For Generations to Come: Volume Two of the Chardin Chronicles

By Richard Feldstein

The second book in the Chardin Chronicles, For Generations to Come, continues the saga of three men who must confront the consequences of their past choices and learn how those choices will determine their futures, for better or worse.

After serving in the military of the Unified Territories in a war of attrition against the people of Torkos, the disillusioned Major Joe Horgon returns home ten years later to find his home irrevocably changed. There are new forces at work in the Unified Territories, forces that prove to be dangerous to Joe and his family. His neighborhood is in shambles, street gangs are the ones in charge, and Joes wife and son are missing.

Determined to find them, Joe sets out to rescue his family. Along the way, he encounters a formidable enemy. A charismatic gang leader known as the Gent has conspired with High Priest Morthuza to give gang members a serum that creates a more powerful warrior. He rules the streets and intends to wipe out any who oppose him.

Joes search brings him face to face with the Gent, and in this epic battle of wills, there can only be one survivor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781475984934

Richard Feldstein

Richard Feldstein works as a semi-retired psychiatrist. He and his wife, Theresa, currently live in Savannah, Georgia. They have three children and two grandchildren.

Book preview

Prologue

The conflicts between the Unified Territories and the Land of Torkos are not unlike what exist in many worlds, real or fantasy. Greed, personal hatreds, vengeance, and self-righteous behavior propel individuals forward to seek power, treasure, glory and immortality. These struggles have gone on everywhere and forever. Their world or our own are not so unique for in either there will befall many similarities. Exact time and specific place do not require definition. Each generation of fathers and sons, wherever they may be, will face the same challenges and must come to terms with their fate.

The Unified Territories was technologically advanced with a powerful military machine. Its leaders had focused on developing weapon systems for a capacity to defend itself far beyond what any outside threat warranted. At the same time, its people’s voracious materialistic appetite was exhausting the country’s natural resources. The ore in its mountains had been mined and stripped. The once vast forests were nearly gone. Air and water became increasingly polluted.

The UT leadership found its solution. Invade the resource rich Land of Torkos to take what it needed or wanted. Rationales that justified the offensive washed aside any opposition to the plan. The business community insisted that such action was necessary to avoid an economic collapse. Politicians denigrated the people of Torkos as primitive and uncivilized. Religious leaders vilified Torkosians as immoral idolaters.

The powerful UT military promised a quick and decisive victory. Everything was poised and coordinated for success. Only wars do not always follow their intended outcomes.

The Torkosians refused to cooperate. They fought back more than had been expected. They resisted the surrender of their land or their heritage. Since Torkosians did not live in large cities or centralized population areas, the UT military was not able to utilize its advanced mechanized weapons. The tribes of Torkos dispersed. Its elders retreated their survivors into their vast wilderness of forests, mountains, and caves. They defended themselves as best as they were able. A lengthy and difficult war of attrition ensued.

Joe Horgon had joined the military when he was only eighteen-years-old to escape his feelings of failure. After he and his girlfriend, Amanda, had conceived a child while teenagers, Joe’s parents openly expressed their shame and rejected him. Amanda’s father, Billy, forced them to marry. He insisted that Joe quit school and find a job. Billy made Joe give him whatever he earned to pay for his room and board. Billy hated Joe living in his household so he mentally tortured and abused him whenever his wife and daughter were not present.

Hearing about the war and hoping for a chance of success in life, Joe volunteered with his friend, Charley Oneshoe, to become soldiers. Amanda was not pleased. Joe promised the war would not continue very long. He pleaded with her for this opportunity until she finally agreed. The two young men, filled with the optimism of youth, marched off to boot camp together.

Joe’s plans for a short tour of duty and return to Amanda did not come to pass. Instead, ten long years would pass. He found himself trapped at the War in Torkos, unable to leave. He survived many battles and endured a life-threatening bout with the Plague. Through it all, he sustained himself by his dream that he would reunite one day with his wife and their son, Robaire.

After several years of the UT fighting in Torkos, the newly anointed High Priest, Morthuza the Enlightened One, authorized sending his religious monks to the war zone. Morthuza, believing Torkosians had murdered his parents before his eyes, now would seek his personal revenge. He instructed his monks to infiltrate their way onto the battlefront. Under Morthuza’s directives and with tolerance by the UT government, the monks demanded an ethnic cleansing of the entire Torkosian people. There would no longer be prisoners. Men, women, and children were put to death.

