Novel-The Plan: Mark's Confrontation

It seemed like hours before Mark heard the crunch of gravel as the patrol cars left with his doctor.

Now Troy was handcuffed.

Tracy was dead. Jerry was dead.

They were gone. 

Both gone.

He settled back in the wing-back chair with a glass of Jack Daniels and waited as his ex-father-in-law's footsteps approached on the wooden veranda steps.

Patty had vanished into the kitchen to clean up the remnants of Easter Dinner muttering to herself that she

"...wanted nothin' to do with the prob'lms of craz'y white folk...no suh..."

Taking a long burning swallow of the amber liquor Mark silently agreed with her.

No words were necessary when Davis stormed back into the house. Mark simply turned a knowing gaze on him.

"Mark...son...at least hear me out." The General began.

"Fuck You. And don't you EVER call me son again." he screamed throwing the partially filled rocks glass against the wall near Davis' head where it shattered. The smell of the dripping whiskey filled the room.

"How did Jerry get my weapon...Dad?" He spat the word with sarcasm.

"How did you convince Dr. Troy into killing Tracy?" 

"The same way you run everything else?"

"I'm done with you. We all are. David and I are taking the kids and leaving. You will never see them again you manipulative bastard. I hope Brinks puts you right in the same cell as Troy. You two deserve each other."

Stunned into silence, The General pressed his fingertips to his forehead.
He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears.

"Everything I've done, I've done for you, Mark." he tried to defend himself. Pleaded.

Mark rose shakily and left the room to join David and the children. To try and explain to them why Mommy would never be home again. Why they wouldn't be spending another night in this house.

Then he had a call to make to Detective Brinks.

The pain would come later, as The General walked out behind the house to the walled family plot.

At first he would pass it off as indigestion. Who wouldn't have an upset stomach after the way today had gone? A gaseous belch seemed to confirm his self-diagnosis.

A numbness crept down his jaw and into his shoulder and arm. His fingertips tingled. 

A cold sweat dripped from his brow and covered his body.

Then the pain.

Searing. 

White Hot.

Crushing his chest until he was unable to even call out.

Stumbling he felt the cool grass on his cheek and the darkness envelope him.