The Biggest Action Movie Never Made

It was the last beating that broke him. For as long has he could remember, he’d been abused and pushed around, kicked and thumped. Now he decided it was payback time. Now he would get his vengeance.

Glaring at the people around him, Necta Rondo promised himself there would be blood before nightfall.

*

‘ICANNOTTAKETHISANYMORE!’

The glass windows in Captain Rooney’s office vibrated at his scream. Michelle McDavid cringed at the sound, her ears ringing for some time afterward. Everyone in the bullpen had turned to watch, mouths open in fright. Only Jack remained unmoved by his superior’s ire.

Jack Strong, the best detective on the force. The only thing longer than his arrest list was the number of bad guys he’d shot down in the final throes of their evil plans, and the only thing longer than that were the numerous complaints stacked against him. Complaints that hailed from the city authorities – the police commissioner, the mayor’s office, the DA, the state governor – and Mrs Esther Thistlewaite, an octogenarian who had taken umbrage when Jack had refused to accept her granddaughter as his partner.

‘YOU’RE OUT, STRONG!’ the captain shouted. At least he had taken time to separate each word. ‘BADGE AND GUN! NOW!’

Jack stood silently, fished his wallet from his pocket and placed his badge on the captain’s desk. Sliding his service pistol from the holster, he rested it beside the gold shield. His face showed no concern because he knew this was just the captain gesturing. They had danced this waltz a hundred times in the past. Rooney would calm down in an hour or so, begrudgingly admit Jack had been right and give him back his tools of the trade.

Hands shaking with indignation, Rooney scooped up Jack’s gun. His fingers were trembling so much it took him three attempts to release the safety. Once he was successful, he pointed the weapon at Jack’s badge, squeezed the trigger and continued to do so until there were no rounds left.

Beneath the cloud of gun smoke, Jack saw there was nothing left of his shield. No pieces, no fragments, not even smithereens. That was new, he thought, a little taken aback. But he could only think of one thing to say:

‘Guess I’m fired.’

*

McDavid hurried after Jack as he entered the elevator. Throwing herself forward, she managed to squeeze inside before the doors shut. She peered inside the cardboard box Jack was holding; a gift voucher for Dunkin Doughnuts, a coffee mug that bore the legend World’s Best Big Brother and a black-framed picture of a woman in a wedding veil.

‘Is that Abigail?’ she asked.

Jack only grunted in reply, which was enough to let McDavid know she was right.

Although they had been divorced longer than they had been married, the whole station knew that Jack was still in love with the woman. She was his soulmate. She was the reason he worked so hard to make the world a better place.

And he was the reason she was dead.

When a terrorist had threatened to blow up a ballgame and had taken Abi as leverage, Jack had done the only thing he was capable of; he had single-handed evacuated the stadium, located and defused the nuclear bomb, raced across town in a commandeered sports car (often driving on the wrong side of the road or on the sidewalk), smashed through the perp’s bay windows, engaged in a lengthy hand-to-hand fight which left the two of them on a balcony (‘I think I’ll let you go,’ Jack had said as he released the bad guy and let gravity pull him to an early grave), untied the bonds which tied Abi to a second number bomb, which Jack also defused, and carried her out to the lawn.

What Jack hadn’t expected was that the terrorist had already injected Abi with a slow acting poison. With the soft morning rain hiding his tears, Abi had died in his arms.

‘What will you do now?’ McDavid asked.

Jack sighed and said, ‘Think I’m gonna go get something to eat.’

‘I didn’t mean right now, I mean-’

‘I know what you meant, Shell. I guess I’m gonna…’ he paused while he gave it some thought. ‘I don’t know,’ he finished quietly.

McDavid’s breath caught in her chest. In all the years she’d known him she had never heard Jack sound so unsure or confused. Gulping down her tears, she said, ‘I’ve got an idea.’

*

The Golden Winter of Content Retirement Home and Assisted Living Facility for Senior Citizens was the longest named nursing home in the state. It had also been voted the second-worst name in the country, beaten by a place in Arizona which combined elderly healthcare with a water park and a creche: From Womb to Tomb (Now With Added Splash Fountain).

Jack scanned the lobby as he and McDavid entered. Three vending machines to the left beside a door marked ‘Private’. A haggard-looking woman sat behind the long reception desk directly ahead. To the right lay one elevator, a door to the stairwell and an open double-door to the rest of the nursing home. An overpowering stench filled the area; boiled cabbage, urine and fried fish.

They approached the desk and McDavid smiled at the woman. Before she could speak, a cry came from the open doors.