Joe and other warriors eventually found the dehumanizing slaughter they were ordered to conduct more than they could bear. Disillusioned by the unwillingness of Chancellor Marcus Dunby and the Unified Territories’ generals to stand up to Morthuza’s religious fanatics, Joe supported his fellow soldiers in refusing to continue the killings.

The UT warriors’ protest in Torkos grew until it verged on open rebellion. To calm their troops, the generals recommended to Chancellor Marcus Dunby that he allow some to return home. Reluctantly, he agreed. Horgon unexpectedly found his name on the list of two thousand soldiers chosen to make the trip. When assigned to a pleasure cruise ship, The Duchess, for the voyage home, the men anticipated a hero’s welcome.

Instead, upon their arrival, no bands played. No family or friends waited in the shipyard to greet them. The newly and unexpectedly appointed interim chancellor, General Rojhas Turnbull, informed them that Marcus Dunby had suddenly died under questionable circumstances. The assembled warriors became distrustful and threatened. It appeared that a riot was about to break out. Major Joe Horgon averted bloodshed when he took charge and convinced the troops to accept Turnbull’s promise and go home.

Chancellor Turnbull, who also remained head of the military, then officially discharged the men in a brief ceremony. In his farewell instructions, he urged the men to resume their civilian lives peacefully. Turnbull sought their support by asking them to return to their families, reestablish a stable social order, and create a sense of community.

Joe left the shipyard that day confused by what he had heard and what he had seen. Putting that aside, he resolutely set out on his personal mission to find his way back to his old neighborhood. There, he hoped he would find his wife, Amanda, and their twelve-year-old son, Robaire, waiting for him. As he returned to his home in the countryside, Joe was not aware of all that had changed during the time he was gone. There were new forces at work in the Territories, forces that would prove to be dangerous to him and his family.

Once he arrived, Joe was disheartened to encounter isolation and desolation. The friends and families of his childhood had left. Their deserted houses had been vandalized or demolished. Joe entered the home where he and Amanda had lived to find it abandoned. He found a secret note left behind by her for him. It told him that she and Robaire needed to be rescued. Dismayed by what next to do, Joe came upon the home of his boyhood friend, Charley Oneshoe. Charley, injured in the war, returned home paralyzed and embittered. He told Joe of the changes that occurred in the neighborhood and warned him of the struggles he would face. More determined than ever, Joe set out to find his wife and son - no matter what.

Chapter One:

Gentrification

Ten-year-old boys like to play at war. It is a game of their imagination. They make sounds of guns firing with their fingers pointed at each other or use sticks as swords poised for battle. They shoot from around bushes and trees. They dive for cover behind garbage cans in the streets. In make believe, they pretend airplanes are overhead ready to drop their bombs. They act out when they and their comrades are attacking the enemy. They become victorious captors or wounded warriors.

Boys can enjoy the game because it is not real. At the end of the day, their mothers call them indoors. They all stand up, brush themselves off, and run in for dinner. They play at war because they do not appreciate what combat really means: that people actually suffer and die.

Reginald Trent Jones, III, was nearly eleven-years-old when the War in Torkos began. He had no idea where that far off land was located. It meant nothing to him. He had no understanding of why soldiers were fighting there. In fact, this may not have had any importance to him even if he did realize that a real war raged on. Reginald could not care. He was too busy worrying about his own struggle to survive.

Not the kind of daily conflict where a child is unsure if he will have a place to sleep or enough food to eat. No. This was the struggle where you lived in fear, daily fear. Fear of life itself. Fear that you could face harm at any moment. Fear that if you said the wrong words or looked the wrong way, you were tempting the enemy. A beast who might turn on you and attack you viciously.

For Reginald Trent Jones, III, the fear and the beast were not from the outside. No, they were right there living and breathing inside Reginald’s very own home.

Reginald’s father was an angry, brutal man. He rarely laughed. His face was set in a hard scowl. Large and muscular, with the tattoo of a fire-breathing dragon on his left forearm, Reginald II, known as Reggie, tolerated little from anyone. Many feared him as threatening and aggressive. He never thought of himself as that. He thought of himself as a manly man who did what he needed to do. He bathed regularly, kept his hair cut short and his face clean-shaven.

