Shelter, Part 2
+++++
Thankfully, Jack didn't wake up until they were on the road again. Chloe's father had believed her story about her friend suddenly fainting, and had come up from the car park while she'd hastily packed everything back into Jack's bag and dragged him out into the corridor again. Then he'd helped her carry Jack down to the car, which Chloe's mom had driven closer to the elevator. While they were settling Jack in the back seat, Chloe's mom had even gotten out the plaid blanket they always carried in the back and had tucked it around him.
Watching him carefully from the other side of the back seat, Chloe saw Jack's eyes flutter a few times, then open fully. He looked around, obviously disoriented at first and trying to size up the situation, then focused on her. "Chloe?”
"You fainted,” she told him bluntly. "We're driving you to my parents' house.”
"Stuart, he's awake,” Chloe's mother said from the front seat, then turned around to smile alternately at him and Chloe. "Hi! I don't think we've met, but any friend of Chloe's is a friend of ours. I'm Susannah O'Brian, and this is my husband Stuart.”
"Nice to meet you,” Jack said slowly. "I'm … Frank. Frank Flynn.”
Chloe noticed the slight hesitation as Jack named his alias, and hoped her parents would put it down to the "flu.”
"Hiya, Frank, how ya doin'?” Chloe's father asked heartily, as though he hadn't had to help her load the man into the car just a few minutes previously.
"When was the last time you had anything for your fever, Frank?” her mother asked.
"Uh … ” Jack hedged, looking to Chloe as though for help in remembering. "This morning.”
"Here, Chloe, give him two of these.” Her mother had already dug a bottle of painkillers out of her purse, and now she handed it back to Chloe. Struggling for a moment with the child-proof cap, Chloe finally got it open and shook out a handful of tablets.
"Do you need a drink to wash them down?” Chloe's mother asked. "We could stop at the next store and get you some juice.”
Chloe had a sudden vision of Jack jumping out of the car and running away – or rather, creeping out of the car and staggering away – the minute her parents' backs were turned, and snapped, "We don't have to stop. I've got some water in my purse.”
She separated two tablets from the rest and held them out. Jack wiggled his arm free of the blanket, then extended his hand. Placing the tablets carefully into his trembling palm, Chloe put the rest away, and pulled her water bottle from her purse. Jack drained it down to the last drop.
"Thanks,” he rasped.
"We've got a long drive ahead of us,” Chloe's mother said. "Try and get some sleep, Frank.”
Jack gave the interior of the car one last sweeping look, almost as though expecting terrorists to come bursting out of the airbag compartments, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
+++++
"So, Frank, you need a hand?” Chloe's father asked, opening the car door for him.
Jack got out very slowly and carefully. "I'm all right, thanks. Chloe? Where's my bag?”
"Here,” she said, already having gotten it out of the trunk. Although he was reaching out, she slung it over her own shoulder. "Come on, I'll show you the house.”
"Chloe brings a man home at last,” she heard her father say as they crunched through the freshly fallen snow on their way to the porch, and then he called out, "You hang onto him, Chloe, until I can get my shotgun and the preacher!”
"Stu!” her mother protested. Opening the door, Chloe swept Jack inside and closed it again on her father's next exclamation of "Just kidding!”
Trying to act as though nothing had happened, Chloe led Jack through the living room and down the hall. The room she'd shared with her sister until she'd moved out looked smaller than she remembered, and much more empty. "Here's where you'll be staying, the bathroom's next door, and my parents are just over there.”
Following her in, Jack said, "Chloe, I said I didn't want your family involved.”
"You want the police go to Kim and say they've found your dead body in a snowdrift in Chicago?” Chloe demanded.
Jack winced visibly at the mention of his daughter, then sat down on the bed. Dumping the messenger bag next to him, Chloe laid a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be safe here for a few days, and when you're feeling better, I'll drive you wherever you want to go and let you disappear again.”
"I've thought of a way I can get the antibiotics myself, but I'll have to wait until to-morrow,” Jack said. "I just need the bullet out.”
"If I can get rid of my parents, I can take the bullet out without having to hit you over the head again,” Chloe told him. "I don't wanna do that, 'cause you could get brain damage from being concussed too many times.”
"Can you get rid of your parents?” Jack asked.
"Let me see.”
