Angry Jasper: Thirty-Eight

There were voices up ahead. They were the low voices of conspiracy. .It would have been nothing to double back and go around, but a boyish curiosity got the better of Jazz. He looked at skull boy for some indication this would lead to trouble. Then again, it was difficult to imagine that things could get any worse. He motioned for the kid to stay as he crept closer to the voices.

There were three men in a lower chamber, rebel soldiers. They were huddled together. They were discussing an attack of some sort. It was simple math for Jazz to figure out they intended to off Thomas. With Kate at Thomas’ side, she would be fair game, and no matter how much of a bitch she was Jazz just couldn't let that happen.

They all looked distraught and deeply conflicted. Their little conspiracy, and the secrets they kept tp one another and about Thomas had taken a terrible physical tool on eat man. Their eyes were dark and withdraw. Jazz knew the look well from years of battling space pirates. These were men fully resigned to their cause and to death.

“I’ll act alone if I have to,” said the first man.

“As long as we all agree this is probably a suicide mission,” said another, “undoubtedly for our families as well.”

“But if we succeed,” said the third. By his demeanor Jazz took him to be in charge.

The second man laughed miserably and spit into the shadows. “Succeed? This will split the rebellion.”

“If the people knew the truth.”

“They will if the plan succeeds.”

“And if it don’t?” the second wasn’t convinced.

“Then god help humanity.”

Just then Jazz felt the muzzle of an ARP at his temple. To call what happened in his gut a sinking feeling would have been an understatement. He just about shi…he groaned.

“Tell me that’s you, kid?” he said loud enough that the men in the chamber drew weapons and turned suddenly. He glanced from the corner of his eye. Skull boy stood a short distance away with a dumb smirk on his face.

“You couldn’t have warned me?” Jazz sneered.

“Don’t worry,” the kid said, indifferent.

Jazz was shoved to his knees as the others rushed up the stairs. He so wanted to make a smart ass remark, but these guys weren’t like that forlorn gaggle of Corporation guys back in that first cell. The wrong word here was certain to get him killed. Then again, Jazz would have found it hard to believe they’d let him live after what he had just overheard.

Someone pulled a knife. A hand wrapped around Jazz’ forehead and yanked it back, exposing his neck. The cold sharp blade of a hunting knife pressed against his windpipe. All the while Skull boy stood passively, almost gleefully, as though this was some odd sort of street theater.

“Cut his throat,” said the first man.

“What about the kid?” said another.

“No witnesses,” said the leader.

“Don’t makes us any better than Thomas and his lot,” said the second man. “I won’t lose no sleep over this guy, but the kid?”

“If you don’t have the stomach?” the first man snarled.

“I don’t have the stomach for it either,” Jazz offered.

The leader thought a moment. His eyes avoided Jazz. “We can’t take any chances. Sorry, kid.”
Jazz felt the knife blade pressed into his flesh. His mind spun madly for anything that might spare him, if only to die in a less painful and gruesome way. “Wait! The kid, he’s psychic, or clairvoyant, or something.”

The kid gasped. “Are you crazy?

“Suck it, kid,” said Jazz. “I’m trying to save our asses here.” the knife cut into jazz’ flesh. Glistening droplets of crimson blood appeared. The warm fever of regret ran through Jazz. Suck it kid. Those were to be his last poignant words?

“You won’t cut his throat,” skull boy blurted. “I mean you could. I would, but you won’t.”

“Watch me,” said the man with the knife. Jazz tightened his body, clenched his teeth. He was determined not to scream, not to give this bloke the slightest satisfaction. He clenched his butt cheeks too. He didn’t want to die with a pant load of crap either.

“Wait!” the commander raised a hand. The blade still pressed at Jazz’ throat. Blood trickled in rivulets under his collar and into his shirt, running down his body. “Tell me, kid. Why are you so sure we would dispose of both of you?”

“It is true,” the boy replied, “I can see the future, and in about fifteen seconds you’ll hear Thomas guards coming. They’re coming for me and Angry Jasper. You’ll make the decision that we have some value.”

The guy almost bought it and started to laugh. “Careful where you step, boys, the bullshi…”
Suddenly footsteps thundered in the passageway. The men looked at one another as if to ask if that had been fifteen seconds, just as the kid predicted. The leader shoved the barrel of his ARP under Jazz’ chin and leaned close.

“You and the kid now share a second birthday and a second chance at life. Mess up and I’ll put both of you down without hesitation.”