by A. Nybo
The cop relented, and they were all set to start off down the hill when others started arriving, amongst them Nate and a sergeant Henri didn’t recognize.
With a brief explanation to Nate, Jason handed over his captive and told Nate he was taking Henri to hospital.
“I don’t want to go to hospital,” said Henri when they finally reached a battered SUV.
“Look, we’ll go, get you checked out, the cops will take your statement, and then I’ll personally drive you to the hotel where Birch is waiting for news.”
“Where’s your phone? Have you got Birch’s number?”
“It’s programmed in, but you can always call the hotel if he doesn’t answer his mobile.” Jason held out the phone, and Henri met the dark eyes of the friend who had helped him so much, had saved his life on more than one occasion.
Taking the phone, Henri slid his arms around the big man’s waist and hugged him. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you.”
Jason’s arms went around Henri’s shoulders, and he kissed the side of Henri’s head. “You’re family, Henri. You know that, don’t you? You did so much for Janice and then me.”
Henri nodded, his eyes beginning to burn. He gave a final squeeze of thanks before he drew away. Sniffing, he wiped his nose on the back of his arm. “Jesus, Jason, what have I ever done for you that could measure up to this?”
Jason cupped the back of his neck, not allowing him to escape. “When Janice died, you gave me purpose.” He kissed Henri’s forehead. “And I know you understand what that means.”
The implication that Henri had as good as saved Jason’s life threatened to shatter him. He broke free from Jason’s grasp.
“And,” said Jason with a grin, “you need a shower, little bro, because you fucken stink.”
Henri smiled, thankful to Jason once again, this time for breaking the tension that had been close to bringing Henri to tears. They would come eventually, but right now he needed to reconnect with Birch.
Once in the vehicle, he turned the phone on and sought out Birch’s number. Pressing it, he waited while it rang a few times.
“Jason?” Birch’s voice was tentative.
“Birch?”
“Hen?” came with softly spoken relief.
Chapter 14
RELEASED ONLY the previous day after his bout with dehydration, Birch hadn’t expected to be back at the hospital so soon, but if that’s what it took to see Henri within the next few hours, he was relieved to be there. He didn’t want to wait until after Henri had been checked out and interviewed by the police—even if he only got to see Henri for minutes during that time.
As it was going to take Henri and Jason over an hour to reach the hospital, Birch had decided to walk there to try to dispel some of the anxious energy that had accumulated with every passing minute since he’d awoken in a coherent state to discover Henri had agreed to go with Russell in exchange for his release.
Standing outside the emergency department, Birch tried not to look like he was loitering. A battered SUV pulled up in the drop-off zone, and not wanting to appear nosy, Birch looked away. The vehicle stopped for mere seconds, a door slammed, and then it drove away.
“Birch.” Birch’s head snapped around at the sound of Henri’s voice.
Henri stood where the SUV had left him. His filthy clothes were little more than tatters. Discoloured patches streaked the upper legs of his jeans, and the knees were torn, leaving the lower portion to hang collected over mud-encrusted boots. Loose hair danced in the breeze, baring one side of his scruffy face. Even in his current state, Henri shone with grace, and the smile that emerged transformed that grace into sheer beauty. Birch’s eyes burned, and he strode towards Henri. Then they were in each other’s arms.
Neither spoke a word as they clung to one another so hard Birch could feel Henri’s heart racing against his chest. With life and togetherness reaffirmed, Birch was finally able to loosen his grip on Henri enough to draw back and rain kisses on his grubby face. Henri halted it by cupping Birch’s jaw with scratchy skinned hands, and they rested their foreheads against each other, their noses side by side, breathing in each other’s breath.
Birch left a lingering chaste kiss on the corner of Henri’s mouth, but it wasn’t enough for Henri, who led Birch into a slow dance of lips and tongues.
“Dirty fags,” muttered a man as he walked past.
Birch and Henri’s mouths parted like they’d been slapped. Birch looked down the length of Henri and then raised an eyebrow. “He’s got a point. You’re not just dirty, you’re fucking filthy.”
