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With a minimum of fussing...Jacque continues.
Deb: Should I just go sit in the truck? Bill: shit Shit SHIT!! Gaerity! Get the hell in here!!! Without another word, Ryan took off into the house. He found Bill in the bedroom, pointing underneath the bed. Bill: Looks to me like the punk woulda gone to bed, I'd'a climbed in beside her and we'd'a both woke up in kingdom come. He squatted down to examine the underside of the bed. Wires, thick putty that looked suspiciously like C-4, and looking innocent enough, one green jar. He studied it gravely. Ryan turned to him. Ryan: Is anyone in the house? Deb, Elmore...? Bill: Elmore's at the Corner, and the dogs are out back... why? Ryan left the question unanswered. Ryan: Check to see if Deb is in the house. Bill left and Ryan squatted on the floor, trying to see the mess better. Bill returned, scowling. Bill: She's in the truck. You tell her t'go there? Ryan: No. I simply told her to stay out of the house. But it's a good place for her. Smart one, that lass. Bill: Surprises the hell outa me. Just one question, boy. Ryan looked up at him from the floor. One eyebrow raised. Bill: How d'you get 'er t'mind? Bill's face wore a sardonic grin, rich evidence of the times *he* had tried to get Deb to *mind.* Flat tone, flat stare. Ryan: Threaten her life. Bill: I'll go outside...get the tools if they're there. If they're not, it'll be a minute. Ryan got on his back and crawled underneath the bed... carefully. Bill returned with a few tools, most of which were scavenged from around the house. The workshed had been stripped clean. Ryan: Do ye have a set of wire cutters? Bill gave him all he could find, a small set of toenail clippers. Ryan: Aye, well enough. *muffled* Shite. Bill: You need somethin', boy, you speak up. Ryan: Bottle of rubbing alcohol. Bill checked all three bathrooms, finally found a bottle of alcohol in Elmore's bathroom. By the time he got back, there was a small knot of wires discarded on the floor beside the bed. He pushed the alcohol under his bed with a boot. Bill: Here, man. Ryan: Thank you. A pencil, please. Bill: pencil? What the...? Stern answer. Ryan: Do not take the time to question. Bill: Hang on... Bill headed for the den, where there were a number of pencils inside the desk. He brought a handful. Bill: How many ya need, boy? Ryan peeks out from underneath the bed. Ryan: I didn't need a forest, boyo. Just one. Before Bill could grumble, Ryan disappeared under the bed again. He heard a crunching sound from beneath the bed, then the sound of one pissed off Irishman swearing in several languages. Bill: You wanna tell me what crawled up your ass, boy? I've got a tired woman out in the truck there... Ryan: Shut. Up. A glob of C-4 rolled out from underneath the bed and harmlessly stopped against Bill's boot. He picked it up, worked it in his hands like modelling clay. Bill: Gonna go outside and tell the girl things are gonna be okay. Be right back if you need me. Ryan: Aye… aye... get outta here. Bill hurried out to the truck, had a few words with the nearly paralyzed Deb. She saw Bill playing with what looked like silly putty and asked for it. He handed it over without telling her what it was, and hurried back into the house. Upon returning, he found Ryan sitting on the bed, the green jar in his hands. Sweat covered his brow, and he looked exhausted. Bill: Gaerity...? Ryan: You'll need a new bed, lad. Go ahead, take a look. Bill stretched out on the floor, glanced under the bed. The box spring had been skinned, all the springs clipped through, and that only the beginning of the carnage. Bill: Damn...and that *was* a new bed. Ryan: I'll replace it. Ryan ran a hand through his damp hair. Bill: The hell you will. You'd just do it with money I gave ya anyway, boy...shit...I owe y'our lives. Bed's cheap. You okay? Ryan: I am... fine... He stared at the jar, turning it in his hands, preoccupied. Bill: *quiet* What the hell you got in there, Ryan? Calmly, he opened the jar, withdrew a very small, green crystal, held it up for Bill to see. He walked to the window, opened it, and tossed it, far. Where there once was a tree, there was a small crater in it's place. Ryan: Something I've been perfecting. Me wee Jade called them "Pop Rocks", whatever hell those are. Bill: Perfecting? What the hell? So what was the fucking C-4 for, a detonator, catalyst? Ryan: Perhaps. Or just his way of