The Big Blue Sky: Chapter Two-Twenty-seven

“Dad! Dad!” It was Megan’s voice.

She was calling to him, but it seemed a thousand miles away. Her voice was hollow and distant, as if he was lying at the bottom of a deep well and covered in water. As he came around Doug would have wished to remain submerged in the dark and emptiness, as suddenly the pain fell upon him like an avalanche. A nasty gash had been opened at his temple. The side of his head was sticky with drying blood that stained the floor beneath him. He would have wished for the brandy induced headache rather than the abusiveness of this new injury.
.
It took a moment for his eyes to focus on Megan’s face. Her hand was on his cheek. Dana was standing over Megan. There was a look of utter terror in their eyes, such as he had never seen before. It helped to bring him around a bit more.

“What, I…”he began, his mind unwilling to form complete thoughts just yet.

“Dad, we called the police.”

“Police?” he repeated the word as if it was a strange language.

Doug started to lift his right hand, but it felt heavy at first. It took a moment, as he turned to one side, to realize there was something heavy there. Doug groaned and rubbed his eyes again, this time finding the pistol in his hand. He looked sharply at the girls, and then turned to the body sprawled upon the sofa.
“Oh my god,” he moaned.

“Dad,” Megan knelt beside him, “he must have attacked you with a gun and you…” she looked back at her sister, who seemed in shock.

“There was a man…” he said confused, looking at the gun and then at Fallahi again.

“What man?”

“You didn’t…?”

“I came down and found you on the floor.”

“And the gun?”

“It was in your hand,” said Dana. Tears began streaming across her cheeks. She wiped them away and hugged herself. Now and again she would glance nervously towards the door.

Doug dropped the weapon and pushed it away, as if it was poison. His mind, such as it was, raced at a dizzying pace, enough that he feared tumbling back into unconsciousness. He looked wildly about the room, then back to Megan.

“You called the police?” he said, alarmed.

“They’re on their way. I’m sorry, it…”

“How long?’

“I don’t know, a minute or two before you came around.” she replied.

Doug searched the air, figuring things. The thoughts came as slow as cold honey. The house was some distance from Marquette under the best of conditions. It was a bit better than a twenty minute ride to town, maybe twenty-five on such a dark and blustery night. But for the occasional State cop cruising by on patrol, it was rare to see the police in these parts.

“Dad, what is going to happen?” Dana teetered at the edge of falling apart.

Doug stood, steadying himself on Megan’s shoulder. His knees threatened to give out completely. He needed a moment. He needed to take stock and figure out exactly what was happening. He noted the gun and Fallahi. Doug was still covered in his blood and body parts. Visions of those final few moments before Fallahi was killed rampaged through his brain like panicked horses; the door, grabbing Fallahi’s arm, stumbling, and Megan at the stairs. He knew instantly. The realization struck him fully in the chest.

“Oh god!” he gasped.
“Dad, what is it?”

“Girls, grab some clothes, coats and blankets, and hurry. We have to go now!”

Dana began to cry, immobilized by the moment. It infected Megan, who was fighting to hold back her emotion. “Tell us what is going on?”

He knelt and held the girls before him. Something in his expression, perhaps a reflection of the gravity of all this brought Dana around. She choked back tears, still he could feel her trembling terribly.

“I’ll explain everything once we get in the car, but right now I need you to grab clothes, blankets, boots, your coats and hats. Don’t bring anything electronic. No computers, MP3s, and absolutely no cell phones.”

“Dad,” said Dana, forcing a deep breath. “Did you kill that man?”

“No, honey,” he said simply. Now go and we’ll all talk in the car.”

“Where are we going?”
“For tonight, Uncle Dan and Aunt Sandy’s cottage on the island.”

He stood and watched them hurry up the stairs. Doug looked back at Fallahi’s body and the gun on the floor. Five minutes. Five minutes was all he had to prepare, but what to take? What would he and the girls need to survive until all of this could be straightened out? Five minutes, that was all he had. Five very short minutes.