THE LONELY WALK

His ears were still ringing from the blast. He thought he was dead. He had to be. How could a guy so close miss, with a gun so big!! But he was still breathing. He could feel his heart pumping. Blood rushing through his forehead! And the dead silence that was before, erupted into panicky screams from voices he vividly knew.
Jif Kitchen opened his eyes, feeling a little sticky, expecting to see a heaven or hell. He saw neither, at first. He was still on the roof garden on top of Lime.Inc. Burnt cordite filled the air, making the place smell like a bonfire. And his vision was engulfed by the back ends of a pair of smart men's shoes flying in mid air. The cuff of a pair of black pants over a man's ankle completed the picture. Iffy, the bodyguard, must have taken the bullet for him.
As the shoes flew out of his sight, Jif found himself facing straight into the eyes of the disfigured Japanese man that no one had taken notice of before. A 6ft tall Asian male, black suit, white shirt and funeral tie. "Fitting" Jif though, when he first realised who he was. The man's face had skin peeling and blistering in a reddish colour on his left cheek. A section of his head, from the eye socket to the left ear was completely bald, in-spite of his spiky black hair. His Aviator sunglasses completely concealed his eyes.
The black shotgun he was holding was still smoking. But he was no longer grimaced and primed to kill as Jif had first saw. The man's look now was that of surprise.
Bits of tiny black plastic spun in the air. They looked freshly broken. Almost life-like. The plastic flew into Jif's face, causing him to blink.
Jif couldn't move. It was as if the weight of his body was now on his shoulders. It felt as though his 239 pounds of fat was holding him in place. He couldn't even glance over to see where the shoes had gone or come from. He knew this day would come, and he was ready to accept it, but the Jap wasn't making his move.
Then, another bang broke his concentration. This time it was followed by a splatter. And a man's scream. And it was not in front of him, but from his right.
Jif didn't break eye contact. He wanted to be sure it would be over. The Jap's face contorted into a look of pain, mouth open, eyes wide, skin pale! There was a 2 inch wide hole in the place of his heart, leaking with blood down his white shirt, beneath the black suit jacket he was wearing. The shiny black shotgun was still in his right hand, yet held loosely, as if it was going to fall from his grip.
Two more blasts rang out and the man's chest exploded again before he fell sideways, like liquid. Jif looked to his right and saw, IFFY! Black skinned, black pants and yellow high-visibility jacket, holding a black automatic pistol, still smoking. Iffy's expression was one of rage; eyes narrow, teeth exposed, his short, thinning black hair revealing a brow of sweat, his 'tash and goatee almost obscuring his mouth. The Japanese man was face down on the beige tiled floor, and a pool of red shiny blood flooded its way from under his chest.
Jif looked around, bewildered, trying to make sense of the situation. If Iffy was next to him, who took the dive? He spun his head, shaking his pony tail off his shoulders. Near a set of couches, he found the shoes. The shoes were connected to the feet of a young man in formal black trousers and a dark grey pinstripe Jacket, his arms still straight out. He recognised the haircut. It was Charles Ronshoe, the boy he had hired that day to act as his second bodyguard.
It was only now he realised that everyone was screaming and shouting. He heard American shouts of "Man down. Man down. Call an ambulance." He staggered forward with shaking hands, panting, stepping around the dead Jap as the Iffy kicked the gun away. Jif wobbled his way over, eyes focused at Charles Ronshoe, still lying where he fell. Jif could see that the glasses he'd been wearing that day were missing. In the dull light, he could make out a gouge on the side on his right eye. It was leaking blood!! Jif's heart sank.
He ran over to the man's body. Kneeling down at an angle over the man's chest, Jif was greeted by a 5 inch gouge on the boy's right temple. Torn flaps of skin hanging like paper. Ridges of exposed flesh. Red blood leaking, filling tiny gaps in the skin around the wound. It was then Jif noticed that the fat stomach of his tuxedo and his white shirt was coated in dots of red blood. How could he have not noticed before?
With a shaky hand, Jif pushed the head to the left so that he could face Charlie's eyes. Charlie's face sparkled like glitter. Tiny fragments of glass that were once his lenses lay embedded in his face. A black plastic earpiece from what used to be his glasses lay hooked into the collar of Charlie's white shirt. Charlie's skin seemed to go a little paler. Jif's head started to heat up.