making sure the job was finished. Deb appeared, a wild look on her face. She found Bill and grabbed his arm, held on as if she were going to drown. Deb: Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on? Ryan stared at her playing with the plastic explosive, squeezing and stretching it in her hands, oblivious to what it was. He carefully placed the jar on the table. Ryan: We've taken care of it... Deb: Who...my chinaberry tree...? Bill? Ryan glanced out the window and sighed. Bill rather gently took the material out of her hands, placed it beside the jar. Bill: Get yourself another tree, baby. Tomorrow, you go bed shoppin'. She stared at the bed, confused. Ryan: 'Tis my fault this shit happened. Deb: What happened...Ryan...what happened? One of you please be honest with me. Ryan, hesitantly, explained the bomb, Cecily and Riain. And the shooting. Deb: So that was... *she stopped, her eyes on Ryan steadily* This is NOT your fault. You cannot hold yourself responsible for the instability of a woman and for the way she twisted her child. Ryan: I am here. She follows. I am responsible. He started to gather up the wires and assorted other things from the bed. Deb: Ryan. Please listen to me for a minute. This woman, whoever she is...is pathetic. And she has raised a monster. If it had not been you, it would have been someone else, someTHING else. The seeds were there. Don't blame yourself. Will you let me take those things...and you two check the other beds? If Elmore comes in... He studied her. After a long moment, he handed her the mass of materials and silently left to search for other devices. She followed him, first to Elmore's room and then to the other bedrooms. He found nothing. She carried the mess to the wastebasket and dumped it in. Bill: Gonna have to use one of the guest bedrooms t'night, girl. Deb: Thanks to Ryan, we're alive to worry about it. We owe him, Bill...more than we can repay. They heard him swear from the workshop. Bill led the way, followed by Deb, the dogs bringing up the rear. Ryan's stuff was gone. The remaining jars, the tools, the spools of wire, the other jars of chemicals. Even the goofy garage sale toys and other bits he'd collected. The workbench was clean. Bill: Y'didn't just put it someplace? I didn't know if y'did and I just didn't know where t'look... Ryan: No. I left it all here... I was working... and we went to see Jade... Deb: Billy... Don't you know someone who can replace all the tools and the...the stuff? Ryan's hands fell to his sides, defeated. He sighed. Bill: Just need t'make a few calls, boy. We'll have y'in business again. Ryan: Don't worry about it. I know where to find more tools. What worries me is that he has the ingredients. Deb: To the shit in the green jars? Maybe he'll blow himself up and his goddam mother with him. We can only hope. Ryan: Ingredients... to everything, lass. 'Tis like a good apothacary's cabinet. Everything needed to create. Let us just hope the boy has no idea what it's all for and ends up drinking the Nitroglycerine. He sighed heavily, knowing after seeing the device underneath the bed, the boy was quite capable of the craft. Someone had taught him well. Deb crossed the room to him, sidestepping Elmore's freeweights and ducking his speedbag. Deb: He doesn't have *all* the ingredients, Ryan. Not the important ones. Ryan: Perhaps. He sat down in the chair beside the bench and looked underneath. The rest of the gear was gone as well, even the photograph of he and Jade and little Munchin in the cabin. Deb touched his head. Deb: Are you giving up, Ryan? She looked to Bill, arms folded, impassively watching over them, then turned back to Gaerity. Deb: Are you giving up on this? Cause I'll kick your ass myself if you are. Ryan stared at the empty space. Thinking… this is Déjà vu, and it was just beginning to hit him. Deb: Jade is depending on you... shit, for that matter Bill and I would be dead by now if it weren't for you. This little weasel and his mother are not worth what they're doing to you. She looked back to Bill... he would never suffer a crisis of conscience like this. Bill would determine what needed to be done, and then he would do it. Very different from Ryan, though the Irishman was no less dangerous when cornered. Ryan: No, lass, I am not giving up. He sounded unconvinced. Distant. Deb: Sounds like it to me. Ryan lowered his voice, looked up at Deb. He was naked to her at that moment, and she was