Chaos (Havoc Series Book Two) (4 page)

Haven turns a quick head at me and whispers
at me, “Really?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“I don't know...you just...don't usually
volunteer for nightmare duty. Then again you're not usually
home.”

I tug slightly on the dog tags around my
neck. I hate that. I hate that I can't be home for my son when he
needs me. “Yeah. I wanna go.”

Not giving her a chance to move another
muscle, I swing my feet out of the bed hitting the cold wooden
floor, the sharp change in temperature sending a heavy wake up call
to my body.

“Come on, Champ.” I swoop his small frame
into my arms.

Automatically, he wraps his legs around me,
rests his head on my chest, and holds me as tight as he's holding
his bear. A small urge to smile creeps up and I let it. Heading
across the living room to the other side of the house, I continue
down the hall passing framed photos of me, me with Haven, Haven
pregnant, baby pictures of him, family photos of us, and even some
of us with his grandfather.

Arriving back in his room, I sit on his bed
with him, placing him gently back where he belongs. His small light
brown eyes that are full of hope just like his mother's always are,
peer up at me, desperate for me to stay.

“Need me to stay for a bit, Champ?”

“Yes pwease.”

I swing an arm around the back of his pillow,
his head falls on my chest, and the bear is crammed beside him, the
hard button nose cutting uncomfortably in my side. Stupid plastic
nose. From now on we only buy him bears with plush noses. With a
yawn his little handle fiddles with my tags the sound of the
clinking most likely not helping.

“Daddy...”

“Yeah, Champ?”

“Can I see it again?”

With a chuckle I lift up the side of my tank
top revealing his set of initials and birthday right across my
ribs.

“So cool...”

“Glad you think so kiddo.”

“It's like I alwayz wit you.”

“You are always with me, John...” I stroke
his arm and look down at him. “No matter if daddy is home or far
away, you, just like mommy, are always with me. Clear?”

“Clear.” His voice repeats and yawns.

“Wanna tell me what this bad dream was
about?”

“Monsters.” he shakes his head and
shudders.

I pull him a little tighter, the bear's damn
nose making itself a new home in my flesh. Gritting through the
annoying sting, I sigh, “Well champ, you know daddy would never let
monsters get you. So how about I lay here with you until you fall
back asleep. Just to make sure I scare them all off?”

“Yeah,” his small voice agrees. “All of 'em.
K daddy?”

“Alright.” I give his set of curls a rub.

And just like that he closes his eyes and
falls back asleep. I look down at my small boy, the first of what
I'm sure will be many to see him at a unique ease. Peaceful. The
kind that only comes when you know you are in the safest place in
the whole wide world. I'm glad I can give him that. Just like I
once gave that to his mother. At this angle, he actually looks more
like her than me.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I glance up to see Haven leaning against the
door frame, gripping her tags, that now have three pieces instead
of two. She tosses her head towards him in an unspoken question.
After getting a quick nod from me, she tosses her head back towards
our room, eyebrows up, eager to get back to where we were. I hold
up a finger. She nods and heads away. Resting my back against his
pillow, I flex my arms around him once more.

It's my job to keep him safe. From monsters
pretend and real. From the noises that go bump in the dark and the
ones that scream in the light. He has my blood. Haven's. He's
something that the two of us created together. As one. I'd give
anything in the world to keep him safe. Just like I would her. I
hope someday he knows that. Better yet, I hope someday he
understands it.

My body's being shook with large pushes. On
instinct, I pull my K-Bar from underneath my pillow, grab the
collar of the intruder, and place the blade directly under its
throat. Letting my eyes adjust to the sight in front of me, I'm not
surprised to see Sir in front of me, unmoved by my reaction.

“Morning, Slugger.”

“Sir.”

After a click glance down he sighs, “What do
you say you let me go?”

I relax releasing him and apologize, “Sorry
Sir.”

With a small grin he says, “Impressive
response, solider.” I shrug. “Come on.”

Confused I ask, “Where are we going,
Sir?”

“Home.”

