⁕JACK⁕

CROSSROADS

Chapter Fourth:

THE KETCHUMS (part 3)

Professor Samuel Oak was a middle-aged man with a sharpness to his eyes. He had shown up after lunch time, and grilled Jack further, making attempts to ‘jog his memory’ which Jack had had to play along with despite the fact that his memory was in fact, quite jogged up.

Nevertheless, Jack learned a whole deal more about pokémon from the professor, and the flood of education about this new culture had occupied his mind enough that all thoughts of home eventually took a backseat. His new life was in a world he did not recognise, but that did not mean it was meaningless. Jack believed that God had put him here for a reason.

In the afternoon, when Ash had returned from study camp, the boy took Jack around the town and showed him the only pair of shops around and the large crop fields where the tiny population got most of their food. There were trees called ‘berry trees’ which could bear fruits, vegetables, and nuts. The varieties seemed endless.

Beyond the town was what Ash had called a ‘route’, a road through the wilderness that was teeming with many different kinds of wild Pokémon. Ash casually mentioned that he had been forbidden from using the route until ‘he was older’. Jack told him about the creature in the tree hollow and he saw the boy tense up and listen attentively.

“With Bulbasaur, I can take on anyone,” Ash had said, but Jack could see that the boy had been spooked.

“What of a creature with big red eyes and a wide, wide grin?” Jack pulled his hands apart to emphasize. “What is that one called?”

“A Gengar?! You saw one?”

“Two.”

“No way! There’s no ghost-types around here, I asked Professor Oak, and he said no!”

Jack chuckled. “I think you might be right. I was very, very tired then, so I might have imagined it all.” He did not want to contaminate the child with fear, though he was now certain that the red-eyed gnomes had been real.

Gengar... What a grim name. It sounded to Jack like some incurable disease.

When evening came, the words Jack had hoped to hear were spoken.

“You can stay longer if you need to.”

They had returned from their tour of the town, and Delia was preparing a mighty good smelling supper. Ash immediately cried out happily and offered Jack a spot in his room. “He can use my sleeping bag!”

Delia laughed him off. “No, dear, he can use the spare room.” She looked at Jack evenly. “It’ll need some clearing up, but it’s got a sofa-bed and a nightlamp. You can stay until you find a place to go.”

Jack said, “ahh…” and opened his posture like a man accepting his fate. “That is too much, Mrs Ketchum. I have no means of repaying you.”

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Delia smiled. “So how do you expect to survive out there? You don’t even have a Pokémon to travel with, Jack.”

“We can take Bulbaaah-rgh!!” Ash ate his own words.

“Bulbaar?” Delia frowned, then her eyes widened. “Ash!”

“I was going to say bulbarep, mom! It’s a new kind of Pokémon repel!”

“Ash! Do you think I’m silly?”

Ash giggled and scampered his way upstairs as his mother yelled at him that she ‘knew’ what he was doing.

Jack’s lips turned up in a smile and he clasped his hands together in front of himself politely. “You have already done a lot. I will not ask for more.”

“You weren’t asking,” Delia replied. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll have you run some errands for me while you’re here.”

Jack bowed. “Very well, Mrs Ketchum. I am too grateful.”

The perks of being young and not too bad on the eye were becoming increasingly apparent to Jack.

“Call me Delia, please.”

“Alright, I will.”

Ash helped Jack clear up the spare room of strange gadgets and knick-knacks which the boy explained to him before dumping each into the junk sac.

“And your father? Where is he?” Jack was wearing the clothes of the boy’s father, but Delia had assured him that Ash would have no problem with it since the man had left when Ash was still an infant, and therefore had no real memory of him.

Ash did not seem all that bothered. He shrugged. “I dunno, but I hear mom talking with him at night sometimes.”

Jack put a hand to Ash’s shoulder. “My father also left when I was young.”

“Really?” Ash said, cocking his head and looking at Jack with his large, carefree eyes.

“Yes. That’s what makes a boy strong, Ash. You’ll be twice the man your father is.”

Ash nodded, but Jack knew that he was still too young to comprehend what he had meant.

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The next several days at the Ketchum household were blissful. Pallet Town was a small, tight-knit community of caring neighbours and pleasant manners.