amazed with what she saw. Ryan: I have done... many things in my life. It seems that someone... is trying to remind me of something. Deb: Is it something you regret? Something you take pride in? Something you can undo, or would if you could? Ryan: ...trying to return me to the center, remind me what is important. Deb *implacable*: And what is that? Ryan did not hesitate, nor did his gaze falter. Ryan: Jade. Life. Freedom. Deb: In that order? Ryan was not looking at her, but to his hands, clasped together. She felt as though she had taken on the role of confessor and mother to Ryan. These roles were not familiar to her insofar as her relationship with him had progressed and they made her uncomfortable...but they needed expression. Ryan: Aye, perhaps… perhaps. I... have been misguided in my past. I... am not sure I can change. Deb: Change is not the issue here. Jade is defenseless in a hospital bed. Bill is unversed in explosives. I know less than the least of you three. You are the only one capable of offering protection and guidance. Either you know this, or you don't. He looked up, purposeful. Ryan: I will protect you. I can guide you. But you *must* listen to every word I say. You *must* do as I say. If I tell you to move, you will ask how far. Understand? Deb: Completely. I place myself in your hands. Therefore, my guardian...you must get off your ass and act the part, stop beating yourself over the head with this past you will not discuss. He gave her a hard look. Ryan: In time, lass. He rose from the chair and made a thorough search of the rest of the house. Bill followed at a distance, in case he required an extra pair of hands. The two men eventually came to roost in the kitchen. Deb: Ryan... are we safe? Ryan: Aye. William and I are working on a secondary alarm system. Deb: Then can I go to bed? Ryan smiled, the first time she'd seen the relaxed expression in a long while. Deb: Thank you, Ryan. Bill...I'm going to use the second guest room...that's all that's left. Bill: I'll be along in a while, then, punk Deb stepped to Ryan, stood in front of him and looked up at him. He waited for her to speak to him... incredible patience. She felt one finger rub the back of her hand comfortingly. He whispered in her ear. Ryan: Thank you, lass. Thank you. She stood on her toes, slid her arms around his shoulders and held him tightly for a moment. Deb: No, Ryan...thank you for our lives. I feel safe knowing you're here. She kissed his cheek, astonished to feel the wetness there. She decided not to comment on it, but smiled into his eyes, then turned for the hall. Deb: Goodnight, gentlemen... Ryan: Gentlemen? He stared at Bill pointedly, a small grin on his face. Bill: Present company excepted, boy. If she wasn't an excellent judge of character, she wouldn't be here. From down the hall… Deb: HAH!!! Ryan: Woman is blind... Bill: Remember, Gaerity...God is Love, love is blind...therefore God is Ray Charles. Ryan leaned forward, his eyes twinkling evilly. Ryan: You, my friend, are not a blind piano player. And certainly not God. Bill: Who in hell said I was God? Ryan gestured towards the hallway, where Deb had disappeared. Bill: Toldja...woman's a hell of a judge of character. Kinda goofy... Ryan sat back in the chair, the smile has leaving his face. Ryan: Keep her close, boy. Do not let her out of your sight. Bill: Somethin' on the impossible side, boy. When I asked ya how y'made her mind, I wasn't completely kiddin'. Ryan: And my answer was not a joke. This is imperative. These people... you saw the destruction they have wrought. If anything, keep her within good distance. Bill: Is it that bad? Seriously. Ryan: Cecily knew us... me... when I was with the IRA. Riain... could have been a patriot, had he a soul. Bill: And I've heard everything you have to say about the ould sod, Ryan. *Annapolis is in the house* Will they kill...her...to get to you? Ryan held him with a hard, flat stare. Ryan: I was capable of such things. These ... people are much more sadistic. They will do most anything... to make a point. Neither man had noticed Deb reappear in the doorway. Deb: Ryan...? Billy? This doesn't sound good. Ryan turned in the chair, nudged the refrigerator open and removed a beer and a Guinness for himself. He passed Bill the Heineken. Ryan: You, lass? Deb: No, thank you. All I have are wussy winecoolers. Ryan: You and Jade. He sighed and pulled the cap off of the stout, took a long drink. Deb