Reggie worked hard as a prison guard everyday. He brought home his paycheck - well, most of it anyway. The rest he would take to the bar to watch sports events and ogle young girls. He believed he drank about as much beer and liquor as the next guy. But, Reggie used alcohol to help justify terrorizing his children and beating his wife. To his way of thinking, that was what real men did.

Reggie’s father, Senior, had regularly beaten him as a boy. Senior physically corrected Reggie’s mother whenever he felt it necessary. Reggie viewed it as his badge of honor that he learned to take his beatings like a man. He never recognized being a bully in training. As he grew, Reggie lifted weights and drank health powders that promised large muscles. He would get into fights with other boys until he became too large and too violent to be challenged.

Reggie outwardly respected his father. Mostly, he feared him. They never talked to each other. Inwardly Reggie never loved or even liked Senior. Since Reggie believed that that was how fathers and sons related, he accepted it as normal. Eventually, Reggie grew too big for his father to risk hitting him. A cold, harsh emotional distance grew between them.

Having no other model, Reggie decided he would follow his father’s example. He felt obligated if not entitled to carry on the family traditions. Even more, Reggie needed and wanted to show the old man that he could outdo him. That he did.

When Senior grew old and developed dementia, Reggie had no trouble putting him away in a nursing home until he died. Reggie never visited him and never took his children to see their grandfather. At the funeral, there was little weeping for Senior from Reggie or allowed by him from his children.

Now, every day when Reggie came home from work, he demanded his house to be spotless, his food on the table, and his children nowhere to be seen or heard. After dinner, he would leave the house. He went to the nearby bar where he would spend his money drinking and his time teasing the barmaids. He liked to pat their backsides or look down their blouses. When it came to be closing time, Reggie would stumble home. He fell asleep wherever he landed. If awake enough, he would beat his wife or demand sex. Reginald lay awake to his mother’s screams or moans.

Sometimes, Reggie decided to come home and beat Reginald. On occasion, he wandered into the wrong bedroom and end up with Reginald’s older sister, Sharlotte. Reginald never understood why his father beat him. No reason was ever given. Nothing was ever explained. Instead, the next day’s absurd theatre of the forgotten would follow the terror and chaos of the night. By morning, as instructed by his mother, everyone acted as though nothing had happened. They were to behave as though they had heard nothing, seen nothing, remembered nothing. So life went on.

Reginald could not forget, though. He would not let himself forget. He remembered it all. It haunted his young mind. He would stay awake and listen for his father’s approach. He trembled inside at the sound of his father’s heavy guard boots on the pavement outside pounding up the front stairs. Their door would be thrown open as Reggie burst into the house. Reginald never knew what to expect next, only that it was rarely good.

Eventually, Reginald grew to hate his father’s very existence. When one day he felt bold enough, he complained openly to his mother. She told him he must be silent. She told him that his father was a good man who worked hard and provided for his family. She told him that she loved his father no matter what he did. Underneath, he’s a good man who loves his wife and his children.

She told Reginald that he should be grateful to have such a strong man for a father. She told him that she loved Reggie for he was the best man she had ever had. Most of all though, she told Reginald that whatever went on in their house was never to be told to anyone else - ever.

When Reginald and his two sisters were younger and smaller, Reggie would discipline his children now and then with quick beatings. As they grew older, the beatings became more and more violent, especially toward Reginald. Reggie began treating their mother more shamefully and with less respect as the years passed. Nevertheless, she never complained. She always defended him.

When Reggie would hit his wife, Sharlotte tried to protect her mother. She was no match for her father’s strength or self-righteousness. At night, he would punish his daughter by forcing himself upon her to teach her a lesson if she thought she was going to be the woman of the house. This was a lesson she was sworn by him to keep secret.

He told Sharlotte that if she ever told anybody anything he would just deny it. Who would believe ya? He would tell her. It would just end up hurtin’ yer mother. He also threatened that if she did tell anyone, he would then have to start teaching her younger sister, Sherry, the lessons.

Reginald’s mother pampered Sherry. Everyone treated Sherry as the special baby of the family. So, Sharlotte chose to keep her silence and protect her mother and her sister. She never told anyone what went on between them. Instead, Sharlotte quietly suffered her father’s indignities upon her.

