Survivor Stories

by J P Barnaby

  Kage.

  Anger coursed through him and, without thinking, he answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Boy, I’ve been calling you for three fucking days. I told you to call me when you got home from the club. I am not going to sit here and take that shit from you—”

  “I am not your fucking boy. Ben is in the hospital. He was hit by a car on his bike coming home from getting beaten and burned by you,” Jude snarled into the phone. Adrenaline pumping furiously in his blood made him reckless. He shouldn’t pry into Ben’s life. He needed to hang up the phone, but a sick fascination with what this prick had that he didn’t made him stay on.

  “Is he okay?” Kage asked, and Jude smirked with satisfaction at the contrition he heard.

  “Would he be in the hospital if he was okay? No, he’s banged up pretty bad. They had to repair damage to his brain because he always rides without a damn helmet.” Jude’s throat clogged as the image of Ben’s battered and broken body entered his mind again. They’d all been so fucking close to losing him.

  “What hospital?”

  “Why the fuck would I tell you that? He’s in no condition for your kind of affection, I assure you.”

  “Look, I don’t know who you are, but I care about what happens to him,” Kage snapped in a tone that made Jude doubt every bit of his sincerity, but it could be his bias against the man for hurting Ben. Obviously Ben trusted him and would want Jude to tell him.

  The words tasted bitter as they left his mouth.

  “He’s at Mercy,” Jude spat and hit the button to disconnect before his jealousy could spike and he could say something either he or Ben would regret. He set the phone on the table next to the bed and looked around the small bedroom. Everything in here screamed Ben’s name. The hot rush of tears overwhelmed him, and he didn’t even try to stop them. Instead, he curled up on the cold sheets, surrounded by the smell of Ben’s body, and closed his eyes against the desperate need to fly into pieces.

  “BENJI, WHEN did you start riding a motorcycle?” his mother asked as Ben sat up in bed and tried to digest the crap that passed for lunch at Mercy. A dry, rather lumpy piece of baked chicken, potatoes that couldn’t have come from anything but a box—no gravy, that would be a sin—and mixed vegetables the texture of overripe fruit. No wonder people in the hospital either escaped or died.

  “I bought it last year. When the weather is good, it’s cheaper than driving the truck,” he explained, distracted by the way the carrot he’d speared with his fork had disintegrated on contact. With a sigh, he pushed the tray away and rested back on the pillow. His mother popped up from her chair like a spring had launched her ass right out of it.

  “Are you finished, sweetheart? You didn’t eat very much. Do you want your dad to go get you something?” she asked, a litany of words in rapid-fire staccato. It took him a minute in his addled state to process the question and shake his head, which of course made him dizzy. The chicken threatened to make a stellar reappearance, but then decided it was comfortable in his stomach and the nausea subsided. His mother’s eyes met his, and it looked like she wanted to say something else, the words pushing at her tightly pursed lips. The condemnation was so close to the surface, he could feel it. Your sister wouldn’t have risked her life on a motorcycle. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to leave us. Why do you, Benji?

  I can’t lose another child, Benjamin.

  The recrimination didn’t come, but the look she gave him said every single word so clearly he might as well have heard them. He closed his eyes against the guilt.

  “Are you tired honey? I think your friend is coming back. I don’t want to leave until he comes back. I don’t want you to be alone,” she fretted, smoothing her shirt of nonexistent wrinkles.

  “I am pretty tired. You don’t have to stay. Jude doesn’t either, really. I’m fine.” He choked on the lie as it came out, but didn’t take it back. His head felt like wild rabid moose—or was it meese?—were stampeding through it. Their stomping had become a steady throb in time with the heart monitor behind him on the wall.

  “He’s a nice boy,” she hedged. Oh shit. He really didn’t want to have this conversation. Of course they knew he was gay; they’d had exactly one conversation about it over the dinner table as Juliette sat next to him in such a strong show of support he’d nearly wept. She’d always been supportive of her big brother, and he’d deserted her. He’d let her die in the hands of monsters in the dark. No, he couldn’t think about that now. Not now.

  “Yeah, I lucked out answering his ad. He’s a great friend,” he said and hoped that would appease her curiosity. As it so often did, however, luck deserted him.

