by Quil Carter
I had trusted Asher, I really had. The raticater had – well, I hated to admit it now that he had betrayed me, but the asshole had been my friend. I didn’t have many friends.
He had taken me for a sucker and played me like a piano, right under Killian’s nose. Killian had known better, but I had been too preoccupied hanging out with my buddy.
I liked to believe I never made the same mistake twice, and this was an unfortunate mistake to make. I didn’t think I would ever be willing to trust someone else to be my friend. I hoped Reno stayed alive for a long while, or else it would just be me and Killian, and that kid drove me nuts sometimes.
But all the craziness I was having to deal with right now was my fault. Because I was blind to reality, I had let Killian get raped by Asher. Or not raped, fuck, I don’t even know what happened to him. I just knew he had gotten fucked by that dildo, what else that might’ve happened… he wasn’t talking.
Doc’s words over the ressin had made me understand why Killian didn’t want to tell me. But since he wasn’t mind controlled like me, I didn’t think Asher would’ve been able to do anything to him so… I didn’t know.
I couldn’t think about it and I didn’t want to think about it. I was a shit boyfriend with a bad track record right now. The only way I could redeem myself was to bring Killian Asher’s head.
With Bridley it had been two weeks. For two weeks I had tortured him. I would tell people I left him for raver bait, and in a way I had, what parts of him I didn’t eat.
Those weeks had been the best ones I had ever had until I met Killian. I was able to play out many fantasies with Bridley, a lot of amusing questions had been answered too. Like what happens if you leave someone tied up, bloodied and wounded with a dozen radrats. The answer was very interesting, though he wasn’t able to tell me his opinion, he was missing his lips.
Now I was older, and I was more controlled. It would be a waste of penicillin and bandages but I would treat the first wave of wounds so I could keep Asher alive for longer. Three weeks of fun? Or perhaps a month? I would ask Killian. Surely he’d been around me enough to develop some sort of bloodthirsty streak.
First things first, screw fucking him with the dildo. I would offer him up to Killian on a silver platter and if he didn’t want to do that deed, we could always stick some razor blades into that dildo.
Now that I would pay to see.
“No luck?” Sadii called quietly. She had been letting me in and out every night.
I shook my head and walked through the narrow gates, sleeping deacons on either side of me. “Quiet as ever.”
I lit a quil. It was still a couple of hours before daylight. I’d be able to catch some sleep before Killian woke up. I could lie down and sleep right beside him as if I had been there the entire night.
I pulled the hood over my head as I felt the first raindrop hit my nose. Well, at least the rain had good timing. I would’ve been pissed off if it started pouring while I was in the wastes. Though I always enjoyed the smell. Wet pavement smelled so clean for some reason, and that mixed in with the smell of wet ash and rust… I suppose it reminded me of home. Though if you wanted it to really be home you had to throw a carcass into the mix too.
I leaned up against one of the trucks, and spent a moment to finish my smoke and look up at the accumulating clouds, the stars disappearing into the haze one by one.
I felt a pattering beside me and I glanced to my left.
“Decided to come back, huh?” I reached down and petted Deek’s ears. He gave me a wag. I wouldn’t ever tell Killian, but I had chased the dog off my property the morning after I had woken up from being drugged. I was pissed off that he hadn’t helped find Killian or been around when I needed him. I hadn’t realized he had probably been locked in the shed until after I chased him out.
Well, like all dogs he was forgiving to the point of being stupid. The scratch on the ears made us friends again.
After I had finished my quil I started walking back home. The dog was in front of me, smelling the rain and the emergence of all the smells it brought. The rain came down harder.
I glanced up to see that the grey clouds had completely covered the stars now. Off in the distance blacker ones had begun to form. It looked like we might be in for our first storm.
I clicked the dog close and was about to jog home to keep my clothes dry, when I froze right on the spot.
I could hear something.
