Grayscale Ch10

When day break came, Koz made the executive decision to sleep. They didn’t even move, they just laid their heads down on their arms and slept straight into the afternoon. It was Koz’s second all-nighter technically and if he were being honest, he could have slept longer—he was unfortunately older than he liked to think—but Jack woke first and the scent of gas station mini-muffins lulled Koz into wakefulness.

They ate in sleepy, neutral silence. Finally, Jack curled his knees to his chest and crumpled the empty food wrapper in his hands. “So are we spending the day up here too?”

Koz shook his head. “I’ve done steak-outs that lasted for days,” he said. “It’s a good way to burn yourself out—especially if it’s largely unnecessary. Your family’s not here—why would Manny’s pack attack in daytime when they’re more vulnerable anyway?”

“Good point,” Jack said, picking the fabric at his knees. “Then what are we going to do? See a movie?”

“Actually,” Koz said, “I was thinking of giving you a crash course in hunting. Starting with how to use one of these.” He pulled one of his handguns from its holster, flipped it, and offered the grip to Jack.

Jack blanched. “Do I have to use a gun?”

“Your other options are an axe, crossbow, or machete—but you’d have to cut off their heads or chop them in half for that to be effective.” Koz said, trying not to sound impatient. Jack wasn’t like him; he was entering the hunting world with no prior training—nothing to desensitize him to the act of killing monsters but the television shows he used to watch. “A gun will be the most useful—especially if the wolves that attacked your house are as adept with weapon as the Bennett’s.”

Jack bit his lip. “I suppose that’s true. I just . . .” he stared at Koz’s weapon, looking queasy. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, let alone kill somebody.”

Koz watched the self-conscious way Jack scrubbed his hand through his messy white hair. Thinking about it now, Jack’ father probably had something to do with the boy’s aversion to violence. He sighed. “Honestly, I don’t like harming others or killing either, but I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a life or death situation here. We can’t afford to safeguard our morals as much as we might want to.” He let out a breath. “You don’t trust me right now, but you’ve been forced to rely on me, right? As much as you may not want to. Well, this is how you start becoming stronger so that you don’t need to rely on me anymore.”

Jack still didn’t look happy, but he nodded along anyway. “If it means I can protect my family,” he said, “I suppose you’re right.”

*

Jack was trembling from head to tow. His arms ached and the protective goggles Koz had given him were digging into the bridge of his nose but he finally—finally—managed to hit the target. Koz clapped a hand on his shoulder, his voice unintelligible garble through the earplugs and muffs Jack was wearing. Jack looked across at him and Koz gave him a thumbs-up.

Jack felt a rush of mixed emotions: pride at the accomplishment, pleasure at being praised, and disgust with himself for being so damn eager to please.

Koz had brought him out to an unregulated indoor shooting range just outside of Burgess. It was mid-afternoon on a week day, so they were the only ones there. Thankfully, the shooting range had stalls, so they had a little bit of privacy in case the range’s single attendant got curious.

It’d been nearly two hours since Koz had started Jack’s ‘Hunter’s Crash Course’ and Jack was finally getting the hang of loading his borrowed weapon. Firing it however? Not so much. At least he hadn’t smacked himself in the face or fallen backwards (in the past hour).

Koz lifted one side of Jack’s earmuffs away and spoke loudly enough for Jack to hear. “Make sure you’re moving your trigger finger only,” he said. “You’re jerking your other fingers and it’s throwing off your aim.” He paused with a frown. “Better yet—let’s take a break.”

Jack let out a long breath as he unloaded the gun with trembling fingers. He set the handgun and the magazine down on the loading table and pulled his earmuffs down to hang around his neck. “I know this sounds dumb, seeing as I’ve been facing werewolves for almost a month now—but this thing is terrifying.”

Koz smirked, setting his own earmuffs down on the table. “You’re basically firing a miniature canon from your hand—it’s not dumb to feel nervous, but you’ll have to get used to it. Trust me, it’s much more terrifying to shoot and miss than it is to just shoot.”

