Silent Ground: Part 1

by Quil Carter

  Sasha found himself reaching up a hand as if to touch it, before weakness had it falling to the mossy damp ground.

  “Yeah,” Sasha sniffed. He tapped the brightest stars with his finger, then traced the moon in slow circles. He nodded, and took in a choked breath. “I give up.”

  “The smartest decision you’ve made tonight.”

  Sasha’s entire body convulsed from shock. He recoiled away from the sound of the voice, and when he saw Kheva standing only two feet away, he gave out a frightened scream.

  “I’m sorry…” Sasha cried. He tried to crawl away but felt bushes or branches stick into his back. “I’m… I’m…”

  Kheva, his eyes glowing suns of anger, slowly shook his head. His stance was firm, his body tensed up and tight, and when Sasha’s eyes trailed down to Kheva’s hands, he saw that not only were they trembling from rage…

  … he was holding a willowy stick in his hand.

  “Please… d-don’t…” Sasha screamed. He shielded his face with one arm, the other one helping him in his futile attempt to crawl away. “I’m… I got scared. I got–”

  Kheva had no words for him, only a purse of his lips and a head that kept shaking back and forth. Sasha’s resolve continued to deteriorate as did his pleas, and when Kheva started taking steps towards him, he cried out from fear.

  “No! NO!”

  Kheva raised his arm and began whipping Sasha with the stick.

  Sasha screamed like an animal. Both of his hands flew up to cover his face as Kheva rained blow after blow, hitting Sasha without restraint even when the man shrieked and cried for mercy.

  It was a mercy that would never come. The silent night became alive with the songs of agony and the sickening sound of the stick making impact with Sasha’s flesh. Kheva kept up the blows, until he’d drawn out every scream from Sasha’s lungs.

  The last impact brought no sound, and it was only then that Kheva dropped the blood-stained stick onto the dark ground.

  He then leaned down and rested a gentle hand on Sasha’s blood-covered face. The man, shaking and inhaling sharp gasps of cold air, only whimpered before his eyes squeezed tight.

  “Just go,” Sasha whined. His chest shook from the agony Kheva himself could feel strongly in his body. “I just want to die.”

  Kheva stroked Sasha’s cheek, and shook his head, his gentle touch soft, almost doting. “No, nightcrawler. Not even death will free you from me.” He slid one hand underneath Sasha’s knees, and the other by his back, and lifted him up. “Nor will it free you from your training.”

  Sasha’s eyes slowly opened, the moonlight reflecting in them like the universe itself was trying to fill him with strength. He looked up at Kheva, not an ounce of hope in his eyes.

  “Please, Master,” Sasha whispered. “I’m done.”

  Kheva began to walk with him through the forest, his movements swift and steady and his chin held high. The moon was shining behind his head, making him appear almost ethereal, but this was no angel gliding through a holy forest, but a devil stranded in the plains of mortals.

  Sasha stared at him, his mind pushing past the throbbing pain that had enveloped him like a glove full of tiny needles. He couldn’t take his eyes off of that face, one that had never held an ounce of weakness.

  Kheva was strong. The strongest man Sasha knew. He was evil, ruthless, cruel, and controlling… but fuck was he something. Something that Sasha could never hope to be.

  “I once believed that you could one day be something, nightcrawler,” Kheva said, his tone holding sharpened edges. It seemed that once again he’d been able to pluck the thoughts from Sasha’s mind. “But now? Now you’ll need to prove to me your worth.” His eyes then narrowed and focused on something. “Take him and put him in the shed. Leave him then.”

  Sasha looked and saw Kel’s dark silhouette. “Yes, Master,” the man said, his own voice timid and reserved. He took Sasha from Kheva’s arms, and with that, Kheva swept past them.

  And he didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER 16

  Jobe stared at the television, his own reflection a blur inside of the grey screen. The TV wasn’t on, it hadn’t been on in weeks, but still he stared, only blinking when his eyes began to itch.

  Sasha’s apartment… it was a dark cave that smelled so much like Jobe’s best friend. There were still empty Diet Dr. Pepper cans, still frozen pizzas in the oven… Sasha’s mail had even been placed for him on his counter.

