BORRASCA - Bagian 5 - Chapter 9 (English)

I was true to my word, much to Kimber’s distress. By that evening I was clawing at the walls and I didn’t shut my eyes even once that night due to the pain in my back. Kimber tried to sooth me, put on movies she thought I would like, and curled up next to me at night. But the real comfort was just her presence, even in spite of her insistence that I drink water every hour that I couldn’t keep down

I refused food through the next day but she finally got me to swallow something in the evening. That night I slept, and I lived in dreams so real they were almost lucid. More than once Kimber woke me up because I was crying or shouting.

The day after that I laid in bed all day and didn’t move other than to limp to the bathroom. My back was still in burning pain, though the rest of my body was freezing. Kimber, not knowing what else to do, turned the heater all the way up to 95 degrees. She was down to a tank-top and underwear but still I shivered.

The following morning, I woke with no memory of the night before. Kimber told me she had only woken me up only once from my nightmares. It was the fourth day I had been clean and though I was still aching and going through heavy withdrawals my mind felt more clear. Reality was painfully bright and raw and my actions over the last week were agonizing to remember. I apologized to Kimber about what I had said and done so often that it went from amusing her to downright annoying. I had smoked half a carton in the days I’d been detoxing and my throat felt like the smokestack on a coal train.

With my new clarity came some raw realizations. I started to notice Kimber on her phone throughout the day, her expression dubious and worried. I wanted to ask but I couldn’t focus on too much intricacy yet. We ate more pizza that day – I kept down an entire two slices – and Kimber made me drink liters of water which also stayed down.

As we neared the week mark Kimber started sleeping in her own bed again. I was remembering some of my dreams and while most of them were nightmares from the years before I also had some pleasant dreams. Of Whitney, and my mother. I was feeling again, and though it hurt more often than not I realized that not all feelings are bad. It was something I had forgotten during my many years of numbness.

The dreams of my family awakened in me an unrelenting ache that I couldn’t ignore. I wanted to see them again: my sister and my mother. One was impossible – the other maybe not entirely. The fact that I was less than ten miles away from my mother at any given time warmed me during the cold nights.

And then finally I felt my physical strength begin to return. I was allowing myself to take ibuprofen for the pain (which was not unlike hurling a dart at an elephant). I was getting out of bed, sleeping through the night, and my mind was as crystal clear as ice. The more I thought about our situation the angrier I became; but it wasn’t the festival of rage that had been my life up until that moment – it was a simmering, controlled ire that I was able to reign in and compartmentalize, ready to execute at my leisure.

With the mental clarity I became even more convinced that what I had heard that night was real. They – whoever they were now – had simply moved their operation.  I told Kimber my belief but as much as she wanted to believe her source was legit, I knew she was afraid of hoping again.

Nine days after the incident on the mountain I came out of the shower to find Kimber pacing and sliding worried glances my way.

“What’s the matter?” I asked as I towel dried my hair. “Hey, do you think the front desk here sells razors?”

“I don’t know, I’ll ask.” I could tell she wanted to say more but hesitated.

“What is it?” I asked again.

“My…contact.”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“He’s on his way here.”

“What? How…you told him where we were?”

“No, he already knew. It’s no secret, I guess,” she said. Well, that’s comforting.

“Why is he coming here?”

“Because he wants to know what the hold-up is.”

“What hold-up? What does he want from us?”

“Uh…from you actually.”

“I thought this guy was just giving us hospital records and pointing us toward whatever server the Borrasca database is sitting on.”

“He’s…um…”

I made a wild gesture with my hands begging her to continue.

“We’re never gonna get those records from him, Sam.”

“What?”

She glanced out the window and crossed her arms. “I’m sorry, we never were. He’s offering something different. And he’s here.”

“I don’t fucking like this, Kimber.” I said as I stood up from the bed. I heard someone climbing the stairs outside. Heavy footfalls indicated a large man or possibly someone who just walked like a Neanderthal. Kimber opened the door before he could knock and Jimmy-fucking-Prescott walked in.

“Fuck!” I’d been keeping the 9mm next to the bed but had moved it during my withdrawals in case I wanted to fucking shoot myself in the head. It was currently in the bathroom – completely out of reach.

“Holy shit, look at you. Fuckin’ Sam Walker! Did you know you look exactly like your dad?”

“What the fuck is he doing here, Kimber?” I seethed. She was standing in the corner next to the door, arms crossed and a grim expression on her face.

“Oh, don’t be mad at her, Walker, she was just conductin’ business. You want something, I want something. It doesn’t need to be personal, right sweetheart?” He turned and gave her an oily smile that made my still delicate stomach churn in revulsion.

“Just talk.” Kimber ordered.

“Alright, well you want to give the men some privacy then, Princess?” Jimmy asked, sitting down on the sofa by the door.