And Jif suddenly realised, that the gouge near the boy's right eye was nothing; because he had no EYE! The right eye was now a red, wet hole. Fresh blood reflected the light from the sky in a series of ripples; the blood swayed back and forth like a waves on a pond. Jif suddenly felt his body shiver in coldness. He placed shaky fingers on the man's throat; he knew it was futile but he had to be sure. No pulse!
Jif's eyes began to water, his breathing became erratic. Feet ran up to him, women's voices began to cry and shriek in despair. He felt girl's arm become wrapped around his right shoulder. A sky blue cotton jumper against his tuxedo jacket. Smells of intoxicating perfume. Hot pants of breath against his cheek.
"Jif" whispered the girl. "I'm sorry."
He knew who it was, and he didn't care. He wanted to be alone with his friend. He placed his flat right palm on Charlie's chest, his left and over his right, and thrust his palm down into the boy's heart in an attempt to resuscitate him.
"He's been shot, he's been shot" cried a girl's voice out of nowhere. After 3 thrusts Jif's arms lost their strength. He wanted to shout "Wake up! Wake up!"
He pulled at the perils of Charles brand new pinstripe jacket, shaking the body feebly. The girl released her grip and pulled her arm away. His eyes were blurring and he could barely see. Grimacing, he slapped the head with his right hand; no reaction. He couldn't hold it anymore!
"Fuck!" he yelled, with a shaky breath.
Sitting up on his knee's, he threw the palms of his hands over his eyes, panting, mouth wide open, lips stretched back. His body jerked back and forth several times as he struggled to breath. Finally, he threw of his palms away from his face into the air and looked up into the grey sky as tears streamed from his reddening eyes.
"AAAAHHHHHHGGGGGG!!!!!!" His eyes rolled into the back of his head, his mouth relaxed and his torso fell forward, laying flat over the boy he so loved, as more and more people gathered round.

May 9th 2006 14.09 EST

The arm that had held Jif Kitchen before he screamed was that of his wife. Dressed in a blue jumper and blue jeans, the blonde girl seemed out of place next to the fat man with a ponytail in a black tuxedo.
In the reception area of Lime.Inc, hand in hand, Jif gripped his wife's hand tightly! Even sitting on the awful red school chair, his legs were still shaking. Every breath he took sounded like a car exhaust spluttering.
He knew he was lucky to be alive. Lucky to be here! And not fighting for the British, or the US, in Iraq or Afghanistan. He'd seen the news this morning; another British soldier had been slaughtered by a road-side bomb in Basra today. If he'd been just a little more desperate to escape from a dad who'd graduated from slaps to punches, he'd have joined the army himself.
No. It was Charlie who got the short end of the stick! And Jif put him their. The very thought was tearing him up inside.
He sat silently, going over the events in his head. How did it happen so fast?

May 9th 2006 13.31 EST

"Ello Mr Kart!" welcomed Jif to the old suit. He was standing next to a food table that overlooked the terrific views of Bostom Common where a 50 year old man was loading cocktail sausages and eggs sandwiches onto a flimsy paper plate. Kart was a considerable customer, having paid $100,000 for weapons last year. He ran a security company that ran world wide, including Iraq, Afghanistan and Brazil.
"Man, you're like school in the summertime!" replied Mr Kart in a husky Colorado accent. He was asking for trouble, but it was worth it. There was even more money to be had, since he'd brought all his friends with him today. That was Jif's job today; get more customers and investors.
All around were suits, business women, naval personnel, army uniforms, and even arms dealers who wanted to sell to Lime.Inc, even though it making enough stock as it was. Everyone here on this cold garden party knew what Lime.Inc was about; they wouldn't have come here otherwise if they didn't intend to spend something. Vincent, his boss, was after some nice juicy contracts to finish off the 2 year anniversary of the opening of Lime.Inc.
"School in summer time?" asked Jif with his best grin. He felt Charlie pace up next to him as two bald black men in shirts were grinning drunkenly and sipping champaign glasses behind the old man.
"Yep, you fuckin piss me off! Lose some weight!" Kart said with a throaty cough. Jif was used to this, and in some respects, enjoyed it.
"Here, yank. I lose weight when I want to bitch!" He was mimicking a black guy. "Shut ya bitch ass!" The two black guys bend over in a fleet of giggles.
