The sun's golden rays have long, long since surrendered to the haunting shadows dancing through the forest's eerie walls. Night creatures scurry to and fro across the dense forest floor. Unseen living beings call out into the chilly dark night, making their threat seem more surreal, more threatening.
After a long, brutal struggle, both bruised and exhausted, Jimmy finally forces his way out of the tunnel's narrow grip. The two lads climb out shortly after as if it were nothing. Oh, to be young again, Jimmy muses, wishing his old aching bones didn't cause grief with every move he makes. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" Jimmy asks, trying to maintain his tough facade. Pride wouldn't allow him to take pity from kids he helped raise.
The boys look at each other. With a soft groan, they both shake their heads." Hauling portly Jimmy through the cramped enclosure wasn't an easy feat.
Eyeing their chilling surroundings, Jimmy pulls his cell from his pocket, turns, anxiously shifts his weight, and says, "Let's see about getting us a ride out of here."
Nervous tension continues to build as the three wait for their escape. The tiniest of movements, a sudden wind gust, or a small flicker of motion as the tiny creatures skitter around only heightens their stress.
After what seemed like a lifetime of jumping at every little noise, a rusted, red, beat-up pickup sputters to a stop beside them.
It's feeling its age too, Jimmy thinks, recalling what it looked like back in the day. Pointing to the two boys, Jimmy says, "You two get in the back and be sure to cover yourselves with the tarp.
Nodding in agreement, they both climb in, unspoken tension lying between them. Seeing they're settled, Jimmy maneuvers his way to the front.
Closing the door, he looks over at Jack with a terrified look on his face. He says, "I'm afraid the war has already begun." Taking a deep calming breath, Jimmy explains to him what's taken place over the course of the day.
Jack's face shifts from a beautiful golden bronze to ghostly white within a matter of seconds. Trying to calm his trembling hands, he looks over and says, "We have no choice but to retaliate."
***'
Tommy is sitting in his car in front of the police station, torn between logic and instinct. He knows Joe was right about how the situation will escalate if he tries to find Timmy alone. But the father in him wouldn't allow him to sit idly by knowing without even a small flicker of a doubt that his son was about to be killed by the ruthless men that have been chasing him for years. Why did I create such a mess? Oh, why? Tommy mutters desperately, tears streaming down his cheeks.
The horror of how it all began claws its way back into his mind. Trying to do right by his family, he was forced to run from both the law and the mob. Tommy then recollects the uncertainty of it all, the not knowing if he'd live to see another day. I tried to do what I thought was best. I did." His voice cracked from the weight. "But like everything else I attempt, it all seems to go to hell," Tommy sobs. Flashes of his unstable home life flicker in his mind. The constant nagging fear that he's one disaster away from a catastrophe.
Addicted to drugs from the moment he was born, the doctors didn't think he had a chance, yet somehow he survived, only to endure daily beatings and years of neglect.
His mother was in and out of rehab for the first seven years of his life. She'd get clean only to fall into it again. Oftentimes, she does whatever it takes to get her next fix.
His abusive alcoholic father was a joke. He'd drink up all the family funds, leaving his family in desperate need of all necessities.
This unstable environment dragged on for years. Then one day his father's beatings pushed his mother too far. Packing her bags, she promised to come back for Tommy once she was settled but was never to be heard from or seen again, leaving eight-year-old Tommy to support himself. People would hire him for small jobs out of pity, but it was never enough to keep the lights on or food on the table.
Seeing a cold, hungry lad on the brink of death, Bambini took him in. It was wonderful at first, having all the comforts of life he'd always dreamed of: clean clothes and large, healthy meals. The starry-eyed child grew up and quickly realized that the job could cost him his life.
Tommy wanted out, but the price was too steep. It was only after Jen's ultimatum that he finally decided the ends justify the means. "It was so well worth it," Tommy smiles, recalling his and Jen's first date in his mind.
The two had their struggles, their countless fights, some of which nearly broke them, but Tommy did the best he could. The derailing news of Jen's heart attack threw him back into the world he despised.
I don't know what else I could've done, he cries. I certainly didn't know that it would lead to nine years of hell.
The image of his son's dead, bloody body lying in a ditch like a piece of discarded trash suddenly comes to mind. His stomach twists into a knot. His thoughts spiral out of control as he pictures his children in his mind. They'll never be able to have a normal life because of me.
Wiping his tears away with the back of his hand, Tommy straightens up in the seat. With a determined look on his face, his eyes narrowing at the world around him, he tightens his jaw, takes a breath of courage, and says, "I've got to make this right somehow for Jen and the kids."
A grim clarity pops into his head. It's me they want, not them. So maybe I could exchange their life for mine. Tommy bounces the idea around in his head, letting it drift to the dark tract of his mind. "My family would finally have a normal, fear-free life again," he adds. Tommy pictures all the kids' milestones he'll miss. He then imagines what could become of him. He shakes his head and says, "It's a small price to pay for their happiness."