To Be A Champion

Chapter 12: Blood in the Water

Sometimes I have a hard time remembering that the man who kidnapped Janine and carved a 'J' into her arm when we first met him is the same man who is in front of me now. He's intensely whittling away with a piece of wood and a sharp knife because that's all he can do to dispel his anxiety over hearing about what happened to Janine today. Tom's controlled breathing and knitted brows are just enough to mask the thinly veiled rage and worry.

With the zombies still following us, we couldn't go back and look for Jones, although I'm sure he was long gone before we even got to the boat. We now know he still has the control box on his person, but that means he'll be lying in wait for Janine to get close enough to do whatever he did earlier. She can't go on missions, even during her remission days. It's too much of a risk.

The sickening feeling of guilt spreads throughout my chest, thick and sticky and making every part of me feel heavy and pained. This is my fault. I was the one who said we should go towards the rocks. I was the one who pushed for it despite Janine's protest, and she ended up getting hurt.

I tried to help, but I only ended up making it worse.

Despite my attempts to keep it lodged in my throat, a dry, acrimonious laugh leaves my lips to hit the heavy air. How often I try to help, only for it to make everything worse. It happened so many times when I tried to keep Peter safe and ended up hurting the both of us, in big and little aspects. And now that Peter isn't here, I've done it with someone else.

"What's so funny?" Tom asks, and I glance up at him. There's only dull curiosity in his eyes, and I'm not sure if I should be happy that it has replaced the burning anger that was there before. I'm sure it's still there, just hidden for the time being.

"Nothing," I say, the words coming out as a soft whisper. If he hears the regret in my voice, he doesn't say.

"Then why were you laughing?"

I try to find the words, but everything that comes to mind sounds like something I'd say if I wanted sympathy. "Just thinking. A dangerous thing to do for me sometimes."

He hums. "I can relate to that."

A beat of silence goes by, and even as he looks back at his knife and the piece of wood in his hands, Tom doesn't start whittling away again. I'm not sure what to say. I can't ask him if he's alright, not when I already know the answer. There's no use in asking if he's upset with me since it's my fault with what happened to Janine, because if he did blame me, he'd have said.

Tom actually blames Shona for what happened, saying she should have been smart enough to realize the errors, how real scientists wouldn't make such a mistake, and how the patterns seemed off. She knows this place better than we do, and she should have spotted the signs. Shona, of course, didn't like being told off, but she didn't argue. She just apologized before swiftly leaving, and Janine ended up scolding Tom for his outburst.

I wish I could make things better, that I could at least give some kind of comfort to my friends who are now stuck trying to think of a new plan–a new way to help Janine, a new way to stop Jones. Tom is my closest friend here, besides Sam, of course, but I can't even think of any way to truly make him feel better either.

We're not at Abel. We can't just meet up in our little corner in the middle of the night so he and Peter can smoke, and I can have a few sips from a flask as we sit in comfortable silence. This place doesn't come with the safety and security that Abel does. Even though everyone is kind and welcoming, there's still a difference between being on your turf and someone else's.

Then an idea pops into my head, and the words are spilling from my mouth before I can know what to do with them.

"Spar with me."