Chapter Forty-Two

Jak stepped onto Driscoll's porch, his heart beating quickly like the flutter-fast wings of a hummingbird. He swung his bow and arrows higher up on his shoulder. I'm going to kill him . His knock echoed, ringing into the snowy air, wind snatching it up and tossing it away. But Driscoll's car was there, and there were footprints going up his steps. He tried the doorknob, and it turned in his gloved hand. Surprise made him pause.

Yes, he was going to kill Driscoll. But first, he needed answers. He needed to know why Driscoll had lied to him about the war. Why he'd given him a house and kept him out there in the faraway wilderness, alone for all his life.

Why he'd killed Pup. Taken his only friend from him. His throat felt tight. He pulled in a quick breath.

If Driscoll wasn't home, he'd wait for him. The door creaked as it opened, and the whispers hummed inside him. He took off his flat shoes and left them by the door. His hair stood up, and he knew something was wrong…different. He sniffed the air and smelled… blood. Fear. Coming death. And below that, the scent of a strange campfire, something Driscoll had burned using wood Jak had never smelled before. Strong. Ashy.

His ears pricked up, and he listened for a minute before stepping forward, into the almost-dark room.

The smell of blood grew stronger, and he pressed himself against the wall, following it, crouching, going up on his toes, light-footed.

He heard a groan from the bedroom and moved toward it. Slow. Slow. Silent. The way he did when he moved through the forest, a deer in his sight, the arrow drawn back in his hand. He peeked around the corner, his heart slamming between his ribs, his eyes trying to understand what he saw.

Driscoll was pressed to the wall, an arrow through his chest, a lake of blood at his feet. Jak stepped into the doorway, and Driscoll's head lifted. "Jak," he croaked. "Help me."

He took another step inside the room, looking around for an enemy. "Who did this?"

"I don't know. I didn't know him…tall…man." His breath made a high groaning sound, and his face screwed up.

"You lied to me," Jak said. "You betrayed me."

Driscoll ignored him. "Please. Help me. You can't move me from this wall…will make it…worse for me. Just…my phone." Jak looked at the dresser, where he saw the small black thing Driscoll wanted him to hand to him. Why should I help this man? He looked back at Driscoll, who was watching him. Anger came into his eyes, and they bugged from his head like a green slimy frog. "If you don't help me, they'll lock you in a cell! In a cage like an animal! You killed, Jak. They won't understand. And if you let me die, it will be even worse for you."

Jak's head pounded, hatred for the man flaming like fire. He should walk out. He should let him die. He had planned to kill him himself. He was a liar and a cheat. He was one of the enemies. He'd killed Pup, and Jak wanted vengeance.

Driscoll's shoulders drooped. He made a strange jerky move, and blood came from his mouth "Please…my phone. I'm sorry you suffered just…hand me my phone."

Jak paused for another minute, the whispers growing loud within him, drowning out his hate even though he tried to hold it tight. The woman's voice rose up, above the whispers. Let it go . He knew her…her words…the things she would say to him. He heard her in his mind. Let it go.

On legs that didn't feel like his own, he walked to the dresser, picking up the object and moving slowly toward Driscoll, stepping around the puddle of blood and holding the phone out to him. He took it, pressing on it for a second. Jak stepped back, and Driscoll looked up, their eyes meeting for a moment. More blood came from Driscoll's mouth. His eyes grew soft. "To see you," he whispered, "a wolf over your shoulder and…dragging a deer behind you, the body of your enemy lying dead in the snow." More blood. A gurgle as if a river flowed in his chest, moving, bubbling. "It was a marvel. And only twelve years old." He laughed, and blood splattered. Red rained on his shirt. "I knew…then. That moment…you were a warrior of another era, worthy…of the Spartans. You…surpassed…all…" He straightened his neck, seeming to use the last of his strength. He brought his hand to his forehead and made a salute to Jak. Then a whistle sound came from his mouth, and his breath halted as his head dropped, the phone in his other hand splashing into the blood on the floor.

Jak stood there for a minute, the whispers quieting, drifting away. Jak was alone. He turned, walking from the room, closing the front door behind him.

It was snowing. Soft, fluffy flakes. He put on his flat shoes and walked toward the trees on the other side of Driscoll's house. More footsteps in the snow, ones that went to the side window and disappeared. Jak's heart beat quickly. The snow was already filling them in. Soon they'd be gone. Jak raised his head and sniffed the air. The snow would stop soon, though there was more, high in the sky. But sometime in the near faraway, deep beneath the frozen earth, spring would begin to stir.