The Day of Legion (8 page)

He usually avoided Alex in the playground; it was well known Alex was rough and liked to hit people. He had made a lot of other kids cry. Once Jason saw him go into someone else’s school bag and take out their lunchbox. When the teacher asked Alex about it, he lied and said he didn’t touch it, but Jason knew otherwise.

Alex sat next to him on the floor where he was playing with his Pokémon cards. He didn’t have that many, but he was proud of the ones he did have. Some of them had huge power points and he knew Alex would be jealous of at least a handful of them.

“Hey” Alex said, picking up a pile of cards and looking through them.

“Hello,” Jason replied. “My mum said we have to play today while she and your Dad have a coffee.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. He wasn’t very friendly.

They sat and played with the cards for a while and Alex helped himself to a few of the action figures on the shelves. He didn’t seem too bad, Jason thought. He was a bit rough with the toys. They talked and laughed for a while, then Alex got up and looked out the window.

“What’s over there?” he asked, pointing towards the paddock by the house.

“The lake,” Jason replied. “We’re not allowed there. Mum says it’s dangerous.”

He remembered the first time he went there by himself. His mother found him and was the angriest he had ever seen her. She said she had been calling him for a long time, and when she saw his footprints leading to the lake, she was afraid he’d drowned.

Alex walked to the French doors leading off the bedroom to a deck and unlocked them. He started down the steps toward the gate that lead into the paddock.

Jason jumped up and ran to the door. “Alex! Come back. We’re not allowed down there without my mother.”

Alex turned and laughed. “You’re a girl! A little girl!”

“I am not!” Jason shouted back. “I just don’t want to get into trouble!”

Alex opened the gate and walked through. He stopped on the other side and turned to Jason. “If you don’t come with me, I’m gonna tell everyone you’re a girl and that I’ve seen your bedroom and it’s pink and you play with dolls!”

“I do not!” Jason shouted back. He stepped outside and ran to him at the gate. “I’m no girl! I’ll take you to the lake.”

Alex smiled.

Jason led the way through the paddock. “Don’t stand in the cow dung,” he said. “We let one of the farmers next door graze his cows here to keep our grass down.” He wanted to sound like he knew what he was talking about, but Alex acted like he didn’t hear.

They walked over a gentle rise and saw the lake. It was small and dark. It looked cold and deep, gloomy. The sun had gone behind clouds and the wind picked up when they reached the top of the rise. It was colder than they expected, but they walked to the edge of the water.

Alex climbed up on a large rock hanging out over the water. If it were Summer, it would make the perfect place to jump in, but today the water was uninviting. It was dark green where the algae had settled, and he couldn’t see the bottom.

“Come up here,” he called to Jason, who had turned around in the direction of the house. He was sure his mother would come running over the rise and catch them any minute.

“We should go back,” he called. “My mom will get really angry.”

“Little girl, little girl,” Alex taunted him, moving his hips like a belly dancer and pretending to apply lipstick with his fingers.

Jason climbed up with him. The rock wasn’t too high, but it was high enough to make him nervous. Alex was standing on the edge in front of him, looking down.

“You’re scared, girl.”

“No I’m not!” Jason replied, moving carefully toward the edge. The wind was stronger up on the rock. He got to the edge and looked down. A waterbug skimmed across the top of the water away from the edge in the direction of the middle of the lake. There was no one else around and Jason couldn’t hear anything over the wind. He thought he heard a voice whisper in his ear, but it was too windy to hear anything properly.

He felt a shove from behind; a push in the middle of his back between his shoulder blades. He fell forward, his head snapping backwards. He tried to focus on the water as it came closer and closer. He felt the chill as he slapped the surface and sunk to the bottom, his heavy socks and shoes pulling him down quickly.

The water was dark and cold. He hadn’t had a chance to take a breath, and he couldn’t get to the surface again. His clothes were just too heavy. He opened his mouth. He didn’t want to, but he had to breathe. He sucked a mouthful of water into his throat and lungs, making him choke.

He dry retched, choked and breathed in simultaneously. He thrashed around, desperate to get to the surface, but he just couldn’t get there. Suddenly he felt someone next to him. He felt a hand on his arm, but not pulling him out, just trying to hold him still. He heard a voice in his ear. It was Christo telling him to be calm, hold on and push with all his might with his feet to the surface.

Jason pushed off the bottom. It was soft, sticky mud and he got little traction, but it was just enough to get his face to the surface. He tried to breathe in, but his mouth was full of water and he breathed it back in again, causing him to choke more. He tried to tread water, but felt himself sinking again, unable to take in any air.

He caught sight of Alex still up on the rock. He was looking down and laughing. He hadn’t moved and Jason saw him wave when he sunk back down beneath the surface. There was also a strange man behind him, dressed in black and watching with an impassive look on his face. He was very pale and his eyes looked black from Jason’s view.

He remembered little after that, just slipping into blackness. He didn’t feel the hands of Alex’s father reach in and pull him to the surface, or the lips of his mother breathing life back into his body as he lay on the muddy bank. He didn’t feel Alex’s father beating on his chest, shouting desperately. He didn’t see Alex run away while the adults were desperately trying to save him, and he didn’t see the man in black angrily watching his mother and Alex’s father.

He didn’t hear the conversation the doctors had with his mother, telling her how lucky he was to be alive and that ‘someone’ must have been looking out for him. All he remembered was the man and Alex, smiling and laughing and waving out to him as he sunk back into the cold depths of the lake. That and Christo, holding his hand in the ambulance.

Chapter Seven

John lay on his prison bed staring at the ceiling. The mattress smelled of sweat and had lost any softness it may have had years ago. The cell was small, cramped and grey. There was a bed, a seatless stainless-steel toilet and a small desk bolted to the wall. It was depressing.