  “Are you two, uhm… are you…?” she started, but trailed off, probably unsure how to ask. Are you boyfriends? Are you being careful? Do you have AIDS?

  “No, mom. Jude and I are just friends,” he explained, forestalling any other question she might be inclined to ask. His father shifted in his seat but continued to watch the television mounted near the ceiling with unwarranted interest. The sound was almost too low to hear, but he appeared riveted to Wheel of Fortune.

  The sound of a bag rustling at the door caught his attention, and he looked toward it. Susan, Jude’s sweetheart sister, stood there with a huge bag of takeout something. He couldn’t make out the logo from the bed, but it didn’t matter. She was a very welcome distraction from his mother’s curiosity.

  “Hey Susie!” Ben called. She hesitated in the doorway, and he attributed her sadness to his battered appearance. He’d been getting that look for a couple of days from Jude. Almost immediately, the moment passed, and she smiled at him.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you had company, Benny. I only brought enough for three,” she said with real apology in her voice. The smell of garlic preceded her, and Ben’s mouth watered. Italian. She knew it was his favorite. God, he loved that girl. If he were straight, he’d probably marry her. His heart broke as he thought about how well she would have gotten along with Juliette. She was the only other one who ever called him “Benny.”

  “Mom, this is Susan, Jude’s sister,” he said as Susan set the bags on the tray table for the empty bed next to his. Susan gave his mother a little wave and started to unpack the bags. The smell of garlic and cheese intensified, and his stomach snarled around the little bits of chicken he’d managed to keep down.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Susan. Will you be here until Jude returns? I don’t want to leave Benjamin alone, but we really should find a hotel to check into.” She put her hand on his father’s arm, a silent invitation for him to stand and join her.

  “Jude is on his way. He sent me a text while I was getting the food. Oh, Ben, he found your phone.” Susan flashed him a smile and laid out containers on the table. It was so reminiscent of Juliette setting the table for dinner that Ben’s heart ached, and he wondered if those little memories would ever stop torturing him.

  “I lost my phone?” Ben asked as he searched his damaged brain for some explanation to the news that Jude found his smartphone. Normally, he couldn’t be parted with it. He didn’t remember anything about its location from before or after the accident, and the significant gaps in his memory bothered him. Not for the first time since waking up in the hospital, Ben wondered just how extensive the damage in his head was.

  “Either that, or you have a habit of keeping it in your bedside garbage can,” Susan said with a wink as she set a container of spaghetti and meatballs in front of him. The smell wafting off the container made his mouth water, despite the fact it was carried atop the scent of disinfectant and death. Those he chose to ignore. Susan’s eyes welled with unshed tears as she stood watching him. When she noticed him looking, she sniffed and turned back to get another container. “Anyway, he should be here anytime.”

  “We’ll be back tomorrow to visit with you, honey,” his mother said, reminding Ben that his parents were still in the room. He thought about protesting, but the sad look in his mother�
�s eyes forestalled any argument. Once he was released, which couldn’t come soon enough for him, they’d go back home and everything would go back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be with the right side of his body bashed to fuck.

  “Bye mom, dad,” Ben told them quietly as they made their way to the door and he picked up the fork Susan left next to his container. Starting with one of the delicately spiced meatballs, he took a small bite to make sure his stomach could handle food that didn’t suck. He moaned as the sauce hit his tongue.

  “Dude, you want me to leave the two of you alone?”

  Ben grinned up at Jude, who stood framed in the doorway with a wicked smirk. Susan grabbed the still closed container from the spare table and handed it to her brother as he passed. After dropping a bulging backpack into the corner, Jude filled the space recently vacated by Ben’s mother.

  “God, I’m fucking starving. Thanks, honey.” Jude flipped open the container and Ben took a minute to really look at his friend. Jude’s normally golden skin had lost some of its color, leaving him pale. He could have packed for a week in the bags under Jude’s eyes, which were red rimmed and a little swollen. Anyone who didn’t know Jude wouldn’t see it, but Ben did. He’d been looking at Jude for almost four years.

  “Jude, have you slept at all?” Ben asked quietly. Both Jude and Susan looked up at his question, but his eyes stayed fixed on Jude. His friend shifted in the chair, shrugged, and popped another ravioli in his mouth.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Yeah, I do, Ben. You asked me if I was up to the job. ‘Ready for that kind of commitment, cowboy,’ right?” Jude said and stood up abruptly. “I’m going to get some soda from the machine down the hall. You guys want anything? Susie?” Susan and Ben both asked for Sprite. Jude slammed his closed container onto the table and stalked out of the room.