Jack had spent the mornings helping Delia with chores and had escorted her out of town for groceries a couple of times to the closest marketplace only a mile’s away.

During the day-time, when Ash was in class and Delia was otherwise engaged, Jack had spent his time watching what they called television, completely enthralled by the moving people inside the box, and the stories they told. His eyes grew strained quickly, however, and he could not watch it for more than an hour without getting a headache. After a little television, he would tinker with all manner of new gadgets and took walks around the town and the surrounding woodlands, though making sure to not stray too far in, lest one of those Pokémon attacked him.

They were nothing like the animals he’d known. He had been astounded multiple times when he’d seen them take commands from people and go on to perform literal magical tricks. Different Pokémon had different personalities, even within the same of its kind, and they appeared to have the uncanny ability to understand human speech. The very culture of this country, or Region as the inhabitants called it, seemed to revolve around Pokémon.

On the third day, Jack began to pick up Ash from Professor Oak’s laboratory, up on a hill quite a walk away from the house. Delia had packed sandwiches for them both, knowing they would return home straight away.

Jack met with a few other children from Mr. Oak’s study camp, one of which was the professor’s own grandson, a lad with a similar sharpness of eyes and an aloofness that made him appear older than his age. He did not seem to get on that well with Ash, and Jack saw clearer, why Ash had been so quick to take a liking to him. Despite the lad’s cheerful and innocent disposition, he was wanting for friends.

“Jack!” Ash had called one afternoon as he came out of class. He had a Poké Ball in each of his hands.

“The professor has allowed me to borrow a Weedle! Heehee!” The boy was brimming with delight.

“A Weedle? That big worm one?” Jack was not sure what Ash was getting at.

“Yeah!” Ash handed one of the balls to Jack and the Englishman’s eyebrows jumped in surprise. “We can do a battle! Will you pleaseee?”

Jack held a Poké Ball for the first time. It was light; you could never guess that a creature was within it. He felt it in his grasp, and it felt good. It felt like power.

“But I have never done this before,” Jack said. “I do not know what to do.”

Ash pushed at Jack’s leg and the two went off away, down the hill path, far from any prying eyes and all the way to a quiet stretch of trees some few minutes from Oak’s laboratory.

The young Mr. Ketchum spent the next five minutes telling Jack how to battle.

---- “You first bring the Pokemon out by throwing the ball…”

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---- “Weedle knows these moves…”

---- “Don’t start until I say ‘go’…”

It was all a bit iffy for Jack, but he agreed and fiddled with the Poké Ball in his hand, which suddenly felt like a very odd machine. Can it trap people as well?

“Ready?” Ash said from some distance away. Jack nodded and the young lad lobbed his Poké Ball onto the wide space between them. Jack twitched and fumbled with his ball, throwing it underhand awkwardly, like a novice at a game of horseshoes. When the flash of lights burst out, he felt an inexplicable sense of satisfaction. That hadn’t been so hard at all.

The Pokémon glanced about with an intelligence that no kind of creature had the right to have. The worm, especially, looked uncannily quick-witted as it took in its surroundings.

“Go!” Ash shouted.

The two Pokémon exchanged a series of cries, with the Bulbasaur’s vines twitching like a cat’s tail.

“Vine Whip!” The vines flexed and stretched up metres into the air before coming down like flogging ropes. The Weedle screeched and sprang out of the way, and Jack laughed.

Ash was about to yell out something else but stopped when he saw Jack’s grin.

“You forgot the moves???”

Jack chuckled and shook his head. “The way it leapt to the side. It’s got a spring to it, eh!”

Ash frowned and whined. “We’re having a battle! Be serious!”

“Alright, lad!” Jack replied, wiping the smile off his face. “Tackle?!”

His first command came out more as a question than an order, but Weedle however, was receptive. The large caterpillar compressed its body and sprang towards the Bulbasaur with amusingly quick speed. The green toad’s vines swung downwards to intercept it but it was too late. Weedle smacked into Bulbasaur, knocking it back a few feet and Jack gave a snarling cheer. “That’s it you big worm! Tackle! Tackle!”

