Keep Running

Chapter 23 - Ben

"Come here, you dumb little terrorist. You been given' 'em hell?" I asked, picking up the gasping child from the unforgiving metal crib. The baby's face was bright red from crying and he's gasping for breath from screaming so much. The moment he was in my arms his stiff little body relaxed and he leaned against my green sweater, sniffling. "Good job. What a trooper."
"Why---why doesn't it do that to you?" there were about ten not at all happy government agents who summoned me here. They were all in hasmat gear, armed with tasers to protect themselves from the six month old. It would be laughable, except there was blood smeared on the floor so it was probably justified. I could be vaguely satisfied though.
"Because he knows exactly who I am, don't you Rowan?" I asked, kissing the top of his fuzzy head as I took a bottle from one of the heavily armed attendants. "You know this would go a hell of a lot simpler for you people if you let me or his mom take care of him? Less people would wind up with their brains exploded."
"Why does he know who you are? You haven't seen him since he was born," they were not at all happy with me, something I for one, could live with.
"He's not stupid. I probably smell like his mom, and he knows I think about cuddling him and taking him home and not about shoving him in a cage for the rest of his life," I said, snuggling the baby closer as he reluctantly took the bottle from me. "How long hadn't he eaten for you pricks? Twenty four hours? He can barely keep his eyes open."
"Yes," one of them said.
"Just let his mom take care of him, it's pretty obvious he'll mind her," I said. They let Caroline come in twice to feed him. Both times they had him on feeding tubes because he wouldn't eat willingly. Of course he nursed from his mother. They hadn't been giving him the milk she was pumping. He's way too thin and his skin is red like they aren't washing him properly either. This time they let me. They didn't want him getting attached to us and causing more mayhem. With ten people dead already I didn't see how much more they thought he'd cause.
"You know for a fact—,"
"You know what? I'm sick of your damn voices shut up. Hey Row, we're gonna spring you someday huh? Your mommy and I are really great at bad plans and we're gonna get you out here. Just you wait okay? And give 'em plenty of hell," I said, pressing my face against his head so he got nothing but thoughts of coming home someday. He was in a dirty, white onesie. Caroline had all manner of expensive soft clothes for him to spit up on at home. Muslin cotton and such shit that's apparently good for babies. She brought a little onsie with stars on it to the hospital, and she never got to put it on him. They hadn't put gloves on  his hands and he'd scratched his face. "Yeah, you give 'em hell. You come from an glorious line of shitheads and assholes don't you forget it. Some of the most uncooperative people on this fucking planet are your ancestors. You let 'em know Hegan's don't give up without a fight."
"Sir---you can't---you can't talk about—,"
"I thought I asked you to shut up," I said very nicely.
"You are not in charge here."
"I think I'm holding the actual atomic bomb baby, so yes I kind of am. And we already know whoever upsets his mommy winds up with heads crushed in so you know, I wouldn't piss me off," I said. Could I just walk out of here holding him? What the hell, I'm gonna try. He's fucking dying here anyway. I'd rather die trying to get him out than go to bed tonight knowing he's in here crying. Honestly it's helpful. It's not like they can handle him.  His mother can, he's not going to hurt her and he's a kitten for me too.
"Sir---what are you doing?—" that's the dude who didn't like me because 'normal people don't carry that many weapons' and 'sir how many weapons do you have'. And  I didn't even surrender all my weapons. I pulled a gun out of my pants.
"First person to try to stop me gets shot. Same for the next thirty people after that; I'm pointing grenade baby at them," I said, thinking nasty evil thoughts about the people trying to stop me from walking out. They immediately started screaming and clutching their heads. I had like ten clips taped to my body.
Anyway, that was how I found out what it felt like to be tased. Again. And again. And again. They threw me out on the street for Caroline to collect. That went well. She was super proud of me too. And that was the last time we saw Rowan. He wasn't eating. I'm sure he's dead by now. He wasn't eating then. He didn't want to eat for them back then. I can't imagine he survived, fuck he probably died that day.
But we're still doing this. Because we don't stop trying.
"You think this'll work?" Caroline asks, fiddling with her suit coat.
"No. but that's not gonna stop me from trying," I say, smiling a little as I tug on her hair.
"Oh my god how many weapons do you have?" she saw a gun in my coat.
"As many as I need."
"And how many do you think you're gonna need, Ben?"
"As many as are necessary."
"Benjamin Hegan."
"My usual daily number of weapons all right? The exact number of weapons I typically use on a day to day basis."
"Benjamin Hegan you work in an office; the exact daily number of weapons you actually use is zero," Caroline, with her face in her hands.
"The exact number of weapons I have in the past needed to use--,"
"Ben."
"Which is greater than zero—,"
"Benny, we are interviewing a woman whose kid was kidnapped."
"Ten, there, are you happy?"
"Lose the .45—"
Mumbling about not going into situations unarmed.
"That leaves you with what, three throwing stars one Bowie knife, two pocket knives, one derrigener, your stiletto knife and how many poison darts?"
"Enough," I growl, annoyed, taking out the .45 and securing it in the box in the glove compartment.
"I think we'll be okay."
"I think I'm supposed to take care of you."