Henri broke out into that grin Birch loved so much. “I’m going to show you just how fucking filthy I am when we get back to the hotel.” Henri pulled him in again and held him tight.
“Why aren’t you in there yet?” Jason asked as he stepped up onto the sidewalk.
“Too busy being dirty fags,” said Henri.
Jason screwed his face up. “What?”
“That’s what you get for kissing in public,” Birch told Henri.
“Fuck ’em.”
Jason looked around. “Someone giving you a hard time?”
“Forget it,” said Henri. “Let’s get this done.”
They went inside, and two policemen at the reception desk immediately came to attention, both cops taking stock of the three of them. Henri muttered a few choice swear words, and Jason stopped, bringing them to a halt as well.
“Why don’t you two take a seat?” Jason suggested. “I’ll get this organized.”
“Gladly,” said Henri.
Henri gingerly lowered himself to the chair beside Birch. “Sore?” Birch asked.
“Leg muscles ache like a bastard, and I must have some bruises on my back.” He sat on the edge of the chair with his elbows on his knees.
“A hot bath and a massage awaits you at the hotel.”
“Stop with the dirty talk, or I might have an orgasm right here in the middle of the emergency department.” He grinned. “An emergency orgasm.”
Birch chuckled at Henri’s quip and met his blue-grey eyes. “Fuck, I missed you, Hen.”
“And I, you.”
Henri took his hand, and feeling that scratchy skin again, Birch turned Henri’s hand over. “Jesus!” The skin on Henri’s hand looked like it had been sandpapered. “What the fuck happened?”
Henri’s eyebrows drew down in confusion. “I told you, I climbed through rock.”
“Yeah, but….” Birch continued to examine his hand. Henri had said he’d messed up the skin on his hands, but Birch wasn’t expecting anything like that. “For how long?”
Henri chuckled. “Longer than I wanted to.”
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Looks worse than it is, because of all the dirt and crap. But they’re going to hurt a lot more once they haven’t moved for a few hours. Tomorrow I probably won’t be able to pick up a cup.”
“That’s okay.” Birch patted Henri’s leg like a placating parent. “I’ll get you a straw.”
Henri scrunched his face. “Have you ever had a hot coffee through a straw? The plastic ones kind of melt, and the metal ones nearly burn your lips to a crisp.”
Birch chuckled. “Dare I ask how you know that?”
“Probably not.” Henri turned his face away, causing Birch to curse Russell fucking Andrews to an afterlife worse than hell.
At the reception desk, the cops, a few medical staff, and Jason conversed with intensity. A man with a stethoscope around his neck joined the fray, and with a few words from him, Jason straightened from a relaxed stance to tower over them all, every extra inch promising trouble if things didn’t go his way.
“What do you suppose that’s all about?” Birch asked.
Henri sighed. “My guess is he’s trying to win me some sort of concession. And since the cops are in the conversation, they were obviously waiting for us, probably to take my statement.” Sliding to the depths of the chair, Henri jolted forward with a grunt when his ba
ck touched the polyethylene seat.
Up at the reception desk, a few more resolute words passed back and forth, accompanied by a menacing expression or two, before Jason made his way to them. He sat on the other side of Birch, leaning in towards them. “Birch is allowed to go in with you to be examined, but I’ll sit in on the statement.” Jason looked at Birch. “I’m going to go and get Henri some clothes.”
Birch was relieved Jason had agreed to sit in for the statement, as by the time Henri had showered and photographic evidence of his wounds had been obtained and catalogued, Henri’s emerging agitation made its presence felt. Birch was reasonably sure the irritability was at least partially due to the pain he was in.
While Henri’s hands appeared to be the worst of it, Birch had been horrified to see the still-developing bruises and scrapes on his back. Large deep-red patches were punctuated with already blackening spots ranging in size from freckles to that of large coins. There was no shortage of bruised stripes either. His back looked like he’d been worked over by a demented gua sha practitioner.
