Wasteland
by Becca Abbott
Part 14
Guy slept, a shallow, nightmare-ridden succession of small naps. Again and again he woke, terrified and sweating, thinking Raoul was there and reaching for him. The little lamp burned nearby. He could hear the sounds of Midnight – of people going past the windows, voices calling, a shout of laughter.
He tried to get dressed, but everything hurt too much and he started bleeding again, so he lay back down. Depression, a black tide of it, overwhelmed him. Providence had not finished meting out justice for his crimes, it seemed. He'd been thinking, like the fool he was, that he and the Blondie had been coming to a sort of understanding, something that came tantalizingly close to, if not friendship, then at least to an end to the hostility. Tears of weakness filled Guy's eyes. He blinked and blinked, but they kept coming. Finally, he turned his face into his arm and gave up, letting them spill, shaking silently.
He slept again and woke to the sound of the door opening in the other room. The panic came in a sickening rush and he curled up tightly under Raoul's coat. Scrunching his eyes closed, he tried to stop the shakes from returning and couldn't.
Footsteps crossed the sagging wood floor. The creaking changed as Raoul leaned over the bed. A hand settled lightly on his shoulder and remained there. After awhile, when nothing worse happened, he was able to gather his wits and his composure. When Raoul pulled back the coat, Guy could face him.
That handsome face looked down at him. For one crazed moment, Guy thought he saw concern there, but of course he was mistaken. "Well?" he asked finally through a throat that barely allowed the words to pass. "Did you find out anything?"
"Yes. We'll go south, further down the coast."
Guy tried to imagine himself riding on the bike and quailed. He drew a shaky breath and nodded.
That fine mouth twisted. "But first, we need to get you healed enough to travel."
"Why?" Guy asked before thinking. "What do you care?"
The hand on his shoulder tightened and Guy went as still as he possibly could. Then it fell away and Raoul sat on the edge of the bed. He had something in his hands, a bag. From it, he took a several small boxes. One looked vaguely familiar. Guy watched as Raoul opened it and took out a tube. He recognized Abnicin and his eyes widened. The drug was used for knitting broken skin. The doctor in Midas had used it on him right after he'd been taken from the whorehouse. It was extremely effective. In Ceres, you could get Abnicin on the black market for a ferocious amount of money - more money than anyone in Bison had ever been able to afford.
Leaning forward, Raoul drew away his coat. Guy shivered as cool air washed over his naked skin. The Blondie took one of Guy's hands and calmly smoothed some of the medicine on his wrist. One of the other boxes turned out to hold bandages. Raoul wound gauze around the cuts, then took the mongrel's other hand.
The soreness receded swiftly everywhere the Blondie left the ointment. Mute with astonishment, Guy stared at the neat bandages. Then Raoul said quietly, "Roll over."
Guy tensed again, knowing what was coming.
"I'll be careful," Raoul promised. There was a strange look in those blue eyes and Guy found himself unable to meet them.
So he lay on his belly and when the Blondie told him to open his legs, he obeyed, although the order set his pulse to hammering again. A slick finger stroked between his buttocks. He caught his breath sharply as even that feathery touch on torn tissue sent a hot spark of pain through him. But the drug worked there, too, and the pain faded. He felt himself begin to relax. When that finger slid into him, he was unable to hold back a whimper, but Raoul went slowly, carefully and soon even that pain began to abate. Muscles held taut for hours, even in sleep, began to loosen.
"What's this scar from?" asked Raoul suddenly, finger tracing the line around the curve of Guy's hip. "It's an old one. I noticed it before."
Guy knew which one he meant. "Force whip."
There was silence. "How did you get such a thing? Only the guards at Jupiter's personal factories carry them."
"I worked in the power supply unit for a while when I was a kid. I ran the reamers through the exhaust conduits." It was a dangerous job. Mostly the mind-wiped did it because no one cared what happened to them. Guy's memories of that time were harrowing. "I got the scar when I tried to run away."
"I don't understand," said Raoul finally.
Guy stared at the wall. "My dad sold me to them. My contract was for eight years, but I couldn't take it. Fourteen hour days, pill rations and the only company were drooling imbeciles or other punks like me with no luck."
"Did you get away?"
"No. Not until the contract ended."
"And how old were you when you got out?"
"Fourteen." He could still remember the day. He'd been barely human by that time, mind numbed from the endless, back-breaking labor, the long years of fighting to defend himself against the few other contractees who were usually older and stronger than himself. When they had finally come to get him, he hadn't remembered how to get along, how to talk to normal people, how to smile.
