Chapter 8 - The Crimson Banner
The projection screen clicked, and the background music from Jack’s favorite old rock record began playing softly through the speakers.
Jack was sitting outside on our back porch, the sun setting behind him in a brilliant explosion of orange, purple, and crimson.
He was wrapped in an old woolen blanket, holding a mug of hot tea that steamed in the cool autumn air.
He looked peaceful.
The hollow, exhausted look in his eyes had been replaced by a deep, serene clarity.
“Hey, guys,” Jack said, taking a slow sip from the mug.
“If you’re watching this, it means the storm has passed.”
“It means Sterling is in chains, the truth is out in the light, and Theo didn't get tackled by the church ushers.”
He smiled that bright, lopsided grin that had melted my heart since the day he took his first steps in our kitchen.
“I picked the red dress for Theo not just because of Clara’s armor,” Jack explained, his gaze wandering toward our backyard garden.
“I picked it because I hated the thought of everyone standing around my grave looking like crows.”
“I hated the idea of Daniel Harris standing by a hole in the ground, staring at black dirt, thinking that death was the end of our story.”
“Red is life, Dad.”
“Red is the blood pumping through your veins right now.”
“Red is the fire we made when we camped up by the lake and burned those dry cedar logs until the sparks flew into the stars.”
“Red is the color of the sunrise you’re going to watch tomorrow morning from our kitchen window.”
Jack paused, looking straight into the lens, his expression turning intensely earnest.
“You gave me seventeen perfect years,” he whispered.
“You didn't fail me.”
“Not once.”
“Not when the insurance denied the second round.”
“Not when you worked double shifts until your boots fell apart.”
“Not when Mom stayed awake for three days straight just to hold an ice pack against my forehead.”
“You did everything humanly possible.”
“Now, it’s my turn to give you an order.”
Jack leaned forward, his knuckles resting against his knees.
“Tomorrow, you take that casket out of the chapel.”
“You put it in the ground.”
“And then you, Mom, Theo, and Sarah are going to go straight to Joe’s Diner on Fifth Street.”
“You’re going to order four double cheeseburgers, extra pickles, two baskets of onion rings, and a chocolate milkshake with three cherries.”
“You’re going to eat until you feel sick, and you’re going to laugh about the time I tried to jump my bicycle off the shed roof and broke Mrs. Gable’s ceramic gnomes.”
“Do not starve yourselves in my name.”
“Do not make my memory a monument of tears.”
“Make it a celebration of the fact that we were lucky enough to love each other this much.”
Jack raised his steaming mug toward the camera as if making a toast.
“To the warriors of Ward 4B,” Jack said softly.
“And to the best parents a boy could ever dream of having.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, Dad.”
“Theo... take care of my room; don't leave your dirty socks under my bed.”
Jack winked, the camera frame slowly faded to black, and the rock music swelled into a triumphant, ringing guitar solo before cutting to silence.
The living room wall went completely white as the projector stopped transmitting.
For five full minutes, none of us moved.
We just listened to the rhythmic sound of the rain outside gradually slowing to a gentle drizzle against the windowpane.
Daniel took a deep, shuddering breath, stood up from the floor, and walked over to the front window.
He pulled back the heavy curtains.
The storm clouds were finally parting over the horizon, revealing the faint, pale pink glow of early morning light breaking across the neighborhood.
The federal vans had finished their work, the sirens were gone, and the street was quiet once more.
Daniel turned back toward Theo, who was still sitting on the floor, nervously picking at the fraying hem of the crimson satin gown.
“Theo,” Daniel said, his voice ringing with a newfound, unshakable authority.
“Yes, Mr. Harris?” Theo asked timidly.
“Go upstairs into Jack’s room.”
Theo blinked, looking startled.
“Take a hot shower, throw that torn dress in the wash, and put on Jack’s charcoal suit from his closet.”
“We have a funeral to finish.”
Theo looked up, his eyes wide with emotion.
“You... you want me to wear Jack’s suit?”
“You’re his brother, aren't you?” Daniel said, offering a hand to pull the boy to his feet.
May you like
“Brothers wear each other's clothes.”
“Now move before the diner runs out of onion rings.”
