The Serpent's Fall

Chapter 1

The Wimpy restaurant buzzed with laughter, chatter, and movement as patrons lounged on red-cushioned chairs around white-laminated tables. Some enjoyed the comfort of couches in booths. The place was alive with color. Blue, pink, and green milkshakes dotted tables while others sipped fruit juice. One thing was clear: everyone had received the dress code memo. Women wore vibrant bikinis, while men opted for flip-flops, swim trunks, and T-shirts. Inside the bathroom, Jack washed his hands and splashed his face with cold water for some relief against the summer heat. He pushed open the bathroom door—but before he could step into the restaurant, the windowpane to his left exploded inward. Glass shards tinkled like wind chimes as they scattered across empty seats and tables. Jack shielded his eyes with his arm, then whipped his head toward a metallic thud—followed by the clatter of an object rolling across the tiled floor. People’s heads jerked toward the window, confused. Abrupt screams from startled women rang through the buzz of the crowd. Some stayed seated, thinking it an accident. But this was no accident. Time slowed as the grenade rolled to a stop near a gray-haired woman’s table. She was in her seventies, if Jack had to guess. Her gaze dropped as she clamped her hands over her ears. Wide-eyed. Mouth frozen in terror.

* * *

Jack’s eyes shot open. Heart hammering, he sat up and gasped, sweat dripping from his nose and chin. The explosion still echoed in his ears—horror from the past clawing its way back. Thirteen years, and the nightmare still came. For a while, they stopped—perhaps thanks to the sleeping pills his doctor prescribed; therapy might’ve helped too, but Jack had never believed in it. Two years off the meds, the nightmares resurfaced. Some claim that your mind blocks out unbearable traumatic events. Perhaps they are the lucky ones. 

The bed creaked under his weight as he clicked on the bedside lamp. A soft glow spilled from the dusty cream shade, pooling across the rickety bed and peeling walls. Patches of remaining wall paint flaked. A faded photo hung askew above the bed, held to the wall by a single strip of tape. He gazed at the clock radio and then at the photo. 2:15 p.m. His shift started at six. At least this time he’d managed a few hours of sleep. He turned on the radio—always tuned to the news. 

A female reporter’s voice crackled through the speaker: “With elections just around the corner, polls show the African Democratic Movement party has moved ahead of the National Congress party, making them the favorite to win the election. Their promise to eradicate crime in the country seems to sit well with the population…” 

Jack switched off the radio and climbed out of bed in boxers and a white tee. He looked up at the photo—a smiling nine-year-old girl behind a birthday cake. Her front teeth were missing. He kissed his fingers and touched her forehead. His mind drifted back—thirteen years ago.

* * *

Men in green and yellow rugby jerseys ran across a fifty-six-inch LED screen mounted above a yellow oak TV stand. Jack Dunning sat locked in his La-Z-Boy, eyes fixed on the 2011 Rugby World Cup. Not even a family death could pull him away from the screen—not when the Springboks were up against the Wallabies. Australia led by five—now eight points to South Africa’s three in the second half. The number three yellow jersey played offside. The referee blew his whistle. Penalty to South Africa. Morné Steyn for the kick. 

“Yes!” Jack shouted and jumped up from his La-Z-Boy. “Come on, Steyn! Don’t you miss boy!” He tipped his beer toward the TV screen.

The speakers thudded as a speck of a ball sailed across the screen. Jack’s head moved with the camera, following its arc. For a moment, he couldn’t tell. His face froze with anticipation. The whistle blew. The ref’s arms flew up. Goal!

“Whoop, whoop! Go bokke!” Jack said, plonking back into his seat. 

(‘Bokke’—Afrikaans for ‘bucks’.) Not long after, Steyn had the ball again. A perfect dropkick between the posts. South Africa led by one. Cheers erupted across the neighborhood where friends and families had gathered to watch. But at the Dunning house, there were no friends. No family.

Jack had taken the day off—his first in years. He’d promised Emily more time off during Jolene’s upcoming school break. His colleagues—his only real friends—were on duty. Crime didn’t take vacations, especially not in South Africa. As for relatives, they all lived in other parts of the country. Emily, his wife, didn’t share Jack’s love for rugby. She would instead bring him the occasional beer or snack. With ten minutes left and South Africa still in the lead, Jolene—their nine-year-old daughter—walked into the living room. She tugged at Jack’s sleeve. He did not take notice. His undivided attention was on the game as he sat on the edge of his seat.

“Dad!” she said, tugging harder.

“Not now, sweetheart,” he said, eyes still locked on the screen. “Give Daddy ten minutes, okay?”

“But Dad! I need help with my test. It’s due on Monday.”

Jack looked at her—math book in hand, paper tucked under her arm. The crowd on TV roared. Jack’s eyes shot back to the screen. Somehow, the Wallabies had scored. They were back in the lead.

“No! What just happened?” Jack cried.

He sighed, then smiled as he picked Jolene up onto his lap. “A test, huh?”

Jolene nodded. “Dad?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why do you like rugby so much?”

Jack punched the air, followed by a biceps curl. “It’s a battle. A test of strength. A clash of testosterone.” 

He tickled her tummy until tears of laughter ran down her cheeks.