When Chloe came back into the living room, trying to formulate a plan to get both her parents out of the house, her mother had shed her coat and was looking at her sadly.
"What?” Chloe asked.
"We were planning to take you out to dinner to-night,” her mother said. Lowering her voice, she said, "Do you think we could leave him here alone?”
Chloe shook her head. "I'd feel more comfortable staying here with him. You guys can go eat out.”
"Honey bunny, we were looking forward to being with you.” Her mother pouted just a little bit.
"Well, I'll order something, you and Dad can go pick it up, and we can eat here.”
"Why not have it delivered?” her father asked, and Chloe shot him a scowl. "It'll be faster.”
As Chloe went over to the telephone stand and pulled the Yellow Pages out of the drawer, her father said, "You know, Sue, if that man wasn't so sick, I'd think she wants us out of the house.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. "He's sick, all right?”
As soon as her parents had left to go pick up the pizza she'd ordered, Chloe closed the door behind them and jogged down the hall to the bedroom. Jack was sitting exactly where she'd left him, with his hand on his bag as though ready to jump and run at the slightest provocation. He hadn't even taken his jacket off.
"Okay, they're gone,” she said. "Where are the tweezers?”
Jack opened his bag, frowning, then brought everything out and arranged it on the nightstand. Watching him, Chloe asked, "How'd you get shot, anyway?”
"Some kids wanted to beat me up,” Jack said in a clipped tone. "As far as I could tell, it was a gang initiation thing. When I fought back, one of them pulled out a gun. I made sure he only got one shot off.”
He unzipped his jacket, and Chloe helped him strip off his jacket and pullover, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the smell of unwashed body. Was it just her imagination, or did he seem somewhat cooler? He wasn't shaking quite so badly, either, but he didn't protest when she started to unbutton his shirt. She eased it off, and watched goose pimples form on his shoulders.
"Lay down,” she said. "It'll be easier for me.”
As Jack stretched out face down on the bed, Chloe switched on the lamp and angled it towards him. Blood had dried all down the left side of his back, and she winced. "I'm gonna get some water and clean this up so I can see what I'm doing.”
She came back from the bathroom with a washcloth and a bowl of warm water to see Jack folding something into a thick pad.
"What's that?” she asked.
"Pillow case,” he replied. "To bite on.”
"I should have thought of that.” Chloe dipped the washcloth into the water, wrung it out, and started to gently wipe the blood away. Jack tensed at the first touch, then tensed again, more violently, when she got close to the large bump at the top of the stain. It had a small dark center, surrounded by red, swollen flesh.
"We both know it's going to hurt,” Jack said. "Once you start, don't stop. Just put the tweezers in, find the bullet and get it out.”
Chloe reached out for the tweezers and hesitated.
"Don't think about it, Chloe, just do it!” Jack shouted. He stuffed the pillowcase into his mouth and bit down savagely.
Gritting her own teeth, Chloe shut her eyes for a moment to focus, then opened them, and inserted the tweezers into the bullet wound. She was aware of Jack's muted roaring, of the twitching he couldn't quite control, but all of her attention was on the sensation in her fingertips as she probed for the bullet. At last, the tips of the tweezers transmitted the feeling of something hard and unyielding. She opened them, pinched, and pulled.
The bullet was smaller than she'd thought it would be, and she stared at it for a moment before remembering the hydrogen peroxide. Recalling Jack's instructions from a few hours ago, she unscrewed the lid and poured a good third of the bottle into the wound. Jack bucked once as the liquid foamed, shouting through his gag.
Setting the bottle aside, Chloe reached for the towel. The peroxide, once white, was now pink with blood, and she alternately wiped and dabbed until she could no longer see anything of that sickening shade against his skin. There was only pure red oozing up from the hole now, and Chloe quickly covered it with a square of gauze. As she applied strips of tape to keep it in place, Jack removed the pillowcase from his mouth and croaked, "Thanks.”
"Maybe I should have hit you over the head again,” she said shakily.
"No, Chloe, you did great.”
Chloe bit her lip and glanced away, then glanced back and saw him still looking at her. As she met his eyes, he gave her a quick, encouraging smile. Chloe stood up abruptly, grabbed the bowl of water, and marched to the bathroom, hoping he hadn't seen that she was smiling, too. It would have exposed too much that needed to be kept sheltered from him.
