Brimstone

by Peter van der Walt

  On the one hand, it was as simple as anything could be.

  He had been in a long relationship with Reuben. He’d got laid before Reuben. He’d even got laid after Reuben. But he’d never experienced what Brad let him experience.

  He’d never lost his own mind like that. All his control. He’d never felt like he was outside of his own body before, or floating as if gravity had ceased to exist. As if he’d poured through the boundaries of his own skin and filled the space of the room.

  It was the greatest, most incredible, most unbelievable orgasm he’d ever had.

  That was the simple part.

  But what did that mean?

  Brad – he’d have to spend a while to figure that all out. Right now, he just wanted to get a solid sense of himself back. Get back into his body.

  It was clear that Brad was a complicated guy. And he went too far.

  But what parts were too far? Because Paul had stayed until the end. He’d gone with it. If there were limits there that should not have been crossed, where exactly did they start and where did they end?

  Which part of the whole experience would Paul say was okay? Which parts weren’t?

  What were his limits? Did he have any? Should he be ashamed if he didn’t?

  He reached a peak that had a bit of a view, and nature did a little bit of her magic.

  Seeing some trees in the distance may not be enough for him to have any great “aha!” moment. But Paul knew that he was comfortable with uncertainty. More than most. He had to be to have been successful in his career.

  It wasn’t what he didn’t know that bothered him.

  It was that a line was crossed. And he felt it inside him even if he couldn’t articulate it.

  It was more than discovering he liked being a bottom – in ways he didn’t know, had never known before, despite his long relationship with Reuben.

  He realized he liked handing over control – maybe to compensate for always being in charge. He loved losing himself in the experience, and going with the experience, the sensations, fully and without being too philosophical about it.

  It was what it was. He liked being taken. He liked giving it up. Letting the wheel go for a while. Easing off the controls.

  There was nothing passive in that. Nothing to be ashamed of either.

  Even – darker than that – he liked being used.

  But.

  That was not the same thing as being abused.

  The pastors of these hills may teach that sex is the sacred intimacy. And yet nothing Brad did there crossed that line. But his words took it too far. Being called a filthy fucking bitch – that was the part that got to Paul. That’s what had been bothering him. All that X-rated action and what freaked him out were some words.

  Paul Draker did not survive the Middle East and the Philippines, and every Democrat and Republican that judged him, and every country or city preacher that spewed their disapproval of him – to be abused like he was a victim.

  Least of all at the hands of someone he had felt so tenderly about.

  Anger.

  That was it.

  That was what he was feeling. Angry that someone could do that. Angry that he didn’t stop it when he could.

  Paul started walking again. If this peak got him over his own issues, perhaps the next mountain he climbed would help him understand Brad.

  Because, despite it all, he wasn’t ready to just let Brad go either.

  How was that for fucked up?

  Paul was about to head down the slope and towards that mountain when his mobile phone rang.

  He never took a phone with him. It showed how confused he’d been.

  He hoped it was not Brad, because he wasn’t quite ready to speak to him yet.

  He was surprised to see Chief George Hannah’s number.

  “Chief,” Paul answered.

  There was silence on the other end, and for a second Paul thought he must have lost reception – it happened out here – but then Hannah spoke up.

  “Paul Draker. I hope you are well.”

  “I’m good, Chief,” Paul said, keeping the irritation from his voice. “How can I help?”

  Paul had Hannah filed away along with James McKay and the whole horrible business of the massacre in June. He respected Hannah, and Hannah respected him. But to say they were friends was stretching it. He didn’t expect to ever speak to Hannah again.

  “James McKay passed away this morning. I thought you should know.”

  It was Paul’s turn to stay silent.

  Hannah knew, must have known, that he was the one who locked McKay inside his own hellish mind. That he was the one to take from McKay his ability to communicate or to move – and to leave him with all the evils that he allowed himself to be controlled by.

  Why would Hannah let him know something like that? Why did Hannah bother? To guilt trip him? To fish for a confession?

  “I see. That’s… bad I suppose, Chief. Can’t say a lot of folks around here will miss him.”

  “Yeah. Just a courtesy call.”

  “Thanks for the courtesy, Chief,” Paul answered, a little too quickly and forcefully.

  Every time he spoke to Chief Hannah, the man somehow ended up pushing his buttons. Paul still didn’t know how or why.

  “Must have been hell… to be locked in like that.”

  “Yeah. Must have.”

  “Well, he passed away this morning and I thought you would want to know.”

  “Glad it’s over.”

  “Yeah,” Hannah said. “Except all that stuff has a way of coming back around when you think it’s over. I don’t know. Something about… all of it… just don’t sit right with me. Can’t put my finger on it. Just. Vibes.”

  Paul wondered if Hannah was making a threat. Implying he might still arrest Paul for what happened to James McKay. But he would have done so by now… and, by now, it was clear he was okay with how McKay’s spree of terror ended.

  Or was it a warning of some kind? But what? Why?