The flat roof top of Lime.Inc covered about 30 by 20 meters, and would normally be covered in felt, but today it had the red carpet. The perimeter of the roof was fenced off by a 4 foot high barricade of ugly black bars to stop anyone falling off the building. Pot plants of some sort had been placed in each corner. In the middle of one side was the elevator; a big steel shed to accommodate the car, with silver door to allow access. It was the only way on and off the roof, except for the fire exit in the apartment block next door, which was only accessible from the outside, this side.
Streamers hung from one fence to another, and placards with the Lime.Inc symbol were decked out here and there. A picnic table in the middle of the commotion was full of Lime.inc brochures and catalogues and advertisements saying how good a company it was. On each side of the roof were tables draped in green tablecloths, lined up with trays of food and drink.
"God, I Love coming here," said kart, recovering from his giggle.
"Just let us know when you need more stock." Jif went on. "And ya mates - we ain't been introduced." He wobbled about offered his hand to the black in a blue shirt.
"MATE!" exclaimed the negro. "I ain't gay, man."
"Never said you were!" replied a grinning Jif. Humour was part for the job. He took the man's hand and gave it a quick shake. "You know who I am."
"Sure do." The man was spluttering a hiding giggle.
"I'm neglecting my other guests." Jif started eye balling a Japanese looking man who was staring out through the bars on the east wall. He had a black suit and spiky black hair. He wasn't interacting with anyone. Perhaps he had money to spend. Or needed ejecting. "Enjoy what we have; I'm sure find out catalogue some stimulating company."
"WHAT?" exclaimed the black before laughing uncontrollably again. Jif took a few steps before turning around. Charlie was still behind him.
"Mate, you sure you don't wanna chat to some of these girls?" asked Jif.
"Aw come on," whined Charlie. He looked like a business executive in his new clothes. Jif was also pleased to see his hair was flat. "They're too rich for me!"
"No harm tra-in," Jif said. You took on a bunch of girl and became their manager.
"Apartment manager," corrected Charlie with an embarrassed grin.
"Seriously mate, following me around is quite borin'," Jif coaxed, waving his arms and pointing at the food tables. "I didn't hire you to get bored to death."
"What about Iffy?" asked Charlie. The other bodyguard had vanished. Jif didn't care.
"He'll come back. And I'll be alright. Come on man, enjoy yourself, have some free food." Jif's accent could be so pleasing at time. Charlie smiled.
"Only coz you asked me nicely," said the Boston boy. His glasses had suddenly reflected the depressing grey sky that day.
"At a boy, you'll get into MIT in no time," yapped Jif as Charlie turned away to the tables. Then he realised the music had stopped. It need sorting again; the stereo had been dumped under on of the food tables.
"Lets put some Feeder on." Jif shuffled off, swaying his belly with each step as he wormed his way around a two gossiping Arab men, a suit trying to pull a lady, and an old man stooping with a walking stick, he got within a few feet of the Jap next to where the stereo was set up.
"Hello, sir," called Jif. No reaction. Jif was still pacing up to him. "Can I interest you in our new -"
The man spun round, whipping something out of his pants. He had aviator sunglasses on. And the left side of his face was burnt. In his hands was a pump action shotgun. Lethal. He was going to die.
Even then Jif could feel his stomach burn. He felt his smile shrink to a frown. His skin went cold. Sweaty. He'd been running for so long and now it had caught up with him. History had repeated itself. There was no point in stopping it now. He had to die. To finish this off. He closed his eye and bowed his head.
"JIF?"

May 9th 2006 14.11 EST

"Uh..." Jif exclaimed. Yuzuyu was holding Jif's shoulder, stroking it lovingly. He could feel her breath against his skin. His face burnt from the tears and from rubbing his face with his hanky. He gazed down at his soggy handkerchief, crushed into a ball in his palm, before brutally shoving it into his jacket pocket.
He gazed around the reception. It was a lot smaller than the roof, because a white brick wall had been built forward to recess the elevator. Two wooden doors either side of the silver elevator doors held a storage cupboard.
The pine curved desk covered most of the length of the room, with Lime.Inc on the wall below the desk, and on a banner above in case someone forgot where they were. Shiffs and Mitzvah normally sat behind there, but had disappeared since the commotion. Beyond the desk was a doorway which led to a small kitchen, and a toilet. All this furnishing left a tiny seating area with a leather couch and two red plastic which Jif and Yuzuyu were sitting on. He breathed staggered. Then he gazed at his wife, again.