“I’m not going to have safety goggles and ear protection in a real gun fight,” Jack said. “Shouldn’t I be practicing without them?”

“We aren’t to the part in training where you need to risk your safety just to get used to it,” Koz said. “Hopefully, we’ll never need to get to that part.” He peeked around their stall’s partition. “Also if you get caught not using ear and eye protection, you’ll get kicked out. And we don’t need that kind of attention.”

Jack let out a huff. It was astounding really, how life was going on the same as usual for everybody else. That same dysphoria he’d felt standing in his home was coming back to him now: he didn’t belong here. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said. “It’s not like I can master this by tonight—what’s the point? I’ll just mess it up and then those wolves will get through . . .” His stomach turned to think of what would happen if he couldn’t stop them. His heart sped up as he thought of a white muzzle, teeth and painbitingintohim—into his sister, his mother. “God,” Jack gasped, his whole body trembling. “What the hell am I going to do?” He pressed a fist against his mouth and willed back the tears he felt burning in his eyes as his panic rose. His eyes flew from the gun on the table, to the stall divider opposite him, to the target hanging across the range, the single bullet hole glaring at him.

Koz’s eyes widened in concern and he stepped into his space. “It’ll work out,” he said. “Everything will be okay. Take deep breaths.” He put a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

Jack jerked away, feeling dizzy as his breath came too fast. “Things don’t just get better just because you want them to,” he rasped.

Koz took a step back, raising his hands. “You’re right,” he said. “They don’t. ‘It’ll be okay’ is a placation for children, which you aren’t. But being an adult means you can make things better. I just want to help you get to a point where you can do that.” He pointed to the target. “And the best way I know how is to improve your aim so that the next time a wolf comes at you, you can put a bullet between its eyes.”

He watched Jack evenly, clasping his hands as he leaned back against the stall’s partition. Jack ran a hand through his hair and tried to get his breathing under control. This was what he wanted, he tried to tell himself, to be able to handle things on his own. He took a deep breath of air and then let it out again, slowly. “Okay,” he said weakly. He took the earmuffs hanging from his neck and pulled them up over his ears.

Koz pulled his ear protectors back on as well. His gaze was searching, but Jack ignored it and kept his head down as he loaded the gun once more. He was entering the post-freak out embarrassment phase.

He widened his stance slightly, and raised his weapon. He kept his finger off the trigger while Koz adjusted his posture so he leaned forward more.

“Now try to only move your trigger finger!” Koz said, taking a few steps back.

Jack took a deep breath and put his finger on the trigger. This always looked a lot easier on television, he thought resentfully.

*

Jack’s back and shoulders were tense and sore hours later when the two of them crawled up into the tree stand. Between the long walk, the busy day, and their late night the night before, he was ready to fall asleep as soon as they lay down on the floor of the stand. Unfortunately that seemed to be when he most needed to be awake.

They had several cans of soda—not coffee, which Koz said had too strong a scent—as well as a bag of plain, stale donuts (again, because the scent was weaker). They’d washed up using the sinks at the gun range to clean off the smell of gunpowder only to get themselves scratched up and filthy as they snuck through the forest behind Jack’s house, trying to avoid detection not only from his neighbors, but Koz’s friends. Luckily—or unfortunately in Jack’s opinion—it would only help mask their scent further into the background of the forest.

Jack was trying not to fall asleep, focusing on the back of the house. His sister’s bedroom window didn’t face their hiding place, but he could still see the light streaming out across the bit of roof that jutted out over the kitchen. Around 8 o’clock the light went out. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the change, and noticed the animal control vehicle now parked across the street.

He felt a little reassured by their presence. It sounded like they could be trusted to keep his family safe, even if they’d likely shoot Jack and Koz if they showed themselves. Jack blinked and lifted his head. A thought had come to him and he turned to Koz lying next to him. “What would your friends do if my family got bitten?”

Koz blinked rapidly—Jack had caught him dozing. “Uh . . . “ he murmured. “Honestly, I’m not sure,” Koz said. “We had something similar happen once and . . . it didn’t end well.”

