Double Room

by Lois RH Balzer

  Double Room

  by LRHBalzer

  Note: This story is a bridge between two of my stories: “Some are Silver… The Others Gold” and “No Center Line”

  Sequel to the episode: “Prisoner X”

  *

  Daryl

  The bed was longer than his bed at home. Daryl Banks stretched out his nearly six-foot frame, taking pleasure in the comfortable luxury. Well, maybe not six-foot, but at age fifteen he was already 5′10″. If he kept up his current growth rate, he’d be close to his father’s height soon. He’d already passed Blair, but then his friend was short. He’d never really noticed that before. Not abnormally short or anything, just short for a guy. On the short side, he amended, not wanting to think ill of his friend.

  “Night all.” Simon Banks clicked off the light and the room disappeared into darkness. “We’ve got a busy day planned tomorrow if we’re going to see Stanley Park and take a look at some of the other sights before the game.”

  “I know, Dad,” Daryl said, with the proper air of long-suffering guaranteed to bring chuckles from the room’s two other occupants.

  “I know you know, son.” His father shuffled around on the bed, trying to get comfortable, and Daryl rolled his eyes in the dark.

  “And I know that he knows that you know,” Blair Sandburg added, from the other bed, then dissolved into sharp laughter as he was poked or something. “Stop that.”

  “Then go to sleep, Chief. Now,” Jim Ellison ordered, the lightness of his tone belaying the harsh words.

  “I will. I will.”

  After another round of saying goodnight to each other, the room quieted.

  Until Blair spoke suddenly, causing both Jim and Simon to groan. “Great game, wasn’t it? I knew when the Jags called that twenty-second time-out right near the end of the game, that they’d be able to pull out of their tailspin in time to win. It was close, though.”

  “The Grizzlies were losing until the last ten minutes, then they started getting points. When they pulled ahead — I thought we were goners,” Daryl said.

  “Down by three with half a minute to go — sound familiar anyone?” Blair asked.

  “It’s been happening too often lately,” Simon said. “I don’t know about Jeffries. They should trade him if he keeps on pulling shabby performances like he did tonight.”

  “Wasn’t Wallace great, though?”

  “You say that every game, Chief.”

  “Did you see that slam dunk?”

  “I did. We all did. And we saw the replay of it. Go to sleep,” Jim ordered again.

  “Okay.”

  The room once more became silent. Daryl could hear the heating unit come on. Someone passed by in the hallway, indistinct voices fading as they kept walking.

  Daryl was almost asleep when Blair’s voice came again, whispering softly, mimicking the announcer’s words as he relived the moment, “He’s in the air! It’s in! The ball is in! And this game is over! The timer has signaled the end of the game and the Cascade Jaguars are on the court! The Vancouver Grizzlies made a valiant effort to pull out of their mid-season slump, but the stunning play of Orville Wallace in the last few seconds cost them the game. The score: 101 for the Jaguars, and 100 for the Vancouver Grizzlies. Mmmff,” he ended, unable to continue due to what Daryl assumed was Jim’s hand over his mouth.

  “Go. To. Sleep,” the detective’s voice cut through the darkness, probably speaking with his teeth clenched. “I’m warning you, Chief.”

  Ten seconds of silence.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a mmmmfff?” Blair asked, once again muffled.

  Daryl laughed at the antics, only to be hushed by his father.

  “Don’t encourage them, son, or I’ll never get to sleep. It’s 12:30 in the morning, and I don’t want to nod off at the hockey game tonight. Now, good night, everyone. Got that, Sandburg?”

  “Yes, Captain. Sir,” Blair said, trying not to laugh and not succeeding.

  Silence again in the room.

  For about a minute and a half.

  Then Blair’s voice piped up again. “Hey, Daryl — Thanks for inviting us, man. This is way cool. Basketball game, hockey game, two nights at the Bayshore Inn.”

  “No problem, Blair. Glad you guys could come.” Daryl went to say more, but his father poked his side and he shut up.

