In the Beginning - The Northern Dilemma

Chapter 40.

Jack followed the trail. The current case led him into an office building as the sun set behind it. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. His distraction might get some credit for that.

He was thinking about Thomas. His stolen foster son, not the priest. He did that a lot recently.

Ever since the boy ordered the box, something wasn't right. Jack knew the boy purchased items online, but he didn't understand the appeal of the container. Though, from time out of mind young men loved objects capable of holding worthless treasures and half lost memories. Despite this history repeating itself, their parents never understood the appeal.

When Jack was a boy it was cigar boxes.

As to the evolution to fancy looking containers, Jack blamed the hipsters. He did that a lot too. So why was this whole thing making him uncomfortable?

He snapped out of his dread, into the tomb silence of the building.

He was alone. The place where a receptionist should sit was, to him, ominously empty. It was a bit before five though. Maybe she just ducked out early. More likely, in this day and age, the fat cats running the businesses were saving money by cutting Martha the single mother from the payroll.

They probably still paid her just as much when they saw her on the pole, Jack thought. Realizing how uncharitable that was, he tried to shake off his dark humor. He looked to the doors behind the desk instead.

One was orange and the other green. Jack moved towards the orange one, because he was not Catholic.  He thought about drawing his gun, then didn't.

The hallway was dim, but not enough to stop him seeing. Another door at the end stood ajar, faint light spilling from it. Silence continued to rule the building. Jack made his way down that hall and pushed the door the rest of the way open.

He was surprised that he was not surprised to see Thomas sitting behind the desk. The teen spun a large gun on top of the blotter, causing Jack to wonder why anyone still had such a thing. Jack would have wondered where the gun came from, but he knew it was one of his own.

Jack could have wondered at the feelings inside him. The sense of inevitability for instance. The last decade or so had eliminated most such things from his personality though. Then the boy spoke up and answered any questions he might have.

"Did you think you could take the prophecy out of the boy?"

"I hoped, for your sake. The box was from her then?"

"You'll never know. Your part of this testament is done."

"I'm sorry..."

"Save it, your apology won't save you."

"...that I failed the priest."

"Aren't you supposed to play the hero and try to redeem me?"

Jack looked sadly at his adopted son for the first time. "I think you were lost before I even found you, son."

The gun screamed once, branding Jack as the new Judas.

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