“What’s testosterone?” she asked.

“Um…it’s what makes boys stronger and more aggressive than girls.”

“I think it makes you act crazy.”

Jack laughed. “You may be right.”

Jolene said, “Well, I like tennis.”

“Tennis is good. In fact, most sports teach you everything you need to know about life.”

“Can it teach me Math?”

“Sure. At the very least, the principles to succeed in your test.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep,” Jack said.

“How?”

“Well, most sports are about swing, strike, then score,” he said. 

“So what does that have to do with my test?”

“Well, see—the ball comes at you fast and furious. It can be anything: your enemy, a punch life throws at you, or a test question. It’s your opponent.” He widened his eyes. “Do you run? No! You take your best swing at it, strike it hard, and aim to score.”

“Yeah. I don’t see how that helps me,” Jolene said.

“Here’s the plan: study your enemy—in this case, test questions. Know the answers. Then take your best swing from your knowledge, and defeat your opponent. Think you can do that?”

“I will try,” she said, nodding.

“So once you think you know your enemy well, come back to me. I’ll be your sparring partner and throw some questions your way. Sounds good?”

“Yes, I’ll go study my enemy. Thank you, Dad!”

* * *

The memory jumped to the following Monday evening, when Jack returned from work.

He opened the front door and stepped into the hallway. Jolene came running, waving her test results in the air. Emily leaned against the kitchen doorway, smiling. She waved quietly, mouthing “Hi,” not wanting to interrupt Jolene’s special moment. Jack blew her a kiss.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Jolene beamed.

Jack scooped her up onto his hip and kissed her on the forehead. “Is that your test result?”

“Yes! I studied my opponent, took a swing, and struck it so hard! Look, Daddy!” She punched the air with a victorious uppercut.

Jack took the paper. In the top right corner, circled in red: A–.

“Well done, Jolene! I am so proud of you!” He set her down and knelt to meet her eye-to-eye. “We need to celebrate your victory. How about we go to the beach this Saturday and get some ice cream?”

“Yay!” Jolene ran down the hallway, arms raised in celebration, before fading away like vapor in the wind, leaving giggles lingering in the air.

* * *

Jolene’s photo came into focus once more.

“Swing, strike, score, sweetheart!” he whispered.

A worn punching bag hung in the corner. The routine never changed: stretch, go a round with the bag, then shower and breakfast—if you could call the first meal before his shift breakfast. After fifteen minutes of warming up, Jack dropped to all fours and reached under his steel-framed bed for his boxing gloves. They were pushed behind some unpacked boxes—boxes he’d seldom touched since Tony offered him the back room twelve years ago. In return, Jack worked both in the kitchen and at the counter. On occasional lonely days, he rummaged through the boxes, reminiscing about better times. When he’d finished paging through old photos and memorabilia, he would shove the boxes back under his bed, often pushing his boxing gloves into some distant corner. His fingers found the gloves, and he pulled them out by their laces. No need for hand wraps—he wasn’t training. Just killing time. Fitness. Health. That didn’t matter anymore. 

With boxing gloves on, he went toe-to-toe with his virtual opponent. Jack unleashed a barrage of jabs—left, right, before snapping an uppercut and finishing with a left cross. Dust exploded from the punching bag with each impact. Fifteen minutes of relentless pounding. Then came the kicks, elbows, and knees—every strike precise, every motion fluid. Sweat dripped off his face, glistened on his muscular arms and legs, and drenched his shirt. He ended the sparring session, shaking his limbs out while walking in place. Once cooled down, he stripped off his boxing gloves and tossed them back under the bed. A crushed pack of Marlboro tempted him from the nightstand. He first tried to ignore it, then went over. A quick shake to free a cigarette from the torn gap of the pack, and he pulled it out with his lips. He lit it with a flick and a whoosh from his Zippo, pulling deep until the tip glowed red. Acrid smoke coiled from his lips. Jack flipped the Zippo cap closed, killing the flame. Two more drags, and he crushed the cigarette in an overcrowded ashtray. A quick shower with the usual creaking of pipes and the thin stream of water that squirted in his eye from a hairline crack in the copper pipe. Afterward, Jack checked his look in the mirror. A messy mustache with a stubble beard stared back at him.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll shave tomorrow,” he said to the man in the mirror. 

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he walked barefoot over the cold, pitted cement floor toward the small open-plan kitchen. It was always the same — egg on pan-fried toast. Tony allowed him one more meal of his choice from the menu per shift and the money from the tip jar. A bed, a set of clothes, and a warm meal were all he needed. Jack scooped the runny egg onto the slice of bread with the spatula. A sprinkle of salt and pepper before eating his meal from the buckled frying pan. He cleaned up, then walked over to a clothes rail that stood against the opposite wall. A pair of black pants hung neatly from a wire hanger beneath a crisp white shirt, with a red tie draped over the collar. A clear plastic garment bag protected the entire ensemble.

Chapter 2

Jack entered the kitchen from his room, finding Susan washing the last dirty plates.

“Evening, Susan,” he said.

Susan glanced over her shoulder, a subtle smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, hi, Jack!”

“Busy day?” he said, leaning against the kitchen table.