Part 3
Thankfully, Jack didn't wake up until they were on the road again. Chloe's father had believed her story about her friend suddenly fainting, and had come up from the car park while she'd hastily packed everything back into Jack's bag and dragged him out into the corridor again. Then he'd helped her carry Jack down to the car, which Chloe's mom had driven closer to the elevator. While they were settling Jack in the back seat, Chloe's mom had even gotten out the plaid blanket they always carried in the back and had tucked it around him.
Watching him carefully from the other side of the back seat, Chloe saw Jack's eyes flutter a few times, then open fully. He looked around, obviously disoriented at first and trying to size up the situation, then focused on her. "Chloe?”
"You fainted,” she told him bluntly. "We're driving you to my parents' house.”
"Stuart, he's awake,” Chloe's mother said from the front seat, then turned around to smile alternately at him and Chloe. "Hi! I don't think we've met, but any friend of Chloe's is a friend of ours. I'm Susannah O'Brian, and this is my husband Stuart.”
"Nice to meet you,” Jack said slowly. "I'm … Frank. Frank Flynn.”
Chloe noticed the slight hesitation as Jack named his alias, and hoped her parents would put it down to the "flu.”
"Hiya, Frank, how ya doin'?” Chloe's father asked heartily, as though he hadn't had to help her load the man into the car just a few minutes previously.
"When was the last time you had anything for your fever, Frank?” her mother asked.
"Uh … ” Jack hedged, looking to Chloe as though for help in remembering. "This morning.”
"Here, Chloe, give him two of these.” Her mother had already dug a bottle of painkillers out of her purse, and now she handed it back to Chloe. Struggling for a moment with the child-proof cap, Chloe finally got it open and shook out a handful of tablets.
"Do you need a drink to wash them down?” Chloe's mother asked. "We could stop at the next store and get you some juice.”
Chloe had a sudden vision of Jack jumping out of the car and running away – or rather, creeping out of the car and staggering away – the minute her parents' backs were turned, and snapped, "We don't have to stop. I've got some water in my purse.”
She separated two tablets from the rest and held them out. Jack wiggled his arm free of the blanket, then extended his hand. Placing the tablets carefully into his trembling palm, Chloe put the rest away, and pulled her water bottle from her purse. Jack drained it down to the last drop.
"Thanks,” he rasped.
"We've got a long drive ahead of us,” Chloe's mother said. "Try and get some sleep, Frank.”
Jack gave the interior of the car one last sweeping look, almost as though expecting terrorists to come bursting out of the airbag compartments, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
+++++
"So, Frank, you need a hand?” Chloe's father asked, opening the car door for him.
Jack got out very slowly and carefully. "I'm all right, thanks. Chloe? Where's my bag?”
"Here,” she said, already having gotten it out of the trunk. Although he was reaching out, she slung it over her own shoulder. "Come on, I'll show you the house.”
"Chloe brings a man home at last,” she heard her father say as they crunched through the freshly fallen snow on their way to the porch, and then he called out, "You hang onto him, Chloe, until I can get my shotgun and the preacher!”
"Stu!” her mother protested. Opening the door, Chloe swept Jack inside and closed it again on her father's next exclamation of "Just kidding!”
Trying to act as though nothing had happened, Chloe led Jack through the living room and down the hall. The room she'd shared with her sister until she'd moved out looked smaller than she remembered, and much more empty. "Here's where you'll be staying, the bathroom's next door, and my parents are just over there.”
Following her in, Jack said, "Chloe, I said I didn't want your family involved.”
"You want the police go to Kim and say they've found your dead body in a snowdrift in Chicago?” Chloe demanded.
Jack winced visibly at the mention of his daughter, then sat down on the bed. Dumping the messenger bag next to him, Chloe laid a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be safe here for a few days, and when you're feeling better, I'll drive you wherever you want to go and let you disappear again.”
"I've thought of a way I can get the antibiotics myself, but I'll have to wait until to-morrow,” Jack said. "I just need the bullet out.”
"If I can get rid of my parents, I can take the bullet out without having to hit you over the head again,” Chloe told him. "I don't wanna do that, 'cause you could get brain damage from being concussed too many times.”
"Can you get rid of your parents?” Jack asked.
"Let me see.”