I slightly groan, but do as I'm told.
Crawling out of my tent, I'm quickly blinded by the early morning
sun. I didn't see it rise today. I didn't wake up next to Haven. I
didn't go on my run. This bleak look at what my existence is going
to become causes another growl to leave me. It's fine. I made a
decision. I'd repeat it. I'd give up a hundred life times to let
Haven live just one.

Neither Sir nor I say a word as we undo our
tents and begin packing them back away. The breeze picks up and
carries a strong smell with it. Smoke. I inhale sharply. Fire. And
from the strength and quality of it, I'd say it's fairly close.

“Smell that?”

Sir doesn't stop his action of putting away
his things. “Yup. Smoke.”

“Fire?”

His actions briefly stumble, so brief that if
you weren't paying attention like I am you wouldn't even notice.
With a swallow, he simply says, “Get your stuff, Clint.”

Suspicious. While he's not one for always
answering my question, when it comes to shit like this, he always
does. Maybe that's why we're leaving at this very moment. Maybe
there's a fire and they need extra police to help with the
situation. Maybe he's worried with the extra police; I'll get
flagged down and put behind bars before he has a chance to be the
one to do it. I'm sure by now there's been a warrant issued for my
arrest.

The two of us hike back to his truck. I tilt
my head to the side confused. I thought it was facing the other way
when he parked it yesterday. In fact I know it was. My mouth goes
to question and is cut off before that point.

“Get in the truck, Marine.”

Bastard. One minute he's acting like we're
family and the next back to orders. Back to the wall between us.
Not my fault. Not this time. Annoyed I toss the shit in the back,
crawl in, and buckle up waiting impatiently for him to get in as
well. It's not as if the questions I was going to ask were crucial.
I was simply trying to treat him the way a son would his father. Or
at least what I imagine that would be like. I don't have much
experience in that department.

Minutes later we're on the road, back the way
we came. The lull of the tires against the road hypnotizing me in a
subtle way. My head looks out the window. The brown grass obviously
dying. Dead. No reason to try to regrow with fall here and winter
marching for us. A sharp pain hits my chest at the realization
that's what my own life looks like. Suddenly my vision is blocked
by a set of fire trucks, flashing lights, and police cars. My head
snaps back out the windshield as Sir starts to slow down to the
road block.

Stopped he rolls his window down to greet the
cop, “What's the problem, officer?”

“Fire.” A pause. “I'm going to need you to
turn your vehicle around and find another route or wait until we've
cleared the way.”

Sir nods, reaches in his console and pulls
out his badge. With a quick flash, he says, “Mind if I ask, was it
a car?”

Recognizing and respecting another brother in
law, the man answers, “House.”

“Empty?”

“Too soon to tell,” he leans on the window as
I slowly turn my head. “But the fire was going for a good hour
before anyone called they're saying. We're working on containment
before searching but...heavy chances are if there was anyone in
there they didn't survive.”

“Location?”

“Not too far from here.” He looks around.
“Where you two coming from?”

“Camping.” Sir glances over at me and pats my
shoulder strong. “My boy here is a Marine. Wanted one last fatherly
moment with him before he deploys.”

The cop nods and then tilts his head at me.
“Thank you for what you do out there in that field, son.”

Nervous but not willing to show it, I nod in
return. “Thank you, sir. And thank you for what you do here to
protect civilians.”

Sir takes control of the conversation once
more, “Thanks officer....”

“Dorian.”

He extends his hand. “Walker. Any idea how
long until this route will be unblocked?”

“No. My recommendation is to take Old Wesson
Road over to Shaylin Way, which cuts back onto the highway. Adds
about forty extra minutes to your trip, but still shorter than what
you would be facing in wait time.”

Sir gives him another nod. “Will do. Thank
you for your time, Officer Dorian.”

“Safe travels.”

And with that he backs away from the car, Sir
rolls his window up and follows the road back around to head the
opposite direction we were headed. Without another word he takes
the route Officer Dorian suggested, which puts the smoke, the
fire

trucks, and the trip of possibly fixing what
is broken with us behind us.

The words echo in my head.
Wanted one last
fatherly moment with him before he deploys.
Before I deploy?
Doesn't he mean before he throws me behind bars? I now know he
would do anything to protect me, which is why I assumed he'd want
to make the arrest. To insure it all runs smoothly. But now. Now
I'm unsure.