“Mondays are quiet, as you know. But we did all right. A few regulars and then some.” She set the final clean plate on the drying rack and turned to face him, wiping her hands on her apron. “Tony said he might swing by this weekend to help out.”

“Do you have a ride home?”

“Hubby’s working night shift at the factory, so I’ll be walking,” she said, untying her apron.

“Will you be okay walking alone? It’s not exactly safe out there.”

Susan lifted the denim apron over her head and shoved it into Jack’s chest. “I’m a big girl. Besides, it’s only a few blocks down the road. I’ll be fine.”

Jack caught the apron as she handed it to him, then tied it around his waist. “I can walk you home if you want. Closing up for a while won’t hurt.”

She smiled. “That’s sweet, Jack, but don’t worry about it. I’d hate for you to miss the only customer we might secure tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Jack met her gaze, his eyes searching for any sign of doubt.

“Yes, Jack, I’m sure,” she replied with a grin, her cheeks tinged with a soft pink as she pulled away from his gaze. “I should get going. Looks like we’re in for some rain.”

Jack studied her for a moment longer, then nodded. “All right. But be careful, okay?”

She gave him a playful salute and headed for the door. “See you tomorrow, Jack.”

“Stay safe,” he called after her.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Jack alone in the eerie silence of the diner.

* * *

Pastor Henry stood on the modest church stage, his Bible clutched against his chest. A small group of parishioners sat in the front rows of wooden chairs. Behind the simple pulpit, a wooden cross hung against the wall.

“Thank you, brothers and sisters, for joining me tonight,” Pastor Henry began, his voice filled with measured intensity. “Our city is in the grip of darkness—drug lords, crime, and violence. The authorities are powerless, and our leaders are too frightened to act. But there is one who can bring peace.”

“Amen,” random voices echoed from the congregation.

The pastor paced across the stage, his voice rising with passion. “John 14:27: ‘Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.’ And 2 Timothy 1:7 reminds us: ‘For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.’” He paused, scanning the small crowd. “Tonight, let’s pray for our city and its people. He hears your prayers! 1 Peter 3:12 says: ‘For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer, but the face of the Lord is against those who do evil.’ Let us now stand and bow our heads in prayer. I’ll give you ten minutes of private prayer, and then we’ll close together. Pray for our city, our people, and its leaders. Afterward, I will ask you to lift your eyes and raise your hands while I close off with a prayer. You may continue.”

Amanda closed her eyes, her lips moving in silent prayer. A low murmur filled the small church, a hopeful hum against the backdrop of a troubled city and the muffled sound of thunder in the distance. As the church service drew to a close and night deepened, Amanda made her way home, taking a shortcut through the alleys. The rapid click-clack of her white high heels echoed through the empty streets.

* * *

Jack wiped down the greasy countertop, eyes scanning the dimly lit diner. Outside, the neon “Tony’s Diner” sign flickered against rain-dark glass, but this rundown joint offered no comfort. A smell of stale coffee and fried food hung heavy in the air.

The bell above the door jingled, catching Jack’s attention. A girl stood there, barefoot, white high heels in her hand, rain-soaked and shivering. Her eyes darted around, assessing the empty seats. She clutched the matching white handbag that dangled off her shoulder, fingers trembling. Jack recognized that look—the fear, the desperation. It felt all too familiar.

“Table for one?” he asked, his voice steady.

She hesitated, then nodded. George sat near the diner entrance. He eyed Amanda, unsure what to make of the situation, then turned his focus back to his muffin and coffee. 

None of my business, he thought.

Jack led her to a corner booth, away from prying eyes. As she slid into the cracked vinyl seat, he noticed faint bruises along her forearms and a tight, distant stare. 

“What’s your name?” Jack said, pouring her a cup of lukewarm coffee.

“Amanda,” she said, barely audible over the hum of the diner’s appliances. “Please… I need your help.”

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

Amanda’s eyes flicked toward the window. Rain streaked down like tears. “They’re after me. Dangerous men. I saw something I shouldn’t have.”

“Were you followed?” Jack said, setting the mug in front of her.

Her eyes were unfocused, her mind elsewhere. Jack’s voice cut through her haze. “Amanda, were you followed?” he said again, dropping in three teaspoons of sugar.

“I… I don’t think so.”

Jack offered a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Drink up. It’ll help.”

Her hands trembled as she picked up the cup and took a sip. The lone diner customer fumbled with his wallet, dropping a few notes on the table. George raised a hand while walking to the exit. “Cheers, Jack.”

“Bye, George.” Jack pointed to the chair George sat in. “Don’t forget your umbrella now.”

George swung around. “Oh, right. Thanks, Jack.”

“Hold on, I’ll grab it.”

Jack set the coffee jug down on the table and fetched the umbrella that hung over the chair. “Here you go,” he said while handing George the umbrella. “Take care now.”

As George left, Jack flipped the sign on the door to “Closed”. He was pushing the door toward the frame when a scuffed biker boot jammed into the gap. Jack signaled for Amanda to stay hidden. She crawled underneath the table, clutching her knees. Her breath quivered, her body shook.

An arm curled around the door’s lock stile. Jack noticed a serpent’s raised head with a flattened hood, open mouth, and protruding fangs tattooed on the back of the man’s hand. The snake’s tail curled around a well-defined forearm.

