Failings of the Fathers: 53

"Good job old boy," he said to himself, puffing on a cigarillo.  Calvin continued to watch, with a growing rejoicing in his body, as Shaun lay, motionless on the floor of his cottage.  A sly smile was stuck to the stranger's face, with an abhorrent grin.  He continued to watch Shaun, still in a heap, and realized his heart was racing.  He had, just a few hours before . . .

Shaun stirred, trying to push himself to a sitting position, and then, when he couldn't, the man let out a large groan and turned onto his stomach.  Calvin reacted with almost as much amusement as shock.  Pulling himself with his arms, Shaun slid his body toward the door.  "Starr," he said, but it was not a shout, or a yell, just a soft speaking of her name.  Calvin admitted to himself that watching was a perverse thrill.  Would he or wouldn't he have to stab the extra needle into this guy, or do something worse?

"The kids," Shaun whispered again, struggling to both stay conscious and get to the children.  When he was three feet from the door, Calvin thought he might have to act.  It was then that Shaun stopped progressing toward the exit, and lay still on his stomach, one arm outstretched.  He said, "Oh, no, God," and collapsed back to the floor.

Calvin smiled, and a rush of success went through him.  He'd done it.  The huge hulk of a man was out of his way.  "What, only five-foot little Starr to deal with?" he said aloud.  "This is a piece of very delicious cake."  

With that, he made his way around to the front door, opened it easily, and stabbed the other needle into Shaun's shoulder.  "You can never be too careful.  This gives me at least another four to six hours," he said, and stepped over Shaun to get to the gun he'd left on the table, in a holster he removed when entering the cabin just a short while earlier.  He had, earlier, denied needing one.  But now, he realized it was the perfect idea.  He could keep it, just in case Perzno decided to come back quicker, or someone tried to deter him.

He was positive he would have no trouble with Starr.  At five feet in height, and not more than one hundred pounds, he imagined that he would be able to easily get past her to his goals.  He was relying on the Manning Siblings' sappy love for each other to do the rest.

***

Blair entered Mountainview through the white, glossy front doors, and immediately was struck by a disturbing tone, rather resembling controlled panic.  She signed in and went to the desk clerk.  "Is something wrong?"

"Please wait, Mrs. Manning," the clerk said.  Within a few minutes, Ray came walking toward her.

"Oh, no, Ray, what's going on?"  Blair said, already sensing trouble.

"Bea is missing, Blair."

***

Todd and Timothy were in the hot tub at the hotel, relaxing and talking.  Todd had decided to fill Timothy in on the events surrounding Jewel's birth.  Timothy was enjoying the description of the event and Todd's take on it always made for a few laughs.  He said, "Son, ya did a great thing.  Ya brought two of y'ar children into this world y'arself."

"Yep."

"I think it's grand, I do."

"Me too.  I'll never forget when I first held her in my hand.  She was so tiny and perfect at the same time."

"The miracle of children."

"And with Jack, I . . . gave him away."

"It's in the past."

"It's not, for me.  I was so jealous and filled with anger, I . . . gave my own son to someone else, and let Blair believe he died."

Timothy did not condone Todd's actions, and pictured Blair, dealing with the death of a baby.  Knowing what a devoted and loving mother she was, the older man felt a chill go up his spine.  He said, "Not y'ar finest moment."

"No," Todd shook his head, in agreement.  "You feeling better?"

"I must admit, I feel much more calm.  This was a good idea ya had."

"See?  I knew it."

"Yes.  Todd, I wanted to ask ya something?"

"Sure," he said.

"Is everything all right at home?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Just making sure.  Ya've been away a long while.  I feel, responsible.  Ya should be home with y'ar family and y'ar new babby."

"I know, and I will.  I . . . just want to see this through a bit longer."

Timothy paused.  "I see."

"Something to eat, Old Man?"

"Nah, it's rather late for me."

"Never too late for me," Todd said, getting out of the jacuzzi.

"I'll be along, you go ahead."

"I'm going to dry off and dress so I can go grub."

"What?  Go grub?"

"I got it from Jack.  Go and eat."

"Ah, yes.  Well, Jack would know," Timothy said, and sounded like a proud grandfather.

"I'll be in the hotel pub, if you need me," Todd said, wrapping a towel around him and heading to the dressing area.

Timothy put his head back against the edge of the hot tub and closed his eyes.  He was so tired.  He'd had been tired for days and refused to let it set in.  Instead, he had fought it, as if for his life, and now, he couldn't any longer.  Changing his mind, he got out of the hot tub as well, and headed to the dressing rooms.

***

Spying from outside the patio, Calvin thought, "Well, I won't be getting the first born son, but it gives me less to fight with."  He was pretty certain that a teenage boy could at least put up some kind of fight, and he wasn't there to kill the Manning children, just take them, at least at first.  Anyone else didn't matter much.

"Jack's gone," he thought.  "Leaving Starr, with an infant to protect, likely in the house, asleep, and Sam, that sniveling little rat, and the toddler.  Not bad odds.  And that dog.  I'll take care of him, first."

Calvin decided he would wait for the opportune moment to arrive, and watched the house to see when it would.  And then, it did.  He heard the back sliding doors open, and Starr's voice.  "Not too far from the house, Sam," and heard the two small boys' voices carrying throughout the property.  

"Hmf, as I thought, the baby must be napping," he said to himself, and crept along the side of the house.  The anticipation was building in his gut; he could hardly contain it.  "Two, that's fine.  Sam and whatever the little one's name is.  Would be better if I got all three sons, but . . ."

He was almost to the edge of the house, when he peeked his head around to survey the goings on:  Starr was on the patio, in a chair, a sweater on and a blanket covering her, with a pink basket of knitting or something, next to her on a small table; Sam and the toddler were running around the yard, the older one yelling things about Spiderman; and Shaun was out of commission, on the floor in his home.  Perzno, back in town, Blair, who, he figured from all he had heard and her blind devotion to this loser Todd Manning, would fight to the death for her kids, was away, Jack, gone.  Where was that mangy mongrel?

He picked up the hoe.  He figured he would not cause too much alarm at first, if he approached in his work clothes with a garden fixture.  Then, he changed his mind.  He placed it back down, certain his hands were more than enough.  Then, he'd strike when she wasn't ready or suspecting.  The dog was nowhere in sight.  Inside?  Sleeping?  He wasn't sure, but it added to the suspense.  He was ready for whatever came, and this was the ticket to both revenge and fortune.

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