"You were six years old when you were contracted?"
Guy nodded and because he didn't want to think about it anymore, "What were you doing when you were six?"
"Studying for my biochemistry finals."
The contrast staggered him, but he managed a chuckle. "I had to ask."
Raoul said nothing more. After a moment, the Blondie got up and walked away. Guy's eyelids grew heavy again and he fell back to sleep.
When he woke, it was daylight again. He was warm, still tucked under Raoul's long coat and – he stiffened – nestled close to a lean, hard body. Raoul's arm was thrown over him. He could feel the Blondie breathing, slow and even.
Raoul stirred. His arm tightened. Guy felt something warm and soft brush the nape of his neck. He lay quietly, heart thumping.
"How do you feel?" came the low rumble.
"Better," he admitted.
They lay still a few more minutes. Sunlight fell through the cracks between the boards. Dust motes danced and sparkled. Then Raoul sat up. Guy struggled to follow suit and was helped to his knees. He held his breath, but nothing bad happened.
"Damn," he said finally. "That's good stuff. Where did you get it? Was it in our supplies?"
"No. I found some in the market last night." Raoul got out of bed and went to the corner of the room where their bags were heaped. Rummaging through them, he threw a wad of material at Guy that turned out to be Guy's jeans and an unfamiliar black shirt – Raoul's?
"What the hell did you trade for it?" asked the mongrel. "The bike?"
"My body," was the matter-of-fact response.
Guy twisted around so fast, he lost his balance and sat down, heavily. That hurt. He gritted his teeth. "You what?"
"Get dressed."
Now completely speechless, Guy did as he was told. Pulling the shirt over his head, he shook back his hair and stole a look at the Blondie. Raoul had traded sex with some filthy marketeer to get medicine for him?
Raoul carried the bags into the next room and began loading them on the bike. Guy followed. Maybe it wasn't that far fetched, he thought. Now he wouldn't slow Raoul down.
He watched as the Blondie put the proper ignition and drive processor back into the bike. The taller man looked Guy over carefully. "Are you sure you can ride?"
"I'll be fine," Guy said with more conviction than he possessed.
They walked the bike out into the daylight. Clouds gathered out on the ocean and a stiff wind blew in over the water. The streets were once again deserted.
"Can you drive?"
Guy nodded and swung a leg over the bike. It was uncomfortable, but not too bad. He relaxed a little more. The bike sagged as Raoul's weight was added. The Blondie's arms came around Guy's waist. Guy kicked it into start and they were off.
They went slowly. Raoul rested his chin on Guy's shoulder and told him what he'd learned at Grog's. A cult. Well, that made as much sense as anything. There hadn't been any real opposition to Jupiter since the uprising that had resulted in Ceres. But what would they want with Iason and Riki?
At noon, the clouds had reached the coast, sweeping inland, low and heavy. The wind pushed at them and even from a mile away, Guy could see white-caps on the waves. Raoul ordered him to pull into a ruined garage. Part of the roof was still intact. No sooner had they done so then the rain began.
Raoul sat down, back against the wall. Guy, still a little sore, remained on his feet, standing at the edge of their shelter, and stared out into the sheeting gray. He'd been thinking about their mission and about the dangers that might be lurking around them, but mostly, Guy thought about Raoul. Since the fight and its harrowing aftermath, Raoul had been unexpectedly courteous, even kind. Guy wasn't sure what to think of it. He turned and came back to hunker down beside the Blondie. Raoul gave him a long look and Guy found it almost impossible to look away.
"Your face is dirty," said Raoul. He reached up and with a long forefinger, rubbed at a spot beside the mongrel's nose. Guy blinked. From somewhere inside, a laugh bubbled up. He tried to hold it back and failed, choking. The corners of Raoul's mouth twitched. He leaned forward and kissed Guy, and Guy without a second thought, kissed him back.
This time, it was Raoul's turn to stare. Guy came to his senses belatedly, face heating. He looked again out to sea, heart thumping. The Blondie stood, pulling him up. Gently, he pressed Guy back against the wall. Guy swallowed hard and opened his mouth. Raoul lay his fingertips against it and Guy's protest died, unspoken.
"Do nothing," said Raoul.
So Guy stood on unsteady legs while Raoul opened his jeans and slid his hand inside. With his other hand braced against the wall by Guy's head, the Blondie began to stroke and pump the mongrel's penis. It grew quickly in that close grip. Guy groaned, shivering. Soon his whole body was vibrating, each pull of Raoul's hand driving reason further from his mind. All too quickly it was over, a hot rush of ecstasy banishing the world for long, exquisite moments. When his mind cleared, he was sagging against Raoul's solid form, body singing.
