Desperate Measures ~ 2/?

[hemrage]

Masterpost for the verse: here.

Chapter 1

Dawn had only just greeted the world when he stumbled out of his motel room. He hadn’t slept well and there was only so much time he was willing to spend staring at the water stained ceiling before he had to drag himself out from between the scratchy sheets.

He’d been chased out of sleep by nightmares, but he couldn’t make sense of the images that had assaulted him – faces, places, all of which deserted him as soon as he’d opened his eyes. The only things that had followed him and remained in the waking world were feelings of disquiet, a sense of loss, of hate … of shame.

He didn’t want to think too hard about what he couldn’t remember. He snorted, drawing the unavoidable conclusion that whoever Ross Johnson was, he was good at ignoring his problems.

Too good.

He wouldn’t be able to continue ignoring them for long, because he had a feeling they’d seek him out in good time.

Good time was not now though.

There was still a chill in the air this early in the morning and he zipped up his jacket in an attempt to shield himself a little. Not that it would keep him very warm. His clothes were still uncomfortably damp, but body heat and the unforgiving sun would chase the rest of the moisture away soon enough.

On the far side of the parking lot, at the furthest point away from the manager’s office, there was a diner. He’d only been vaguely aware of its existence when he’d passed it yesterday, but he dragged himself toward it, now. Hunger had greeted him with as much enthusiasm as his headache this morning, and his stomach was already complaining audibly about being left empty for so long.

He was greeted by the dueling scents of bacon and coffee when he pushed through the door. His mouth watered and he calmed a little, earlier unease shrinking away in the face of the mundane. He found himself a seat in a corner - back to the wall, face toward the door.

“What can I get you sugar?”

He hadn’t even noticed the woman approach. She seemed harmless enough. Short, probably in her fifties, a little overweight. Friendly smile sitting on a make-up free face. She pushed a strand of gray hair behind her ear, the smile didn’t waver as she waited patiently for a response.

He squinted up at the menu painted on the wall above the counter. His vision wasn’t as clear as it should’ve been and the words blurred into an amalgam of shadows and splotches. Hopefully, this newly discovered impairment was simply a remnant of the blow to the head, one that would improve soon.

He considered just asking for coffee and letting her go, but instead he shifted his gaze to her and smiled. “I’ll have the special.” He had no idea what it would be, but there was always a special in places like this.

She smiled at him, warm, almost motherly. “Coffee?”

His stomach flipped at the thought of actually drinking some of the strong, black stuff. “Milk. I’ll just have a glass of milk.”

“Okie dokie. Be back in a jiffy.”

He watched her walk away, bustling into the too narrow space behind the counter so that she could get into the kitchen.

He scanned the faces of the other early morning patrons, looking for a possible threat.

There were only three other customers. Two men, dressed in a similar fashion of plaid shirt and blue jeans, sat in silence at the counter eating. One was older than the other, but there were enough similarities in feature and posture to convince him they were related. They were much more interested in their food than in communication.

The third man sat in the far corner drinking coffee and looking out on the world. Hunched shoulders and shadowed eyes, he looked like a smile would shatter his face into a million pieces. If there was danger in this place it would come from him.

The only noises, other than sounds from the kitchen and the clanking of cutlery, were the voices that came from a TV set mounted on the wall behind the counter. His eyes were drawn to it as the waitress reemerged from the kitchen, fresh jug of milk in hand.

A news programme was reporting on some kind of terrorist activity. Bloody casualties were lying in the street in front of a demolished building. What he assumed were emergency numbers and casualty figures scrolled across the bottom of the screen. An anchorman reported on what the police were assuring the public was only the first arrest.

“Fucking bastards. Should have their balls cut off and rammed up their asses.”

The waitress scowled, placed a glass of milk in front of him, and turned towards the men at the counter, “Watch your mouth Ernie. I don’t want that kind of language in here.”

“Hell, Annie. Look.” He pointed to the screen. “Seventeen people dead. And that’s only gonna get worse once they get all the bodies dug out. Government should shoot the fuckers on site. Save all us poor taxpayers the cost of a trial. Not as if they won’t get the death penalty, anyway.”

“It’s in the Constitution Ernie. Right to a free trial, or have you not heard of that?” The waitress refilled the coffee cup in front of the older man. “You gonna put a muzzle on this boy of yours before he starts himself a lynching party?”

