Story - Novel The Fever

*****I wrote this piece inhigh school for a final portfolio project.
It is not completely finished and at the end, you can tell I was short
for time. I will come back and finish thisstory at some point. The
story was developed from the prompt we were given: "When the fever
broke, they had all hoped that they'd seen the last of Uncle Jack."
Takes a little over an hour to read. Please leave a rating or
feedback!
Enjoy!
PROLOGUE
When the fever broke, they had all hoped that they'd seen the last
of"Uncle Jack." But everyone knew he wouldbe back; he never stopped
until he got what he wanted. The excitement, agitation, and panic
would continue. He would find us again, as he had done consistently
for the last three years. Even so, we were safe for now, but-
The fever would find us again.
CHAPTER 1
Chicago, 1982 - A step back in Time
The frigid air of early March chilled the body tothe bone and darkened
the spirit. Snow was falling, but wasn't collecting on the ground.Its
color was grey, the same grey as the exhaust from the awesome
smokestacks that filled the horizon, tainting the snow from the
pureness the flakes were supposedto produce.
The darkened flakes landed in my hair as I stuck my now discolored
hands in the pockets of my long, khaki trench coat. I lowered my head
as I walked down the sidewalk, keeping to my own business. I ignored
the masked bandits holding a revolver to the forehead of the owner ofa
small jewelry store on my instant right. I ignored the man in the
black, hooded jacket across the street on my left, his eyes following
me while he sucked on a cigarette. I quickened mypace as I crossed the
street. A taxi ran the red light and dark slush was sprayed all over
my trench coat. I sighed thenignored it. Conflict wouldonly cause
problems, something South Chicagodidn't need any more of. I only had
another three blocks to walk, but even so I clamped my hand around the
switchblade in my left pocket. It mademe feel better; it made me feel
safe - well, safer. It was hard to feel completely safe around here.
My grip loosened a bit as my house came into view. It was hard to find
if you weren't looking for it. The shack was worn down, one story,
with a front porch that could be nice but didn't look the part as it
had lost most of its paint. As I got closer to the house, all I could
hear was the screaming of my two year old twins in the living room.
The crying continued as I proceededthrough the door. I hung my coat
and slowly walked into the living room.
"I'm home!" I yelled into the kitchen where the smell of chicken broth
originated. "Soup again,"I muttered under my breath. I couldn't afford
to bring home much for supper because my income didn't spread nearly
far enough. The twins continued their moaning.
"We got robbed again today," Jennifer muttered as she popped her head
out from around the corner. She came back into the dirty and messy
living room to try to entertain the twins before going back into the
kitchen to attend to her soup.
"They are just hungry," she told me as I frowned once they didn't stop
their constant exclamations. I came back into the moldy kitchen to set
the table."We lost the radio and the rest of the jewelry..." my wife
decrescendoed into a sigh.
I didn't reply as I went to grab the two little girls and set them in
their respective seats around the table. The small kitchen was
incredibly humid from the steam coming from the slow-boiling container
on the old stove. Jennifergrabbed four bowls and loaded them up with
soup and added a spoon to each. We all took our place around the small
table to nibble at the never changing meal.
"Paul, will you say grace?" Jen inquired. I sat the spoon down that
was halfway to my mouth and folded my hands together as everyone else
followed my actions.
"Bless us oh Lord, in these thy gifts, which we are..." I continued.
But even as I said the prayer, it was more of a routine than a ritual.
God didn't care, or he would have helped us by now. I quickly finished
the prayer.
"Amen," Jennifer whispered.
"A-MEN!" the girls exclaimed in unison.
Everyone instantaneouslypicked up a spoon and started slurping the
onion and rutabaga soupfrom each of their own bowls. "Jen, where is
the salt?" I asked as my eyes searched the table, hoping, but already
knowing the answer.
"We don't have any, Paul.We haven't had any in over a month."
Disappointed, I went back to my slurping. The rutabaga in the soup
hadbeen overcooked, leaving flavorless orange cubes of mush in every
bite.
After dinner, I took the girls into their room and read those Mother
Goose Rhymes until they were fast asleep. I slowly closed their door
and wandered to the kitchen.Jen was just drying the last of the dishes
and almost ignored me as I walked behind her and grabbed her around
her narrow waist. "Is there anything I can help with?" I politely
asked after a brief silent moment. She shrugged herself out of my arms
and replied with: "It's been a long day; I'm going to bed." She
avoided my eyes the whole time.
I watched her walk downthe hallway and disappear into the darkness at
the end. I turned around and examined the constant plip-plop I was
hearing. First, I turned to the sink faucet, but it wasn't leaking
water. I noticed some discoloration aboveme as I looked up and saw
some rust coloring on the ceiling. Water dripped at a steady and
constant rate from the center and created a small puddle on the
kitchen floor. I shook my head and let the splashing continue as I
turned the light off and exited down the hallway.
I opened the bedroom door at the end of the hallway to my wife lying
in bed, awake in her cotton pajamas. I stripped down to my plaid
boxers and crawledinto bed next to her. At first, all I could hear was
the rain from the storm constantly beating the window. After a few
moments of lying in bed, I noticed Jennifer was crying.
"Are you okay?" The crying continued.
"Paul, we don't have anything left. All we haveare a few dishes and a
few pieces of furniture."
"And now a leaking roof," I chimed in. The crying continued until she
had cried herself to sleep. There was nothing I could do. It was the
same night after night. I couldn't do anything anymore. But then I
changed my mind. I couldand would do something.We couldn't live like
this anymore. Something needed to change.
I fell asleep deciding on aplan. -[ * - TO BE CONTINUED..........]-