As he pulls onto the older road that is
clearly rarely driven I finally crack. “Are you going to make the
arrest, Sir?”

“For what?”

I look over at him with a hard look. Still
baffled, I shift in my seat. What does he mean for what? He knows
exactly what I'm referring to. My hand rubs my chin, the stubbles
even more apparent today than a couple days ago. I need to
shave.

“You need to shave.”

The statement feels like an unneeded echo. I
know I need to shave but that seems on the bottom list of
priorities. Somewhere after coughing up bail money and cleaning out
my bank account so that Haven can survive without me seem to take
precedent. I need to make sure he is going to protect her. That he
always will.

“Sir, you promised to take care of
Haven.”

“And I will.”

The words start swarming around inside
getting lost with panic I refuse to let myself acknowledge. Tangled
with the fears of what prison means. That I'm a criminal. His
promise to take care of her was made before I became the very thing
he hunts. Before I became the thing he puts behind bars. A knot
swells in my throat. “Even now that things have changed?”

“Have they?” His eyebrows are now raised and
his eyes that are gray covered once more hollow me out. They pierce
me. Yank. Pull. Tug. Remove something with each inhale and
rearrange with each exhale.

My brain stumbles around with everything that
happened yesterday. Waking up to Haven. Grabbing breakfast. Slicing
Old Man Bank's throat. His body disappearing. The long silent
drive. Fishing. The recollection of my favorite fairy tale. My
mom's past. The fire. And Sir's vow to protect me for the rest of
his life. A vow he not only made to the woman he loved but himself.
A vow is the most sacred thing a Walker can make. And then there's
a sharp punch in my gut. So rough and harsh I'm pushed against my
seat. My head hits the headrest as my eyes never waiver from his
face that is as bleak as I've never seen it. I get it. Finally, I
fucking get it. Sir's not going to turn me in. He's going to do
whatever he has to protect me. Because he loves mom. Because he
loves me. Because his vow is his bond. It's not just a Marine
that's only as good as his word. It's a Walker. A Walker is only as
good as his word. Looks like Sir is a damn good Walker.

The look on his face expresses that he knows
I finally get it. What this trip was about. What the stories were
trying to communicate to me. He repeats, “Have they?”

“Yes Sir.”

Displeased he starts, “Clint--”

“I'm tired of disrespecting mom and her
memory. She would expect us to repair the damage that has been done
and continue on as one. We're a family, even without her. And it's
time we act like it.” I watch his jaw tremble but refuse to let any
emotion fall. “Yes. Things have changed, Sir.”

Swallowing something, possibly pride, maybe
fear or gratitude, Sir simply clears it away and nods in agreement.
Things really have changed.

A couple hours later we're pulling back into
the driveway, two different men than we left. He kills the ignition
and looks at me with an unfamiliar awe. His hand stretches over,
slaps me the shoulder hard and gives it a squeeze. As he nods I can
hear the words that aren't coming out. I can hear him and clear.
I'm proud of you son
. I guess Haven was right again.

“Why don't you go bring Haven home, and I'll
put away the camping stuff?”

I do my best to hide my elation. It's
difficult. I've missed my angel. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Need to return some things back to
Felix anyway.”

“Alright.”

I climb out of the truck, the sound of my
door closing behind me another reminder that the door to the old
whatever I was is over. Slugger. Clint. Grim. Her angel. His son.
It's time to move forward. All the way around.

Hustling across the street, I briefly notice
that Old Man Bank's car is missing. Glad all evidence that piece of
shit is gone. No body. No car. Nothing left to leave fear with my
angel. I unlock Mindy's front door, slide myself inside, the smell
of her tomato soup sharply tingling my nose.

I stroll in slowly, but make myself known,
“Knock. Knock.”

Haven and Mindy stop mid conversation and
whip their heads around from their sitting position at the coffee
table. There's a sharp gasp that strikes even though I'm feet away
from her. I feel a very familiar, very distinct pull in my chest.
Good to see my heart is still in working order.