Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Thank you to Julia for your reviews. This chapter is for you.

Forgiven

Russell Farm

“Decide, yes or no?”

Jarod glared at Lyle, shifting slightly. He glanced at J again, trying to weight his concern for his brother’s injury against Lyle’s demand. He could feel a muscle twitch in his jaw. He took a deep breath and before his mind had a chance to fully process what he was about to suggest, he said quietly, “Let them go and I will stay with you.”

He could hear his mother protest through the rag. He was watching Lyle, waiting for his words to sink in. Lyle stood up, his face a mask of indifference.

“Willingly?’

“Yes.”

A small smile showed fleetingly on Lyle’s face. He started towards J casually, the knife balanced in his hand.

“I don’t think I can trust you, Jarod.”

Desperation came through when he saw Lyle stop by J’s inert form. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Really? All I asked was a simple question and you have yet to answer it. So far you have not shown much cooperation.”

J made a small pained noise and then gasped, his face twisted in agony when Lyle pressed the toe of his shoe against his side.

“Don’t,” Jarod said, the word catching in his throat. “Leave him alone.”

Lyle increased the pressure. J made a garbled cry, strangling his scream. He curled tighter, his hands ineffectively trying to dislodge Lyle’s foot. White hot pain lanced through his side, spreading slowly outward, leaving him almost paralysed with it. Catching his breath, he tried to think. A small spasm jerked his muscles and then he started to tremble uncontrollably.

“Lyle, please.”

His brother’s voice came through distorted. The pressure on his side eased and then disappeared. He couldn’t decide which he preferred. With the foot gone, his side flared, almost pushing him over the edge. He could hear his brother’s defeated voice when he agreed to the game. He missed Lyle’s next words completely while he concentrated on not sliding over the edge to darkness and oblivion.

A hand grabbed his bicep and dragged him closer to where Jarod was still kneeling. He couldn’t help the cry when he was dropped unceremoniously in front of his brother. His eyes couldn’t focus. Time blurred and then strong hands wiped his damp hair from his forehead.

“J, can you hear me?”

He wanted to answer but he couldn’t. His throat was tight, making it more difficult to breath. “J, I want you to look at me, ok.” He tried to respond to the fear in his brother’s voice but his eyes just couldn’t register what he was seeing.

“It hurts…”

“I know, J. I want you to try and stay awake.”

He didn’t have the strength to nod. A hand gently coaxed his hands loose from the grip he had on his wound. He could feel his blood flow warm and sticky on his skin. He curled his fingers into the fibres of the carpet, tracing the texture. It was soft, almost silky. He noticed the traces of dark red that he left with each touch. His mother would be angry. He was messing up again. But still he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching it.

His muscles all tensed and a slight spasm assaulted his body when Jarod probed the area of his wound gently. His brother apologised and he didn’t acknowledge, closing his eyes tiredly. He didn’t want to fight anymore.

“J!”

His brother’s voice intruded. He opened his eyes, closed them again. “Tired,” he managed to utter, his words slurred. A hand slapped him lightly on his cheek. He opened his eyes again. He still couldn’t see anything.

“I want you to concentrate, J. You need to stay awake.”

His mouth was so dry that he couldn’t swallow. The reflex action brought further pain but he still managed to ask, “Why?”

Something warm splashed on his arm. Surprised, he shifted his gaze, trying to locate the source. His brother was crying. “S’ ok, I’ll try.” His brother nodded and he felt cool fingers against his wrist. He tried not to move but the shivers that now wracked his body didn’t make it any easier.

His brother will make it better. He trusted Jarod.

He wanted to be warm. He wanted to wake up where everything will be back to normal. He still has homework to do.

He didn’t want to die.

“Cold.”

Jarod could barely hear the softly whispered word. He felt helpless. Lyle seemed to enjoy watching him as J’s life was slowly slipping through his fingers. His fingers were coated in blood where he had been pressing against J’s wound. Oh God, he was losing him.

“How badly do you want to save your brother?”

“I’ll do anything,” Jarod answered, his voice raw with emotion.