His mind was blank. He had been denied bail and placed in the remand wing of the local jail. He could do nothing but wait. Wait for his lawyer, who took his sweet time doing anything. Wait for his boss to get back to him. His boss offered to help when he found out what had happened. He said he would organize assistance, but John got the feeling he only said that to get off the phone as quickly as possible.

The noise was unbearable. He fidgeted on his bed, restless and angry. He had done nothing, yet here he was, in a hell-hole filled with all types of accused criminals.

Shouts continuously echoed through the cells and the dull green halls. Someone with mental health issues screamed every couple of minutes, followed by threats from other inmates.

There had been an incident earlier in the day when all the prisoners were in the large day area. Two members of opposing gangs decided they would fight in the middle of a large gathering.

The other inmates scattered the moment the fight started, but just far enough to form a perimeter around the two brawlers. John stood on the metal walkway above the sprawling mass of men. He watched as the two fighters danced around each other, throwing wild punches. One attempted a half-hearted roundhouse kick. It came up his opponent’s side and barely caught his ear. Meanwhile, the crowd erupted every time one of the fighters struck at the other, whether it hit or missed. One of the fighters was overweight. He was an old-school street fighter. He took big haymaker swings, each one missing by more than the punch preceding it, as his more nimble opponent ducked and weaved. One blow was such a big miss he fell over, crashing to the floor and taking a table down.

One of the mob tried to jump him, but was pulled off by another. The interloper fell back into the crowd and was pounded by two other prisoners.

The fat man sprung to his feet faster than anyone believed possible. This caught his opponent off guard, and the fat man managed to punch his nose with a fast jab. The other man’s head snapped backwards, to the delight of the crowd. They cheered and yelled.

The fat man’s opponent knew he had to get the crowd back. He laughed at the punch, blood flowing into his mouth, staining his teeth. He shouted something at the men, but John couldn’t hear over the din of the others.

The fat man’s opponent was tall with a very large frame. He had muscles, but was covered in a layer of fat, which became obvious when he removed his shirt. He was covered in tattoos. This was to intimidate the other fighter with the sheer amount of gang body art covering his chest and back.

He wasn’t as good a fighter as the shorter man. He relied on his size and presence and reputation, but he played the crowd better than the fat man, which counted for a lot.

John turned and went back into his cell. When he lay down, listening to the cheers and shouts of the crowd below, he heard the arrival of the prison’s emergency response team.

The two fighters were shackled and taken to another area in the prison. John was angry he was inside with them.

All the prisoners were locked in their cells after that, so John lay on his bed, trying to think. He stared at the ceiling with uncontrolled thoughts flowing in and out of his mind.

He was in a single cell due to the level of his crime. Murderers and rapists were housed in this tier. They were considered too dangerous to have a cellmate. It was a relief to him. If he had to be there until this was sorted out, he was glad to be alone. It was hard enough to sleep with all of the yelling and screaming at night.

An announcement came over the PA system that the evening meal would be served in the cells due to the unrest. A chorus of swearing and threats erupted up and down the tiers. John was desperate to get out.

Chapter Eight

Jason woke up in the hospital. He turned his head and saw his mother sitting in a chair by the bed. She was asleep, turned slightly sideways with her legs curled up. He coughed lightly and winced at the pain in his head.

His throat was dry and scratchy. His body hurt from his chest to his stomach, his eyes felt dry and scaly. His arm hurt; when he looked he saw an IV inserted above his hand.

“Mom,” he whispered. His voice came out wispy and weak.

Janine didn’t move. She was in a deep sleep.

“Mom,” he called again. This time it was a little louder, making her stir.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked around the room, confused at first. Then she looked at Jason and realized he was awake. She went to his bed, leaned down and hugged him gently.

“You’re going to be fine, honey,” she sobbed in his ear. “I’m so happy you’re okay!”

“What happened?” he asked.

“Alex pushed you into the lake,” she replied. “His father and I came looking for you when I went to your room and found you gone. Just as we came over the little rise we saw the two of you on the rock. We saw him push you in!”

“Why’d he do that?” he asked.

“He’s a bad boy, Jason. I’m sorry I invited him. I thought after talking to his father at school, he had changed his bad behavior, but it’s only gotten worse.”

“I’m sorry I went to the lake, Mom.”

She smiled and stroked his hair. “Don’t worry, Jason. This wasn’t your fault.”

His eyes were heavy and he struggled to keep them open. Janine could see he was trying hard to stay awake.

“Go to sleep, honey. You need your rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He closed his eyes and then opened them again.

“Where’s Dad? Is he coming?”

Janine held his hand. There was no need to answer; he fell asleep before she could think of what to say.

Chapter Nine

The guard passed John his meal through the slot in his cell door. The hardened plastic tray was designed to prevent prisoners breaking or scraping any of it off to fashion a weapon. It came with a lid, some plastic utensils, and a juice box, all of which had to be returned with the tray when they came to collect it.

He sat on his bed and placed the tray next to him.

“What culinary delights do we have tonight?” he asked himself out loud.

He was talking to himself a lot. He’d never felt so lonely before. Locked away from the world, unable to even pick up a phone and call someone was taking its toll. He missed that.

He lifted the lid and inspected his food. Grey fried mincemeat with chopped carrots, undercooked potatoes and a slimy unknown ingredient, two pieces of white bread and red jelly.

He liked mealtime. Not because the food was nice, but because it was the only time there was complete silence. He knew he’d get a good ten to fifteen minutes of quiet, until the others finished and started shouting down the hall or talking to the other prisoners. He was restless. His lawyer hadn’t gotten back to him. He said the police weren’t providing any details on John’s case to him. He would have to sit tight until his next hearing, in three months. The lawyer said if the police didn’t release any information soon, they would have to seek a continuance.