Serpent gang ink. Local poison. Bad news.

He pulled the door ajar. A scar-faced man in a short-sleeved denim jacket greeted Jack with a grin full of gold. Rain dripped off his long, greasy hair. Behind him, two more dressed in the same denim attire and biker boots.

“Sorry, gentlemen. We’re closed for the evening. Please come back for our Big Bang breakfast special in the morning,” Jack said with a friendly smile.

The man spoke in a slithery voice. “Yeah, about that… Me and the fellas got caught in the rain and we said, ‘You know what would be nice: a hot cup of coffee around a cozy table and some laughs to cure our cold blues.’” He turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. “Isn’t that right, fellas?”

The other men offered affirmation—nods and “yeses.”

He turned his gaze back to Jack. “So, here we are. Just regular folk out in the cold looking for a decent cuppa.” The man chuckled. “We wouldn’t mind a drop of whiskey or two to go along with our coffee. But I’ll understand if you’re not that kind of establishment.”

“I’d love to accommodate you, but like I said, we’re closed,” Jack said. “Why not try the Engen garage down the road? They have a twenty-four-hour coffee shop.”

The long-haired man pointed to a sign in the diner’s window displaying its business hours. “Funny thing… I’ve noticed the sign in the window says you only close at two a.m.” He locked eyes with Jack. “Let me end this song and dance. A girl ran this way. Brown hair, blue pencil skirt, white heels. Seen her?”

Jack shook his head. “No,” he said. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”

“No trouble,” the man said. “We just want to talk to her.” He paused. “About business and such. You know?” The long-haired man craned his neck to see past Jack into the diner. “You’re not hiding her inside, by any chance?”

Jack flashed a big smile. “Me? Oh, no. I’m not hiding anyone.” 

He stepped aside and gestured for them to enter. “I don’t want any trouble. Please come in. Look around.”

They entered. The man with long hair signaled the others to scout toward the kitchen area. He strolled down the aisle, his gaze sweeping over the dining booths, chairs, and tables. George’s half-eaten muffin still sat beside an empty coffee cup on a saucer, on the table nearest to the door. The man with the long hair paused for a second before moving along, his fingers trailing over the tabletops as he passed. Jack followed close behind, matching him step for step, measuring distance, consequences.

Not here. Tony kept this diner clean when nothing else in town was. Doesn’t stop my fist from itching.

A lone mug in the far booth caught the long-haired man’s eye. He stopped at the table and gripped the mug with his hand. Still warm. The man shot Jack a glance and sneered, then looked under the table. Jack tensed, ready to strike—but then the man straightened and walked away. Baffled, Jack risked a glance beneath the table. Amanda had vanished! He hid his surprise and confusion so as not to raise any suspicion.

A gang member’s boots thudded across the kitchen tiles, closing in on the narrow gap between the refrigerator and the stove where Amanda hid. While Jack kept the leader talking out front, she had slipped into the kitchen unseen. She held her breath, heart pounding in her throat, and curled deeper into the shadowed space.

“Seen enough?” Jack said to the gang leader.

He turned to face Jack, then paused. As the gang member peered around the refrigerator, the long-haired man circled his index finger above his head.

“Let’s go, boys,” he said.

The men hurried back to the dining area on his command.

“Anything?” the gang leader inquired.

“There’s a back room behind the kitchen, but it’s clean… Actually, it is filthy, but the girl isn’t there,” the one said.

“She’s not here,” the other said.

“Hey! You can’t just go snooping around someone’s room!” Jack said.

“Relax, man. We won’t tell anyone about your dirty room,” the gang leader said. “I’ll see you around… um…” He reached out and tugged at Jack’s name badge, pinned on his shirt above his apron. “…Jack.”

The gang leader tapped Jack on the cheek before leaving the diner with his crew.

Chapter 3

Jack locked the door and peeked out the window to make sure the gang had left. The street lights and diner sign offered limited visibility in the rain. From what he could tell, the street seemed quiet. No movement. Nothing. Satisfied the Serpent gang was gone, he closed the blinds.

“Amanda!” he called, uncertain where she was hiding. “You can come out now. We have to talk!”

Amanda wiggled out of her tight space and stepped onto the open kitchen floor.

“Here, Jack!” she said.

Jack turned toward her voice. “Oh, there you are. How on earth did you end up there?” He raised his hand. “Hold that thought. I’m coming over to you.”

Amanda buried her face in her palms to hide the tears. When she heard Jack approaching, she wiped her face with her hands and steadied herself, regaining her composure. 

Jack approached the hunched figure, leaning on the table like it was all that held her up. He touched her shoulder, searching for her eyes as she stared down at the floor. She looked up and met his gaze.

“Are you okay?” Jack said, his voice calm and comforting.

She nodded a few times.

“Do you have friends or family outside of town you can stay with for a while?”

Amanda shook her head. “No.”

“Okay. It’s okay,” he said, holding her gaze. “Come with me.”

They halted in front of his back-room door. Jack paused as he was about to turn the doorknob. “A few ground rules before we go in. Not sure you would want to, but don’t touch anything. Second, no personal questions. Got it?”