“I’m not leaving you alone with him.” She told Jimmy. He shrugged and before I even realized what he was holding he had shot Kimber with some sort of Taser. She fell on the floor immediately and convulsed a few times before going limp.

“Women, right?” Jimmy laughed.

My heart dropped to my feet and I lunged toward Prescott.  He casually swung the Taser around to point at me.

“Settle down, Prince Charming, she’s fine. We’ve been trying out some non-lethal stuff up at the stables.” He rolled it around in his hand and smiled. “I think I like this thing.”

Fuck. Think, Sam. What do you do next? Get him to talk, buy yourself some time.

 “Why would Kimber want to talk to you? What did you tell her?”

“Nothing, really,” he shrugged.  “Threw her a bone on that Landy kid we stomped to death way back when – well you remember, you were there. Shit I almost forgot about that! Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah. I told her I could give her information on that kid’s condition, you know, gave her some hope. Gave her some information about the sheriff, too.”

“All the information you have given her is useless or total bullshit.”

Jimmy smiled. “She played her part, I’m done with her now. But I am willing to fulfill my end of the bargain with you.”

“What bargain?”

“We’ll get to that.” Jimmy said as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a red zippo.

“Fine. You told Kimber that Killian Clery is dead. Is that true?”

Jimmy laughed. “As a doornail.”

“Why did you kill him?”

“You think I killed him? He was a useful and loyal business partner. Why would I kill him?”

“Because you’re a fucking hot head, that’s why.”

Jimmy reclined back in his chair and took a long draw on his cigarette. “You really don’t know anything, do you? The mine is under new management.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means there’s a new sheriff in town, kid.”

I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat. “Sheriff Walker? What reason would he have to murder Clery?”

“Because Killian gave the orders to send Walker’s daughter to meet the Shiny Gentleman.”

I shook my head. “I can’t fucking believe she was working with you.”

“Believe it, kid.”

“You’re not going to give us the files you keep on Borrasca, are you?”

“Fuck no, son, that would incriminate me and my entire family!”

“And the medical records for Kyle and Anne Destaro?”

“Trust me, there’s nothing in there that would help you.”

“So what are you offering us?”

Jimmy put his cigarette out directly on the glass coffee table next to him and leaned forward. “The chance to take down your father.”

I scoffed. “Why would you want that?”

“Look around, kid. This town is a piece of shit, white trash, poor, filthy shadow of what it once was. When Walker took over he changed the whole business model! We used to provide a service. It was fucked up the way we did it, I’ll admit that, but in the end people got to live in a rich town and raise families like they did before the water got all fucked. Drisking was a nice little place people could be proud of! Even you have to admit it.”

“Drisking was a fucking facade. None of that was real.”

“It was real to them. To your teachers. Your friends. Even Meera and Owen Grady. I heard you scared the shit out of them a couple weeks ago! Man, when I heard that story I was laughing so hard. Didn’t think you’d give up your anonymity so quick, seeing as that’s the only thing you had going for you – other than me, of course.”

Jimmy Prescott was off his fucking rocker. I felt like my skull was going to crack from the audacity of it all. Working with Jimmy Prescott was the definition of suicidal insanity.

“Anyway, kid, so yeah, your dad comes in – big dick on campus – and flips the whole system on its head. Suddenly we’re running a sex trade operation. The higher ups are happy because now they get girls and more money than before. Walker don’t really care about money long as they keep supporting him so every dollar we make from the stables go right into the pockets of the upper echelons. No more money for the town, no more babies for the families. The Prescott legacy is in ruins! It’s all straight up sex trafficking now. It’s just unseemly if you ask me.”

“And you’re sure the Sheriff is involved in all of this.”

“Involved? He’s fucking running it, kid, did you listen to anything I said?”

“And you want me to kill him.”

Jimmy tipped his hat in my direction. “I’d be much obliged.”

“Why can’t you do it?” I said, watching Kimber out of the corner of my eye. She still hadn’t moved.

“Because you’re the only person on earth who has a prayer of killing your daddy.”

I laughed. “If you really believe that, you’re dumber than I thought. You’ve got the wrong kid, Prescott. My dad would kill me without thinking twice, it’s Whitney he loved.” A shudder ran down my spine. Loved was not the right word.

“Nah, I don’t believe that. He could have had you killed already, spoutin’ off in town like you did about stolen babies. He’s left you alone out here, hasn’t he? He’s knows where you are, the whole sheriff’s office does. But they’re prohibited from moving on you – on his orders.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense. I mean, why?”

Prescott shrugged. “No idea. I think it’s probably just a game. You don’t play until you cross the city limits. Walker had a thing about playing sick games with his kids. It’s disgusting if you ask me.”

“We have very different ideas about what’s disgusting.” I said.