  But there was no Sasha. He was gone.

  Oh fuck. He’s gone…

  Jobe’s eyes squeezed shut and they soon began to burn. His face then scrunched tight, and his shoulders began to tremble, and like he had many times in the past week, Jobe began to cry.

  It had been over a week. How could it have been a week when Sasha didn’t even like to leave his apartment for an hour to go to the store? Sasha could spend a week inside of his house without stepping foot into the outside world.

  So how could he be gone?

  Where was he?

  “Jobe…” Jobe heard Lex whisper. The couch sunk down as Lex took the seat beside him, and he felt Sasha’s uncle put an arm around him. “Don’t cry.”

  But even those words were said through a choke. Jobe felt Lex lean his head onto his shoulder, where he began to cry too.

  “He’s out there somewhere cold and scared,” Jobe choked. He tried to inhale but the exhale ended up being a strangled sob. “He doesn’t have his fucking Xanax. He doesn’t have a – a medical kit or anything. Oh, fuck, Lex. He’s dead, isn’t he? He’s fucking dead in the woods somewhere.”

  “No!” Lex cried. He buried his face into his hands and shook his head. “Jesus, Jobe, you can’t say shit like that. He’s not dead. Fuck, he isn’t dead.”

  Lex broke down after that, absolutely broke down. Jobe looked up from his own misery, and his heart physically ached when he saw the agony that Lex was in.

  I have to be the strong one, Jobe thought. He’d been saying that to himself for the past week, since Lex collapsed into his arms after five hours of looking for Sasha outside. However, it was hard, he wanted to be the one to be held this time; he wanted to be the one who got to lose his mind and have another man pick him up––but that wasn’t in the cards this time. Sasha might be his best friend, but Lex was his uncle, the man who raised him. Jobe had to be strong.

  No matter what, he had to be strong.

  Jobe put an arm around Lex’s back and pulled him close. “He isn’t,” Jobe said, trying to make his voice as strong as he could. “He just… he’s hiding out somewhere. He’ll come home… he watched a lot of TV, he saw us on there and he’ll be home soon.”

  The media coverage had been appreciated, and several of Jobe and Lex’s friends had volunteered to help put up posters and knock on people’s doors. It had been difficult however, because of Lex deciding to disclose Sasha’s psychological problems, they’d been hit with some resistance and even fear. The moment people hear the circumstances behind Sasha running off, that he’d practically run away from a mental institution, their attitudes changed. A lot of people assumed that Sasha was insane, that he was dangerous, and some had even closed the door on their faces.

  Sasha wasn’t dangerous. Fuck. He was just sick. Getting angry at someone being mentally unstable was like getting pissed that someone had cancer. It was a disease, Sasha’s head just… his head was just a bit messed up, but with some medication and some therapy, he’d be fine.

  He’d be their bug and their boogie again.

  Fresh tears stung Jobe’s eyes as he held Lex close to him. Lex had collapsed into his arms again, and Jobe was slowly rocking him back and forth, staring off into nothing inside of the dark apartment.

  From morning until evening they’d been out looking for Sasha. By now they’d knocked on almost every door in a ten-mile radius, and the two were planning on going to Courtenay, the next town over, to continue their search. Jobe’s friend Dave and his boyfriend Jessie had already asked around to see
if anyone had seen a man matching Sasha’s description, and the police in that town knew (well, every police force on Vancouver Island had gotten briefed on Sasha missing), but Jobe and Lex had both wanted to go themselves.

  What more could they do? The media was still running their story, the newspapers on the island too, all of Jobe and Lex’s friends were looking or asking around, and there had been police and volunteers searching the Beaver Lodge Lands and Quadra Island, an island that was a fifteen-minute ferry ride from Cranden, too.

  The police had told them all they could do now, was wait.

  How could they just sit and wait?

  But they were lucky. The only reason Sasha was being searched for by the police was because of Lex disclosing his mental issues. Because Sasha was now nineteen, he was an adult, and if adults wanted to disappear into thin air, they could. But since Sasha was a danger to himself and a suicide risk, and the police had initially been called to escort him to Cottonwood, they’d been happy to help. Jobe hadn’t liked some of the things they’d said, but it was what it was. On paper, with the masochism, the blood-drinking, the… other stuff drinking, the hallucinations on the road, and the voice inside of his head…

  … Sasha did seem pretty crazy.