Amanda nodded.

The door swung open, and he beckoned her inside. “Excuse the mess. I didn’t expect company.”

She entered and scanned the gloomy room, then made a face and covered her nose. “What is that awful smell?”

“There may be a rat or two that died in some corner of the room. I haven’t checked. And, yes, I see that as a personal question.” He pointed to several areas in the room. Amanda’s head followed his hand. “There are extra towels in the bathroom cupboard down there if you want to get dry, and the kitchen is over there. You are welcome to whatever is in the fridge.” 

“Do you mind if I take a shower?”

“No. Please go ahead,” he said. “You’re hungry?”

“I wouldn’t mind eating,” she said. “Thank you, Jack.”

“Good. I’ll whip up something in the meantime.”

Amanda entered the bathroom. It had no bath. It only had a small shower in the far corner with a stained plastic shower curtain that almost came off the rails. She closed the door, ran the water, and got undressed. The copper pipes groaned and knocked before water sputtered from the nozzle. Thin water jets sprayed from the pipe leading up to the shower head in random places. A bar of soap and a half-empty bottle of Colgate anti-dandruff shampoo stood in a plastic shower caddie bolted to the tiled wall. She pulled out a fresh towel from the stand-alone wooden cupboard and placed it on the toilet seat next to the shower. 

Meanwhile, Jack rummaged through the fridge and kitchen cupboards in search of ingredients for an easy meal. He opened the mini fridge door for the third time and stooped to inspect its contents.

Hmm. Cheese, butter, beer, and eggs. No bread. I’ll have to borrow some from the diner’s kitchen, he thought.

He walked out the door to fetch a loaf of bread from the diner.

* * *

Amanda closed her eyes, tilting her head back under the lukewarm spray. She wiped the water away from her eyes and opened them. A rat dangled from the pipe, its beady eyes locked on hers, sharing her shower. She let out a high-pitched scream and, without thinking, slapped the rat square in the face. The rat dropped to the floor and scurried off through a hole in the wall. Next minute, Jack burst through the bathroom door with a baseball bat. More screams from Amanda, followed by surprised screams of his own. Amanda tried to cover her nakedness with the dirty shower curtain and threw the shampoo bottle at Jack. He ducked, but too late. The bottle hit him in the head with a thud.

“Out! Get out!” she yelled.

Jack covered his eyes. “I heard screams and thought…”

“It was a rat, but it’s gone. Now, go!” She pointed at the bathroom door.

Jack left as swiftly as he came.

Phew! That was awkward, he thought as he closed the door behind him.

As soon as the door closed, Amanda threw her head back and erupted into giggles at the absurd incident, but quickly replaced by soft sobs—hands covering her face.

* * *

After what felt like hours, she stepped out of the bathroom dressed in his purple woolen gown.

“I found your robe hanging behind the door. I hope you don’t mind.”

Speechless for a second, he nodded. “Yeah, I think it looks good on you.”

Thank goodness she is not mentioning anything about the bathroom incident. I’ll play along as if nothing happened.

“Thanks,” she said.

Jack gestured toward the small, round kitchen table propped up against the wall in the corner. “I made us something to eat. Please have a seat.”

He pulled out a chair from under the table for Amanda to sit on.

She closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose. She opened her eyes and smiled. “Hmm, it looks nice. Thanks.”

The table had two plates, each with a grilled cheese sandwich and fluffy scrambled eggs on the side. Beside each plate stood an open bottle of beer. On either side of each plate, a plastic knife and fork.

Once they’d sat down, Jack said, “So, tell me what happened.”

She poked at the scrambled eggs with her fork. “Well… I attended a prayer meeting at Saint Peter’s a few blocks from here.”

“Yes. I know the place,” Jack said.

“After the service, I took a shortcut home through some alleyways. I came around a corner just off Burton Road. The alley was dark, but I could make out a man in a white suit pleading, pinned against the wall by two others. A third man had what looked like a syringe in his hand.”

“Did you recognize any of these men?” he asked.

“It was dark, but the man in the white suit looked somewhat familiar. I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere before. But I don’t know where.”

“Were any of the men here at the diner earlier?”

“I didn’t see their faces. But I recognized the voice of the guy you spoke to. He was the one holding the syringe. One man called him ‘Snake’, I think.”

“How original,” he said. “I take it they saw you and you ran away?”

“Yes, but not before one came up behind me and grabbed me by the arm. He was so strong. I thought that was it. That this was where my life would end. In a lonely, dark alley.”

“So, what did you do?” Jack said.

“The only thing I could do: I kicked him in the shin. He loosened his grip, and I pulled my arm free. I ran as fast as I could with my heels on. Then took them off, hoping to lose them. The diner was the closest place I could think of to find refuge.” She sniffed. “I didn’t think I was going to make it!” Amanda wiped her tears and took a deep breath. “So, I straightened my clothes and entered the diner. You know—just someone seeking shelter from the rain.” Her eyes met his. “So… here I am.”

“You did good.” Jack took a deep pull from his beer and wiped his mouth. “You can stay the night, but after that, you’ll need to make alternative arrangements.”

“But where am I supposed to go, Jack?”