"I'm sorry you 'ave to see this, Yuzuyu" he said to her. His English accent was peppered with croaks and mutilated words. The H's were silent in his speech, and his words followed a continuous rhythm, like most Yorkshire folk. The girl, with fluffy short blonde hair that went no further than the tops of her ears, pulled her lips down to expose her bottom gums. Her face was also shiny with tears.
"How can you say that?" she replied in her child-like voice. Her accent was impossible to place; American sounding A's, English sounding O's, Japanese sounding U's. Her skin was pale, and her brown eyes reflected Jif's own sadness. He was still wondering how and when they had gotten down to the reception; he couldn't remember going. And then the elevator pinged.
On the opposite side wall of where the couple sat, was the silver doors of the elevator. The orange light above was on as the doors slid open with a slight scraping sound. There were two ambulance men in green uniforms. One was standing against the corner of the elevator car, the other was squatting down. The elevator was so narrow; they had to prop up the body at and angle. They were practically standing him up.
Jif threw his head down in disgust; how could Charlie be subjected to such inhuman treatment! Even if he was dead. He was just glad he didn't see his face; it had been covered with cloth of some sort. As the sounds of footsteps squeaked along the tiled floor in front of him, Jif drew his head up again, and proceeded to stand.
Charles's body was laid on a flimsy cloth stretcher. They had draped a dirty, pale blue blanket over his body and head, but it was too short and his feet were exposed. Jif felt his face go cold as he gazed at the boy's shoes. He took a step to keep up with the crew, and Yuzuyu stood along side him.
On shaky legs, he still had to crouch down to speak to his wife. She was less than 5ft tall, and looked so fragile Jif thought she would break under his weight, as he placed his palm on her shoulder.
"I have to see him goodbye," croaked Jif in his north English accent. The pony tail on his black hair had flown up over his shoulder again, but he didn't bother moving it.
"I know" replied Yuzuyu, a little tearfully, with slit eyes. "Dakishimetal no ni" she said without turning to face him. Jif felt a mix of euphoria and guilt fill his heart. She meant "I just want to hold you."
Jif let go of her hand and paced along the floor to the opening of the building where the medics were turning right. He stepped out into the Boston daylight and his heart sank again. In spite of the bright sun, it was bitterly cold. Jif breath hung in front of his eyes. Yuzuyu's fingers reconnected with Jif's right hand, and he acknowledged the pandemonium in front of him.
People were leaving the 3 story building in droves, queuing up in an untidy line at the gate. Lime.Inc was surrounded by a black ten-foot high steel fence. The only way out was through the single gate that was only letting one person out at a time to maintain security. But, the ambulance had been allowed into the delivery entrance, and was parked up, facing the huge sliding gate that was now closed to avoid a sudden robbery, and was two metres away from the garage entrance where delivery vans would go down into the basement to unload their cargo.
At any rate, the park bay, the pathway, and indeed this block of Federal Street had turned into a disco of flashing blue and red lights from police cars and ambulances. Jif could make out a blue and white Boston police car through the bars of the fence less than a yard away from him, along with a cop pacing around with yellow cordon tape.
The ambulance crew made their way over the footpath and the small patch of grass to the ambulance. Its rear doors were still open. As the front man boarded the steps, Charlie's feet shook unnervingly. Jif followed unnerved, and began to pant as he too entered the ambulance.
"Pardon me" said one of the crew in a deep Northern American voice as he backward walked off the ambulance. Darting aside, Jif let him pass. He turned his head as the medic disappeared around the side of the ambulance. Jif looked back at Lime.Inc; the yellow brick seeming to glow in the dull sunlight, the tired-looking green lettered company logo hanging below the guttering of the roof, almost begging to come down. Then, the other medic started talking; slim face, short grey hair, wrinkled face, his hand pointing to the interior of the van. He spoke in a New York accent.
"You can sit on the bench over their, but please don't touch the body." He twanged.
Jif nodded obediently, and sat down on the red padded bench that the ambulance man had been talking about. His enormous bottom plumped down like a pig, pushing out all the air in the seat making a short lavatorial noise. His stomach stuck out its white clad shirt, covering his crotch. Yuzuyu crept and sat down next to him with plastic rustle that came from under her clothes. She kept looking up at Jif with curiosity, and sorrow. Why they were using an ambulance instead of a coroner's car bothered Jif. And he was surprised too about being allowed to ride with a cadaver. But he didn't want to think about it.