Henri directed acerbic humour at the medical staff and glared at anyone who dared make eye contact. Birch cut Henri’s answer short when the doctor asked an ill-conceived question and he was certain the doctor was about to be told to fuck off.
With a few minutes undisturbed by medical staff, hugs, kisses, soothing words, and promises of Chinese takeout in the hotel room once they were free, Birch had temporarily managed to lower Henri’s rising anxiety.
After the intensive cleaning of Henri’s hands and various scrapes over his body, he was taken into a room that had been set aside for the recording of his statement.
Birch went to the chemist, had Henri’s prescriptions filled, and sat in one of the chairs outside the room.
Almost two hours had passed when the door flew open and Henri stormed from the room. Birch stood to go after him, but a staying hand gripped his arm.
“Leave him be for a while.” Jason spoke quietly.
“What’s going on?”
Jason closed the door to the room. “Henri’s lost a day somewhere, and they’re badgering him about where it’s gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“He thought he was with Russell for a maximum of two days, and they”—he nodded towards the cops in the room—“can’t understand how he can just lose a day like that.”
Personal experience informed Birch of at least one way that could happen. “Did Russell drug him?”
“No, but Henri spent an unspecified amount of time in the cave system.” Jason shrugged as he continued. “I don’t know how they expect someone to know how much time has passed when you climb until you’re exhausted, go to sleep, wake up, and then climb some more—all in profound darkness. Stupid pricks.”
Although he’d never lost a day to a mental time lapse, Birch had experienced enough in everyday life to believe that sensory deprivation, combined with extreme stress, could easily account for misconstrued time.
“And of course, they’re not happy that I handcuffed the first cop on the scene.” Jason gave a wry smile. “That should be a wake-up call for their trainers to ensure their cadets follow protocol before they’re released into the wide world.”
“What now?” Birch looked off down the hall in the direction Henri had disappeared.
“We wait until he’s cooled down a bit. He’ll come back.”
“Will he?”
Jason smiled. “There’s only one place he wants to be, and while here isn’t it, here is where you are.” His smile vanished. “Did you tell him what hotel you were staying at?”
“I don’t think so, why?”
“If he knows, the smartarse might go and wait for you there.”
Birch sat back down. Even if Henri knew, he had neither the means nor the energy to get there.
Jason sat beside him, and they fell into a loaded silence. Birch sensed there was something Jason wanted to say but was either trying to figure out how to say it, or psych himself up.
“There might be some tough times ahead, Birch.”
“Whatever it is you need to say, Jason, just say it.”
Jason took his measure before continuing. “They’re not certain yet, but it would seem from some of the surveillance gear in Russell’s van that he may have been using subcutaneous micro trackers on Henri.”
“They’re under his skin?”
Jason nodded. “Henri doesn’t know yet, and I don’t want him to, because at this point I don’t know how it’s likely to affect his mental state. Now that Russell is dead, it might not bother him at all, but knowing that’s how Russell was tracking him, by something under his skin, could also be the last straw. Especially if his PTSD escalates—which it could very well do.”
“So why are you telling me?”
Jason cleared his throat and resettled himself in his chair. “You might, ah, feel them. Like little grains of sand.”
Birch raised his eyebrows. “Oh, okay. So you want me to look out for them?” Jason nodded. “How many are we looking at?”
“I have no fucking idea. They are delivered by a type of gun, a bit like a dart gun, so there could be quite a few.”
“He was shot with them? Wouldn’t he have felt it?”
Jason inclined his head. “No. They reportedly just sting a bit, like a mosquito bite or something similar. We don’t know how they are likely to behave either. He might get skin infections, or… I don’t know. Just be on the lookout, yeah?”
“So that’s how he always knew where he was.”
“That was only one way. He also had NightMark quantum dots.”
“What’s that?”
“A way to visually track someone. He probably used the quantum dots in case Henri escaped.”
They were still discussing the various ways Russell had tracked Henri when Henri wandered up the passage. He sat on the other side of Birch.
“Are you nearly ready to go back in?” Jason asked.