Jack looked up at him, heart rate picking up. He realized he didn’t really want to know the answer, but now that he’d heard something similar had happened, he wanted to know the details. He needed to. Were there enough differences that if the same happened to his family, the ending would be better? “What happened?”

“A civilian got bitten. We had to decide what to do with her. Astor thought we should put her down. He said it was only a matter of time before she hurt someone.”

Jack glanced at the animal control van. “Astor? He . . . was your mentor right?”

“Yes, and Bunny’s father.”

Jack scoffed. “Then I’m not surprised.”

Koz quirked an eyebrow. “You might be surprised to hear that Bunny strongly disagreed with him. He thought it was wrong to execute her if she’d done nothing wrong. You probably wouldn’t be surprised to hear that I was conflicted,” Koz said.

Jack snorted and looked back up at Koz. “You’d be right,” he said. “Though I’m a little surprised you didn’t agree with Astor.”

“Well . . .” Koz sighed, tapping his fingers on the floor of the stand. “I was less experienced then. Regardless, we couldn’t decide what to do. I suppose Astor decided to do what he thought was best without telling us—“

Jack’s eyes widened. “He killed her?”

“He tried. We found his body the next morning.”

“Oh.” Jack looked down at his arms. Koz’s story sort’ve explained a few things about Koz and his friends. Certainly it illuminated what Koz might’ve been thinking when he tried to kill Jack . . . and himself. Jack sighed. He didn’t feel the need to point out to Koz that Astor would probably be alive if he hadn’t gone back to kill that werewolf; he was sure Koz knew full well and he was too tired to try and pick a fight.

Jack knew the exact moment when he started nodding off—he’d dozed off enough times in class to tell when he was slipping out—but just like in class, he was too tired to put up much of a resistance.

He opened his eyes what felt like a moment later, unaware of how long it’d been or what had woken him, but alert to a growing sense of dread spreading from the pit of his stomach.

He lifted his head and immediately winced at the crick in his neck.

Koz turned toward him slightly, his face barely visible in the gloom. “Have a nice nap?” He asked. He sniffed—he did that a lot, Jack had started to notice.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He asked suddenly.

“No,” Jack said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think so.” It would explain the way he felt. He’d fallen asleep with his head on his arms, knees pressed to his chest, so he took a moment to straighten himself out. “Did anything happen?”

“A man walked up to the front of the house. I can’t see him, but he’s been knocking very insistently for the past few minutes or so.” Jack cocked his head to the side and listened. He couldn’t make out anything from so far away and was a little astonished that Koz could until he remembered a little thing called werewolf super hearing. As soon as he thought about it, his hearing began to shift. It felt as though Jack had been reaching for something and it suddenly moved towards him—and that something was sound.

He flinched, closing his eyes as the suddenly close jumble of sound crashed around him. It felt better to block out what he was seeing—which didn’t match up with what he was hearing. For a brief moment he teetered on the knife’s edge, just about to fall into a sensory attack, before he came to a strange sort of stop, hanging just between acceptable and too much.

He could hear the insistent knocking, just as Koz described. He heard the man breathing and the sense of dread that’d faded at his surprise at his own hearing suddenly returned full-force.

It was probably weird that the way someone breathed could sound familiar, but Jack recognized the heavy, wet, mouth-breathing almost instantly.

He froze as the man on the porch cursed under his breath and knocked on the door once more. The sound of his voice confirmed what Jack already knew and he pressed his forehead to the floor of the stand.

With his hearing so distended, Koz’s voice sounded a million miles away, even though he was right next to him. Even then he could still make out the concerned question in his tone.

Jack grit his teeth and answered, although he felt like he was speaking underwater. “It’s my dad.” He drew his knees back to his chest and grabbed his ankles.

There was a long pause, filled only by his father’s meaty knuckles pounding on the front door. Then Koz spoke, his voice soft—though it was probably because Jack’s hearing was still so distorted. “Do you want me to . . . ignore the next few minutes?”

Jack thought a moment. He could hear his mother descending the creaky steps, her feet padding softly against the floor as she approached the front door.