By the time he turned twelve Reginald was growing quickly. His baby sister, Sherry, had started calling him Ginny. The name stuck. He became known among his friends as Gin Trent-Jones, then simply as Gin Trent. For the next two years, Gin ran the streets with the other boys, getting into his fair share of fights. It seemed that there were many boys on the streets whose fathers were off at war.

Reggie never went to the War in Torkos. Exempted as a prison guard, he also claimed he had a bad back that kept him from passing the physical exam. The other boys teased Gin about his father, as boys will do. In response, as a boy will do to protect the reputation of himself and his family, Gin began making up a story that Reggie was about to join up. His father would become a soldier as soon as some paperwork was completed. That seemed to work well enough with the boys on the streets. Not so well with Reggie.

One night, Reggie came home from work in a rage. He burst into Gin’s room. His face was red while the veins in his neck were engorged and pounding. Reggie knocked over a floor lamp as he stormed over to where Gin had been sitting at the desk in his room, studying for school. With his prison guard work boot, he kicked the side of Gin’s chair. Gin and the chair went flying across the room. He hit the wall before sliding down to the floor.

Who the fuck do you think ya are, boy? Huh? I’m gonna kill ya right here and now. I’m gonna beat yer ass so bad …

Reggie stumbled across the fallen chair as his outstretched arms reached for Gin’s throat. Rightly fearing for his life, Gin jumped up as quickly as he could. He ran across his bed and out the door of his room. His father, incensed even more by the apparent defiance of his son to stay and allow himself to be beaten like a man, came after him. When he reached the kitchen, Gin found his mother standing at the sink. She turned to him, seeing a look of fear and a cry for help in her son’s face that she had never seen before. When Reggie came into the kitchen, she motioned for Gin to stand behind her. For the first time in his life, Gin’s mother put herself between her husband and her son.

Reginald Jones, she demanded, you stop this right now. She reached over and picked up a large butcher’s knife.

What? Ye’re fixin’ to stab me and save him from the beatin’ he deserves, his voice raged. Is that it? Ya think ye’re brave enough for that, do ya woman?

Reginald Jones, I will not have you beat this boy in the state you’re in. Her hand quivered. If I have to stab you to stop you, well, I’ll feel badly about that. I’ll help stop the bleeding afterward. Make no mistake that I will cut you.

Do ya know what this snot nose, lying, backstabbing, ungrateful, son of yers is telling people? Huh, do ya? He challenged her. He’s been telling ‘em I’m going off to join the army. Now, they think I’m a coward ‘cause I’m not a goin’.

He’s a boy, Reggie, he’s just a fourteen-year-old boy. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He surely doesn’t know what he’s meaning.

Oh, he don’t? Ya don’t think so, huh? Well, he knows all right. I was fourteen once myself. I know he knows. Don’t ya, boy? He shook his fist at Gin. Ya thought you could make yer old man look like an asshole so ya could tell yer little friends out there whatever ya wanted and make ya look like a big shot, didn’t ya? He spit out as he shouted. Ya thought ya could make me look like a worthless shit-coward or make me join the army so I’d be sent off to that stupid, damn war over there in Torkos where I’d get my ass shot off, huh? So’s ya could take over the house, didn’t ya?

Gin stayed put behind his mother. He was not about to move. He kept his head down. His eyes averted from meeting his father’s glare.

Do ya think I’m a coward, boy? Well, do ya? Reggie yelled across the room. He took one step forward while heeding his wife’s threat. Go ahead, tell me to my face that I’m a coward so’s I’ll go right through that knife yer momma has waiting there for me. I’ll still stay alive long enough to kill ya with my bare hands.

No, sir. I’m sorry. I, I didn’t mean anything. Gin managed to blurt this out, hoping it might calm down his father. Instead, it made him even more enraged.

That’s the best ya can do? ’I’m sorry,’ he mimicked. What a weak, piss-ass answer. Ya should have taken yer beating like a man, boy. Maybe, ye’re no son of mine anyway.

Gin’s mom switched the knife from her right hand to her left hand. She used her right hand to slap her husband hard across the face. She returned the knife to her right hand as she declared, Don’t you ever accuse me of having a child by another man, Reginald Jones. Now, you take yourself and your anger out of my kitchen. You go wash up for dinner until you can come back with a civil tone.

