Thirty Percent
"Did you kill him? Jack heard some woman’s voice echo in the distance.
“No, I ain’t kill him,” The Man’s voice says.
“He’s taking a long time to wake up.” Jack felt a droplet of sweat fall down his face. He attempts to wipe it away to discover was his hands had been bound to the chair he'd been placed on. He slowly opened his eyes. The sudden brightness of daylight causes him to wince in pain.
“Wakey wakey, sleepyhead.” The man’s voice comes booming into his ears. Jack looks around for where it’s coming from. The room begins to spin and his head throbbed, so he closes his eyes again. He feels something hard poking his temple.
“Uh, uh, no more sleeping for you.” Jack looks over to see a decent-sized gun pointed directly at him.
“Whatever you want, just take it,” He says wincing at the sound of his own voice. He felt this pain before, though it had been some twenty years since then. He remembered waking up from a bender with a gash on the back of his head and a bloody spot on the table where he struck it on his way to the kitchen floor. He managed to get himself well enough to call a cab to take him to the emergency room. The Doctor said it was a concussion.
“A mild one, though it’s good you came in when you did.”
He made him take a urine sample, some blood work, and then after twenty-four hours sent him home with some AA pamphlets and a follow-up with a primary care physician. He never went. After a few more hours of sleep, he was as close to feeling better as he had ever been before.
“Good. Let’s start with your valuables. where’s your money?”
“My bank card is in my—”
“Bank card? What do you think we are, fools?” Jack was confused.
“I don’t keep any money in the apartment. I have a bank account, I’ll get you the money, whatever you want—” Something blunt comes across his face. Jack lifts his head and places it on the back of the chair.
“Don’t lie to me again.”
“I’m not lying… I’m not…” he slurred. His vision began to fade. He’s at a park. He sees Cheryl, she’s pushing Aimee on the toddler swing. He can see her curly red hair blowing in the wind as she swings back and forth. Back. Forth. Back. Forth.
“Hey, hey, wake up!” He blinks and they both go away. He’s back in his apartment. He inhales deeply.
“What’d you find in the rooms?” the woman asked.
“He’s got gold jewelry—watches and chains—we could probably get something for those smart TVs and… is that the new Xbox?” He exclaimed. “Always wanted me one of those.”
His eyes began to focus a bit. He can see this tall lump of a human standing next to his tv stand, face totally obscured by a black balaclava.
“Looks like you’re getting one tonight, sweety,” The woman said. She was sitting in the dark just behind the bright light, so he couldn’t see her. Though her voice was so familiar to him.
“Fine. Please take it. Just please don’t hurt me anymore.” The woman scoffs.
“You haven’t begun to feel hurt.” Her voice took on a more sinister tone as the words fell out of her mouth. Jack wondered what she meant by that statement. “Baby take that stuff out of here.” The man didn’t answer just began doing what he was told.
Jack saw as the gargantuan lifted the tv and carried it out of the door to what he suspects was a car outside. Perhaps it was his truck, perhaps it was their own. The woman stood up walked to a wall of pictures and plucked one from the wall.
“She looks just like you.” Jack’s heart sank.
“Actually, scratch that. She looks like her Mama.”
“Look, I don’t have anything else to give you. If you want money, you’re just going to have to take my card.”
“Where are they now?”
“What?”
“Your little family…Mommy and baby… are they coming back?” Her voice became deceptively gentle. Still, Jack didn’t like where this conversation was going. But thankfully, what he was about to say was the truth.
“Not for a while.” The man came back and walked past them both to get the tv, console, and what Jack suspected to be the tablets, laptop, and pc.
“Where did they go?”
“I don’t know. Look you got all my valuables. They have nothing to do with this. Just please leave me alone.”
“I bet it was your drinking.” The statement took him aback.
“My what?”
“Your drinking. You are an alcoholic, yes?” Not a lot of people knew that about Jack. “How did you—”
“I bet she found one of your bottles of liquor around the house. In the linen closet, the back of the toilet, in your Adidas sneaker box, and she just… left.” The phrase left Jack shaken to his core.
“Look lady, I don’t know who you are, but you got the wrong per—”
“I know all about you Jackson Montgomery!” she said forcefully. “Think you can just wake up and be a different person? Hide who you are? You stink of a drunkard, and you always will.” She wasn’t wrong. Recovery was a myth. You never really stop being an alcoholic. That was something he had to come to terms with. Something his sponsor keeps telling him.