"Have good ride" said the Bostonian medic, as the doors slammed shut and the engine started. Seconds later the vehicle moved off gradually and turned multiple times. Jif looked down Charles; the left hand was sticking out. He was till holding an orange that he hadn't yet eaten. It was the orange Jif recommended he eat. Jif placed his elbow on his knees and buried his face into his hands again. His wife sitting next to him looked around the ambulance, and at her husband. She looked back at Charles and exhaled a pant of sadness; she too was at breaking point.
"Jif" she began, placing a palm on his shoulder. He unearthed his face and faced her. She leaned forward to an embrace, and they buried each other into their shoulders. "Jif I'm sorry" she wept. "I'm so sorry!"
"No! I'm sorry!" replied Jif weakly. They hugged lengthily, kissing, telling each other how they loved one another. Charlie's hand slipped front the stretcher, dropping the orange. It rolled along the floor as the ambulance turned yet another corner.
"Sorry!" How Jif had heard that word so often! Sorry! He clenched his eyes shut as he searched through the fragments of his dreams to remember that time. And it came back.

September 13th 2003 00:19 JST

His knee's and hands burned from being scraped along the road. The girl had already crawled her way out from under him. The legs of his pants felt damp as he stood to his feet, staggering over broken bricks and wet cracked road tarmac in a place he was unfamiliar with. He had a massive weight on his back from a parachute he had just ejected. He struggled to get the backpack off.
He was in the place that nobody knew existed. Frontiera Island. Though it did not exist anymore! The buildings around him looked straight out of New York! And yet everything was made in Japan. The pale blonde girl in front of him rose to her feet. She was wearing oversized green trousers and a dirty white man's shirt. She looked like a penguin with the sleeves over her hands. And this girl was to be his future wife!
"Keitaro!" called Yuzuyu. She didn't get a reply. But Jif did!
"Jif" screamed an Asian man's voice from nowhere. Jif turned around in the direction he'd heard it from, peering through the visor of his motorcycle helmet. Atlas, the man who'd helped him, was standing on the window frame of a shattered man-sized window in a glass and steel building at least 2 yards away. "TSUNAMI" screamed Atlas. And Jif didn't need to think twice.
He scoped up Yuzuyu into his thick arms and thrust her stomach against his chest. He gripped her bottom tightly and broke into a run. Grinding his teeth, his ankles were sore from where he'd scraped them from landing less than a minute ago.
"Ya. YA!" the girl cried in Japanese, trying to struggle from Jif's grip. He poked his head around Yuzuyu's watching out for obstacles in the road, dodging abandoned cars and holes in the tarmac. He pondered to himself; maybe he should leave the girl with the boy she had befriended. But he had got through a lot of stuff to get her here. The only thing on his mind was to get out of here with this little girl alive!
He looked behind to catch a glimpse of the tsunami. It was massive, as tall as the skyscrapers around him. He'd survived a fall, an earthquake and dozens of men with guns, and now he was going to drown.
"KEITARO!" screamed Yuzuyu. Jif made a sharp turn and dived into a vacant building. It was an office block with it windows blasted out from the earthquake. Amazingly the lights were still on, probably from an emergency generator. He found a flight of stairs and charged for it.
"Ya" yelled the girl. "Vata stashina Keitaro wetascetaberabeni!" Even though he barley learnt Japanese, he knew what she was saying. "We have to help Keitaro."
"We can't help him anymore" Jif screamed back in Yorkshire English, as he cornered the first flight with Yuzuyu grunting with every turn, pushing her further into Jif. He turned to the next set of steps when the remaining glass windows shattered from his left. He caught a glimpse and saw water begin to gush through the open gaps of the building. The tsunami was here.
Man and girl were panting as they turned to run up step after step. She pulled her lips back in fright, looking over his shoulder. He could only imagine the fear for this girl; seeing the water gushing after them like that gun toting Jap had been doing all day. His feet made eerie stomps on steel steps, echoing through the deserted building. 12 steps for every flight; it was never ending. 36 steps already! He was wheezing; his helmet was obscuring his airways. He felt hot and sleepy, he wanted to stop. Yuzuyu continued to struggle, but Jif held on to her butt. Her smell added to his determination. She released her hold of Jif's neck and smacked the helmet at its right temple; Jif raced even faster.