“Can’t see me doing that when the boy’s right.”

Annie’s body tensed as she turned and flipped the TV set off. “A trial would let people know why. Know their reasons for doing something like this.”

“Can’t see any reasons would be good enough to justify blowing people up. Murder’s murder. Besides, we know where your sympathies lie.”

Annie seemed to shrink a little then. “I don’t condone killing, Hank. I don’t. But they’re people. How would you’a liked it if you or one of yours had been found to be one of them there breeders they keep locking up? It fair killed Steven Lomax and his wife when their Mark was identified and taken away.”

“Ha. All he has to do is spread his legs and take it up the ass a few times and his life’s golden. Better off than the rest of us.” Annie blanched at Ernie’s words. His father guffawed next to him.

“What if they’d taken your Carol?”

Ernie’s smile slipped and his eyes grew cold. Even the man over by the window had turned to watch the ongoing ‘conversation’ at the counter.

“Now why would they do that?”

“Well they were making noises about rounding up all the fertile women once upon a time weren’t they?”

“Didn’t ‘appen.” Henry took a sip of his coffee.

“No. It didn’t. But it could have.”

Annie didn’t wait for a response. She turned her back on the two men and hurried back into the kitchen.

“Damn sensitive woman. Too soft for her own fuckin’ good.”

Ernie placed a hand on his dad’s shoulder. “You don’t reckon it could happen though, do you? They won’t try to take Carol?”

Henry shook his head, “Like hell they will. They know the public wouldn’t stand for it. Them ‘tates. They’re just freaks. Better off where they are, kept away from normal folks. Doing something productive.”

Annie came back out from the kitchen, ignoring the men whose gazes followed her path, and forced a smile onto her face as she placed his food in front of him.

Ross Johnson managed to stomach half of what she gave him before he pushed the plate away.

---

Jared stared out the window, unwilling to join Sam in any form of conversation. They should’ve been looking for Jensen from the moment they’d discovered he was gone. Waiting for Jack to show his hand, give himself away, had been a mistake.

He didn’t want to think about what was happening to Jensen at that moment, but his mind refused to let him do anything else.

How the hell was he coping with what Jack had done? Jensen was prone to guilt, to taking responsibility for everything that happened to people he cared about, who cared about him. How was he coping?

Was he coping?

“Stop brooding.”

“What?”

“You. Brooding. Stop it. Sitting there angsting over what’s going on with Jen isn’t helping him and it most definitely isn’t helping you. Find him first, worry about him after. Finding him has to be the priority.”

Jared sighed. “Any idea where to start?”

“He had five thousand miles worth of border to choose from and, regardless of the fact that relations between the US and Canada aren’t exactly warm, there are still places to cross the boundary without being stopped. I just didn’t think he had the contacts to find out about them.”

“Maybe he didn’t. He could’ve just gotten lucky.”

“If he didn’t then he’s even more of an idiot than I took him for. He could’ve been picked up at anytime. If he’d been caught Jen would’ve been too and you know what that would mean for him.”

“You’re sure he’s not been?”

“We’d know about it.”

Jared reached into the back seat and grabbed a bottle of water from the supplies they’d bought at the last town they’d passed through. He took a drink before offering the bottle to Sam.

“How’d you think he found us?”

“I honestly have no idea. He may have found the camp in Montana first, traced us from there. But it doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

Jared started peeling the paper label off the bottle, the fine pieces of dropping down to his feet. “Do you think the kids are safe?”

“Wouldn’t’ve left them alone with Donna if I didn’t.” Jared turned to stare at the side of Sam’s face and Sam turned to face him, relented. “Okay. I may have contacted Chris about keeping an eye out. Shoring up security there. It wasn’t the house he was taken from though, was it?”

Jared gritted his teeth. “He felt better about himself since he started going to the church. It should’ve been alright. It wasn’t asking for much. He never asks for much.”

“I know.”

“Dammit Sam. It’s not even as if he was on his own when he was taken.” Jared bit his lip, remembering what he’d seen when he’d arrived at the church. The ambulance first, the police.

He hadn’t noticed the body bag until after he’d realized Jensen was gone.

“I know.”



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