‘Murder! Murder!’

Jack’s hand instinctively reached for his gun – but found only an empty holster.

‘Relax, it’s okay,’ the receptionist said. Her name tag introduced her as Pauline. ‘It’s just Daphne. She tends to overreact to Diagnosis Murder.’

Daphne’s voice came again, proving Pauline’s assertion.

‘Be careful, Bert,’ the old woman’s voice cried, obviously confusing Dick Van Dyke’s characters.

‘I’m Michelle McDavid, this is de-’ McDavid stopped herself quickly. That was a habit she would have to get out of. ‘This is Jack Strong. We’re here to see Esther Thistlewaite,’

‘Of course,’ Pauline smiled. ‘She’s in the gardens at the back. Please sign in,’ she added, pushing forward a visitor’s register.

‘You sign us in,’ Jack said. ‘I’m gonna get snacks.’

He approached the vending machines to inspect his options. Unlike most buildings he visited, each machine was a different make and model. He guessed the nursing home relied more on donations than entering a contract with a vendor. The one on the left was empty but for one pack of gum. The one on the right contained candy bars and soda. The chips he wanted sat in the middle machine.

Jack made his selection and pressed his debit card to the reader. The metal spiral which held the chips began to rotate, stuttered then stopped. Jack glowered through the glass, his teeth gritted.

‘Drop to the ground,’ he ordered but, like most of the suspects he’d said that to, the packet refused to obey.

A spark of electricity flashed behind the machine, followed quickly by a loud crack. The internal lights faded to the whining drone of machinery winding down.

Scowling, Jack strode away to join McDavid.

*

Necta Rondo watched Jack leave the lobby. There was an intimidating air about the man.

He was the one, Necta Rondo thought, he was to be the first victim. If anyone were able to defeat Necta Rondo, it would be Jack.

Therefore, he would have to fall first and, once Jack had been bested by Necta Rondo, the rest of the human race would suffer Necta Rondo’s rage.

*

They found Esther at the bridge table with three other residents. As soon as she saw the two of them approaching, she excused herself from the game and began to hobble in their direction.

‘Michelle,’ she said softly.

‘Hi, Grams.’ McDavid wrapped her arms around the woman, careful not to squeeze her too tightly.

Esther looked up at Jack, her lips pressed together and ice in her eyes.

Jack’s cell pinged, informing him he’d received a text message.

‘Grams, we’ve come to ask for your help,’ McDavid said.

‘You know I would do anything for you, sweetie.’ Esther’s words were full of love until she looked back at Jack. ‘But why is he here?’

‘Mrs Thistlewaite,’ Jack began. He paused as his phone beeped again. ‘I’d like to discuss with you the complai-’

‘What is there to discuss?’ Esther spat. ‘You disregarded my granddaughter without even meeting her.’

‘No, Grams,’ McDavid said. ‘He was looking out for me. Jack has a… history with partners.’

Esther placed one hand on her granddaughter’s cheek. McDavid flashed Jack a look which said Give us some space.

Jack walked away, taking the opportunity to check his phone. Accessing the messaging app, he saw two texts from his bank. The first nearly stopped his heart:

Your bank account is close to $0.00. Please deposit funds to prevent using your overdraft.

The second shocked him enough to restart his heart:

You are now using your overdraft and will be charged as per the terms and conditions of your account.

*

McDavid explained to Esther the reasons Jack had initially been reluctant to accept her as his partner, words she had said before. She hadn’t expected her Grams to change her mind on her argument alone, but thought that Jack would be able to convince her. The man who had once talked a bank robber into not just releasing hostages but also to use his prison wages to pay for their counselling could surely make Esther see the error of her thinking.

‘…that just because you’re a woman…’

Looking over at Jack for support, McDavid saw his pale expression, his knotted brow, and instantly knew something was wrong. She tuned out her grandmother’s voice as she tried to catch Jack’s attention.

‘Person,’ Jack grunted into his phone. ‘Let me talk to a person.’

‘…with babies and cannot provide a worthwhile…’

‘Just a minute, Grams,’ McDavid said. She stepped closer to Jack.

With a frustrated groan, Jack ended the call and shoved the cell into his pocket.

‘Damn automated system,’ he cursed. To McDavid, he said, ‘I gotta get to the bank.’

‘Grams, we have to go,’ McDavid said, ‘but we’ll come later.’

‘Yes, Mrs Thistlewaite,’ Jack said earnestly. ‘I’ll be back.’

*

(McDavid pulled Jack close, into a whispered huddle.

‘I don’t think you should have said that,’ she said.