50 steps! The building began to flood, and the water level rose unbelievable fast. The lights flickered and eventually went out completely, plunging the stairwell into a grey darkness, the only illumination coming from the outside moonlight.
"Jif," whined the girl on a hysterical note, "I don't like the dark." As she said that, Jif tripped on one of the many steps ahead of him in the darkness. Dropping onto his left palm and griping the girl tightly with his right, he let out a short yelp before picking himself up and running off again. It took him a while to realise that his shoe was wet, and even longer to see that the water level had stopped rising. Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!
Having climbed what must have been 12 flights of steps, they made it to a walkway which held a fire exit. Pushing down the horizontal bar to open the door, the building's fire alarm began ringing idly. Jif and Yuzuyu were on the rooftop. A huge H in the tarmac told him it was a helipad. The cold air breezed into his jacket; tiny droplets of cold, sharp water stabbed into his wrists. He placed Yuzuyu down were she immediately ran to the edge of the roof.
"Keitaro" she screamed yet again. Jif could see tears rolling down her face. But after 10 seconds her panting subsided. She was concentrating. She held up her arm vertically; she was signalling. Jif tried to follow what was grabbing her attention. In the distance was the building Jif had jumped from. On the broken balcony, gradually filling up with water, Jif could make out a figure.
Red sweatshirt, grey trouser, black hair, Japanese skin. It was Keitaro. And his arm was extended upwards. He was waving. Yuzuyu waved back. Jif did the same. The water level rose; it began to invade the boy feet. He didn't move. He stopped waving but Yuzuyu continued. Jif saw him look down at his feet, the rising water. It came up to his knees. No reaction. Jif realised then that he was going to die, and he sighed in disbelieve. The water kept on rising, past his waist, up his chest, to his neck, over his face, over his head. Nothing.
"Vatashina munbreNaomi," said Yuzuyu tearfully. It would take a day for Jif to know that she had said "I'm sorry." She felt guilty for getting Keitaro into this mess, and leaving him behind. But even so, Jif could tell, and he felt his intestines disappear with her sadness.
As she panted, a loud booming could be heard in the sky. He looked up. In the dark grey sky, an orange helicopter appeared, swaying up to the building where they were standing. It hovered overhead, blasting a downwash of air. A string ladder rolled out, its ends slamming into the tarmac of the roof.
Yuzuyu turned to face Jif. Bewildered face; her mouth open, eyes bloodshot, her cheeks a little paler than before. He sighed. What else could he do?
He held out his hand. She stepped forward and took it. He hoisted her up to his waist as he pulled himself up the string ladder.

May 9th 2006 14.14 EST

Jif's eyes stung terribly as he opened them. Behind his red eyelids, his brain played a little game of spinning white cogs to let his eyes get adjusted to the sunlight outside. He had witnessed this phenomenon since childhood.
The ambulance had stopped and the paramedics had opened the doors, flooding the interior with the golden sun.
"Pardon me" the paramedic said again. His smart leather shoes made a "conk" noise on the ambulance step. He didn't take notice of Jif or Yuzuyu as he boarded the cab, shuffled past the couple to where Charlie's head was covered with the blanket. His hands hovered the wooden handles of the stretcher.
Jif released his hold of Yuzuyu and the pale faced blonde girl turned around to see what was happening.
The ambulance man squatted down with a crack of his knees, his blue shirt escaping from the back of his grey pants and exposing the small of his hairy back. As medic No2 appeared at the doors, the first man took hold of the stretcher. Charlie was heaved yet again upwards. Both medics marched out of the ambulance, turning left towards an ugly grey bunker building, out of sight. Jif petted his wife's knee, struggling to find words to say.
"I've got to follow them!" he croaked.
"OK" Yuzuyu said. "You're my husband; you should do as you want." The words created a sensation of pain in Jif's chest. He bowed his head in shame and grinded his teeth.
"Don't say that." He whimpered.
"Why?" replied Yuzuyu in a high pitch of surprise.
"If I order you around you'd be a prisoner! I don't want that" he croaked again.
"Jif" began Yuzuyu, placing a palm on Jif's chin, trying to make him face her. "Girls are supposed to listen, and work for their husbands!"
"But that's what bad guys do!" he replied.