I immediately started dimming my other senses, focusing on the peculiar tune that was reaching my ears. As the world fell silent it strengthened.
A piano… it was playing…
It was playing a slow song. It sounded similar to the tune Asher had played. Not identical but almost the same.
I grabbed my gun and motioned for the dog to stay behind me. I crouched down to a fast run and made my way towards the noise. I knew where it was coming from; it couldn’t have been more obvious.
It was coming from Killian’s house.
A single deep breath calmed my rising pulse and my adrenaline. I had no use for the primitive instincts my body was telling me to act on. I had a job to do. Oh, it was going to be great to have another torture session. Bridley’s death would look like an act of mercy compared to what I would do to Asher.
I glanced behind to make sure I wasn’t being followed, and, with light footsteps, I ran into the cul-de-sac.
He must have known I would be able to hear him. Was he suicidal? What if this was a set up?
I scanned the perimeter of the house and clicked for the dog to stay close to me.
As quickly as I could, with the slow and sombre song playing, I walked the entire area of the house, but I couldn’t see or hear any sign of an ambush. Everything was cleared and undisturbed.
It was just him. Was he coming back to face the music? If so he was a fool. No amount of back talking would prevent me from slowly and painfully taking his life.
There was nothing more to do… I kicked open the already ajar door. It slammed up against the wall with a deafening bang.
“Get on the fucking floor!” I screamed, pointing my gun at the figure.
The piano keys stopped, the shadowy figure stopped. I took a step closer.
“Killian?” I blinked, thinking I was hallucinating. This was the equivalent of finding a cat in a deacon’s den. I put my gun away. “What the hell are you doing here? I could have shot you.”
Killian was staring at the white keys. He reached down and pressed one. The whole house echoed the key stroke.
“I had a bad dream,” he said, his voice a cold echo in this chamber of a house. “Asher was in the basement and you were gone.”
I stood back as he rose. He only had a jacket over his t-shirt and sleeping pants. I felt a surge of guilt. “I’m… I’m sorry, let’s go home. I’ll lay down with you.”
Killian was extremely out of it. I think the Xanax and the pain killers had made him rather muggy. I piggy backed him home. It was faster and I didn’t want him to get any sicker than he was right now, especially now we were into the cold rainy season.
Well, at least I hadn’t discovered him missing after I had come home. I probably would have had a fucking panic attack and woken the entire block up.
“Asher is long gone, you know that right?” I said when we were back in bed.
Killian looked up at the dark ceiling, the bluelamp dim beside him. “I know,” he replied in his quiet voice.
I wished he would talk more. I wished he would tell me things. This quietness he had about him since the incident was driving me crazy. This kid usually opened up to me about everything, whether I liked it or not. As soon as he woke up he was talking about all the things he wanted to do and telling me stories from his town, or gossip about the residents. If he wasn’t doing that he was begging me to tell him things, or to teach him something. He loved talking, and he loved listening.
Now… now he was just shut down. I know it had only been a couple days, but it was weird. I miss
ed him… I missed talking to people. I guess with Asher being around, Killian chattering, and even Reno hanging around all of us I had gotten used to the stimulation. The blow of Asher leaving had rattled all our cages. Now there was just odd silence.
“There is no way he can be in Aras.”
“I know.”
I sighed, giving up on trying to get Killian to talk to me. I just had to be patient. I hated being patient.
For the couple of hours of sleep I took, I would hold him tight. Not to be affectionate, but so I would know if he tried to leave the basement again. If there was one thing Killian didn’t do, it was leave our house in the middle of the night. He even hated leaving it during the day without me.
I tried to push the worry away, to concentrate on what Doc said, but I was worried. I just hoped this incident with Asher hadn’t done permanent damage.
Chapter 47
Lycos
There were many sounds you got used to when you were riding on a caravan. The squeaking of wheels straining to get up the uneven ground, the old wood shifting back and forth, and, of course, the bosen. Ugly, smelly beasts but a lot more reliable than trucks and quads, especially in this terrain. They weren’t following a road now; it was straight hugging the canyon until they got to Anvil. Trying to get a truck going in these parts was just foolhardy.