“Tackle!” Ash cried as Weedle darted through the air towards Bulbasaur. The plant-type had no time for a run up, but its bigger size was enough to help it match the force of the Weedle’s attack. They thudded against one another, neither of them suffering any blowback, and Jack bellowed again. “Come on boy! Tackle!” Weedle let out a screech and reared back for another go.

“Push it away with your vines, Bulbasaur!”

A flurry of vines swiped against the Weedle, forcing it back scrambling along the ground.

“Razor Leaf!”

Jack saw a brief ruffle on Bulbasaur’s bud as it began to open up. Leaves sprouted from the areas where the bud was attached onto its back and lifted into the air as if someone in the treetops was holding them up with strings. With a croaking cry, Bulbasaur sent the leaves whistling through the air towards Weedle. There were far too many of them for the caterpillar Pokémon to dodge them all and Jack watched, totally mesmerized, half expecting the brown worm to be rent to shreds. A few stray leaves whizzed close to Jack, but his eyes stayed fixed on the Weedle, watching it curl up and withstand the barrage of projectiles.

Jack noticed Bulbasaur recycle some of the leaves, making them curve back like boomerangs.

“Get up boy! Get up!” Jack cheered, thoroughly entertained. Weedle screeched and attempted to do so, but the leaves proved too many, and it curled back up.

“Bulbasaur, stop!” Ash called out, and his pet listened, the leaves suddenly losing direction and becoming as ordinary leaves, fluttering lightly as they fell to the ground.

“Do you give up?” the young Ketchum offered.

“Absolutely not!” Jack replied immediately, taking a few steps into the battlefield to check Weedle’s condition.

Ash straightened up, stomping his foot on the ground. “Yes, you do!”

It perplexed Jack, who understood that the lad was trying to make a point. “Why do I?”

“Weedle’s about to faint, that’s why!”

Jack eyed his fighter, holding his hand out towards Bulbasaur as he approached the otherworldly beasts. “Is that right…”

Pokémon Battle had been tremendously fun; better than any dog-fight Jack had ever seen. They made it a thing to battle once each day after the boy got out of school camp. On one occasion, Jack had ordered Weedle to use his String Shot on Ash during battle, asserting that if the boy couldn’t give out commands, Bulbasaur would be easier to overcome.

Whilst Ash writhed in Weedle’s silky webs, Bulbasaur got distracted and Jack ordered a golden-timed Poison Sting which Weedle landed on the powerful green toad. Bulbasaur staggered on its feet, and Jack laughed loudly as he jogged over to help the struggling Ash.

“It looks like I’ve finally clinched the win.”

“No you didn’t! You cheated!”

“I played it smart.”

“It’s a Pokémon battle, and I’m not a Pokémon!”

Jack chuckled heartily at that. “I suppose that makes sense… So targeting the commanders… it isn’t allowed?”

Ash tore at the webs on himself as he stood. “Of course not… I thought you’d know that.”

Jack nodded slowly, admitting his fault. “In that case, this one won’t count,” the Englishman said, pulling off some of the webs more out of curiosity than kindness.

The two of them quickly became inseparable, with Ash all too eager to talk about all things Pokémon, and Jack more than willing to listen to anything that could paint for him a clearer picture of this new world.

With each passing day, Jack felt himself more and more at home, till soon, a whole week had passed. Delia had not brought up any talks of his relocation and Jack sensed that the family had effectively adopted him. Despite not knowing much, he had been a useful pair of hands around the house, and Delia had greatly appreciated the company he kept with her son.

“He sees you like a big brother.”

Jack could do nothing but utter his thanks for being allowed to stay so long. Memories of England came frequently, however, but they had begun to lose their sting. In a world like this, there seemed little reason for hatred and bitterness. Jack had pondered whether God had placed him here as a lesson in the ways of love and letting go of the past.

Love thy neighbour as yourself. Pallet Town appeared to embody that.

Life was heavenly.

But Jack’s understanding of the world was still young.

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One night, once Ash and Delia had supposedly retired to sleep, Jack was lying on his bed in the dark, thinking on things he had watched on the television, when he heard the treading of steps upstairs.

It was late, likely nearing eleven O’clock. He listened intently as the steps crept down the stairs with a care that could only come from a person who did not want to be heard.

He sat up slowly in bed.