Reggie rubbed his face, spit on the floor, then turned and walked out of the room.

Now you, Gin, you go clean up your room and tell your sisters it’s time for dinner, she instructed as she pushed him out of the kitchen.

Gin’s mother turned back to the sink as she continued to prepare dinner. Tears ran down her face. Her legs felt wobbly. She shook her head and pushed back her hair. Everything’s all right, she whispered to herself. Everything’s all right.

Gin carefully walked back toward his room. He knew he had to pass the bathroom where his father was washing his hands. Suddenly, his father was blocking the hallway. Reggie pulled a knife out of his boot. Quietly, he put it up to his son’s throat as he pushed Gin with his large forearm up against the wall.

I never really thought ya was my son, boy. My own flesh and blood. I’ve always suspected yer mother screwed around on me. Ya was her little bastard. Now, whether ye’re mine or not, ye’re not mine anymore, understood?

Gin could smell his father’s sweaty body odor and fetid, drunken breath. I should kill ya, boy, he whispered in Gin’s ear. Ya deserve that for talkin’ about me behind my back. I see the way ya look at yer sister. Ya want her for yerself, don’t ya? Maybe the two of ya already been doing it, huh? Ye’re a dangerous little bastard. I know it. I can feel it in my bones. He pushed harder. Ya want to find a way to put me away, to get rid of me. If I do kill ya now, your mother will never forgive me. He paused. I might end up with those animals I keep caged up at the prison. So, I’m letting ya off with a warning this time. He pulled back. Ya remember, I’ve got my eyes on ya.

Reggie’s lip snarled. One eyebrow raised up as he released Gin and walked away. Gin never said a word. He merely went on to tell his sisters to come to dinner. Later, when he thought of the encounter, Gin could never remember if he had been acting bravely or felt too scared to talk. What he did remember was he made a decision. A decision he would someday find a way to carry out.

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Before creating a plan, Gin made one last effort to ally himself with his mother. After seeing her protect him, Gin became emboldened several months later to talk to her one afternoon.

Mom, Dad scares me. He drinks too much. He loses his temper too easy.

She smiled and gave Gin a playful hug as she laughed. Oh, Ginny, he’s just your dad. You know he loves you. He loves me and the girls, too. I love him. She patted his head. He really is a good man. He just works so hard at the prison. He doesn’t mean it when he gets upset. It’s just the alcohol talking. You must forgive him as I do, as the Good Book says we must.

Mom, how can I? How can good men do bad things?

Well, they just don’t always realize that they’re doing something bad, that’s all. They don’t mean to.

Can they say bad things? Gin asked innocently.

Certainly, they can.

Dad said he wasn’t my father. That you had me with another man.

Well, that is hurtful, Gin. Your father was probably just upset when he said that. I can forgive him. I’m sure, he didn’t mean it.

What about at night when he comes home. He … well, you know, he …

Now, Gin, we are not going to talk about those things. She stopped him. Everyone would just be upset for no reason. There’s really nothing to talk about. You go off and do your homework or go outside and play with the other boys or do something and get busy. Dinner will be ready soon enough. Your father will be home. You know how he gets upset if his dinner isn’t ready.

Gin walked back to his room dejectedly with his head down and his shoulders slumped. As he passed Sharlotte’s room, he noticed her door slightly ajar. He could hear soft crying from inside like someone had their face muffled into a pillow. He knocked twice.

Go away, was the first reply.

Hey, Shar, it’s me, Gin. He whispered while he stood at the doorway and carefully looked around. I’m alone. Let me in.

After a brief pause, his sister whispered back. Come in but shut the door.

Gin and Sharlotte were only fifteen months apart in age. They had grown up as brother and sister and best friends too. Gin had always been Sharlotte’s closest confidante. She was too afraid to talk to any of her girlfriends. She felt too embarrassed to let anyone else know what went on in her life. Sharlotte could not trust that what she said to others would never get back to her parents. She and Gin had learned to rely on support from each other to survive their parent’s secretive, abusive household. Over the years, Sharlotte had revealed many of her deepest thoughts and feelings to her older brother. Those would be nothing compared with what she would tell him today.