“First thing tomorrow morning, I will take you to the police station. Tell them exactly what you told me.”

“What are they gonna do, Jack? They can’t protect me! You know this.”

“What do you want me to do, Amanda?”

“I thought perhaps I could hide out here until things cooled down…”

“Look. It is not safe here. I’m sure they will be back. Besides, I came here to hide away too. This is my quiet place away from the madding crowd.”

“Oh, so it is fine by you if they just kill me and get it over with so you can keep on living your peaceful life? I’m not even sure what I saw.”

“Now hold on. I never…”

“You said it’ll all be okay. That I’ll be okay. How am I going to be okay, Jack?” She pushed her plate away and jumped up from the chair. “It’s fine. I’ll just leave now and save you the trouble.”

Jack jumped up in front of her. “Please wait.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. She shrugged away from his hold. He put his hands up in surrender. “Listen. It was a stressful day. Why not stay the night, and we can work out the details in the morning?”

“What, Jack? Are you scared I’ll disappear with your gown?”

He gave a sheepish smile. “You may have noticed that I don’t own much. So there’s some concern there…”

She grunted and stamped her foot on the floor. “Men! They’re all the same. Only care about themselves!” Amanda reached for the door.

Jack blocked her escape. “…but no. You can keep the bathrobe if it’ll keep you safe. I just know you’ll not be safe here. Give me the night to think of something?”

Her eyes softened, and her face drooped. “Oh, Jack, I’m sorry.” She slumped back in her chair, resting her forehead in her hand. “I just don’t know what to do. But sure. Let’s figure this out in the morning.”

“Good. It’s late. We should get some sleep.”

Jack offered Amanda the bed, a T-shirt, and shorts from his chest of drawers. After going back and forth on the topic, Amanda agreed. She got dressed in the bathroom but kept the bathrobe on. Before settling into bed, she noticed the crumpled photo above the bed.

She pointed at the photograph, remembering the no-touch rule. “What a beautiful girl. Your granddaughter?”

“I’m already regretting my decision to let you stay,” Jack said while laying out two blankets on the floor for his makeshift bed. He turned off the lights. “Now go to sleep.”

“Come on, Jack. I’ll be tossing and turning the entire night, wondering who this mystery little girl is now,” she said. “It’s not that I want to pry or anything. I just can’t fathom why anyone would hide the identity of such a beautiful girl.”

“If I tell you, will you go to sleep?”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes! I promise.”

Jack sighed and paused for a bit before answering. “Her name is Jolene. She is my daughter from my previous marriage.”

“Your daughter? Wow! Do you still have contact with her?”

“Amanda, you said you would go to sleep if I told you who she is. Now go to sleep.”

“Just this last one. Yes or no. That’s all.”

“No,” Jack said.

“Oh no. But why?”

“Amanda!”

“All right, all right. I’ll go to sleep.”

Jack turned on his side and propped his head up on his hand with his elbow resting on the floor. “Since I answered your questions, it is only fair that I get to ask you one.”

“Sure. Shoot,” she said, staring at the ceiling.

“You said that you do not have any family outside of town. Does that mean all of them are staying here?”

“Well, I could just tell you ‘no’, but I’m not ashamed of my past.” Amanda turned her gaze toward Jack’s general direction somewhere in the darkness. “I grew up an orphan. The orphanage became my family.” Amanda stared back into the void. “Sure, I got adopted a few times, but…” She paused, searching for the right words. “…it just didn’t work out, and I repeatedly found myself running back to the orphanage…”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jack said. His eyes fell to the floor when he realized that life’s gut punches weren’t reserved for him alone. Life is cold and unsympathetic, wrecking as many lives as it pleases.

“Mother Sophy at the orphanage always took me under her wing. She would wipe away my tears and make me some hot cocoa. Mama Sophy never turned me away.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “A bit of love is all you need sometimes, you know?”

Jack said nothing. He’d learned a long time ago about the power of listening, and he knew she had more to get off her chest.

“Since her passing, I’m now Mama Sophy.” She turned onto her side. “Oh, Jack. I hate being away from the children. I can just imagine how worried they must be. Perhaps I’ll call them in the morning.”

Jack tilted his head up in Amanda’s direction. “Before you know it, this will all be in the past and you’ll be back at the orphanage, living your life as normal.”

“You really think so?”

“Hope cultivates the will to live. Depression and worry ends it. This I know. Unlike me, my wish for you is to choose hope. There are people depending on you in this world. Time does not pause for you to first sort out your issues.”

“Sorry, but that went over my head. I’m too tired to process all of that now,” Amanda said. “But what about you, Jack?”

“What about me?”

“Do you feel like telling me what happened to Jack?” she said, her voice soft and distant, as if her mind had drifted to a faraway place. With eyebrows creased and her forehead in a wrinkle, she said, “How did you end up all alone in the back room of some diner? Where’s your family?”

“I don’t want to bore you with my sob story, and I don’t need anyone’s pity. You have enough on your shoulders as it is,” Jack said.

“You’ll get no pity from me, mister!” Amanda rolled onto her stomach. “So who is Jack, other than the brave man who kept me safe from the Serpent gang?” 

Jack sat up and leaned his back against the wall. He sighed. “Look, I appreciate you being honest with me, but I’m not ready yet to disclose my past to you.”