He lifted his head, only to fold his arms beneath his chin. “Whatever,” he said. “My mom threw out all the alcohol, the whole neighborhood’s gonna hear about it—what’s one more person?”

Koz shifted next to him, but Jack ignored him. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but it couldn’t be good. It might end up that he’d reveal himself to his parents after all—he couldn’t not intervene on his mother’s behalf.

He quieted his thoughts and focused on what he was hearing.

His mother stood in the entryway, not opening the door, not moving. Jack could hear her heart pounding. “Who’s there?” She asked, voice trembling slightly.

“It’s me, Annie,” his father said. “I know it’s late but I just saw the thing about the cougar on the news and I thought I’d come check on you.”

“Paul,” his mother breathed and Jack’s stomach turned at the tone of relief in her voice. He could hear her swallow hard and the floorboards creaked as she shifted her weight. “Paul . . .” she said again, her tone taking on a sternness Jack was quite familiar with, but always directed toward him or Emma, never his father.

“I thought I could take a look at the kitchen window. We’ll have to replace the glass it sounds like, but I could probably save us some money if I do most of the work myself.”

“Emma set up this thing online,” his mother said, “I don’t know how she learned to do it but she set up this thing where people can give money to help us get a new window. We’ve already got half of what we need.”

Jack could just imagine his father’s face turning that particular shade of red it gets when he’s angry but trying to bite it back. “That’s charity, Annie! We don’t need that!”

Jack could hear his mother’s heart jumping in her chest. He heard the floorboards settle as she stepped back from the door. He was so familiar with the scenario he could imagine it perfectly: his mother backed away, crossing her arms and ducking her shoulders, shrinking in on herself while her lip trembled. “I went over my finances,” she said and her voice shook. “We were barely staying afloat between the car and Ja—“ her voice cracked, “—the hospital bills and now . . .” She sucked in a long breath of air. “I need help. I can’t do this on my own.”

“That’s why I’m here,” his father said, his voice full of emotions Jack wasn’t used to hearing from him: desperation, frustration, fear, regret. “For better or for worse, right? Let me in, we’ll have a cup of coffee and we’ll talk about it.”

His mother shifted her weight and took a step toward the door.

Jack frowned into his crossed arms, a familiar sinking feeling consuming him from the within. ‘No!’ he wanted to cry, ‘don’t forgive him! Don’t let him in—he’ll just wreck everything again!’

“I need you to leave.”

For a moment Jack thought he’d misheard, but no, both his parents’ hearts were pounding like crazy.

“Annie!”

“I know I can’t make it alone, but that’s why I’m asking for help—I’m sorry if I made you think I’d changed my mind but—“

“Annie, you can’t!”

“My lawyer said I shouldn’t talk to you when he’s not around, so please go.”

“Annie!” His father’s voice was like thunder. It was his ‘not fucking around, on the verge of breaking something, possibly you’ voice. It might seem incredible that anyone would approach someone speaking that way, but Jack was sure if his father told his mother to open the door in that voice, she would’ve—he might’ve too. His mother seemed to realize this as well. For an instant she was rooted to the spot and then she spoke. “I’m going to call the police.”

Jack heard the harsh clack of buttons being pressed and realized his mother had come to the door with the phone already in her hand.

“Annie! Don’t you dare!” His father roared.

His mother stumbled away from the door, her feet beating an uneven staccato against the floor. The steps creaked under her weight, fingers gripping the phone so tightly Jack could hear the plastic creaking.

A tiny, tinny voice spoke over the receiver. “Detective Batista, who’s calling?”

“Hello Detective,” his mother spoke in the faint, syrupy voice she reserved for when she was pretending everything was all right. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, but . . . my husband is here.” She swallowed. “He won’t leave and he’s—he’s being aggressive and I don’t feel safe. I’m afraid for my life, please, please send someone to help me!”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” his father said, his voice normal once more. “You’re just overreacting because you’re so stressed. Let me in. Tell them you don’t need them after all. We’ll have coffee and talk about things and—and I can rub your shoulders! You’ll feel better I promise, just let me take care of you.”

