Part Three: Company Picnic


Jim awoke in a strange bed and peered over the side to see the white tiles. "Hospital," he murmured. "Shit!" He scanned around the sparsely decorated room, noting that he was alone there - and that there were no windows. Weird. What was even weirder was that he noticed his head DIDN'T hurt. He had been clocked a few times with a gunbutt in his day, and that sort of pain usually lingered...

Then he noticed that there was a sound coming down the hall. A slow, deliberate shuffle that was marked by the clatter of metal on metal. It sounded like someone moving a box of iron pieces, yet trying not to make alot of noise . A very strange cacophony in a hospital, indeed, and it put him on edge. The sound subsided, as if whatever was making it had stopped moving, and Ellison strained to hear what was going on.

And was promptly deafened by a sudden knock on the door of his room. Ellison ramped down his hearing after the initial shock, and the knock repeated.

"Mr. Ellison?" said a soft, prim female voice. "You have a visitor..."

"Where am I?" Ellison demanded.

"You're safe, sir," whomever she was replied. "And you have a visitor. "Shall I send him in?"

"Does HE know where I am?"

"Oh, yes, sir," she said in a pleased tone. "If you're up to seeing him, I'll send him in."

"Fine," Ellison sighed. "Maybe now I'll start getting some answers..."

"One moment, sir, while I fetch him from the waiting room," the nurse (well, he assumed it was) stated.

"Yeah, okay," he replied. "Sure, let's be sociable." Jim had no idea who it was, but since he had called for backup before he went in, he was pretty sure it would be Simon or Sandburg to break his balls about getting himself bushwhacked.

Then he heard that strange iron clattering start up again. He stared intently at the door, ready to spring upon whatever it was with all he had - just in case. The door opened, and his visitor shambled into the room.

Jim stared in amazement at the visage before him. The guy was carrying a big box of CHAINS, which were draped over his shoulder and spilling over the sides of the box. He walked slowly in a desperate attempt to hold the box together, jostling the chains to create the wild orchestra he'd heard earlier. As loud as that was, it was a pin drop compared to how loud the guy's SUIT was. Huggy Bear crossed with Herb Tarlek and trimmed with fluorescent green. It was hideous. Revolting. Words couldn't describe how utterly ridiculous the guy was dressed, and it was topped off with an oversized foam-rubber novelty cowboy hat in fluorescent orange with '#1" printed on the sides.

"Be with you in a second, junior," he grunted as he slowly set the box down.

Jim froze as he recognized the voice . "JACK?" he coughed in stunned disbelief. "Jack Pendergrast?"

"Yeah," he sighed as he slowly straightened himself, his bad back creaking and popping. "It's me."

"What the fuck is going ON?" Jim demanded, hysteria creeping into his questioning tone. "You're DEAD."

"Thanks for the update, junior," Jack sniffed. "No wonder you made Detective."

"What the hell are you doing here? And dressed like THAT?"

"Part of the punishment," Jack sighed. "Which is one of the reasons I'm here..."

"I don't follow."

"In life I was your partner, and now I appear before you to bring a warning."

"Warning? Warning of what?"

"This is the fate I created when I walked the earth, each link of my chain a misdeed I had perpetrated. Each link a good deed I did NOT do. You still have time to avoid this wretched damnation I have earned."

"Jack, you never believed in any of that heaven or hell bullshit..."

"I know," Jack sighed. "So just IMAGINE my SURPRISE, okay? They put me in this suit, dumped all these chains on me, and booted me out to wander the earth as a lost soul. I could deal with the chains and the wandering, easy, but sweet JESUS, do you SEE what I have to WEAR?"

"Why not just take if off?"

"NO!" Jack shouted, horrified. "It just pops back on even MORE gruesome. I started with a K-Mart sharkskin suit, so you can understand the first few stages I went through to get to THIS mess, as well as my reluctance to see how much WORSE it can get from here."

"Damn..."

"Precisely! So because you and me go back some, I decided to try to clue you in to the big picture before you wound up taking the same lumps I did. You don't need to keep fucking up like I fucked up, man. Don't."

"Fucked up? Jack, you never fucked up! All those collars, all those commendations... You were more than just another cop, man. You were the BEST in the BUSINESS."