“I know,” he said softly. Both of them sat in silence. The man reappears, this time carrying both the tv and the all in one pc under each arm. He’d made it past the two of them before he struck the wall with the 50-inch flat-panel television.
“Be careful!” she barked. Ellis never responded. He continued his path through the living room and out the door. The silence that followed was heavy between them. So heavy that they began to weigh down his eyelids. “Hey, hey!” she calls out.
“I think I have a concussion,” He stated.
“Keep your eyes open.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“All done loading everything, Ma—” The man stopped abruptly as if he caught himself saying something he shouldn’t have.
“Go check all of the closets. Make sure he ain’t lying about having no money in here.” The man obliges. “You know, I’ve been looking all around this place.
At first for valuables, and then when I couldn’t find those, I looked for your stash.” Jack took a deep breath.
“I haven’t had a drink in nearly twenty-four years,” he strained. “Cheryl doesn’t drink anything stronger than grape juice.”
“No, I think you’ve just gotten better at hiding it.” Jack chuckled.
If there was any alcohol in this house, either you or my sponsor would’ve found it by now.”
“I think I found something!” The woman stepped over to her son. Though he couldn't see her face he could see that she was a short but plump woman with nubby little feet and hands.
“These are receipts and old checkbooks.” Jack heard a light smacking noise.
“I told you to find something useful.” Jack kept quiet. That box had already caused enough trouble in his life. He didn’t want to create anymore conflict because of it. “Put that back and keep looking.” She came back and sat down.
“It appears that you are quite a receipt hoarder.” Jack remained silent.
“You could keep searching, all you want,” He declared. She stood up and moved out of sight. Seconds later, he felt her breath on his ear.
“You work at the factory. You make fifteen dollars an hour standard time, doing four ten-hour shifts, and then two more at time-and-a-half. Your rent and utilities total two-thousand. Your bank statements say that only seventy percent of your check makes it to your bank account. That’s over a thousand dollars unaccounted for.” She walks away from him and back to her chair.
“How do you know all of this about me?”
“Nothing is truly secret, Jackson,” she said as she settled down.
“You hacked my account?” She didn’t answer
“Then why don’t you just take what you see there?”
“The feds’ll be on my doorstep in hours. I mean, I got some skills, but even I couldn’t make money just magically disappear. That’s why I need the money that you didn’t put in the bank. See, I believe that you have a stash somewhere. A nice big pile of cash hidden away for. A thousand dollars a month for twenty years? Woo! that can make a new life.” Jack knew which money she’d been talking about.
“Look you got it all wrong. I haven’t accumulated anything.” Jack felt something connect with the side of his head.
“Liar!” The man said as he rained more blows onto Jack. The woman stands up and runs to her son.
Hey, HEY! ENOUGH! Go to the other room.”
The man looks down at Jack before heeding and releasing him. Jack struggled to maintain consciousness. When the image of the woman consoling her angry son blurred to darkness, he knew that he had lost that battle.
“He ruined our lives.” He heard a young boy’s voice say. He opened his eyes and saw a six-year-old boy being held back by his mother. Jack’s heart sank a little. The thought of little Ellis was so vivid, every freckle on his nose and the rage in his tiny gray eyes. The rage that was directed towards him and with very good reason.
“Jack? Jack? Shit, I think you might have just killed him.”
Good.” Jack leaned his head back against the backrest of the chair.
“Guess not.” Jack watched as the woman sat down once again just beyond the light.
“Apologize for my boy, he always was a bit of a hothead.”
“Really? Could hardly tell,” Jack said between breaths. He thought he saw the woman chuckle.
“He is a good boy really. Really sweet…” her voice trailed off. “Or at least he was.” Her voice became colder as the words formed.
"Things do change you.” Jack agreed with that last part he knew from experience.
“All I can give you is my bank card. That’s all the money I have.”
"What about the thirty percent missing? Where is that?” Jack clammed up.“What did you do? Drink it all away?”
“I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol in decades.”
“Then where is it?” Jack paused. Should he tell her the real reason why he didn’t have the money?
“Answer me, or I’ll let him wail on you until he does kill you.”
“I don’t have it anymore. I gave it away.” “Away? What do you mean away?”“Look they’ve suffered enough, you can’t touch that account.”“Cops!” the man called out.