Gin sat down on the bed next to her. Why are you crying? he asked.

Reg, you’re my brother. I love you. She stopped. I don’t think I can tell you this."

Sure you can. You’ve always been able to tell me everything.

I don’t know if I can tell you this, though. She paused and looked up at him. She sniffed back twice, wiped her eyes and nose with a tissue. You are the only one who’s always been there for me.

Don’t worry, Shar, I can handle it.

She looked around as though someone might be listening. Reg, I can’t take it anymore, she whispered.

Can’t take what?

Him.

Who?

Dad. He won’t leave me alone. She whispered this even more quietly.

Yeah, he doesn’t leave me alone either.

No, you don’t understand. She started to cry again.

Gin put his arm around her shoulder. Shar, don’t cry. Just tell me what’s going on.

In a sudden rush of words, Sharlotte told her brother of their father’s sexual abuse of her, her shame over what he had been doing to her, and his threats if she ever told anyone.

He won’t leave me alone, she confided. I’ve tried telling Mom. She just cuts me off. I don’t think she would believe me anyway. She would think I was lying or that it was my fault.

So what are you going to do? Or better yet, what are we going to do?

I don’t know. I’ve thought about running away. I have nowhere to go. How would I survive? She began to cry again. Gin, he calls me his little whore. I’m so ashamed.

Shar, you’re not a whore, you’re a lady. You’re my lady. You’ll always be my lady. He paused and tried to think. There has to be another way.

There is. Dying seems my only way out. I’ve been thinking of killing myself. I just don’t know how.

No, Shar. Now Gin began to cry at the thought of losing his sister. I won’t let you. I won’t allow it.

Gin, I know you think you can be my rescuer, my knight in shining armor. We’re both too young and too helpless to fight back.

No, we’re not. He walked to the door, poked his head out to see if anyone was in the hallway. Reassured, he returned to sit next to his sister. If I find a way, will you wait? Give me some time? Promise not to hurt yourself.

Maybe, if it’s not too long, she whimpered. I don’t know how much more I can take or how much longer I can hold out.

Listen to me, Gin demanded. You work on finding a place to go, maybe a girlfriend you can go and live with. Just tell them you’re having some problems with your parents. I’ll find the money for you so you can make it on your own after that.

What about Dad?

Don’t worry, he reassured her, I’ll take care of Dad.

Gin tried to sound brave with what he was saying. He had no idea of how he could accomplish any of this. He just knew he had to find a way to save his sister. Sharlotte went about her task in finding a girlfriend she could trust who lived far enough away that her mom would not know how to find her. Gin went to the streets to find money.

If a young man did not care about what he had to do, never asked questions, and was willing to take some risks, the money was there. It took longer than Gin had expected. Sharlotte trusted her brother and stayed brave. In the meantime, she endured what she had to endure, hoping she would soon be free.

Finally, the day arrived. After plotting and planning for over a year, it was actually going to happen. Gin had enough money to give to his sister. Sharlotte had finalized her plan for going to her friend’s house after school. That evening, when Sharlotte did not come home, Gin told his mother that she had gone away and was not returning. His mother demanded Gin tell her where Sharlotte had gone. He refused. She then called Reggie at work. She told him what happened and insisted he come home immediately. Reggie told his wife he could not get away until he finished his shift. Even then, after work, he first went to the bar.

That night, Reggie came home drunker than ever. He stormed into the house, first making his way to Sharlotte’s room. When he found her bed empty, Reggie’s moan turned into a howl with a deep sense of rage. He went looking for Gin.

He dragged his son out of bed by his hair, down the hallway, and into the kitchen. Gin tried to fight back.

Reggie was spitting as he spoke. She’s gone, like yer momma told me she’d be. He looked down at his terrified son. Ya thought yu’d be smart enough and strong enough to stand up, willin’ to take me on now, did ya boy? Well then let’s wait in here ‘til yer momma shows up. We’ll see if she takes yer side, if she protects ya this time. Let’s see what she has to say when I tell her ya been screwing yer own sister right under her nose.

Reggie turned. He began shouting for his wife to wake up and join them in the kitchen. Gin began to crawl away, then back away, seeing if he could somehow make it over to and out through the back door. By the time Reggie turned his attention back to Gin, he had almost made it to the door.