  He lay on his back grinning and looking up through the darkness at the ceiling. Three weeks ago he had won the four tickets on a call-in radio show, but then was devastated to find out that he couldn’t take his three high school buddies with him because he was underage. That meant his dad had to go with him, leaving him to try to decide which two of his three closest friends he could he take along with his father-the-cop on the sports-filled weekend. Having a police officer for a father could be a really downer sometimes.

  Then Blair had been kidnapped and when he was released and the bad guy found, Daryl realized who else he wanted on the trip. Tentatively he had asked his dad about the possibility, but Simon had thought it was too soon for Blair to be traveling, to be away from home and a secure environment. Daryl had phoned Jim anyway, who had in turn asked Blair, and both had agreed it would be good to get out of the city for a weekend.

  But then Jim had left suddenly to do some undercover stuff in a prison out of town, and the trip plans had been put on hold.. For five days, Daryl waited to find out what was going to happen, and his father had said not to count on anything. Yet on Wednesday afternoon, only a few hours after returning to Cascade, Jim had called Daryl to confirm the weekend, and Daryl had realized that they still intended to go.

  His dad had been surprised, but they had all managed to leave by two in the afternoon, getting through the lengthy Friday lineups at the border and they made it to Vancouver on time to check into the hotel and have an early dinner before the basketball game.

  And Saturday night’s hockey schedule had the Vancouver Canucks playing the Calgary Flames and that promised to be a tension-filled game with lots of good fights, if NHL history proved itself. It was going to be his first NHL hockey game after years of pleading with his father to take him. Just another thing they had never gotten around to doing when he was younger.

  This is way cool, he thought, echoing Blair’s words earlier. I did the right thing inviting them. And Dad.

  A satisfied smile on his face, Daryl rolled over and fell into the deep sleep that only the young truly enjoy.

  *

  Blair

  Blair Sandburg drifted in and out of sleep. The bed was comfortable enough, but there was something disorienting about not sleeping in your own bed, in your own room. Not that he had a lot of experience sleeping in a room that he considered his own room, except for the last few years. Even living at the university, he moved around at least once a semester, sometimes more, packing his stuff away during trips or excursions. Naomi hadn’t approved of words like mine or my. Everything was recycled constantly so one couldn’t grow attached to them. Clothes, houses, people, schools, and cities.

  Friends existed and were to be cherished, but they moved around so much he never had time to get to know them very well. Naomi had the ability to bond with people, instantly be a part of their lives as though she had never been absent from them, but he found it difficult to get beyond a comfortable, superficial, ‘friendliness’. Smile a lot, listen a lot, and help when you can, and people seemed to accept you just fine.

  Some are Silver, the others Gold…

  Most were neither, just nice people he had encountered. ‘Uncles’ and ‘aunts’ who weren’t related to him. They were his mother’s friends, not his.

  At the university, there were students who he hung out with. Co-ed dorms. Fellow classmates. Students he did projects with, studied with,
drank with, partied with. His rooms in the dorm changed so much or were so noisy that he gave up and got off-campus housing as soon as he was old enough, but that was worse. Sharing accommodations with other students meant constant change of people, traffic through his life, as nomadic an existence as he had ever shared with Naomi. At least he always knew she loved him. The others with whom he shared a roof really didn’t give a damn whether he came back at night or not. Just as long as he paid his share of the rent and didn’t cause any problems.

  Blair rolled over, trying to wedge his face more comfortably on the pillow. He opened his eyes just a crack, but the room was dark, almost pitch black. Their room looked out over the water, and no lights shone through the heavy drapes on the window. On the night table between the two beds, the clock’s luminous numbers read 01:55, changing to 01:56 as he stared at it.

  Go to sleep, he told himself, turning his back on the clock and closing his eyes.

  He had almost succeeded when a foot brushed against his, sending an electrical shock through his body.

  His eyes flashed open, terror choking him.

  His hands were tied to the bed posts, both legs bound to the lower posts. Exposing him to the man laying beside him. Staring at him.

  Crawford was in bed next to him.

  The man’s dark eyes swept across his body, his chest, his stomach, his groin.