"Mankind should have been my business!" Jack spat. "All I was was the JOB, junior. It was EVERYTHING. I couldn't LOOK at someone down on their luck without sizing them up as a PERP. I was so damn busy chasing crooks that I lost my FAMILY. After that, I felt like I had an EXCUSE to piss my time away. I lived for the moment, just like a DUMB ASS. Fast cars. Fast women. Gambling. Drinking like a fish. But, hey, I still had that BADGE, right? As long as I had THAT, I was still BETTER than the OTHER scumbags I was hauling downtown, right?"

"Jack, what the fuck happened to you?" Jim asked sadly. "When did you decide all that good you did just didn't count?"

"GOOD? You stupid ass! I was in DENIAL. I kept myself on the prowl for perps so I wouldn't have to face MYSELF. So I wouldn't CHANGE. I was a BIG SHOT, remember? Ol' Jack is the best there is, right? So I stayed at the station and was a big shot, and when I couldn't stay there I went hunting up something so I could look like a big shot the NEXT day. It was a WASTE, because in the long run I -wasn't- a big shot, Jim. I was a dumb shit. And I had the NERVE to think I could hide that with a few tailored SUITS."

"This isn't you, Jack," Jim sputtered. "The REAL Jack was PROUD of his accomplishments..."

"Shut the FUCK UP!" Prendergast shouted. "Pride comes before the FALL. The thing I regret MOST is that I actually got YOU to buy into MY bullshit. You used to be a cop because you wanted to HELP people. Wanted to make a difference! But -I- changed it. I convinced you that your legacy is about NUMBERS. How many collars a week. How many citations and records and medals you could rack up... I made it a FARCE, and you're still playing it like it's the way it's supposed to be. You're going down the same road I went, junior, and I'm trying to get you off it. Before you lose sight of what's IMPORTANT and LOSE it. Once you've lost THAT, man, you're on borrowed time. When nothing's IMPORTANT to you, you'll do ANYTHING... THIS is what that GETS YOU."

"Okay, I think I know what's happening here," Jim said, trying to get his bearings. "You're just a figment of my subconscious kicking me in the pants over that Christmas bullshit, brought on by my getting waffled in the skimmer by a holdup man. Yep, you're either a concussion induced hallucintation or my stupid good nature giving me a hard time about booting that college twerp out of my life. But one thing you are NOT is Jack Pendergrast. So do me a favor and hop back on the Starlight Express, huh? I need to wake up and get back to work. STAT!"

"You know, I was hoping you would just take some good advice when you heard it," Jack sighed. "But I forgot how HARDHEADED you were. Alright, junior, this is the way it's gonna be... You're going to get visited by three spirits; and if THEY can't pull your head out of your ass, NOBODY can, and if THAT'S the case I'll see you when they size you up for YOUR clown costume."

"I'd just as soon not and say I did," Jim grumbled. "Christmas is a con, period. So you can knock off the spiritual smack, Jack. I've read that story, okay? It's not going to work."

"Oh, you think it's bullshit, do you?" Jack sneered. "Alright, Jimmy, you asked for it. For YOUR sake, I hope they can get the job done, but you'd do yourself a favor if you took this seriously. You think you know the plan, huh? How it's supposed to go?"

"Fuck, Jack, I've read Dickens before, alright? I'm not the lummox everyone thinks I am, okay? The spooks of Christmas are gonna come work me over and I'm supposed to do a one-eighty after the bones in the hood has his turn. Everyone and his UNCLE knows that trite nonsense forwards and backwards. Give me a break, huh? That routine's so WORN OUT that you can see through it. Even if you didn't know HOW to read, the networks shove that one down everybody's throats almost as often as that Jimmy Stewart one. I'll pass, if it's all the same, okay? I promise I'll dress up like Santa and drop off some Toys for Tots and all that jazz, okay? Now's not the time for the Scrooge McDuck workout, pal."

"Well, junior, you're gonna have to make time... I'm not giving you a choice, here. You had your chance to turn it around just when I was talking to you, but you BLEW it. Now you get the whole nine yards, so just shut your cake and take it like a man."

"Oh for Christ's sake, Jack," Jim pleaded. "I know the whole routine. Let's just jump to the bones in the purple cape, do the repentance at the graveyard bit, and let me get on with it..."

"Sorry, junior," Jack said as he turned away and picked up his box. "The only thing YOU'RE getting on with is the show."

"Jack, c'mon!" Jim shouted. "I don't have time for this...," he trailed off as he noticed he wasn't in the white tiled hospital room he was in, but rather a small wooded area he used to hang out in as a kid. "Shit!" he pronounced morosely.

Chapter 4