  My poor baby. Jobe tightened his hold on Lex and began to pat his back. My poor boogie boy. Where are you? Please come home.

  Please, Sasha, don’t be dead.

  We won’t be able to handle it if you’re dead. I’ve never seen Lex this unstable.

  Lex eventually calmed down, and they sat together in Sasha’s dark apartment, both of them now staring at the television.

  Finally, Lex rose. “I can’t stay in here…” he said. He sniffed and wiped his nose. “You… you want to come to my side of the apartment and… drink?”

  Jobe nodded. “Yeah,” he said. He rose and gave the dark suite a sweep of his gaze. It was such a bachelor’s apartment. Cheap thrift store pictures on the walls, mismatched furniture and empty pop cans and dirty utensils.

  Then Jobe’s eyes fell on the burl clock, his throat burned as he remembered the day he gave it to Sasha. “I could use a lot of liquor tonight,” he said. “I’ll be… staying down here again.” Every night Jobe had slept in Sasha’s bed. His excuse was that if Sasha came home in the middle of the night, he’d know, but there was also a truth in the fact that he just wanted to sleep where Sasha had slept. He missed his smell.

  Lex chucked dryly. “You don’t need to mention it, Jo, you pretty much live here.” He walked into his bright apartment, the contrast between the dark cave and the lit-up house making their eyes squint. “Maybe when he comes back… he’ll agree to you becoming his roommate.”

  If only… Jobe had always wished he’d lived with Sasha. He knew his friend loved being alone, but he needed someone. He needed someone to keep him on this planet, and not… wherever his troubled thoughts took him.

  “Maybe,” Jobe mumbled. He walked to Lex’s couch and sat down beside Friskie, then watched as Lex made them both a drink at a small bar he had beside the archway to his sitting room. This house was a mansion compared to the small modest house that Jobe rented. Lex had a big enough main floor to have a bar, and also a study, an entertainment room, and a kitchen to die for, Jobe was thrilled that his house had come with a dishwasher.

  Lex came back with Jobe’s drink then disappeared back to the bar. Jobe took a long gulp of the white wine and half-smiled when Lex came back with a shot each of whisky.

  “I need something now,” Lex said. He sat down beside Jobe and immediately the shot of brown liquor disappeared down his throat. Jobe followed, grimacing as the burning liquid seared his throat.

  “Thanks,” Jobe said. He put the empty shot glass down on the glass top coffee table. “The nights are the worst. There’s nothing to do at night but be alone with your own thoughts.” He laughed weakly. “I finally understand what Sasha means when he says that.”

  “Me too,” Lex said quietly. He stared down at his empty shot glass, turning it around in his hand. “So, there was something that I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Jobe looked over at him, curious but also dreading what Lex was going to say. Their time together hadn’t been without its problems. The two of them had fought over what had happened leading up to Sasha running off. Even though they were in agreeance that Sasha needed help, Jobe blamed Lex for springing it on him so unexpectedly, and Lex had blamed Jobe for enabling Sasha’s issues.

  There had been a lot of yelling during this past week, and ‘There’s something I want to talk to you about’ seemed like a harbinger for the next one.

  But in the end, it wasn’t that. Lex took in a deep breath and leaned back on the leather couch. “I was contacted earlier today by a private investigator…” he said slowly. Jobe turned to him and both of his eyebrows raised. “I think I’m going to call him tomorrow and make an appointment to see him.”

  Jobe looked up. “The private investigator?” he repeated. “Sounds like one of those ambulance chasing lawyers if he’s the one who contacted you.”

  “I… don’t know,” Lex said. He put the shot glass down in favour of the white wine and took a long drink. “It can’t hurt to just have a meeting. I’m not an idiot, if I think he’s just wanting a job I’ll tell him to piss off, but…” Lex sighed, and he took another drink. “I was just wondering if you could come with me for this meeting.”

  Jobe didn’t miss a beat. “Of course,” he said. “Anything to do with Sasha you know I’m in. If we don’t like the sounds of that dude we can find someone else. Did he sound professional at least?”

