Jacklyn Baker (called_jack) wrote in the_colony, @ 2009-12-04 22:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | ^ week 00, jacklyn baker |
Character: John Baker and Jacklyn Baker (asleep)
Location: The Baker home, Las Vegas
Summary: John Baker can't quite summon the courage to 'save' himself and his daughter after he contracts H1N1.
Rating: PG for implied violence
The house was silent and dark around him, but that was fine with John Baker. The doorways and long halls were familiar to him now. He could have found his way blindfolded if he had to. Out the door of his bedroom, silent and cold without his wife Allison to fill the empty space, to brighten it by her presence alone. Down the hall, footsteps on the wood floor he'd installed himself, showing Jacklyn how the pieces fit together. She'd ridden her skateboard down it as soon as he was done, laughing as her mother chased her outside. First doorway was the bathroom, the second was Jackie's.
Inside his chest, John's heart was pounding. That wasn't unusual; John's heartbeat had been racing for the past two days as his body failed to fight off infection. He stiled for a moment just inside the doorway, as if afraid the sound of his heart alone could awake Jackie. He'd read a story like that once. But this wasn't a story and in the dimness, John could see the outline of Jacklyn's body, peaceful in sleep.
The cold metal of the grip on the gun felt slick in John's sweaty palm and he tightened his hand around it, knowing there would be no explanation if it slipped. The handgun had been a holdover from life in Chicago. There, he'd kept it nearby for safety but the move to Las Vegas and the birth of his daughter had seen it locked up. Chaos had seen the gun brought back out, loaded and placed in his nightstand. Safety again.
But this wasn't about safety. John crossed the room to Jacklyn's bedside and the girl had not stirred. Two bullets. That's all it would take. One for Jacklyn. One for himself. The virus was taking him. John knew that. The same disease that had killed his wife would kill him and soon. Another day. Maybe two. Then he would be gone, and Jackie would be alone. He didn't understand how she could live with someone infected and not appear sick. John had watched his daughter like a hawk the past couple of days but her eyes were clear, her breathing healthy and her temperature normal. But that wouldn't last. How could it? Everyone was gone now. First Allison, then him and then Jackie would come down with it, except she would be left to die alone.
No. He couldn't allow it. This was the only way. Two bullets to save them both from so much pain. But why was his hand shaking? Don't worry, Little Jack. It'll only hurt for an instant and then I'll be right after you. Then you and me and your mom can all be together. His thumb slipped as he tried to cock the gun. Allison, give me strength. Help me do this. I know she's not sick. She's not sick but she will be. She will. She will.
But she wasn't. Jackie had no sign of the disease and no sign that she'd ever contract it. What if she didn't, what difference did it make? She'd be left alone here, a child in a very adult and frightening world. He couldn't leave her to that. But to kill her, to put a bullet in her head and watch his baby die... As much as he wished he could make his hands move, they wouldn't. He was a coward. This is what protecting his daughter meant but he was afraid. Afraid of watching the light go out in Jackie's eyes when she still had a chance. Maybe he would get better. A recovery wasn't completely impossible was it? How could it be when Jacklyn wasn't sick at all. It was a fool's hope, John knew that. Cowardly. But his throat was dry and tight, and sweat beaded against his forehead.
Tomorrow. He'd try again tomorrow.