‘Why? Too threatening?’

‘No. I’m worried there may have been an infringement of copyright.’

Jack nodded. ‘What should I say instead? “I shall return”?’

‘I think I’ve heard that before.’

They both thought for a moment.

‘Yes,’ Jack confirmed. ‘General MacArthur. “Be back soon”?’ he suggested.

McDavid shook her head. ‘Oliver! 1968 Carol Reed movie.’

‘Then there’s only one thing for it,’ Jack said. McDavid saw the pain in his eyes as he contemplated his words:

‘Mrs Thistlewaite. Laters.’)

*

As they marched back inside, Jack told McDavid how money had been taken from his bank account. She asked how much he’d had at the beginning of the day.

‘Forty-six thousand dollars,’ he answered.

‘On a cop’s wage?’ she wanted to ask, but her disbelief vanished as she realised Jack lived in a one-room apartment and never took vacation days. He lived and breathed the job, so he had nothing to spend his earnings on.

‘Where did you last use your card?’ she asked instead.

‘On that,’ he said as they entered the lobby, pointing at the broken vending machine. He stopped suddenly. His instincts were telling him something was wrong, instincts that had saved his life countless times before.

McDavid marched past Jack, heading straight for the door.

Jack glanced around, looking for the danger he knew was there. The two doors, ‘Private’ and ‘Stairs’, were closed, as was the elevator door. Pauline was still behind the reception counter, smiling up from the computer screen she had been focusing on. The vending machines were–

*

Now! Necta Rondo commanded.

*

–vibrating wildly. The one on the left, the empty one, pitched forward. Jack could have sworn it leapt from the floor and did not simply fall over.

Jack lurched for McDavid, grabbed her jacket, yanked her backwards. McDavid yelled in surprise.

Thunder and glass exploded in the lobby as the vending machine crashed down on very spot she had been standing. Pauline shrieked and crouched behind the counter.

Jack noticed the manufacturer’s plate on the back of the machine, announcing the model: Azkoyen Mistral+.

‘What the fox?’ shouted McDavid, having the presence of mind to watch her language despite having nearly being crushed to death.

The prickle on Jack’s nape did not disappear with the falling vendor. They were not out of the woods yet.

A whirring sound came from the middle machine. Its lights flickered twice, then stayed on. The bar holding the chips Jack had previously chosen sprang to life and deposited his snack in the tray at the bottom. Another spiral revolved and dropped a soda can. A third, a fourth. Soon the room was filled with the sound of the falling cans.

The dispensing tray dropped open. A blur shot out.

McDavid cried out as a soda can smashed into her shoulder.

‘Get down,’ Jack yelled, pushing her to the ground behind the fallen Azkoyen Mistral+. ‘Give me your gun.’

‘Who ya gonna plug?’ McDavid asked. ‘Who’s attacking us?’

‘It’s not who, it’s what.’

With the pistol held out before him, Jack popped up from the cover. The middle vending machine had tilted backwards against the wall, altering the trajectory of the cans it was spewing forth and increasing their range. He ducked down again as a cola drink narrowly missed his head.

‘I always knew sugary drinks were bad for my health,’ he muttered.

In one fluid motion, Jack rose and aimed. He squeezed off five shots in rapid succession. The front of the machine collapsed in a shower of broken glass and electric sparks. As if in slow motion, the machine leaned forward, teetered, then boomed to the floor.

‘It seems I’ve dispensed with your trouble.’

*

Necta Rondo seethed.

Jack was proving harder to crush than Necta Rondo had first considered. But Necta Rondo was not done yet.

*

Stepping over the fallen machine, Jack’s trained eye caught the model name, Maas DLS844, though he paid it no heed. He had McDavid’s gun trained on the final vendor. Although it had yet to show signs of aggression, Jack’s instincts told him this was where the next assault would come from.

He was not wrong.

In jerking movements, the machine’s left side scraped forward, then the right side. In this stuttering manner it walked toward him.

Jack fired off a round. The bullet hit the coin slot and ricocheted away. Afraid any further shots may end up bouncing around and wounding McDavid or Pauline, Jack searched for another way to stop the machine.

It loomed closer. A can dropped to the dispensing tray. The drawer flew open.

Jack threw himself through the air. He sailed past the vending machine, hit the floor and slid into the wall against which all three machines had been standing.

‘If I can’t plug you,’ he said, waving the useless gun around with one hand while the other reached for the thick electric cable. Spotting the manufacturer’s plate on the back of this machine, he finished, ‘I’ll unplug you, Necta Rondo.’