I fidgeted once in the chair before the sought answer found me and escaped my lips in dad’s cold harsh tone. “Death I suppose…” the words slashed through the multidimensional paradox, reverberating the very same in every last one.
In one corner my father snorted out a chuckle. “No no no we demand much more then that my boy. We require that our attention and our lives be naught for intrusive trifling or atomically fused fracases. We insist that we be heard when the skin of our torn lips detach and the noise we so shallowly utter is not a mere squeaking of mice.”
The esteemed general broke the silence with a furious chest heaving cackle. “I bet your father knew much about that topic; Did he not?”
“Father please” the house’s rafters shook in reaction to the approaching storm’s volatile gusts “this place is no longer safe”.
“No… I suppose it isn’t son.” The face of my father wore a mask of melancholic grim as it’s rubber eye holes bled transparent blood. “There are not too many places left that are…”
“What have you done dad?” in a rage I stomped my feet like a snappish wee child. “What have you done!?”
“My father….” The words failed to materialize in my mouth.
“Go on Jericho. Tell me all your secrets.”
All of a sudden the howl of our benevolent mother turned acerbic. Her clenching grasp tightened and tore out the frail walls and barriers of my fractured memory scratching at the chance of stealing father’s soul.
“Jericho…”
“Come on boy. Spill your goddamn soul! Purge yourself these demons of guilt and despair” commanded the vet.
“I…” quickly I shuddered at the thought instinctively placing the palms of both my hands around the two earlobes and tightly shut my eyes until the lids twitched. For just a brief moment I tried to jar the memory from my consciousness by rapidly shaking my brain cage back and forth all the while shunning the demanding general.
“Stop it kid!” I felt a great sensation of thrust wash across my shoulder blade as the chair remained stationary but I fell to the ground in one heap. “You don’t think I know? You believe I’m oblivious to the fact?!” bellowed the exasperated Michael Wright who briefly stood over me like a dominating dog.
The general wiped his brow, found his cool and retook his seat biting off an end of his thick cigar as he awaited my return from the floor. “It’s my job to know what’s going on, that’s what the taxpayers of this fine country pay me to do and when your mercurial father slithered into my radar…” he quickly struck his hands together producing a sharp sound which echoed across the four corners before fully returning to me. “Needless to say; I’m still clicking at high efficiency”.
His blood spouted forward and swept down the front of his face as if the spigots of father’s physicality had busted “My sweet Jericho… You’ll need not worry about the future. Not a strand of time shall ever be in jeopardy. Not after what we’ve achieved. Not anymore.”
The general slouched ever slightly in his chair as he lit his cigar. “You like many were manufactured on a line in vein of the great Ford automobiles. A predictable last stab into the cold bitter night of no tomorrow by the frazzled Daniel Covington” he momentarily released a large puff of smoke into the air before redirecting his attention back to the matter at hand. “He wasn’t the first to try something like this. Quite the contrary, many have, of which were done so in vain. But they’re all gone now I suppose… All but you… you still remain”.
Some men are cold hardened killers, direct and effective at targeting the weakest chink along the winding chain of humanity.
“Covington was never your true father.” Wright nonchalantly announced.
Others were so involuntary and befuddled by the predicament they’ve been emplaced within.
“He only appeared so inside that splintered head of yours.”
I recalled watching Wright shift a bit more in his terribly uncomfortable chair as my younger incarnation’s hands shook uncontrollably in their loosened shackles.
“There have been plenty who tried to help; all of whom no longer breathe…”
Time was a fickle bitch.
“Jericho…" Wright lowered his cigar momentarily offering me a rare sight of badgered humility. "You need to answer me on one very important topic. Can you do that?”
The imprisoned son nodded once knowing full well he could be of no use to this mortal captor.
“I need to know what’s about to happen”
(conclusion to segment six coming soon. No ETA yet. The following segment shall be the last.)