Leo lifted the kerchief off his face as he heard another noise. He looked over and wrinkled his nose as he saw a yellow stream arch over the end of the cart.
“Can’t you get off and do that? We’re going two miles an hour and you could use the exercise.” Leo put the kerchief back over his face to try and catch another nap, but Doc pulled it off.
“No, you can deal with me pissing and like it,” his friend for the past twenty years said. They had hit it off a few days after he had arrived in Aras and had been close ever since. “It’s pouring down with rain anyway. I want to keep dry.”
Leo sat up and wiped his face with the kerchief. He moved further back into the cart as the rain started to fall more heavily. “We put this off for too long,” he sighed, “or I did anyway.”
Doc reached into his front pocket and withdrew a worn tin. He popped it open and pulled out a cigarette, offering one to Leo. “This wouldn’t be the first time we left things to the last minute.”
Leo took the smoke and craned forward for Doc to light it. He took a long inhale and turned his attention to the dreary grey in front of him, temporarily hidden by smoke as he blew the vapour from his mouth.
One would think it was impossible for the greywastes to look even more gloomy, but once the rains came everything turned into darkened shades of grey. At least normally there were light shades of grey, sometimes even a throwback of canyon red here or there. Now it was just well… damp, depressing, and just dismal.
Leo looked forward to getting to Anvil, though not because he was itching to haggle with half-drunk merchants and shady wholesale dealers. It was because he could finally get out of Aras for a couple weeks and just… unwind. Let loose and be Leo for a few days, not the mayor of Aras. No husband to worry about, or half-feral chimera sons, or manic depressive blond kids. No secrets to keep, no lies to fabricate. Nope. Just Leo and his best friend.
He needed it… oh, did he ever need it.
If Leo did drugs he would be loading up on them, but besides a line here or there when he was stressed out, he stuck to drinking and pot. Greyson was more into those things, which had bled onto the child they had been attempting to raise. Leo had tried to set a good example to show Reaver he didn’t need drugs to deal with the day-to-day realities of post-apocalyptic life; it hadn’t gone as well as he would’ve liked.
In Anvil though, he was going to let loose. He deserved it. The past couple of months had done a number on the mayor. Greyson strangling Reaver had hit Leo hard, and though they were back together now, it didn’t lessen the weight on his shoulders over the incident. He’d had too many sleepless nights wondering if he could go back to Greyson after that.
In the end it had never been a choice though. In the same way Reaver would always go back to Killian and vice versa, Leo would always return to his husband.
Reaver was safe, Reaver was happy… all of this boiled down to that. The last straw on Greyson’s back was returning from Donnely and seeing what Reaver had done. He then realized their son wouldn’t be the saviour he had always wanted him to become. That he was better off just being the man he had grown to be. He had his bad points, yes, but he was still young.
In a way it had been the best thing to happen to them. It had finally opened Greyson’s eyes to the fact that nurture would never outweigh the nature Reaver had been born with.
Never.
“Do you remember when I brought him to you the first time?” Leo gave out a dry chuckle, dashing his cigarette over the edge of the caravan. It was raining heavily now, drowning out the sounds of the bosen, and the mercenaries talking in low voices.
Doc laughed, a plume of cigarette smoke bursting from his lips. “You mean the little peanut that grew up to be the terror of the greywastes? I remember.”
Leo smiled, deep in reminiscing. “He was such a cute little baby, never cried, always alert and looking around. He was focusing his eyes before he was even born.”
“Really?” Doc said. He sounded fascinated.
Leo nodded. He shifted his body away from a small hole in the dirty blue canvas tarp they had propped up over the back. “He could recognize faces too. Oh, did he ever hate Greyson. He liked me though. He always liked me.” Leo snorted. “What happened?”