There was a faint jingle of keys and Jack heard the backyard door open. There was a tiny ventilator window up on the wall above his bedrest and Jack stood and pulled himself up to see, but the window was grimy, and it offered little view.

So, Jack walked barefooted across the dining room and turned the corner to enter the kitchen, where the backyard door was. The lights were off, but the security lamp outside was lit and he saw there clearly Ash’s mother, Delia, dressed in a jacket and a long, fawn skirt, walking away into the dark.

Where to at this hour?

He watched her unlatch the small gate of the metre-high fence and he got a better look at her when she turned to close it behind her. She was presentable.

Jack waited until she was out of sight before putting on a pair of house slippers and setting off after her. He had heard her speaking on the telephone on some evenings, sometimes later in the night, and though he was curious, he had enough sense to not make mention of it.

This night was different, however, and Jack wanted to see what would make a mother leave her child alone in the house, in the middle of the night, with a man she had not known for more than a fortnight.

She trusts me this much, Jack thought. I hope I can trust her the same.

Delia walked through the little dark paths of Pallet Town, lighting her way with a flashlight, all the way into the northside woods which were closest to the house. Jack had stalked enough women back in England to know how to remain undetected. He was grimacing uncomfortably as he followed her. His gut seemed upset.

There was a blinking light coming from the woods, as if someone was signalling a message. Delia walked right to it. Jack approached, silent as a cat on the prowl. The lady had no Pokémon, yet she had always cautioned against going off into the woods without one.

The sound of voices reached Jack’s ears when Delia and another started to speak. He tread carefully, hugging the trees and stepping near the roots where less of the woodland debris could scrunch under his steps.

There was laughter from Delia and the deep, soft tones of a man.

“Oh, Gio…” Delia said with hints of affection.

“I’ve come this far, Lily. The least you can do is humour me a little.” The man moved closer to Delia, putting an arm around her. “Come. If only just for the view.”

Delia’s torch lit the pair’s feet, but the ambient light was enough to see a few details.

The man was on the hefty side, certainly bigger than Jack, though perhaps not taller. He dressed in a black suit and though their faces where shadowed, the man appeared clean-shaven with his hair trimmed neatly close to the scalp. He seemed to Jack like a fancy-folk.

A pressure built on the Englishman’s temples.

This is who she speaks to at night?

His jaw set and his teeth ground against each other. A small, fiery pit was opening in his gut.

This is Ash’s father? But he doubted that.

Delia and the man walked off, further into the woods, arm in arm like lovers, and Jack followed them with a coldness seeping into his heart.

Something about this woman’s actions had triggered him.

The pair of them got to an open field where the shadowy silhouette of a large hot-air balloon loomed. A dim fire growled at its burners and Delia gushed with delighted surprise.

The man wound his arm around her waist.

Jack remained at the tree line, watching them board the balloon, watching them lift off into the starry night sky.

A strong breeze of wind rolled through the field and Jack felt something change within him. It was not sudden, but more like a quick thawing.

The pressure on his temples receded, and the fiery pit in his gut cooled.

Then a flash seared in his being, and he fell to his knees with a gasp.

Bloody visions of England rushed through his minds eye. The men and the women he had killed. Especially the women.

Can I not start over? A small part in him cried.

You can start your work! The voice of Jacque Merridin cried back.

Jack felt like weeping, but his eyes remained dry. He felt like screaming, but his throat was made of stone.

He thought of Ash Ketchum.

He walked deep into the woods and thought of Ash Ketchum most of all. He thought of Delia.

And he thought of the world.

♪♪♪Jack's Rumination♪♪♪

image [https://i.imgur.com/YWenNv1.png]

To the colour of black, even grey appears as white.

Much time later, when the flying balloon descended back down towards Pallet Town, Jack made his way back to the house.

He remained awake, awaiting Delia.

Mrs. Ketchum returned through the way she had left and got busy in the kitchen. Jack joined her as the kettle began to roar.

“Jack! You’re awake!”

He smiled. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Her cheeks were red from the chill of the night, but Jack made no comment as to her appearance.

“Well, I’m making a tea,” she said, masterfully masking the embarrassment Jack was sure she felt. “Do you want one?”

Jack thought for a moment before replying.

“I think I’ll try the coffee.”

...