“Shit, we’re out of time.” There was a click, the woman steps forward. Jack’s heart almost stops.“Oh my God…it’s you?” Images flash through his mind. He sees the Duval County courthouse in Macon, GA. He sees a table, the bench, and the judge; Honorable Caitlyn Jones. His attorney looking forward in annoyance.
He sees the cops come towards him with handcuffs and then he’s walking. It is when they put him in the holding chambers he encounters the little boy, no older than six Ellis Dysart, and his mother Linda. When the boy charged him, he didn’t flinch or move to stop him. He deserved the tiny fists as they impacted him. He’d only wished they were bigger, stronger so that he looked more like the child’s father after the terrible accident. Looking up at those eyes, no doubt that he got his wish.
“Oh, so you do remember me.”
“I will never forget you,” Jack felt a lump in his throat build. “I thought about you and your son every day since I—”
“Since you killed my husband,” she growled. Jack lowered his head.
“I killed your husband.”
“Mom we should go.”
“But wait, I don’t understand. Why are you here? Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because you took everything from me. Without my husband, I couldn’t keep up with any of the bills. I spent so long being a homemaker, no one decent would hire me. I had to scrape by taking minimum wage jobs. Meanwhile, you; who took my Phil away from me, you live so comfortably. Full family, money to save… to hide.” Jack shook his head.
“No, no you have it all wrong, I—I.. d—didn’t you get my letters?”
“Oh did I? ‘I wish I could take back that entire day,’” she said mockingly.
“I’ve sent more. I’ve been sending them every--”
“I’ve received every one of them,” she said. Linda moved in close to his right ear. “And you know what
I do with them? Every year on March third, I collect them all up, unopened, and I burn them,” she hissed. Jack took a deep sigh.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he declared. “Those letters would’ve helped you.”
“You think I wanted your guilt letters? Your pleas for forgiveness mean nothing to me. Now either you tell me where the money is, or I’ll—”
“Get on the ground!”
“They’re coming in!” Ellis screamed. No sooner had the words fallen out into the air, had the police bottlenecked into the living room.
“Drop your weapon,” the man ordered. Fear enveloped her and she knew that her choices were few. Reluctantly, she removed the gun from Jack’s temple. “Place it on the floor.” She lower herself to obey.
“Get on the ground, I said on the ground!” The sounds of shots echo through the door. Several cops pile into the doorway, some with their guns drawn towards the hallway and then there was silence.
“Ellis? Ellis!?” she screeched. As she stood up and moved forward.
“Do not take another step!” the cop ordered.
“What happened to my son? Ellis, answer me!”
“We need two ambulances, officer and suspect are down, nonresponsive.”
Jack looked back at Linda. There was a sense of shock that fell over her.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she said in horror as she dropped to her knees. “He was all that I had,” she mumbled. And then as quick as the look of shock and grief fell upon her face, it was gone. Giving way to a look that was all familiar to Jack.
“This is all your fault. You took everything from me!” Linda raised the gun, a shot rung out followed by several more. By the time the final shot rang, Jack was on the floor, across from him was Linda unmoving, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Jack gasped for breath as he sobbed openly at the sight of Linda’s body.
So many things flooded his mind. If only he had never gone to that bar if only he’d taken a cab instead of foolishly getting into his car. If only he had done the whole fifteen years instead of five. Maybe Linda and Ellis would still be alive. But none of that mattered now. He had done all of those things. His selfishness had lead to the destruction of an entire family. But that was over now. Now his vision fades away, only one thought came to his mind. And as he closed his eyes his lips parted.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Good evening, Mr. Dysart,” the detective said as he entered the hospital room. Ellis remained motionless, staring at the window as the detective positioned himself at the foot of the bed. “Doctor says that you’ve been discharged as of ten minutes ago. I am here to formally arrest you for the breaking and entering, assault and battery, grand theft of the belongings of, and felonious restraint of Mr. Jackson Montgomery.”
Ellis shook his head as he chuckled to himself. “So, he ain’t dead,” he said angrily. The detective removed his tired 55-year-old brown eyes from the document in front of him and placed them lazily on the young man.
“No,” he said exasperatedly, “Not yet at least.”
“Ah, so there’s hope.” His response confused the detective who looked at him bewildered for a moment before going back to his paperwork.
“You will be transported to the county until arraignment,” he said as he placed the papers in the manilla folder. “But first I’d like for you to talk to someone.” The detective walks to the door, leans out, and then steps away. Seconds later, a woman steps in holding a box in her hand.