“He grew up,” Doc laughed, sucking in the cigarette smoke. “It happens to all of them, whether they’re normal kids or Reaver. My girls scream bloody murder at me every night over something or other.”
“Girls… girls would have been easier,” Leo sighed.
Doc laughed a long deliberately drawn out laugh. Doc had two daughters, a wife, and a mother living with him. He had probably had enough of living with women and dealing with teenage daughters. A reason why he was so keen on leaving Aras for a few weeks. He had driven his small trike non-stop the entire morning to catch up with their caravan.
“I would have taken a son who didn’t get so much pleasure out of watching people suffer.” Leo shrugged. “But I guess considering everything he could be – he’s turned out well.”
They finished off their cigarettes and spent the next several hours staring off into the colourless greywastes, the mercenaries on either side with their assault rifles holstered and ready. Each was cloaked in a long duster and a cowboy hat, their heads lowered but always ready for anything that might be sprung on them.
Past the mercenaries were the other caravans, three more in total. All empty now, but by the time they made their way back to Aras they would be full and brimming with supplies. Any merc who wanted to give them extra protection would be welcome to spend the winter in Aras. They always picked up at least half a dozen guards that way.
That night they made camp in an auto-shop. A sorry sight of a building but one that they had been using for shelter since Leo had come to Aras. It was half-rotten and it always stank of piss, but the roof was good and most importantly, it was dry.
One of the mercenaries, Sharpie, had even brought along his harmonica though unfortunately that didn’t mean he could play it. It was a lot better than listening to the rain though, so that night they all sat around their small campfire listening to the music, drinking stout, and reminiscing about the good ol’ days. No matter what period of time, no matter what generation, there were always good ol’ days. Days that painted the greywastes in rainbows, where the grass was green and the croaches just a bit smaller. All of it lies of course, but it warmed Leo on the inside. Though that might’ve just been the stout.
No matter all the bad things about it, Leo loved the greywastes. Even if your life might not be as long, at least you were free to enjoy it. The only people he missed sometimes were the brothers he was close to. Garrett and
Elish mostly; the brothers who had helped train him.
The next morning they broke camp quickly and were back on the road before day even broke. It would be a long caravan ride today. If they wanted to avoid the canyons, it was a sharp turn south, almost edging where Reaver and his new friend had killed all of those ravers, a day or so back. Too bad Greyson had cleared out the area, Leo wouldn’t have minded seeking out what gems those two knuckleheads might’ve missed. He had been wanting to try and locate some wine glasses. He had thrown all of his at his husband’s face the day he strangled their son. He had been drinking Tulley Reserve from a coffee mug for weeks now.
Leo heard a flick. He and Doc were both back in the caravan now, the blue tarp sheltering them from the worst of the rainy season.
He glanced over and saw Doc hunched over in the corner of the cart, a cigarette dangling from his lips as the lighter sparked and flickered, trying to hold a flame. Even though it was dry inside, the lighter was protesting.
Leo eyed him curiously. “Another one? I’ve never known you to be much of a smoker.”
Cocaine was this doctor’s drug of choice, which Greyson had allowed him to do on the bounds that he stopped during delicate procedures. Doc said he like the energy it gave him, and it helped him perform better. That may well have been the case but it still wasn’t wise mixing such a neurotic drug while practicing medicine, but well, this was the greywastes, it wasn’t the fucking 90’s.
“The coke is giving me the shakes. It doesn’t do what I like when I’m sitting on my ass in the back of a cart all day.” Doc’s brown eyes glanced to him, then back to the wasteland. The same wet ground and rocky hills passed them, though in the distance Leo could see the shelled remains of a small town; it looked like almost all the buildings had at least partially collapsed. “We’re about halfway to Anvil now, aren’t we?”
Leo nodded. He took another cigarette even though he didn’t really feel like one. It was more of a conversation starter than anything. “Two nights gone now, at least for the caravan.”
