.” David’s voice had been so quiet and calm that Frank had to look to his left to realize that Oliver’s twin was now standing next to them, pointing towards the shore. Frank looked, and after a moment of gathering his thoughts he saw two figures, a woman and a little girl. “Looks like they’re gonna be okay,” David said stoically.

Relieved and tired, Frank looked back at David as Oliver began to wave to the people waiting for them. “So will you,” Frank found himself saying. “Both of you. I promise.”