  “Thank you for the courtesy Chief. But none of that is my business,” Paul said.

  “Yeah, Paul. Just, uh, just thought I’d let you know. We still need some gay people to advise the department. Perhaps more now than we did before the massacre. Really wouldn’t mind to have you come in and see me. I could use your help Paul.”

  “Still not your guy, Chief. Just running and minding my own business.”

  “Okay, Paul. You, keep well. Take care of yourself.”

  And with that, the Chief hung up.

  Brad briefly considered going home.

  But there was still so much he hadn’t figured out.

  That look in Brad’s eyes, the way they went from tender to cold … The way his touch went from soft to hard, and how his playfulness suddenly became abuse. Maybe that was just the way of a sexual virtuoso, but … You’re showing someone a good time by calling them a filthy fucking bitch? You like and respect someone enough to have sex with them, but then you say that? Was that something you could say in play?

  He saw Brad’s face. His beauty. And then he felt again Brad’s hand slapping his face. He felt at once the desire spark in him again. And the unease.

  So, he looked at the next peak, and started towards it.

  Chapter 20

  Setting Up Date Night

  The cabin was perfect, thought Brad. It looked old although it had been recently constructed. It wasn’t even hooked up to running water yet, and the electricity, would work with gas bottles, except there were none hooked up to it yet.

  One room and a bathroom, that’s all it was. Two single beds in the corner that could be pushed together to make a double. A radiator heater, also gas operated and currently not working, would be the perfect spot to tie the left hand. The right hand could be fastened to the bedpost
s of one of the singles.

  Had Draker not taken him for a hike this past Saturday, he never would have found it. But Draker liked to walk in the woods, and he showed Brad the dumpsite. Got all teary-eyed about it, too.

  On the way back, they circled in a wide arc, and Draker showed him amazing vistas and they took rests next to fresh mountain streams. At moments like that, he would kiss Draker, hold him for a while or just take his hand. Draker was never the one to break off contact. He was running along like a lapdog.

  Draker pointed the cabin out from a distance, and Brad suggested they go to it. Draker kept talking about how it would be once it was done, and that it was perfect for short-term stays by people who felt the need, for a short period of time, to just get away from it all.

  But it was exactly perfect for Brad’s purposes.

  So when Draker went back to working like a slave to serve his beloved trees and Brad was supposed to be back at the Varsity, Brad came back to the cabin. He drove his beater to the service road, parked, and walked about a mile in relatively easy terrain until he came to the path that led all the way to the isolated cabin.

  Here he would not be interrupted.

  The cupboards were bare and empty, and he couldn’t leave his toys and tools in them because anyone who happened to enter the cabin would see the stash right away. So he buried the opioids, a knife, the injection and needles and a .38 revolver on the lowest shelf beneath the kitchen sink, pushing it all the way to the back so that it was out of sight.

  He would return the day before, drop some rose petals all over the place – bitches loved that shit, maybe fags did too. They’d have a surprise picnic out in the woods and then they would get back to the cabin.

  Brad would have some firewood ready for the outside BBQ. They would sit and talk and Draker would rationalize himself into why he behaved like a loose whore when given the opportunity by getting all deep and meaningful.

  He might even talk about his mother, or that Jew he still wasn’t over, or that ugly bitch of a dyke Tina he was always blabbing on about. Brad would smile and nod in all the right places. Draker would exhaust his capacity for being sentimental, and he would be hungry. That hunger would create a nice little bit of anxiety in him. A need state that will drive him to want to satisfy it – and in the absence of food, he’d reach out physically to have a generic itch scratched.

  Brad would have some drinks ready, and Draker would have a nice Virgil dose of the shit in his system before the night got too far.

  Then Brad would tie him up.

  The gun was there for backup if things got out of hand. It wouldn’t fire, because it wasn’t a real gun. But it looked real. One of those nice and shiny things that Brad bought at a gadget store downtown.

  But once the ropes were on and the opioids in, Brad wouldn’t need the prop anymore. After that, he had a bag full of goodies. Knitting needles. Some dirty old wire. A very sharp knife. And a small camping blowtorch he’d picked up downtown as well.

  He would pin a picture of Alex into his one eyeball after.

  And then he’d burn the place.

  From there, he’d take Draker’s car and drive to Castleton. And from there he’d take a train north to Virginia. Except he’d get off at the first stop. Collect the other beater car he already bought with daddy’s second cash injection.

  No matter how well he cleaned up, the cops would find forensic clues if they looked hard enough. Provided they could find the cabin, find Draker in it. By the time someone knew Draker was missing, he’d be halfway across the country in a car no one was looking for. Once in California, he’d ditch the car again and start setting up a nice little new identity for himself.

  He would be done with these mountains, and with Devens, and with cages, forever.

  And then he would find his next mark, or live a new adventure, or do whatever the hell he wanted to. Use his body and his mind and his charm to make a new life, reach for the stars. He would always keep moving, and never be caged again.