Raoul cleaned off his hand and restored Guy's clothing to order. Guy clung to him, knowing with certainty that if Raoul let him go, he would fall. Raoul, however, showed no such inclination, but remained leaning against the wall, holding him close, while the rain came down.
Finally, it stopped. Oddly reluctant, Guy pushed away. Water dripped from the broken roof. Out to sea, rays of sunlight slanted through breaks in the cloud.
"Let's go on," said Raoul.
Toward sunset they came upon an open square and a grisly sight. Nine bodies, bloated and festering, were strewn at one end. Raoul went in for a closer look. Guy stayed with the bike, stomach turning over. He watched Raoul move slowly around the bodies, stooping now and then to look more closely at something. When the Blondie returned, he was grim. "They were shot," he said, "execution style. From their clothing, I'd say they were from Ceres."
"Way out here?"
"And I found something else." Raoul held something out to Guy. It was a bracelet, silver, with a large, red gem.
"What is it?"
"Iason's."
"Guess that's it then," Guy said, heart speeding with excitement. "They were definitely here." He walked away, starting a circuit of the square. "Tire tracks!" he called, "heading east."
Raoul looked toward the darkening sky, frowning. Guy waited expectantly for the order to go, but instead, Raoul went to the bike and rummaged through the saddle bags. He came out with the tracker device. Grimly, he turned it on and rotated slowly, holding it out. His eyes narrowed. Guy was at his side in an instant. Sure enough, on the tiny monitor's grid was a faint blip.
"It's them!"
"It's a Blondie," qualified Raoul grimly, but his face was flushed with excitement. "And south, just as I thought. Whoever did this was setting a false trail." He looked again at the sky. It would be night soon. "Let's find somewhere to hole up. What do you know about this part of the Waste?"
Guy shrugged. "No better or worse than most places. That building looks okay."
The single-story structure had a front and back door, both open to the elements, but a roof with only a few holes in it and all four walls standing. They found something to barricade the doors and, under one of the ceiling holes, built a fire out of what flammable litter they could find. In silence, they sat and ate their nutrition wafers, watching the flames dance.
"How long have you known Riki?" asked Raoul finally.
Guy threw the wrapper into the fire and drew his knees to his chest. "Since I was fifteen. You should have seen him then, scrawny little rat." Guy smiled, remembering. "But he was always the best of us, the smartest, the one who would go in first, take the big risks, make sure the rest of us got out okay. It was inevitable, I guess, that when Mike was killed Riki took over as leader." Guy suddenly saw Riki in his mind's eye, tall, lean, with those dark eyes that could be hard as stone – or soft as velvet. He hunched his shoulders in sudden pain. "When he asked me to be his pairing partner, I thought I would die of happiness. Then – then Iason took him."
Outside, stones rattled against pavement. Raoul slid his hand into his coat, but the skittering noise died away.
"I don't know Riki very well," said Raoul finally. "When Iason told me he was actually having sex with a mongrel, I was furious – and afraid."
"Afraid? Why?"
"We are celibate for a reason. A certain level of stimulation is good, it keeps us sharp, but beyond that and there is a danger of becoming more like normal men, more vulnerable to our own emotions. Sex is the most powerful of the human drives and even Jupiter's conditioning is not completely proof against it. I began to see the breakdown in Iason. He was making decisions that were based more on his feelings than on reason. He began to show more extreme emotional responses. When you took Riki, I prayed that would be the end of it."
"But Iason came for him," said Guy in a thin voice. He lowered his head onto his knees, sick with guilt and remorse. Looking back, it seemed that all of those terrible things he'd done to Riki had been done by another man, a stranger.
"Yes," said Raoul.
Something in the fire popped, sending a shower of sparks up with the smoke.
"While Jupiter was rebuilding them, I had time to think and I realized something. Iason had been happy. All the time I was telling myself that I was discouraging him for his own good, I was, in reality, jealous."
Guy lifted his head, startled. "You're in love with Iason?"
A small, rueful grin tugged at the Blondie's flawless mouth. "Perhaps I was, in a way, but I think it was his happiness I envied. He had an energy about him that hadn't been there before, an optimism. The emotional lows I saw in him were frightening, but the highs..." Raoul's voice trailed away. "I was sure it was the sex," he said finally.
"Well, now you've had a chance to test your theory," Guy said, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping into his voice, "and you know better."
Raoul only stared back at him and didn't reply.