When Chloe came back into the living room, trying to formulate a plan to get both her parents out of the house, her mother had shed her coat and was looking at her sadly.
"What?” Chloe asked.
"We were planning to take you out to dinner to-night,” her mother said. Lowering her voice, she said, "Do you think we could leave him here alone?”
Chloe shook her head. "I'd feel more comfortable staying here with him. You guys can go eat out.”
"Honey bunny, we were looking forward to being with you.” Her mother pouted just a little bit.
"Well, I'll order something, you and Dad can go pick it up, and we can eat here.”
"Why not have it delivered?” her father asked, and Chloe shot him a scowl. "It'll be faster.”
As Chloe went over to the telephone stand and pulled the Yellow Pages out of the drawer, her father said, "You know, Sue, if that man wasn't so sick, I'd think she wants us out of the house.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. "He's sick, all right?”
As soon as her parents had left to go pick up the pizza she'd ordered, Chloe closed the door behind them and jogged down the hall to the bedroom. Jack was sitting exactly where she'd left him, with his hand on his bag as though ready to jump and run at the slightest provocation. He hadn't even taken his jacket off.
"Okay, they're gone,” she said. "Where are the tweezers?”
Jack opened his bag, frowning, then brought everything out and arranged it on the nightstand. Watching him, Chloe asked, "How'd you get shot, anyway?”
"Some kids wanted to beat me up,” Jack said in a clipped tone. "As far as I could tell, it was a gang initiation thing. When I fought back, one of them pulled out a gun. I made sure he only got one shot off.”
He unzipped his jacket, and Chloe helped him strip off his jacket and pullover, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the smell of unwashed body. Was it just her imagination, or did he seem somewhat cooler? He wasn't shaking quite so badly, either, but he didn't protest when she started to unbutton his shirt. She eased it off, and watched goose pimples form on his shoulders.
"Lay down,” she said. "It'll be easier for me.”
As Jack stretched out face down on the bed, Chloe switched on the lamp and angled it towards him. Blood had dried all down the left side of his back, and she winced. "I'm gonna get some water and clean this up so I can see what I'm doing.”
She came back from the bathroom with a washcloth and a bowl of warm water to see Jack folding something into a thick pad.
"What's that?” she asked.
"Pillow case,” he replied. "To bite on.”
"I should have thought of that.” Chloe dipped the washcloth into the water, wrung it out, and started to gently wipe the blood away. Jack tensed at the first touch, then tensed again, more violently, when she got close to the large bump at the top of the stain. It had a small dark center, surrounded by red, swollen flesh.
"We both know it's going to hurt,” Jack said. "Once you start, don't stop. Just put the tweezers in, find the bullet and get it out.”
Chloe reached out for the tweezers and hesitated.
"Don't think about it, Chloe, just do it!” Jack shouted. He stuffed the pillowcase into his mouth and bit down savagely.
Gritting her own teeth, Chloe shut her eyes for a moment to focus, then opened them, and inserted the tweezers into the bullet wound. She was aware of Jack's muted roaring, of the twitching he couldn't quite control, but all of her attention was on the sensation in her fingertips as she probed for the bullet. At last, the tips of the tweezers transmitted the feeling of something hard and unyielding. She opened them, pinched, and pulled.
The bullet was smaller than she'd thought it would be, and she stared at it for a moment before remembering the hydrogen peroxide. Recalling Jack's instructions from a few hours ago, she unscrewed the lid and poured a good third of the bottle into the wound. Jack bucked once as the liquid foamed, shouting through his gag.
Setting the bottle aside, Chloe reached for the towel. The peroxide, once white, was now pink with blood, and she alternately wiped and dabbed until she could no longer see anything of that sickening shade against his skin. There was only pure red oozing up from the hole now, and Chloe quickly covered it with a square of gauze. As she applied strips of tape to keep it in place, Jack removed the pillowcase from his mouth and croaked, "Thanks.”
"Maybe I should have hit you over the head again,” she said shakily.
"No, Chloe, you did great.”
Chloe bit her lip and glanced away, then glanced back and saw him still looking at her. As she met his eyes, he gave her a quick, encouraging smile. Chloe stood up abruptly, grabbed the bowl of water, and marched to the bathroom, hoping he hadn't seen that she was smiling, too. It would have exposed too much that needed to be kept sheltered from him.
Part 3