"You're not bad" sighed Yuzuyu. Another tear streamed from Jif's eye. He'd received real affection. He struggled to his feet, bowing his head from the low roof of the ambulance. His smart, enormous leather shoe "chinged" the hollow steel step of the ambulance, before he made connect with the black tarmac of the Coroner's car park.
"I need you to come with me," Jif spluttered, his voice shaking and his wife followed her hand in his. "I can't do it alone!"
The couple walked slowly with a rustle inside Yuzuyu clothes. Jif looked up and saw BOSTON CORONER in gold letters on a black plastic board above the doorway. The sign disappeared above him as he stepped up some concrete steps and entering the glass building.
The floor was a tiled in a colour of faded limes, like the green mile. They found themselves in a narrow corridor, and immediately faced a white plaster wall 2 meters high with a white plastic information sign stuck up to it. The sign had letters of black that read "RECEPTION" and a white arrow on a sky blue background pointing right next to the word. Jif moved cautiously forward, gazing to the right wall, and found a recess at the end with a set of old double brown wood doors. The doors were scuffed chipped around every edge. In the top half were panes of glass with wire mesh squares to stop the glass from shattering. Each door had a silver, extended vertical pull bar, curved at the edges to give it a natural look. They both had a tiny silver plague on top with the letters "PULL" engraved on.
Jif reached out and pulled one of the doors open. He stepped forward, and found himself in the reception area. Walls were all faded blue, and the room was about the size of the embassy Ballroom; 6metres wide by 7 metres long. Iffy had told him that. He turned back to look at Yuzuyu.
"Do...do you need to change?" asked Jif. He'd bent his head back to look behind Yuzuyu. Her blue jumper had crept up slightly, and her white trousers were falling down a little, exposing the waistband of her diaper. She walked forward as Jif looked back to view the surroundings.
A huge pine desk sat opposite of where Jif was standing. It occupied the whole width of the room. Reception was paint high above on the wall behind the desk, in white. Two women in white jackets sat there, one was eyes down at a newspaper, another was gossiping on the phone. Jif could see two office chairs sitting vacant on either side of the receptionists. Ahead of the desk were dozens of expensive looking, black leather armchairs, set in 4 rows; 2 against each wall length ways and 2 back to back in the centre of the room. Most of them were empty, and those occupied had old men in suits, smoking cigarettes and coughing noisily.
"No, I'm OK. But thank for asking" replied Yuzuyu, as she clutched Jif's right hand again, and led him to a vacant row of leather seats. They sat down, the leather and wood board creaking beneath them. Jif leaned forward, dazed, stared at the row of seat opposite. As she sat down next to him, she massaged his hand and faced his left side. "I haven't said this for a while Jif. You're great!"
"Thank you." He replied, his eyes watering again.
"Not many men would stay with a girl who wets herself, and has to wear a diaper." She said softly, her hand moving away from his hand and creeping up to his shoulder.
"I know" he said back, bringing the back of his right hand to wipe his eyes.
"You've done so much!" she said, beginning to get tearful. "You've taught me from scratch! You've always changed my diaper! I'm happy with you Jif!"
Jif began to pant. His heart was racing. Words that Yuzuyu said were triggering searches in his mind for the time she was talking about.
"So don't let these bad guys get to you!" she whispered. Her hands were starting to shake. "I need you Jif!" He covered his eyed with his hands again, as he bowed over and began crying again.
"They've already got to me!" he blubbered. "Every time I close my eyes all I ever see is him lying there!" In the darkness of his own hands he wanted desperately to be alone, but it was coming back. Charlie, flat on his back with a hole in his head. A hole he may as well have put there himself.
How he hated himself. Jif knew it was his fault because he had employed Charlie and he didn't tell him the dangers. Charlie was also inexperienced, and hadn't worked for anything before in his life; why did Jif let him do the job?
It wasn't just that he'd employed Charlie that had got him killed! He had started this ball rolling 3 yeas ago; the meeting of his wife, his marriage, forgiveness. It hadn't worked. What he though was behind him was not. It had caught up with him and Charlie paid the price for what was Jif's fault.
"How did I get here?" said to himself. He covered his eyes with his hands, plunging his sight into darkness.
"How had I gotten here?" wondered Jif. He screwed his eyes shut, racking his brain to remember that day when it all started. All those years ago! Infact, 3 years seemed almost like yesterday. But he wouldn't get that far.