  Blair sat up, his hands clenched in his hair, trying to stop the memory from going any further. Trying to control his breathing.

  “Chief?”

  “I’m okay. Go back to sleep,” he whispered, then immediately settled himself with his back to Jim, almost hanging off the edge of the bed.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  Jim made a noncommittal noise and turned over the other way.

  The room got quiet again. 02:14 became 02:15.

  Blair closed his eyes, trying to count sheep. Or frogs. Or panthers.

  Jim shifted and the blankets slid along Blair’s shoulder, once again startling him awake. Crawford’s face leered at him, then disappeared.

  02:20

  God…

  “Sandburg?”

  “I’m fine, Jim,” he answered quickly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I almost fell off the bed and it startled me.”

  “Oh. Go to sleep,” Jim whispered, and turned over.

  Right. If I could do that, Jim…

  Simon was snoring softly, just a few feet away. Daryl was on the other side of him, probably just as soundly asleep. Beyond them, the drapes rustled with the air from the heating vent.

  02:22

  Sleep continued to elude him. He was mad at himself for hiding across the bed from his partner. Jim’s foot had just barely touched him, and he was peeling himself off the ceiling. Jeez. When is this going to end?

  Think about something else. Like how cool it was for Daryl to ask us along.

  He concentrated on thinking about the day — the trip up, the game, the walk back to the hotel — it all blurred in his mind, tumbling over and over like a laundromat dryer. It was making him dizzy and he opened his eyes trying to avoid the too-vivid visual memories. But even in the darkness of the room, he could remember the noise of the stadium crowd, the loud cheering, the sounds echoing in his mind, reminding him too painfully of the rooting, jeering crowd at the prison when it was his friend on display in the life-and-death, staged event. He had only seen a few moments of the fight, glimpses through the crowd, but the thirst for blood he had witnessed had terrified him.

  And if the basketball game tonight had spooked him — what had it done to Jim? His partner had seemed to enjoy the game, following it carefully, laughing, raising his beer into the air when their team did well, slapping hands with Simon and Daryl and him when a shot went their way. He had whistled loudly, stomped his feet, devoured hot dogs, and enjoyed their box seats and attached party room, seeming at ease with the other eight people they shared it with, all contest winners up from Cascade.

  It seemed Jim was having fun.

  He checked the clock, hoping he had drifted off and was just waking up again. 02:37. No such luck.

  Beside him, Jim adjusted his pillow, bunching it in two.

  Just as sleep eluded Blair, he knew it was also escaping Jim, and he hoped it wasn’t because his racing heartbeat had woken the sentinel. He had a good idea what it was, though. Blair turned over in the darkness of the room, facing his partner. “You awake?” he whispered, making sure his voice was scarcely loud enough to register on sentinel ears, not loud enough to bother the other occupants of their room.

  At first he thought he had been wrong, that Jim was sleeping, but after a moment he heard Jim’s head move on the pillow, and the low-voiced response. “You should be asleep, Chief. It’s been a long day for you.”

  “You had the same day I did, and you’re still awake. Why?” He rolled onto his left side and reached out to touch the detective’s arm, finding it unerringly in the darkness. “You haven’t slept much in the last few days, since you’ve been back from the prison. I thought— I thought when you got out, you’d be okay again.”

  “That place eats at a person. Destroys them.” The quiet words seem to hover above where they lay and Blair could feel the frost on them.

  “You need to sleep, man. Let me help you.”

  “How?” Jim asked, and the hope was as audible as his question.

  “Uh … I want you to close your eyes and concentrate on my voice, okay? Don’t think of anything else.”

  “Okay,” Jim replied, then continued before Blair could find the words he wanted to say. “It’s not that easy. I can’t just let it go.”

  “Why? What happened there?”

  “I can’t explain Starkville to you, Chief. I don’t want to tell you how I felt there. Who I was there.”

  Blair stayed silent, eyes wide in the darkness, not sure if Jim was looking at him or not. But he knew his face begged for more information, revealed his need to know what happened.