“I think you’ll change your mind on that before you leave town.” Jimmy drawled.

“You actually think the sheriff would let me get close to him knowing I had a gun and intended to kill him?”

“I think there’s a chance; he likes his games. And anyway, I’m certain he’d hesitate to kill you. You’re his only son and all that.”

“I think we both know that’s bullshit.” I said.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow at me. “Holy shit, Walker, I’m impressed you knew about that kid. I don’t even think he knows about his bastard.”

“And let’s say I do manage to kill him; wouldn’t his deputies just shoot me?”

“Nah, I’ve got a promising coup in the works. Been planning this for years. A fair number of his people are loyal to me.”

“Even if that’s true you’d just kill me once it’s over.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not? You’d be in charge so why keep me alive? I want Borrasca exposed. I want all you sick fucks in jail.”

“Kid, I don’t wanna be in charge. I don’t wanna do paperwork or give a shit about how the money is handled or where it goes. You could do that, though. I say we take down the sheriff and install you as big dick on campus. Pussy for miles, son! And you can’t be getting a lot these days walking around looking like you do.”

“Fuck you. I would never be interested in this deal and I don’t understand why Kimber thought I would be.”

“Well…I never actually told her the part about putting you in charge.”

“Well then what part did you tell her?”

“I promised her I’d tell her where her boyfriend was. And I told her she’d have a shot at killing her rapist.”

“Her rapist is already dead.”

“Nah,” Jimmy leaned back and put his arms behind his head. “He isn’t.”

My brain ran into a brick wall. I couldn’t understand what the fuck he was trying to tell me.

“Don’t look at me, kid, she wasn’t assigned to me.”

And then it clicked. I threw up before I could stop myself and the vomit ran down my pants to the floor.

“Sick, kid!”

“You tell…” I croaked. “You tell the sheriff I’m fucking coming for him.”

“I like your fury, son, harness that shit. But you’re gonna need a lot more than blinding rage. Here,” Jimmy dropped a folded piece of white paper onto the coffee table next to his pile of cigarette ash. “These are the coordinates of the new operation. Use your phone or something.”

Jimmy stood up and moved Kimber’s leg out of his way with the toe of his boot. “I can’t wait to see what you cook up. Just remember I need him dead, not incapacitated.” He opened the door and walked out, then stopped abruptly on the other side of the threshold. “Oh and ah, the sheriff always wears a bulletproof vest. Always. Probably even when he’s fucking his wife.” He laughed at his own joke and then shut the door behind him.

As soon as it clicked I stumbled over to the door and locked it with both deadbolts. Then I collapsed against it and crawled over to Kimber who hadn’t so much as moved since she’d been tased. I was worried he’d had it on too high of a setting for her small frame.

I rolled Kimber onto her side – a lifesaving maneuver that an addict like me would need to know – and when I was satisfied that she was still breathing I dragged a pillow down from the bed and shoved it underneath Kimber’s head.

I wanted to punch something. Or break something. Or beat someone to death. Not just anyone: my father. The man Kimber had known since she was nine years old. The man who had watched her grow up with his own son. Why was I fucking surprised after what he had done to Whitney? I had killed my monsters. I would kill him, too.

And perhaps worst of all, Kimber hadn’t told me. She had kept it all to herself to protect me from the pain. I was the spitting image of my father – I had known it and Prescott had confirmed it. But she never recoiled from me in disgust or looked at me with fear.

I knew the sheriff had to die. Jimmy Prescott – sick, twisted fuck that he was –  was about to get exactly what he wanted. But I knew I couldn’t let him live, either. Prescott couldn’t keep me alive, I was a liability. He knew that. He knew that I knew that. He was simply gifting me a lie that I could use to comfort myself while I prepared to go through with it all. Because I knew – if Jimmy Prescott was coming to me for help that meant that he had completely lost control of the situation. And if Jimmy – with all of his money and influence – couldn’t have the sheriff killed, no one could. Except maybe me, on the longshot bet that my father harbored any remaining paternal feelings for me.

I only had the beginning tethers of a strategy but soon I would have a full plan. And I knew for damn sure that it couldn’t involve Kimber. I wasn’t going to bring her to the mine with me; I’d put her in too much danger already. I had to figure out how to execute this perfectly because perfectly was the only way it was going to work. But for now I would just lie on the floor as the throbbing body ache ate at my coherence.

A sharp pain began to push into my back between my shoulder blades. Fuck…I only had days left to live, and I didn’t want to die sober. I didn’t want to feel everything that you feel when you die. I wanted to be high as the fucking stars when my time came. I’d earned that at least, hadn’t I? The sheriff knew I was here, Prescott was getting impatient, time was running out. I pulled my phone out of my vomit soaked jeans and dialed a familiar number.

“Yo, man. I need a favor.”