  Lex nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “He said outright that he’d heard our story on the television and has taken a special interest. His name is Ian Lariat, and he, I don’t know, he seems worth a shot.”

  Jobe contemplated this. Any help they could get in finding Sasha was worth it. “If he has the credentials…” he said. “If not, we can check out some other private detectives and go with them. I think you’re right… we need to expand our search. We’re only two people and eventually the media is going to move on and momentum will fade. If we have someone we’re paying…” But then Jobe’s words fell off. The fact that he’d just assumed that Sasha would stay missing for a long time, was devastating.

  He drained half his glass, and stared down at the floor as the alcohol started to make his ears warm. It was hitting him at least, any reprieve from the constant aching worry was welcome. Jobe had a feeling he’d be drinking a lot tonight.

  “I’d feel better if I was paying someone,” Lex whispered. He sniffed, and Jobe shifted closer to him and put his arm around his back. “Fuck, Jobe… Where is he?” Lex’s eyes began to water and Jobe pulled him close. “He hates being outside. He hates being away from home…”

  What if he’s dead?

  Fuck, fuck, what if he killed himself?

  Sasha. Sasha, where are you?

  “He’s… he’s hiding in a hotel somewhere,” Jobe whispered. Lex leaned his head on his shoulder, and Jobe began running his hand up and down Lex’s arm. “He’s scared so he’s staying hidden. But once he’s had his Sasha-time, he’ll come home safe.”

  Lex was quiet, before he said in a choked voice. “What’s he doing right now?”

  Jobe’s lips tightened, and he forced a smile even though Lex couldn’t see it. “He’s lying in bed watching television,” Jobe whispered. “He got delivery pizza. He had to psyche himself up for the short interaction with the pizza boy, but he finally got hungry enough to do it.”

  Lex laughed weakly and sniffed.

  “Now he’s all full of pizza and having a drink like us… and he’s saying to himself that once he feels safe, he’ll come home and he’ll let us help him.”

  “Promise?” Lex croaked.

  “I promise,” Jobe whispered. And with the alcohol fully soaking into his system, he kissed the top of Lex’s short black hair and rested his head against it. “He’ll be home soon, and we’ll get him the
help he needs and he’ll be our old happy Sasha again.”

  Jobe’s eyes closed, Lex remained in his embrace and he didn’t move. Each day was more difficult than the one previous, and tonight, it looked like the two of them needed each other. No one else in the world understood just what they were going through, and even though they had fought more than a few times over what had happened… nights like this had been more frequent than not.

  At least I have him, Jobe said. He reached for his glass of wine and drained it. I really don’t know what I’d do without Lex. He’s… Jobe glanced behind him as he went to refill his glass. Lex was staring blankly, his eyes red and staring. He looked… exactly how Jobe knew he himself looked.

  …he’s a good guy.

  Jobe woke up the next morning lying on the couch. He was on his back, with one foot on the floor and the leg closest to the back of the couch stretched out. At first, he thought that one of Lex’s cats had decided to sleep on him, but when he opened his eyes… he saw that, in lieu of a feline, was Lex Zakharin himself. His head was on Jobe’s chest and the rest of his body between Jobe’s legs. They were crammed together in awkward positions, but apparently, they had been there all night.

  Jobe tried to shift, and his muscles punished him for how he slept. He grimaced as the stiff pain went through him and looked down at the sleeping Lex.

  “Get up,” Jobe said through a yawn. Then another uncomfortable sensation overtook him. “I really gotta piss, dude.”

  Lex jolted and let out a huff of air through his nose. “Hm?” His eyes squinted then looked around, sleep still heavy them. They flickered back and forth before his head rose and he made eye contact with Jobe. “Your stomach is quite noisy.”

  Jobe chuckled. He slowly got up, a chorus of pops and cracks erupting through his joints. “How are you feeling? I’m not feeling hungover at least, just thirsty as fuck and my bladder is about to burst.” Lex rose as well, and the two of them walked towards the stairs. Lex heading to his bedroom which had its own en-suite, and Jobe towards Sasha’s apartment where his clothes were.