Lyle smiled slowly. “The price for your brother’s life is Sydney. Will you be able to kill your surrogate father for your brother’s sake?”

“You’re sick. How can you ask me that?”

“Rule one. Never answer a question with another question. Next time, your mother loses a thumb. Now answer my question.”

“I don’t think J will survive long enough for me to kill Sydney.” He purposefully distanced himself. He needed to find an opportunity to get Lyle close enough. He needed to get them out of this situation.

“Sydney’s your choice?”

He kept Lyle’s gaze, didn’t break contact when he said, “Yes.”

Lyle stayed silent, scrutinising him. He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. His captor reached a decision and stepped behind them. He glanced behind him, his fear increasing ten fold when the sociopath stooped by his mother and swiftly cut her loose. Lyle ordered her to get the first aid kit, warning her that her sons would be punished if she tried anything. She came back a few moments later, kneeling by J and giving the kit to Jarod.

“I need boiled water, soap and towels,” J said, glancing at his mom before looking to Lyle for permission. His captor indicated to his mother that she could fetch it, leaning against a chair where he could watch them without obstruction.

When she was back, Jarod proceeded to wash his hands and arms thoroughly with the water and soap. Finally satisfied, he softly apologised to J when he tore the shirt away from his wound, leaving the whole area exposed.

“Mom, I need you to clean the area for me with water and then alcohol.”

While his mom left J’s side to fetch some whiskey from the drinks cabinet, he set out the medical kit, trying to determine what he had to work with. It wasn’t much but it will have to do. There was no way that Lyle will allow J to go to a hospital. He had to do the best he could with the supplies he had.

When the area was clean, he placed a towel behind J and gently turned him onto his back. J’s breathing was fast and shallow, his eyes open and staring at Jarod.

“J, I’m sorry but this is going to hurt.”

“My fault.”

Jarod leaned closer, ignoring Lyle’s warning scowl. “It’s not. You need to fight. For mom and dad. For me.”

J shook his head slightly. “I…I was the one…who told Lyle.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Jarod was surprised when J grabbed his arm, pulling him closer. He could see J crying silently, the tears flowing freely. “Please…forgive me.”

“I love you J. You’re my family, a part of me. How can I not forgive you?”

He felt strength growing inside. Jarod had forgiven him and like a forest fire, it had burned him clean.

“I’m scared.”

Jarod bent over J’s wound. His mom gripped J’s one hand, her other shining the flashlight on the wound. “It will be all right, J. Just be strong,” his mother whispered to him. He tried not to flinch when Jarod gently opened the cut. He felt something cold slide into his side and he gasped slightly, not drawing another breath.

“J, you’re still with us.”

He squeezed his mom’s hand in answer. The next probe felt like liquid fire and he screamed. He could feel Jarod stop and his hand tightened painfully on his mother’s. Jarod started again when he nodded and he choked back his next cry and he wished he could just pass out.

The cold slid out of his side, became warm. J turned his head sideways, towards the door. An image wavered there, almost ghostly. He could feel himself sliding away and it wasn’t all that unpleasant. The image became easier to define until it coalesced into something tangible that he could see. He wasn’t aware of Jarod’s voice calling to him or his mother’s hand in his. He whispered, “Miss Parker?” then he sighed and everything went silent and numb.

Grimly, Major Charles swung the wheel as he avoided another pothole. He glanced at Miss Parker. She had the phone against her ear, talking rapidly to Broots. They were trying to organise a plane at a small airfield that was still another hour away.

“And?”

“He will let me know about the plane. Sydney’s still in ICU, still in a coma. They don’t know if he’ll wake up. Emily will stay with him.”

Charles nodded, skidding around a hair pin drive and barely keeping them on the road.

“How could we not see this coming?”

He was angry at himself for not predicting Lyle’s actions. Miss Parker lips tightened perceptively but she didn’t answer. They had all made mistakes. They had underestimated Lyle and she had only herself to blame.

She didn’t know if she could ever forgive herself if anything happened to Jarod or his family. If she could live with that knowledge.