“Alright,” said the detective over the phone. “I’ve contacted dispatch. A squad car will be there shortly. Would you like me to stay on the line with you?”

“Yes, please,” his mother said, relief evident in her tone. “Thank you.”

“Annie what will Emma think if she wakes up and sees me getting arrested?”

The detectives voice was thin through the phone, but Jack managed to hear him say. “You should check on your daughter and stay somewhere safe. Officers will be there soon.”

“Annie!” His father rapped on the door so hard it rattled on its hinges. He was using that voice again. “Annie! Let me in!”

But she didn’t. She bolted up the stairs like a startled deer, ran down the hall and turned into Emma’s room. Between her calm tone as she spoke to the detective and her lack of response to his father, she seemed utterly unaffected by her world crashing down around her. Only Jack could hear the rapid pounding of her heart as she closed Emma’s bedroom door and locked it after her.

He felt a strange sense of pride come over him. He was still anxious for her, but if she was to the point where she was freely calling on people to help . . . There was a chance things would be okay. He wasn’t too happy that it took him ‘dying’ for this to happen, but at the same time, after all the other shit that he’d been through these past weeks, this was like a breath of fresh air.

His hearing shifted from long to close range as startling and quick as having your ears pop.

He lifted his head, feeling strangely giddy. He looked at Koz beside him, about to speak when Koz put a finger to his lips.

He was staring at Jack’s house. Jack slowly followed his gaze and saw—on the bit of roof jutting out from beneath the second story over the kitchen—Emma, sitting on the narrow roof tiles and looking out towards them.

“I don’t think she’s seen us,” Koz said, moving his finger away from his mouth as he spoke in the softest whisper. “But she may have realized something unusual is here.”

“She probably thinks we’re a mountain lion,” Jack hissed back, probably not adequately alarmed, but too elated to care.

Emma turned her head back towards her bedroom window.

Jack didn’t need to strain his hearing to guess that his mother had caught her. The way Emma flew back inside was all the indication he needed. She wasn’t supposed to go out on the roof.

Koz let out a breath. “She crawled out just after he raised his voice.”

Jack nodded and pointed to the other side of the house, where a roof slope stuck out over the dining room, identical to the slope on the other side of the house. “Whenever things would get really bad we’d sneak out and go to the convenience store down the street for a little while. We weren’t supposed to, but it ended up being one of those rules my parents ignored us breaking ‘cause sometimes they’d come and get us afterwards. We could usually tell how things went based on who came to get us.”

Koz was quiet a long moment. “I’m not sure if that’s a happy memory or a sad one,” he said finally.

Jack chuckled. “Me neither,” he admitted. He went quiet, watching the house. The light was on in his sister’s room now, but he couldn’t see in. “Were you listening to what happened?”

“I didn’t want to intrude,” Koz said.

Jack glanced over towards the street and saw the animal control van still parked there. “My mom kinda kicked my dad out.”

“That’s wonderful,” Koz said, and he sounded genuinely pleased.

It was wonderful, but there was a strange mix of unhappy emotions bubbling at the back of Jack’s mind. He frowned as he stared at the patch of light over the kitchen roof.

“Are you . . . conflicted about that?” Koz asked carefully.

Jack sighed, a lump forming in his throat. “It’s just . . . it’s not fair? Like that happy/sad memory of going to the convenience store with Emma. The worst thing about me . . . never going back would be that all their memories of me would be like that.”

“That’s sort of a given whenever you lose someone,” Koz pointed out. “I would know. But it doesn’t last. Your sister won’t care about how frightened or sad she was when you’d take her to the store, she’ll remember . . .” he seemed to think a moment. “I don’t know. She’ll remember the things you’d do to pass the time together. How you looked after her. What a good brother you were.”

Jack took a long breath and scrubbed a hand through his hair, digging his nails in so it almost hurt. He’d tried pushing it away and squashing it down, but when he turned and thought right on it, he knew—he knew—Koz was right. If he went to live with his family he’d be a threat to them. He had clung to the notion that his mother and sister needed him, but now that his father was out of the picture and his mother was getting outside help . . .

