Hope On The Rocks/Issue 127

This is Issue 127 of Hope On The Rocks, entitled "That's Jim".

This issue is Lia-centric.

1001, That's Jim
It’s been a few days since Ridley got sick. He’s still sick, but he’s alive. That’s what’s important. Wesley says that he might be able to save Ridley, but if he begins to dehydrate out here, he wont stand a chance. That’s why we need the helicopter to get finished as soon as possible. Jim is in the helicopter most of the time. Usually, Kevin and Timmy are either there or at the boat. Right now, they’re at the boat. That gives me time to spend a little time with Jim. Jim tried to commit suicide, but I talked him from it. I don’t want him to feel like he doesn’t mean anything to me, and that I only talked him from it because he’s our only pilot. So I am headed for the helicopter right now, a basket with food in my hand. “Jim!” I yell as I get closer. There’s a rope ladder we have to climb every time we want to get into the helicopter. I hate it, but it’s the only way up there. “Coming.” Jim yells back, and the rope ladder drops. With the basket under my arm, I climb up to the pilot. He is working at something in the front, so I just sit down in the back, beginning to prepare the food. It’s a varity of nuts and berries. The nuts needs to be cracked, though, so I begin doing that. “Y’know, you don’t have to come up here with food everyday.” Jim says. “I can find my way back to the camp.” “I know.” I say, a little flattered he’s thinking about me like that. “I just like to have something to do. We don’t have many routines anymore.” “Guess not.” Jim says and shrugs. I crack a few nuts before asking “How are you holding up?” “Fine.” Jim just replies. I know there’s more. “Not thinking about suicide anymore?” I continue to conversate. “No, thanks to you.” Jim says, continuing his work in the front. “Glad I could I help.” I say and smile. “My, eh, wife once tried to take her own life.” Jim begins. I don’t say anything. I just let him talk. “It was our daughter that found her hanging from the ceiling. I managed to get her back to life via CPR.” Jim continues. “We had a long talk after that. She was sorry and... she said she didn’t want to see me die.” He holds a short break. “Guess she didn’t have to after all.” He fianlly finishes. “I’m... sorry.” I say, a little overwhelmed over this story. “Yeah...” Jim says. “So am I.” We sit in silence for a while. Only the nuts being cracked can be heard. I’m using two stones, so it makes a little noise. Then I finally break the silence with the question “Tell me about your son.” “Oh...” Jim says and turns around, smiling. “He was amazing. I still remember the day I first saw him. The birth had taken six hours, and I was sleeping when he came out. We had a deal, my wife and I. If it were a girl, we’d name her Henriette, and if it were a boy, Harry. And it was a boy. I remember how happy I was that day... how Harry smiled at me, and how...” I see a tear rolling down his cheek as he talks. “I still remember his last words to me... ‘Don’t go, daddy’, he said. I was leaving for work.” Jim tells, his eyes slowly filling with tears. “I went back later that day, only to find him dead on the floor, and my wife zombified...” I don’t say anything. “I never killed her, Lia.” Jim says. “She may still be roaming around in our house...” I’m silent as Jim joins me to eat. I don’t know what to say. “I...” I try to say. It’s a horrible story. Or a sad story at least. “Yeah, I know.” Jim just says and begins to eat. “I’m sorry too.”

Deaths

 * None

Credits

 * Lia Camper
 * Jim Iroas