Henri sighed. “I suppose. How many more times can they go through this shit?”
“We’ll give them another half hour, and if they’re not satisfied, we can insist on continuing tomorrow.”
“Fuck no,” said Henri. “Let’s wear the fuckers out today. If I have to do this again tomorrow, I’m going to throw myself under a fucking train, or a bus, or maybe a motorbike. Fuck, even a wheelchair will do at this point. I’d let the fucking thing reverse over me a hundred times if it kept me from doing this again.”
Birch snorted. “I could probably organize a scooter if that’s any good to you.”
“One of those micro scooters for preschoolers,” said Jason, with a smirk.
“Jesus, if I want to top myself, remind me never to enlist the help of you two. It would take years for me to die,” groused Henri.
“Top yourself, eh?” Birch grinned at the innuendo.
“Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Henri’s emerging smile caused Birch’s heart to soar. Henri’s gallows humour would help him through this. “Because talking sex is so much worse than talking suicide?” Birch teased.
“He’s got you there,” said Jason.
A wicked sparkle lit Henri’s eyes. “He can have me anywhere he wants.”
“Okay, that’s it.” Jason stood. “In there, now.” He pointed at the door and winked at Birch.
With a theatrical sigh, Henri rose. “Don’t go anywhere,” he directed Birch.
Six and a half hours after they arrived at the hospital, Birch and Henri left Jason to catch up with his team while they finally went to the hotel room, loaded with containers of Chinese food. Henri had barely eaten half a container when he claimed he couldn’t eat another bite. He crawled onto the bed and lay on his side.
If Henri hadn’t eaten much over the past three days, his stomach had probably already become accustomed to less food. Birch ate his fill and packed the rest of the food in the fridge for later. Before Birch even headed for the bathroom, Henri was breathing e
venly, his hair fanned across the pillow behind him like it was caught in the wind as he ran.
Finished in the bathroom, Birch left the light on so there was low, diffuse illumination throughout the room. After Henri’s experience, he assumed waking up in a strange place in the dark would be terrifying.
Instead of disturbing Henri, Birch retrieved an extra blanket from the cupboard and covered him, leaving him to sleep peacefully on top of the bed. Birch dressed in a pair of sweatpants and slid under the covers, where he tried desperately to keep from touching Henri to make sure he was really there. The serene expression Henri wore was so alien on those features Birch had dreamed of nightly, he couldn’t drag his eyes away.
Deprivation stung Birch, unable as he was to touch Henri for fear of sending him into a panic. The only compensation was that Russell Andrews would not be able to inflict himself on Henri ever again.
Birch wondered if there would ever come a time when Henri would have such a tranquil expression in wakefulness as he did now. His eyes roamed over the man who had somehow along the way burrowed his way into the pit of Birch’s soul. Visually cherishing Henri, his blinks grew longer, until he finally drifted off to sleep.
Birch woke to the sound of Henri in the bathroom. It was still dark, and with the bathroom door shut, little light entered the room. The toilet flushed, followed by several soft grunts of pain, a tap ran briefly, and then the door opened. Henri turned the light out but immediately turned it back on and left the door open.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Henri fished around in the chemist bag until he found the painkillers and then washed a few down with water from a bottle he got from the fridge. He took several more sips as he walked to the bed. “Water?” He tilted the bottle towards Birch.
“Thanks.” Birch took several mouthfuls before handing it back. “Since you’ve just swallowed several painkillers, is it a stupid question to ask how you feel?”
Henri took off his T-shirt and threw it to the end of the bed before sliding beneath the covers. “Not at all. I actually don’t feel too bad.” He shimmied over to cuddle in next to Birch. He dipped his head and kissed Birch’s neck, speaking softly all the while. “But one thing I have learned is to minimize the pain before it becomes unbearable. Once the pathways are established, they are easier to maintain.” Henri’s breath whispered up Birch’s neck, causing a frisson of anticipation to course out to Birch’s extremities. “Best not to let them be forged in the first place.” Henri’s lips lingered playfully along his jaw.