“If it’s about trust, I trusted you with my past. Moreover, I’m placing my life in your hands. Heck, I’m spending the night here.” She paused for her words to sink in. “So, when will be the right time? What if you don’t find another trustworthy soul that’s willing to listen?”

“Does it matter if I ever confide in someone? Look around. There is not much left of Jack,” he said.

“Perhaps you feel you don’t want to burden me with your baggage, right? Well, it’s the least I can do. It’s not good to keep things bottled up inside, Jack. Life doesn’t have to end after a tragedy. Besides, I need a bit of reassurance from you as well.” 

Amanda rolled onto her back once more and locked her fingers behind her head.

“The broken Jack would bluntly tell you he owes you nothing. But I’m not blind to the fact that you’re also here for me, like I’m here for you out of circumstance. Thank you for that offer, though,” Jack said. “It’s just… I do not need saving.”

Amanda sat up. “Yes, we do. All us broken people do. Don’t you see?” A frown creased her forehead. “So because bad things happened to you—happened to me — we should not find love and happiness in this world again? Does that even make sense?”

Jack twisted his thumbs in silence, his face heavy with sorrow. He said nothing for a spell, then cleared his throat and spoke with a tremble in his voice. Amanda turned toward the voice, her ears tuned in to receive every word.

“It was the summer of 2011. Jolene, my daughter, came home from school one day, jumping for joy.” He scratched his head. “This was just before the December school holidays. She scored an ‘A’ on her Math test, a subject she normally struggled with. She couldn’t wait to share her test results with me when I got home that Monday. So, Emily and I…”

“Emily was your wife?”

Jack nodded. “Yes. So, anyway… Emily and I decided we would take Jolene to the beach that Saturday as a reward for doing well on her test.” His eyes lit up, and a smile crept across his face at the thought. “Jolene loved the beach. But Emily also bought Jolene a surprise gift to be revealed later that day.” 

Amanda felt glad that he was opening up to her. She listened with interest as he continued.

“In one of their mother-daughter shopping-bonding moments, Jolene made it known that she wanted a cell phone. But not any phone. She wanted this specific pink flip-up one with bunnies printed all over.” 

Amanda pouted. “Ahh. That’s so cute.”

Jack shrugged, a casual lift of his shoulders that seemed to say, “What can you do?” The corners of his mouth pulled into a resigned half-smile. “Of course, we’d said no. I mean, she was nine, right? But Emily and I decided later to get her the phone as a reward for doing well on the test. Emily wrapped the box up with a pretty bow and all. We were so eager to surprise her with the gift, just to see the excitement on her pretty face.”

Amanda could not contain her curiosity. “Was she surprised? Did she love her gift?” 

“Hold on. I’m getting to that,” he said.

“Okay then. I’ll be patient. But I bet she loved the surprise.” 

Jack smiled. “I recall it being a beautiful summer’s day at the beach that Saturday. Jolene was over the moon, and we all had a wonderful time.”

With closed eyes, Amanda visited her distant memories of pleasant days at the beach. She could feel the warmth on her face, the silky sand between her toes, and smell the ocean breeze.

Jack’s voice pulled her focus back to the story.

“…The Wimpy restaurant was just across the road from the beach. We took Jolene there once for an ice cream, and ever since, she just wanted to go back. I guess kids found the fun colors and lively atmosphere of the place attractive back then.”

“Oh, yes! I loved the Wimpy. It was always cheerful,” Amanda said.

“Yeah. The Wimpy was buzzing, like we knew it would be. That’s why we reserved a booth the day before.” Jack recounted the events in his head. “We sat down, ordered milkshakes and ice cream with flakes. Emily presented Jolene with our gift…”

Jack clung to the warm memory with a soft smile, wishing it could last a little longer.

“She couldn’t wait to open it. But, as timing would have it, I needed to go to the bathroom…” His voice dropped as he continued. 

“I had to ask Jolene to hold on for a minute until I got back. I didn’t want to miss the moment. When I was done, I washed my hands and splashed my face with cold water.”

Amanda switched on the bedside lamp and rolled back onto her stomach, hanging on Jack’s every word. “Do you mind the light?”

“Will you switch it off if I say I prefer it off?”

“Sorry, I will switch it off. I just wanted to share this moment with you,” she said.

“It’s okay. Leave it on.” Jack rolled back his eyes and said, “Where was I?”

“You were stepping out of the bathroom….” Amanda said.

“Yes, that’s right. So, as I stepped out of the bathroom, the side window of the restaurant burst into pieces. Startled, it took me a second before I realized a hand grenade had smashed through the window…”

Amanda held her hand in front of her mouth as she gasped, eyes wide. “What the heck!” 

Jack’s tone shifted, and he hesitated for a moment. “It landed with a thud and rolled underneath a chair where an elderly woman sat. I remember thinking to myself: that lady is at the end of her life anyway. My family sat safely tucked away at the rear of the restaurant. Why would I risk my life for her? So I closed the door and pressed my back against the wall.” He fiddled with his thumbs, eyes downcast. “You see, I’m not brave, nor am I good.” 

