Jack

Chapter Three: Crescendo

Although Jack knew what was going to happen, he still stifled the urge to run when he saw the gallows. It loomed like a black cloud, far away and yet everywhere at once. He tightened his grip on his mother's hand as she reached the wooden steps. 

The air was draped thick around him like a blanket, the silence stretching his nerves tight like a rubber band about to break. A bead of sweat fell from his face and burst upon the ground. 

There was no sound from behind him; his father must have regained his composure in the face of the end, as a final recompense for the beginning and the middle. Jack could feel the eyes upon his child form, poking through his skin, stabbing at his innocence. It wasn't he who had done it. It was his mother and father. 

Suddenly, before his eyes was the crowd, a massive throng of staring faces united under a banner of blame. The shuffling and the collar tugging had ceased, and the tension could almost be tasted; this hadn't happened for decades. What a fitting end, to carry on a nearly lost tradition. 

A portly man in a black suit and tie stepped forward; rather, he waddled. This was a man Jack had only seen a choice few times: the leader of the Committee. He approached the crowd, standing upon a platform, and raised his hands. Then he stomped once with his left foot, then with his right. Five people stepped from the group and approached him. Jack reacted with mild alarm when he saw his father step forward. His mother held him back, and whispered, 

"Your father still recognizes his duty to this town even in the face of death, Jack. Do not trouble him now. Stay with your mother." 

Jack looked back at his mother with wide eyes. Who had just talked to him? Gone was the drawl, the kind simplicity of her words.  

The man, with his arms still raised, exclaimed in a throaty voice: "GREETINGS, MY PEOPLE!" His words echoed mightily. He chuckled. "YOU KNOW WHY YOU ARE HERE! GREGORY, SON OF NONE, HAS BEEN ACCUSED AND PROVEN GUILTY OF MURDER AND NECROMANCY! THE PENALTY FOR THIS IS DEATH! HOWEVER, PROVIDED THAT HE IS A MEMBER OF OUR SACRED COMMITTEE, AND HAS PROFANED ITS NAME, HIS FAMILY IS ALSO TO BE PUT TO DEATH! THIS IS OUR CODE! LONG LIVE THE CODE!" 

The six around him echoed his words in a soft, deadly hum, their heads bowed. "This is our code. Long live the code." 

The people below tightened their grips on one another and swallowed. Tension filled the atmosphere like a fog-like a thick, smothering blanket. Jack could feel nervous shakes in his left hand and grabbed it with his right to steady himself. The words spoken had a certain power to them: the wind seemed unnaturally loud, as did his breathing. He could hear fires crackling. Crickets chirped in the distance; the cacophony made him nearly drop his left hand. He could still feel it quivering. 

The man in the black suit stepped back and gestured to the six before him. They stepped back to their stations, and Jack's father to his noose. The executioner secured it to his neck, checking to make sure it was snug. Jack looked into his father's eyes. Sorrow was all he saw for a few precious seconds-then it was as if something burst into flame within them. 

Jack's father suddenly raised his head to the sky and began to chant incessantly, spewing out a stream of savage gibberish as his body quaked. His form shivered and he suddenly seemed to be three. The ghostly images danced around him.  

The words increased in speed and volume until Jack's teeth were chattering and his eyes rolled insanely in their sockets. A low, gurgled moan escaped the lips of others nearby. People ripped at their clothes and tottered about drunkenly; some collapsed. Jack glanced up at his mother and stopped, transfixed with fear. Her mouth moved in a frantic motion; spit frothed at the edges and dribbled onto her blouse. Her hair stood straight up as if electrified and her hands had formed into hooked claws, digging into her dress. 

Jack resisted the urge to scream rising inside him and forced himself to tear his eyes away from his mother. Heartbeats intensified until a harsh beat pounded forth from them, driving the chant faster and faster. Jack lurched to the side; he turned his head and vomited. Black spots danced before his eyes. 

The chant reached a crescendo, Jack's heart beat madly in his chest and his father maniacally shrieked: "EEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAH!" On the last word, thunder boomed deafeningly in Jack's ears. Lightning cracked down from the sky in a mad dash of destruction and on impact, the sound of breaking glass resonated from the explosion, as well as cries of pain. He screamed a sound of terrible, hopeless agony, clutched his ears, and fell to the ground. He took several ragged breaths and then all was blackness.