walked to Bill, stood beside him with her hand on his shoulder. Ryan: You two go on to bed. I'll make use of your couch, if that is alright... Deb: You will use the bed you always use. Jade would never forgive me. Now what were you talking about...you clammed up when I came out, it must concern me. Ryan finished off the Guinness in record time, gently nudged open the refrigerator again. Bill: Tell her, boy. She gets around me pretty easy. Ryan popped the cap and tossed it on the table. Ryan: You remember what I told you, listen to me? That goes for the boyo here, too. These people are extremely dangerous, ruthless individuals. Understand, lass? Deb: The short version would be do as you're told? Bill: About it...so you stay close. Don't be takin' off without sayin' somethin' to one of us. Got it? Deb: Got it... Good night… both of you. Don't be long, Billy. Bill: I'm right behind ya. Night, boy. Don't drink too much… Ryan merely gave them both a dark grin and gestured for them to go off to bed. ---- He stared at the growing collection of dark brown bottles, huddled together on William and Deb's kitchen table. They were very quiet, but it wasn't the empty glass that was talking to him, it was the liquid that had filled them and now filled his belly and his head. It soothed his aching muscles, but it gave rise to the memories long buried in his brain. He remembered fighting for the freedom of his homeland before he knew what it meant to be free. As a child he'd learned all the patriotic songs, watched the men drink the black stuff and walk out of the homes in the morning, many never to return again. His elder sister, Brigid, found raped and killed in the lane behind his house, bleeding from ear to toe. To the British soldiers, the poor and the weak, even the Irish in general, were less than human. A very young Ryan and a small group of friends, including his sister Shiofra, had sworn to fight. For even though they never found a day of peace in their lives, the anger had given them something to feed off of. As they grew older, they found that no one gave a fiddler's fart for the plight of their people. No matter how loud they sang, or how hard they fought, life went on. Ryan had been dismayed to find that the entire world was like this, in one way or another. Yet, he had found the creation of chaos as a means to make people raise their heads and take notice. The catalyst for change was destruction and death. A true martyr to the cause of the degredation of the societies of the world. He shook his head, wondered if all of this made any more sense when he was sober. Jade was the only thing that made sense to him. Her courage, her strength, and most importantly, the love she had for him. It had given him renewed hope for the future, renewed hope for himself and the both of them. And to think... he'd nearly lost her. Could still lose her... He fought the tears that threatened to emerge again, was mostly unsuccessful. Fought giving the whole table full of brown glass a heave onto the floor. He gripped the bottle in his hands and wanted to break it... but fought it. This was not his home to destroy... There was something inside of him that fed on the anger and the hatred. Only recently had it died down to the size of a candle flame. With the emergence of Cecily and her bastard son, this rage had been tapped into again. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, refusing to lose control. He finished the bottle, reached down to the carton on the floor and retrieved another. Guinness, like retribution, was much better warm. He remembered little of his long years in prison. Most of his waking and dreaming hours had been consumed with the need for freedom, and the hope of one day staring in the face the man who had betrayed the Cause, his family, and Ryan himself. To tear methodically tear him down to his bare bones and then set him aflame. There had been nothing else. He raised the bottle to his lips, let the breath of life pour down his throat, replaced the dark lady on the table, stared at it. Cecily and Riain, for whatever insane reason, had given him the gift of pain. Had introduced him to his own weary vision of Chaos and Anarchy. He held the bottle up to the light in a quiet salute. "This one's for you, Liam, you focking pathetic eejit." He finished the bottle, added it to the collection, and went to bed. TO BE CONTINUED...
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