The Blackfire Protocol by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 20

Friday had finally arrived, and setting his books aside for the night, Frank turned in with blankets covering him against the chill of January. Winters in the Northeast had a reputation for being at their most severe during the months of January and February. The cold coupled with nor’easters bringing feet of snow at a time made for treacherous living in a place where the events of life were essential to the rest of the country. If DC should shut down, the rest of the country would feel it.

In spite of the falling temperatures that night, Frank kept himself protected as he drifted off to the one place he felt safe. Nothing could touch him as he lay unanchored in the unpredictable bliss of dreams, symbols of what tossed and turned in his conscious life. The only difference between the world of dreams and his subjective island of reality was that should the specters of slumber loosen their chains, Frank could take control and wake up. But the ghosts of his unconscious would dissipate only for as long as he remained awake. Once he again yielded to the arms of Morpheus, the demons of his dreams would return. There seemed to be only one, as the experience returned of waking in a hospital bed, his throat clamping down on a tube placed just before a surgical saw carved away a plate of his skull. Occasionally, he would wake, using the experience of waking as a reminder that he was alive and that the condition he had been thrown into could have brought about a far more profound conclusion. It

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seemed that throughout the last few years the fates had seen their way to exercise kindness on his behalf, and for this he was grateful. But that was then. Now, he had a goal to live up to, and as David Glasgow Farragut was quoted as saying, “Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead,” and it was these famous words that had become his mantra. Saturday was upon him, and Frank experienced a degree of stress comparable to finals week. The only difference was that he saw finals as a challenge. What he felt now was something he abhorred, knowing what he would shortly be doing. He hated the idea of letting someone down, but he also understood that in order to maintain one’s life, it was sometimes necessary to wound someone else’s. Rising from slumber, he shook off the cold by jumping into the shower. Fortunately, the cold was not severe enough that the pipes had frozen, and he was able to finish his shower in short order. Breakfast was quick and somewhat plain. Lacking the money necessary for an elaborate meal, Frank settled on the usual cereal, milk, toast, and a splash of orange juice. He was very aware that he should eat a proper diet, but his budget was such that he simply could not afford what he needed.

After breakfast, he continued his research. Using the college’s library, he amassed an almost unmanageable amount of information on the Bill of Rights. His paper would be written in support of this critical document as the Federalist Papers also were, but in his mind he could think of various ways the rights of the American citizen could be more tightly regulated. This would not be for the good of society

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but for control over it. Frank believed that people had too much freedom and abused it constantly. They had a strong tendency to speak out against the government far too quickly when they should be going to work and productively living their lives. But as he wrote the notes for his paper, his mind wandered off to a time soon to come when he would have to speak with Ava. No sooner did he pause than a gentle knock at his front door was heard. His heart raced as he got to his feet, knowing who was on the other side, and as his hand reached for the doorknob, he felt his reach hesitate for only a moment. ‘Come on, Frank,’ said a voice in his head. ‘You know you have to do this.’

Opening the door revealed Ava standing in miraculous beauty with her hair in long blonde curls, wearing jeans that seemed to barely fit her long, slender legs. But there was one other thing— something he should have anticipated. It was the way she smelled. He couldn’t put his finger on the fragrance, but it was subtle, and its effects were more than powerful. Given the divinely inspired creation that stood before him, Frank was even more aware of how difficult this would be and had to struggle to maintain his response.

“Um, come on in,” he said.

Showing her in, Ava immediately detected something odd in his voice but hoped it was the stress of piecing together his paper. She had never studied law, but she had a fair idea that it was far more complex than most people thought—including her. Putting this out of her mind, Ava grasped him by the arm and, spinning him towards her, wrapped her arms around him. It was time. Frank could not

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allow this to continue, and bringing her arms down, invited Ava to sit on the couch. This prompted a reaction as her face flushed, and her eyes suddenly directed themselves towards the floor. Ava knew what was coming. She had heard it before, when a man she had been dating for only a short time brought things to an abrupt end. This time she was beginning to figure out why, and in the words that ensued took responsibility.

“We’re going to have that talk, aren’t we?” she asked.

The fact that Ava realized what was happening made things a bit easier for Frank, but not so easy that tears could be avoided.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’m afraid this isn’t working. I really need to commit myself to school, not a relationship.”

Ava seemed to understand, but there was something she needed to say as well—something of an emotional nature.

“I, uh,” she began. “I think I moved a bit too quickly, and I think I scared the shit out of you.” Frank nodded in agreement. Perhaps this would be easier than he thought, but the next few moments would be far more frightening.

“The fact is,” she continued. “I love you and I don’t see why we have to break up.”

He was more than a bit surprised, and even though he knew nothing of psychology, he could see when someone was falling apart. Bringing her hands to her forehead, Ava’s tone changed dramatically as her voice filled with anger.

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“You fucking men!” she said. “All you want is to get your dicks wet. You don’t fucking care about me, you asshole!”

Frank sat speechless. They had only been together for a night, and here Ava went on as though they had been involved in a month’s long relationship. To say that Ava’s behavior was unhinged was an understatement. She had become angry, possessive, and irrational. Living in a small town in the Midwest, he had always been insulated from the world and had never witnessed such behavior in anyone. As Ava continued ranting, He readied himself for the possibility of an assault, but at the peak of her outburst, she bolted to her feet and stormed towards the door. But before leaving, she turned back and began cursing again. “You know what your problem is?” she asked. “You think that just because you have a fucking dick means that you can go around sticking it in any woman you want!”

Opening the door, Ava concluded her frenzy by holding up a middle finger.

“Fuck you, Frank.”

Slamming the door, Ava could be heard stomping down the stairs, and throwing the downstairs door open slammed it shut as well.

Fearing for his safety, Frank got to his feet and, rushing to the door, turned the lock, throwing the bolt into the door frame. To be certain, he walked to the front window and, looking out onto the street, saw Ava’s car pull away from the curb. Up until this point, he had seen Ava as an educated, intelligent woman who seemed unlikely to experience a mental

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lapse of any kind. Had he known she had a history of these issues, he would never have spent time with her in the first place. He didn’t want a relationship getting in the way of his studies, but he certainly didn’t need an emotionally unstable woman getting in the way either. If being in love could be considered a mental illness, then Ava’s behavior could certainly qualify as well. There was also another question. What if she returned? What state of mind would she be in, and what would he do if she became violent? It was the beginning of his second semester, and the idea of finding another apartment seemed both ridiculous and time-consuming. He simply could not afford to move, even if it was to avoid Ava. Frank would have to develop a strategy, a course of action he would take should he encounter her on campus. Doing this without causing a confrontation would be difficult, and if she instigated one, he might have to speak to the dean regardless of the outcome. After all, she was a teacher and, if triggered, could act against him, possibly undermining his college career.

Sitting in his apartment, he contemplated all the things Ava could possibly do to exact revenge on what she believed to be a man who felt at ease in betraying her. She had already seen him as someone who had sexually used her, something he knew wasn’t true. A quote suddenly appeared in Frank’s mind, one that would, for him, stand for eternity as a universal truth. From The Mourning Bride by William Congreve: "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."

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Frank wasn’t sure how afraid he should be, but he would, at least for a while, make a habit of looking over his shoulder.