“If . . .” He felt distant from himself even as he spoke, the idea so against his wishes the words didn’t quite connect. “If I go live with my family, they’ll think of me the way they think of my dad.”

Koz opened his mouth and then hesitated. Jack spoke over his silence. “I know it’ll be different but . . . I don’t know. It might be worse?” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’ll just be another threat. One more thing to hide from. I’m—God, I’m not even human.” And that was the first time Jack had thought of himself that way. “My dad’s just a human and look at all the damage he’s done—how much could I do? How can I go home like this?”

Koz looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “I . . .” He winced and Jack remembered that Koz had probably already thought of all these things and had come up with a very final solution.

“Fuck!” Jack rocked back, throwing up his hands and forgetting to be quiet. “Why the hell can’t anything work out?” He flopped forward, wrapping his arms around his legs and squashing his face against his knees. He gasped for breath and his eyes stung, as the last traces of hope slipped from his fingertips.

Koz shifted next to him. “Jack?” Koz’s voice was soft and edged with concern. His arm hesitantly reached across Jack’s shoulders, half holding him.

Jack took a deep breath, trying to shore up the strength to pretend that all was well, but he couldn’t find any because he was starting to realize that nothing was ever going to be okay again.

Koz rocked him slightly, his fingers rubbing light circles on his shoulder. As angry and hurt as Jack was that Koz had tried to kill him, he knew Koz was sorry. It was also very likely that Koz could be his only friend from here on out and he could probably do worse.

He took a few more deep breaths, letting his thoughts flicker like candlelight through his mind, but not allowing any to take hold. He breathed in deeply. What was that counting thing Koz had told him? It seemed a thousand years ago that Koz had helped him out of a panic attack when he saw the bones of the cabin-owner. In-six, hold-four, out-seven, if he was remembering correctly.

He did that for a moment, focusing only on counting and breathing. He felt better after that, a little more grounded. He let out a final long breath.

“Feeling better?” Koz asked. He shifted away just slightly, but didn’t pull away entirely.

Jack lifted his head and rubbed his face, relieved that he hadn’t started crying. “Yeah,” he said. A few more deep breaths and he felt strong enough to pull up his mask and pretend all was well—never mind that it wasn’t, or that it never would be again—no, superficial thoughts only. “You ever just have one of those ‘the walls are closing in’ moments?” Jack asked.

Koz was quiet a moment. “You remember I tried to kill myself, right? I mean, repeatedly. For about four months I was in a constant state of ‘the walls are closing in’. I still have those moments, quite often actually.”

Jack hadn’t thought of it that way. It almost made him feel better to know that he wasn’t alone. Koz had felt all that he was feeling now, even the fear of leaving everything he left behind. “I just had one of those,” he said.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Jack shook his head. “I was just thinking . . . you’re right about some things.”

There was a pregnant pause filled only by the buzzing of late-season insects. “I wish I weren’t,” Koz said at length.

“I just . . .” Jack grasped for the words to describe the enormity of his own dark, blank future spread out before him. “I don’t know what to do,” he said finally.

Koz shifted his weight to face Jack more fully, the stand creaking slightly. “I don’t have an answer for you,” he said. “But for now, I think you need to sleep.”

Jack frowned and laid his cheek on his arms. There was no way he could sleep after all that’d happened this evening. He needed to stay awake and watch over his family.

The night was cool and the floor of the stand gave little warmth. Koz hadn’t moved his arm from Jack’s back and he appreciated the warmth.

Jack passively watched a patrol car pull to a halt along the curb and then the Overland house lit up as his mother went out to greet the police. He couldn’t see what happened at the front of the house, but the car left not long after it arrived. He saw no signs of his father, but wouldn’t be surprised if he’d snuck off while Jack was too busy freaking out.

A few minutes after the car left, the lights in the house went off one by one. Jack felt his eyes droop more and more with each blink. The light in Emma’s room went out and finally he let exhaustion take him.