Jack & Jack

Jack & Jack

Even before the gnarled knuckles of his brother’s right hand grazed the side of Jack's nose, Jack knew his brother Jack would hit him. Luckily for Jack, his reflexes were fast enough for him to roll his head back and miss the king hit. Jack's brother was blood red with rage and anger. Fair enough, figured Jack. From the outside, what he'd done was brutal but, in Jack's opinion, necessary.

What surprised Jack was his brother's left knee, which was raised, so when Jack swerved to miss the fist, he drove himself into his brother's kneecap. Talk about scoring a home goal. The impact force caused Jack to stumble and fall onto the campervan’s dusty floor. He dropped a can of sausages and beans whose contents he’d been spooning into his mouth. The can landed with a clang, scattering luminescent orange beans through the dust. Some beans bounced and landed on Jack’s bare chest, and he, too, hit the ground.

Winded, he spat out a chunk of grisly cold sausage he'd been chewing. Physically Jack was unhurt. Just startled. And impressed. His little brother was not a fighter, not by anyone's definition, but today, that changed. He looked up at his little brother, who leaned over him, fists raised like a boxer entering the ring, dancing a fighter's dance on the tips of his toes. For the first time, Jack didn't see his little brother; he saw a man. A man who wanted to kill him.

“Brother, you need to chill.” Jack wiped tomato sauce off his lower lip, stretching his legs out as he did so.

“Why’d ya do it brother? Why? He done nothink’ to ya. Nothink’. All he done was ‘elp us. I fort you and ‘em were friends. I fort we all were friends.”

Jack knew his brother wasn't dumb; he just didn't care to learn correctly. Saw no need for it. Jack knew better. Jack knew the only way out was to speak properly, learn to add and subtract, study the Bible and do what they say; “Yes Sister. No Sister. How high Sister?”

 Jack saw his brother crying and turned away his gaze so as not to embarrass him. On his bare chest, he saw the beans and felt how cold and sticky they were against his warm skin. Jack gave one a flick, then the other. He wanted to stand, but his brother's eyes were too venomous with hatred and directed straight towards him for him to dare agitate him any further. Best stay put, he figured, for now.

“I’m looking out for you, like I always do little brother. It’s what ma would have wanted.”

His brother turned towards the camper van's door, which had been torn off a hinge during the arrest and now hung lopsided. Warm air eased its way inside, the temperature in the van rising. Jack watched his brother spit and turn back to face him again. “We aint got us no ma, and don’t ya go calling me little. I ain’t that little. We’re the same size, you and me.”

Jack flicked him a whatever.

“Why?” Jack kicked at his brother’s leg, demanding answers.

Jack pulled his leg in, his bare foot sliding through the sand on the floor. No one had swept the van in days. Since they had arrived in Eden, the chores went by undone, and it was pissing Jack off. He looked up at his brother. Physically, the nose, the lips, and the forehead were the same as his, the curse of being an identical twin. But Jack knew he never looked scared, not like his brother did. Jack's face is practised calm, reassuring and confident. Jack learnt to hide his fear because "if they can see it, boy, they will use it against you. You mark my words. “ Willie was a Custodian at the orphanage where they had lived. He took the Jacks under his wing. That was until Jack accused him of getting too friendly with his little brother and told the Sisters. Willie was taken away, cursing and spitting, swearing on any Bible he could lay his hands on that Jack was a liar.

 Jack thought of those days when his brother wouldn't leave his shadow, existing in the shade of his strength. He loved his brother. It felt good to have someone to look after, protect and know that he, too, had someone to watch his back. The two were formidable, a regular sheriff and his deputy patrolling the dorms of the orphanage. Most kids had an origin story, how they had ended up in a place like that - their parents died from the war, the plague, the Collapse, or just dumped because money or food was scarce. Not Jacks. They knew nothing of their past and had no recollection of a time before the orphanage. They had always just been there.

His little brother was timid, introverted and shy, lashing out only when he thought Jack was under threat. Which was not too often. Jack might not be the biggest kid on their floor, but he was the toughest and the bravest. Jack knew he needed to use his fists and bravado to survive. And when Jack was old enough to figure this out, he figured too that he would be responsible for his smaller brother. Jack was a good inch taller than his twin and a good 10 pounds heavier. Jack saw his brother as a runt, like the pig in a book about a spider Willie had lent them to read. (Books were banned in the orphanage, except for the Bible.) Jack almost laughed out loud. He understood his little brother was a weakling, the one who needed taking care of, yet here he was, the one lying on the floor with sore ribs and a smattering of cold beans running down his chest.

Jack did not take his eyes off his brother. The two were silent, the only noise the hum of the refrigerator and the slight breeze that rustled the leaves of the pecan tree they were parked under. Jack saw his brother’s stance relax, watched as he slumped his shoulders, and wiped more tears from his begrimed face before sitting on the bench where he cupped his face into the palm of his hands. Jack knows the fight is over, but he also knows to let his brother have his victory, if only for a moment. His brother looks up from his hands and shakes his head. "Ya know they gonna execute ‘em. Ya know that don’t ya?”