“Hello, Ellis. My name is Cheryl.” Ellis turned towards her voice. Jackson’s wife stood near the door, looking as beautiful as she’d been in the pictures he’d seen through Jackson’s house. Her red hair was straight and laid against her pale cheeks. Her deep green eyes looked at him were warm but stern as she walked closer to him.
“Jackson’s wife.” She rolled her lips into her mouth as she fought off the urge to correct him. Today, she wasn’t going to shirk the title she’d been working on relieving herself of the past few months.
“I won’t keep you for long,” she began. “But I felt like there was something you needed to know about Jackson before you go off to spend, what may very well be the rest of your life incarcerated.”
“I understand you were looking for money. That’s funny because so was I. For years I’d noticed that a large portion of the money he’d make from his shift would disappear. He’d never tell me where, and after a while, I got really tired of him hiding it from me. We argued a lot about it. I began to think the worse, drinking, drugs, a secret family.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath after the last word. The sting of the situation pricking her like a needle in the center of her chest. She set the box down on the bed and opens it.
“Then one night I found this.” She pulls out some papers, some receipts, and then a few old checkbooks. “And just like that, I had my answer. I confronted him immediately about the woman and the boy, his secret family. ‘It’s not what you think,' he said.” She brought her hand across her face as she sat on the bed. Ellis looked on confusingly.
“I don’t—”
“My husband had a secret family. One he had been putting money in direct deposit and writing out a check to every month.” She hands him the checkbook. Ellis reaches for it. “Every month, he’d write the check and write a letter and send it to the woman. To help with the bills and things.” Ellis looked down at the first page. He read the name on the carbon copy and his heart sank.
“No.” He said. “No, it’s not true.”
“I thought they were love letters or instructions, now I know, that they were apologies for a terrible wrong from so long ago.”
"You’re lying,” Ellis said sternly. “My mother ain't never got no checks.” Cheryl pulled out a series of squared papers, stapled to each other, and presented them to Ellis.
“I suppose when the checks weren’t getting cashed, he started to send them certified.” Ellis looked down at the little pieces of paper, the green stripe on top, and the word certified. “Turns out, you and I had been looking for the same thing the whole time.”
Ellis thought back to the barbeques they’d had on the anniversary of his father’s death. Burgers and hot dogs were all cooked by the charcoal briquettes, and the letters with the green-certified stickers mom had collected all year round from Jackson Montgomery. None of them opened. As if they were, then this whole situation would not have been.
“I don’t, I don’t believe this,” he said as he read.
“I know,” she said. “But it’s true.” Cheryl collected all of the documents and put them back in the box.
“The money you’d been looking for, that you all but killed my husband for, he had already given it to you. Even after you’d grown up, he was still providing for your Mom.” She finished boxing up the remnants of the documents.
“But… that’s all over now. The doctor says that his chances of making it is slim, and now that you’re going to jail – probably for his murder, among other things—there’s really no need to keep that money separate and apart from the other account. I just wanted you to know who you’d hurt.”
“He killed my father.”
“Your father was drunk and ran into the road with no warning,” the Detective said. “Even if Mr. Montgomery was sober, he still would’ve hit him.” Ellis looked at the Detective in disbelief.
“No, Jackson jumped the curve, he wasn’t in the street.” The Detective. Sighed and toss the file to his knees.
“Witness statements, crime photos all confirmed that Phil Dysart was struck by the car in the center of the street.” Ellis shook his head in disbelief. All of the sorrow, the struggling, the anger his mom had built towards Jackson, it was all for nothing. He felt his stomach knot up as he thought of the rage he’d felt in himself.
“You’re lying. You’re lying to protect him,” he said as a tear trailed his face. “Please tell me you’re lying. Please—”
Cheryl said nothing further. Just picked up her things, her box full of carbon copy checks and cert slips, and left Ellis. The detective pulled out a set of handcuffs, wrapped one end around Ellis’ wrist and the other on the bed rail. Ellis never protested, only continued to look down at the police file as the cops Mirandized him. After the police were done, Ellis began to think of Jackson and the little girl he’d robbed of his presence. And as the truth began to settle in, the tears increased, then turned into sobs that filled the room as the detectives silently stepped out. And as the last one closed the door, he shook his head as Ellis wailed on.
“I’m sorry," he sobbed. I’m so sorry.”