Oh no ya don’t, he yelled. Yer not getting away from me this night, boy. This night will be yer last in this life, I promise ya that.

Reggie charged across the room at Gin. Gin stood to protect himself. They struggled onto the landing that separated the back door and the stairway leading to the basement. Gin tried to slip away from his father’s grasp. Reggie swung his large fist at Gin’s head. Gin somehow ducked under the blow. As he straightened back up, Gin stepped back and aside. Reggie lunged again for his son. He missed. His momentum flung his weight forward. Gin watched his father tumble down the stairs. He could hear Reggie’s head hit a sidewall, then one of the steps, and then a final heavy thud as he landed slumped over onto the concrete basement floor. Gin ran down the stairs after him.

Reggie lay on the floor with his head and neck at an awkward angle. His breathing was shallow and labored. Gin stood over him, considering what he would do. He bent down and found an angry sneer on his father’s lips. At that moment, something came over Gin. He decided he should smother Reggie to end his life.

Maybe he’ll be paralyzed; maybe he’ll survive, Gin thought. I can’t take the chance. He shook his head to clear his mind. If he does survive, what’ll I do? I know he’ll come after me again. Shit. There’s not much time. How do I decide? He looked down at his father’s crumpled body. I don’t know what to do. He’s my father. I can’t just murder him in cold blood. Shit. What do I do?

Being uncertain that his father would die from the fall itself, Gin knew he had to make sure. He believed everyone would be better off without him. If he allowed his father to live, it would only be a matter of time before Reggie would try to kill him again.

As Gin tried to sort out his thoughts, he heard footsteps running into the kitchen. From the top of the stairs, Gin heard his mother’s worried voice call out.

What happened? Reggie, are you all right? Is he all right? Gin, is your father okay? She yelled frantically.

Gin looked up the stairs at her as he knelt beside his father’s body. Sorry, Mom. Dad had a bad accident. Then, he blurted it out. I’m afraid he might be dead.

Gin’s mother screamed. She ran through the house and out into the street waving her arms over her head while calling for help.

Gin knew now he only had moments before someone else would arrive. Without thinking further, he took off his T-shirt. Rolling it into a ball, he started to place it over his father’s mouth and nose. As he did, Gin groaned. This is for me and my sisters, asshole.

His father now with a vacant stare in his eyes took one last shallow breath. He died on his own. His face relaxed, Reggie looked almost at peace. A peace Gin felt he did not deserve.

Quickly, Gin put his shirt back on as he came upstairs. He walked outside to find and comfort his mother. When she saw him, she would have none of that from Gin. She pushed him aside, ran back inside and down the stairs looking for her husband. Gin calmly walked in, picked up the phone, and called the emergency number.

Within a few minutes, an ambulance arrived with its lights flashing and its siren blaring. Even though Reggie was already dead when they arrived, the paramedics rushed down the stairs. They went through the motions of trying to revive him. One of the medics put his arm around Gin’s mother, taking her upstairs. After a few futile attempts at using a defibrillator, the crew chief came back up from the basement. He pronounced that Reggie was dead. The paramedics apologized for not being able to do more, collected their gear and left.

Neighbors gathered outside, drawn by the emergency truck flashers. The police arrived to begin their investigation. They asked Gin what had happened. He told them he and his father had an argument, that his father had been drinking, that his father lost his balance and fell down the stairs. All the while, Reggie’s motionless body lay in a heap at the bottom of the stairs under a sheet. The lead detective summoned the coroner who casually examined the corpse and finally released it for removal. It took four men to carry Reggie’s lifeless remains up the stairs. His body was placed in an ambulance to be taken to the city morgue.

After the autopsy the next day, a spokeswoman for the coroner’s office released their findings. Reggie’s blood alcohol content registered at a very high level of 0.425%. This was not only toxic but also potentially lethal by itself. In addition, the examination determined two cervical vertebrae had fractured in the fall. Finally, a head injury with an extensive blood clot on the brain was discovered. Based on these results, the coroner concluded Reggie’s death to be accidental.

Gin was relieved not to be accused of any wrongdoing. His mother was not. She refused to accept that Reggie was responsible for his own death. When family or neighbors inquired as to what had happened, she implied that Reggie had somehow been pushed