Jack snorts a chuckle, sounding like a horse. He pulls his feet in towards his chest and begins to stand, steadying himself with his hands against the wall. His ribs are sorer than expected, and he touches the area gently with his fingers, pressing to see if any ribs are broken. He's fine.

“They’re not going to burn him alive. You don’t believe that shit do you?”

“Joey, the kid from the field, when we was out picking the corn, he told me he Church folk burnt free people last week, before we got ‘er. Free brother! Tied ‘em up, built a pile of sticks round their feet, said a prayer and lit it with gasoline and matches. Joey says ya could ‘ear ‘em screaming all the way in Texas. and God knows how far that’s away.”

Jack brings a finger to his lips. “Shh, careful.” Jack turns to close the door. ”Don’t use the Lord’s name like that. You gotta watch your tongue in these parts, you got that brother?”

Jack wished right now he could hug his brother. Tell him that everything is going to be okay. That he was safe. That he would look after him. He felt somewhat ashamed of what he had done. He knew what the punishment was, even if he denied it. He had seen the town square, the fire pit, the charred stakes, the women from the town foraging the ashes for bones to give whoever the poor soul was who'd met such a gruesome end a proper burial. Jack knew the consequences. But he knew too he had to do right by his brother.

Jack sat opposite his brother and reached for a bottle of water on the table. Jack’s mouth was dry from the dust stirred up by his fall. He unscrewed the lid and handed it to his brother, levelling his eyes at him. Jack took a large mouthful. With the back of his hand, he wiped his lips and handed the bottle back to his brother without saying a word.

Jack took his own mouthful before replacing the cap. He let the water swill around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. “I saw you little brother. I saw you and him. Behind the church, behind God’s house.”

His brother’s eyes widened. “Who?”

“You brother. You and Hiro. I saw him kiss you.”

His brother dropped his face back into his palms and began to roll his head from side to side. He was silent for a moment; all Jack could hear was his breathing. Short, shallow breaths. He moaned like a tortured animal and began to rock back and forth, faster and faster. Jack sensed his brother was about to explode or something. He reached across the table and gently touched him on the forehead. Jack stopped rocking. His face rose from his hands. “It wasn’t like that.” His voice was weak and warbling.

“I know what I saw. And I know you aint one of them. I know it because you’re my kin, my brother. You and me, we’re the same, so you can’t be liking boys ‘cause there’s no chance in hell I like boys. What I saw brother was the devil at work. Just like Dr White said he was and he needs to be destroyed otherwise it's the end of days, like they say." Jack paused, looking to see if his brother was listening. "Brother, you and me, two kids from an orphanage in Chicago, we're gonna save the world. You and me brother." He stood to position himself next to his brother. "Jack," he said. "Look at me."

First, his brother didn't move. Then he raised his head slowly. Jack's jaw dropped at what he saw; his brother's bloodshot eyes, the raw rage boiling behind his pupils, snot bubbling from his nose, and the clenching and unclenching of his jaw. His brother looked possessed.

“Brother?” Jack slid his butt along the bench until his cheek slipped slightly off the edge. His brother drew in deep breaths of air, gripping the table so hard his knuckles whitened. He drew bigger and bigger breaths. He's trying to calm himself down, Jack thought.

“It was me who kissed Hiro brother. Me!” And then the tears began for real. “You have ta tell ‘em. You have ta. That it was me, that I like ‘em brother, I like ‘em a lot.”

Jack's blood ran cold. "No, no, no. You keep your bloody mouth shut brother, otherwise it will be you tied to the stake."

His brother stood. “Get outta my way.”

Jack slowly got to his feet. “Where are ya going?”

“To tell ‘em. To tell ‘em the truth.”

“No brother you can’t.” Jack raised his hand and planted his palm in the centre of his brother’s chest. “You sit down, gather your thoughts, you’re not thinking straight.”

The two stared at each other like a pair of alley cats.

“I thought ya loved me brother, I thought we was family. I thought you’d said you’d always care for me.”

Jack dropped his hand. “I do love ya. That’s why I did what I did.”

“You’re a Judas, you isn’t my brother.” Jack sat down.

Jack grabbed the water bottle off the table, turned, and without saying a word, left the van, stepping outside into the bright sunshine. The warm air wrapped around his body. He took a deep breath and looked up at the brilliant blue sky, almost laughing. "Ma, I did me best." He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head a little and felt a smile across his face. He began to whistle. The sun didn't feel hot like it used to, just warm. The air wasn't dusty either, more fresh, smelling of the nearby woods and smoke from the kitchen fires. Jack put his hand in his pocket and walked towards the church. His bother called out to him once, twice, three times, but he didn't turn.

ends