  Jim cleared his throat. “At night…” He paused, then started again. “At night, I would lay in bed and listen to it all. To the sound of hundreds of men sleeping, snoring, tossing on their beds. Guards walking the hallways. Sitting at their posts. Doors opening and closing. The clank of bars. And I heard other things. The other things that happened in the prison at night.”

  “The games? Like the one you were in?” Blair asked, softly, moving fractionally closer.

  “Yes,” Jim whispered.

  “What else?” Blair could hear Jim shaking his head, the action rustling the pillow. “What else could you hear?” he asked again, keying his voice to the right tone.

  Jim was still resisting telling him, though. “You don’t need to know this, Chief. We should get some sleep.”

  “Tell me. I’m not a child. I know what happens in prisons. What else could you hear?”

  The words tumbled from Ellison’s mouth before he could stop them. “I heard inmates being murdered. I heard two murders when I was there. Eight men badly beaten. Seventeen rapes. All in five days and nights.”

  “Seventeen—? God, Jim. I’m sorry.” His hand tightened on his partner’s arm. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

  Ellison said nothing, did nothing, except control his breathing, then he placed his free hand on top of Sandburg’s. “No. I didn’t want you there, Chief. That was what kept me going, knowing you were safe with Simon. No man should have to hear that. I didn’t want you near any of it. I didn’t want you to be within fifty miles of Starkville. I thought I had made that clear.”

  Sandburg flinched at the anger in Ellison’s voice. “I had to take the teacher’s position. I couldn’t leave you alone in there.”

  “Simon told me that you slept in the rental car for those five nights instead of at the motel in town.”

  It was Blair’s turn to shake his head. “I couldn’t sleep at the motel. The car was as close to you as
I could get.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I knew what you’d be hearing. Not all of it — not the details — but I knew what it would do to you,” Blair whispered. “I was scared — hell, I was scared with my visitor’s badge when I was in the classroom. That whole Correctional Institute thing scares the shit out of me, Jim. It’s like they’re only half alive in there. And not just the prisoners. The guards, too. I was afraid of you being in there.”

  “Because it would slowly kill me.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m here now,” Ellison murmured to them both. “I’m out. It’s over.”

  “It’s almost over. You still can’t sleep at night. What are you listening for? We’re in a huge hotel. There’s a good lock on the door and it’s bolted. I saw you check it. There are hundreds of rooms. Probably a few thousand people here. You’ve got Simon in the next bed. Daryl. You’ve got me. You can sleep now. We’re all okay.” He moved higher on the bed, until he could rest his left palm on the Sentinel’s forehead, his right hand flat on the man’s chest. “Go to sleep, Jim. I’m here. I’m alive. Can you feel my touch?”

  Jim nodded and Blair could feel the tension still controlling the detective. The clenched jaw. The short exhalations of air through his nose. The pounding heartbeat beneath his right palm.

  “You need to relax. We’re safe. You’re safe, man. There’s no hatred here. Just us. The walls here are good walls. Comforting walls. Not trapping us, but protecting us. Do you follow me?”

  “Yeah,” Jim said after a moment. Another struggle for control over his breathing and nerves.

  “Hey, Jim. Listen to my voice. Listen to me … You are in control here. It’s okay. You’re in control. We’re all safe. We had fun tonight at the game. Simon’s here to ensure our safety as well. Okay? You’re in control. Got that?” Blair felt the faint nod. “Good. Now keep listening. I need you to let go of your control — No, listen … just for a little while. Let it go. Let us take the responsibility for your safety. You trust us, don’t you? Well, then, drop your guard and let yourself go. Let your mind drift, knowing it’s safe within the good walls. Breathe in with me … Out with me … In with me … Out with me … That’s it. Keep breathing. Breathe out the anger and hatred. Breathe in the safety and love. Out with the anger and hatred. In with safety and love.” Blair kept up the refrain for a few minutes until he felt Jim relax beneath his hands, pulled into a hypnotic sleep. The breathing slowly changed, altering from the tense, almost panting pattern, to something more relaxed and easy.