Amanda reached out and placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “There was nothing you could do, Jack. It was not your fault.” She squeezed his shoulder. ‘Look at me.’ Jack’s eyes met hers, then slipped back to his thumbs. “You cannot blame yourself for that poor woman’s death. Perhaps it was just her time, you know?” Amanda said.

“I wish that was the end of the story, but it’s not.”

Amanda scooted closer and took a seat on the edge of the bed, her feet planted on the floor, hands folded on her lap. “Sorry, please proceed.”

Jack didn’t look up. Brow furrowed, he hesitated. “A massive explosion followed, blowing the bathroom door off its hinges and against the opposite wall. Then the wailing and crying started. Cries of agony, chilling screams… I was hesitant to leave the bathroom, the guilt already yanking at my emotions and messing with my head.” He exhaled, hard. A tear rolled down his cheek. Amanda had a lump in her throat. “But I had to check on my family, right? So I walked out, trying to just look straight ahead. To shield my eyes from the horror… To somehow protect my mind.” He pushed his hand through his hair, trying to shake off the weight of the memory. “There was so much blood… Nauseating smells of burning flesh, wood, and plastic lingered in the air. A faint metallic tone buried underneath it all — the residue left behind by a fragmentation grenade.” Jack wiped the tear with his thumb and composed himself with a smile. Amanda, now speechless, listened in shock. Tears welled up in his eyes. He tried to speak, then swallowed hard.

With a trembling voice, he said, “Then I stumbled over something. I looked down…” Jack sniffed and wiped his eyes. “…and there she was…” He couldn’t contain his emotions and began sobbing uncontrollably. 

Amanda sat down next to Jack and wrapped her arm around him. “Oh, Jack. It’s okay. It’s okay. You can stop here if you want.” 

With a squeaky voice, he said, “…there she was—my daughter.”

Amanda covered her mouth, fighting back tears as she listened.

“Her tiny legs were torn off at the knees. My mind dulled out the surrounding noise. All I could see was my daughter. She was still clutching the pink phone in her sprawled-out hand.”

Holding herself together, Amanda drew him closer and leaned her head against his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“I felt so helpless. Her small body bled from multiple wounds…” His voice shook; both were crying now, but Jack pushed through the sniffs and tears.

“Jolene was still alive. She gargled through shallow breaths—blood bubbling in her throat. Her eyes searched for me, pleading…”

He swallowed. “There was no one—no sirens, no help. Just smoke and screams. I couldn’t leave her like that. God help me, I just couldn’t.”

His hands trembled. “So I… I—” He stopped, staring at the floor, the corner of his mouth twitching. “My hands found her face… then her throat.”

Jack slumped forward, cradling his head in his hands, his body shaking. Amanda tightened her grip around Jack’s shoulders, unable to speak through tears and shock. After a brief moment of sobbing, Jack lifted his head, determined to see the story through to the end. 

“Through it all, I didn’t notice at first, Emily lying dead a few meters away…” 

Jack took another minute to compose himself. 

“Oh, Jack! I’m so sorry. You poor man. I should’ve never asked this of you.”

Jack continued, wiping his tears. “All that made sense at the time was that Jolene couldn’t wait to open her gift and Emily gave in. So they went to wait for me outside the bathroom. Jolene, eager, probably wanted to thank me with a hug as soon as I came out. The timing was so wrong…” He dropped his head in his hands. “I can’t figure out why I didn’t notice them outside the door. Perhaps they were trying to get away when the grenade came through the window… But I just… I just didn’t see them!”

Amanda rubbed his back, lulling him with her soft voice. “Shush. It’s okay… it’s okay.”

Jack’s eyes grew dark. His crying stopped. He stared out in front of him, emotionless.  

“So you see… if I’d given up my life that day, Jolene and Emily would still be here today. All I had to do was fall on the grenade.”

“You don’t know that, Jack. It wasn’t your fault. Yes, it is a terrible tragedy, but that does not make you a coward.”

“Yes, it does… Anyway, long story short, turned out the culprit was just a disgruntled kid who mixed with the wrong crowd.” 

“So, what did you do?” Amanda said, another tear slipping down her cheek.

“Well, I had so much anger, so much rage… He was just a kid, but that didn’t stop me. My reason left me and I ended up killing him.”

She locked eyes with him. “You did not!”

“I’m afraid so. No-one came looking for him: no family, gang member, or girlfriend. He was just a kid! Kids don’t think straight. They only live for the moment.” He paused a spell. “Now can you see? I’m not brave, and far from good.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t the right thing to do. But no-one in that Wimpy deserved to die either. What would have prevented him from doing the same thing the next day?” she said.

“Be that as it may, I left the force and spent my pension on booze and cigarettes until Tony took pity on me. Now I live a simple life as a diner cook. That’s how I ended up here.” He lowered his eyes as he twisted his thumbs again. “If you want to leave now, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Don’t be silly, Jack. Why would I leave?” she said, her voice soft and comforting. “Besides. That was a long time ago. Don’t you think it’s time to let go? Time to forgive yourself?”

Amanda rose and took his hand in both of hers. “I can’t leave you like this.” She tapped the bed. “Allow me to hold you tonight, please.”

That night, they found comfort in each other’s arms and soon drifted off.