Previously: Standing Still
“Local man stops bank robbery,” Nightly News Dan intoned, “after the break.”
An insipid commercial for a local car dealer, followed by a commercial offering a better life through white teeth and another one offering hot women if Jason drank their beer. Then a blurry photo of his face, looking rather angry, appeared on the television screen.
“Local man Jason Adams, survivor and savior of the Bus 178 explosion, was at it again today.”
The screen switched to grainy bank video showing him pummeling the gunman with the banister. Jason had a vague recollection of doing that. Watching the news report was like watching someone you knew in passing doing something famous. He recognized the action, he recognized the person involved, but the whole the situation was foreign to him. Sitting on his faded, stained, worn out, but free couch Jason didn’t even feel like he was part of the world around him.
“He saved all of us,” Jessica Griffin a local-lady according to the television lady was saying to the reporter.
“He is a hero,” an elderly man with a bald head said.
“After disabling the robber, who is in critical condition, Jason walked out of the bank,” Newsman Dan droned on, “If anyone has information on Jason Adams please call the following…”
Jason didn’t even realize he had been holding the can of Coke until the can smashed against the television screen, splashing Coke across the room and shattering the television screen. His cell phone and the phone on the wall in the kitchen started ringing simultaneously. He just wanted to be left alone. Why didn’t anyone stop him when he walked home from the bank; plenty of time and distance to drive up to him and ask him their questions? He didn’t do anything at all. That guy on the television, he was the one they wanted, not him.
He shut off his phone, going so far as to remove the battery and drop the phone into the sink. On his way to his bedroom he ripped the phone out of the wall. Pieces of plastic hanging from the wires and phone cord dangled against the wall. Without thinking about what he was doing Jason pulled his old army surplus backpack out from underneath a pile of clothing, shoes and sports gear and started stuffing things inside. When the backpack was full he cinched up the ties, threw the bag over his shoulder and headed for the front door. A part of him hoped that he had packed at least one useful item, the rest of him just wanted to get away.
The pounding on the door sounded like someone very insistent upon seeing him or knocking down the door. How long they had been pounding Jason didn’t know. He reversed course to the back door. Someone was shouting his name. The pounding got louder. He was pretty sure that the front door had been kicked in. He didn’t care, he was hopping the backyard fence. Let someone else deal with all of his problems. As he started walking away from his home he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and tossed the wallet over the fence. Hero? He was just a man having a particularly bad couple of weeks, Jason thought as he rounded a corner and saw two police cars, and a news van racing down the street towards his…nope no longer his…that other guy’s house.
End Part 6
* Note from the management, this ends the first story arc for Hero?