  It was a real pity he couldn’t take Draker for his money – he had enough of it for it to be useful.

  But it was a side matter now. He was here because his mother made him promise to take revenge for Alex. He was here because Alex himself deserved not to just be killed for no reason, and he was here because people couldn’t be allowed to kill your kin and get away with it.

  It’s not that these barefoot types were really kin. It’s just that other folks might consider them your own people if they looked up family names and connections. And if they thought they could injure you and get away with it – it might give them satisfaction they did not deserve.

  He’d report to the police in California, and he would be a continent away from his crimes. He would play it very clean and safe there – and he could, under an assumed name, live happily ever after in the sunshine state, indefinitely.

  So the path leading up to Draker’s death was ready and prepared, and the path after it was all clear and open.

  All he had to do now was keep charming Draker long enough to get to Friday night. Send him cute little messages and selfies from the V.

  Torturing him was going to be fun, either way. But it might be a letdown if Brad didn’t win. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, or kill him. Brad would only consider it a win if Draker surrendered. If Draker made the realization that he was going to be killed – and went with it.

  Brad had a suspicion Draker might.

  For a guy who had everything he could ever want, there was a general sadness that hung around him. Eyes that sometimes looked a little too tired.

  He would fight, of course. But Brad hoped there was a moment where Draker would give up. Signal that he wanted to die, because he realized how worthless he was.

  Brad closed the cabin door behind him, then inspected the cabin up close. There was no sign that he, or anyone else, had been here.

  He walked back to the car, thinking how bored he’d be spending all his days like Draker did – scurrying around in the woods.

  Trees were trees. Seen one, seen them all.

  About halfway to the car, Brad saw a deer run next to him. The animal moved quickly, jumping to his left. When it spotted him, it ran off in the other direction. Brad smiled broadly. That little deer was a hell of a lot smarter than Draker.

  He got to his car and drove back to his little apartment as the sun was just beginning to rise. Two big things to look forward to.

  Exacting payback for everything that happened in the past four years.

  And starting a future, in which he would finally be able to evolve into the fullness of his potential. He would finally become his ultimate self.

  Life was pretty beautiful this morning.

  Chapter 21

  Yours

  Watching him was reward in itself. Something about his presence sparked. Something was activated in Paul – some primal drive awoke from somewhere unintelligible. Something completely physical and mindless. It was more than beauty. It was beauty that Paul wanted to bask in, to fill himself with.

  The icy eyes, on closer inspection, were coldly pragmatic in the way they viewed the world. To the point of being cynical. Yet when he smiled, there was a warmth that filled them. A genuine warmth. Paul wasn’t sure where that warmth came from.

  Either way, Brad walking, Brad sitting down, Brad standing up, Brad lying down, Brad stretching around and saying something to Paul in the tree line behind him – all of it was like art. Anything he did, no matter how pedestrian, was a sight to behold.

  It was intoxicating, magnetism like that. Narcotic. It could make you forgive or endure anything.

  And how much was Paul able to forgive? How much was he willing to go along with?

  Paul knew better.

  And yet feeling Brad’s skin against his made it worthwhile. Or nearly worthwhile. How much worthwhile? Halfway? Three quarters
?

  Brad showed up at the Cro’s Post in the late afternoon, just as Tom Hamilton was on the line giving Draker news he wasn’t sure how to react to.

  He expected Sutherland Ridgefield to play the kinds of games corporations usually played. Stalling, mitigating, smoothing things out, making things take time, drowning him in paperwork.

  Instead, what Tom Hamilton offered Draker on behalf of “the respondents” was the last thing he expected.

  “They want to buy your land, Paul. All of it. And they must have looked at the deeds and last sale price, because they are offering you 75% more than you paid for it. All of it.”

  It made no sense. Unless…

  Brad came into the cabin, and the way he was dressed told Paul they were going out and not staying in.

  Paul thanked Hamilton for the information and then put the phone down. As soon as he did, Brad rushed to him, folded his arms around him, lifted him a little and kissed him warmly. He was bigger than Paul. Few men were.

  Paul thought his skin might crawl, but he found that making contact with Brad’s body still sent a jolt of electricity through him.

  He still wanted Brad.

  Brad looked at him quizzically, as if he was trying to figure out where Paul’s head was at.

  Paul shook his head briefly.

  “We have somewhere to go, tonight,” said Brad. “It’s my way of apologizing again for being a little wild that first time. I just couldn’t help it. You wake up something in me.”

  Paul went with it. He took Brad’s hand.

  “You okay?” he asked Paul.

  “Sure. Just lawyer stuff.”

  “Ah. Well, don’t think about any of that tonight. Tonight, it’s just you and me. Having a picnic.”

  They went outside to the cars, and Paul offered to do the driving.

  Brad directed him to the picnic he’d prepared for them.

  It looked so very, very perfect.

  Brad lit the fire, they looked at the night sky and the flames, saying nothing.

  It was getting cold at nighttime now, so they didn’t stick around too long.