  “He cares about you, Ben. The accident scared him,” Susan told Ben quietly as they waited for Jude to come back. “He just needs a little time to process what happened. There’s something else too, but I haven’t figured out what yet.”

  Ben had. Kage. Jude was disgusted by his relationship with Kage, but he couldn’t explain that to Susan. He didn’t want her to start looking at him differently too. The spaghetti and meatballs didn’t seem quite as appealing with his stomach full of guilt.

  SUSAN STAYED for about an hour, and after a bit, Jude loosened up. The tension in the room dissipated, and they laughed until Ben hurt. She kissed him lightly on the undamaged side of his face and told him that she was there for him. The flood of warm tenderness in his chest at her offer surprised him. Somewhere over the last four years, he’d forgotten what the love of a friend could feel like. He and Kage weren’t really friends. The guys at work weren’t really friends. Jude was the only person in his life he could really call a friend—and then Susan.

  The thought terrified him.

  “Oh, excuse me,” Susan said with faint amusement in her voice as she moved to the side at the door. A solid wall of muscle passed her with a nod of the head, and Ben’s heart caught in his throat.

  Kage.

  Ben’s whole body tensed and pain shot through his entire right side. Using his left hand, he groped for the call button for the nurse. He’d held off on that pain shot just as long as he could. How did Kage even know he was there? Ben sat up a little straighter in the bed, despite the pain, and waited for Kage’s rage about his recklessness and how he should have taken Ben home after the session. He would blame himself, and he would blame Ben.

  “Hi, Mr. Martin, did you need something?” A tinny voice blasted out of the speaker embedded in the combination television remote and bed control.

  “I’ll take that pain shot when you’re ready,” he said, horrified to hear that his voice shook. Jude shot out of the chair and moved to stand between the bed and window on Ben’s injured right side. Kage came closer to the bed and peered into Ben’s face.

  “Sure, your nurse will be down in a bit,” the faceless desk person informed him. He nodded, though she couldn’t see him. A cold sweat broke out on his face and neck with the increased throbbing in his head. He managed to keep down the spaghetti and meatballs he’d eaten, by sheer force of will.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have let you ride. I knew it,” Kage said in a quiet growl, and Ben closed his eyes tightly as the searing pain in his head increased.

  “Hey, he got hit by a woman texting. The accident wasn’t his fault, and it didn’t have anything to do with your… demonstration. So lay off,” Jude said, his voice laced with contempt for Kage, who threw a glare in his direction.

  “How are you?” Kage asked as he took another small, cautious step toward the bed. His eyes darted to Jude and then back to Ben. Unlike Jude, who stood with a hand on Ben’s shoulder, Kage didn’t make any move to touch. He merely stood at arm’s length, looking uncomfortable. Ben hated the distance. Exhausted and hurting, Ben could have used a little grounding to remind him to focus.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks. My arm is broken and I have a couple of ripped tendons in my knee,” Ben said. He looked up sharply at Jude’s derisive snort.

  “Do they think the damage to your knee is permanent? What about the head injury?”

  “They don’t know what kind of range of motion I’ll have in my knee yet. My intracranial pressure is normal, so there is no swelling. I have some memory loss, but the surgery seems to have repaired the damage. How did you know I was here?” Ben played with the blanket draped across his chest, not looking at his Dom.

  “I’ve been calling your phone for three fucking days. You didn’t text me after the session, and I have no other way to contact you. Someone answered the phone, probably this guy,” he said indicating Jude with a severe jerk of the head, “and told me about the accident.”

  “Oh.” Ben didn’t have anything else to add. An uneasy feeling welled in the pit of his stomach. He looked like an apocalyptic refugee, not exactly someone Kage would want to fuck, but he stayed silent.

  The nurse came in then with a pain shot for Ben. The awkward silence in the room lengthened, stretched, and solidified into a solid wall in Ben’s chest while he watched the syringe plunger sink and deliver the blissful oblivion he so wished for. At some point, he wanted to talk to Kage about suspending his contract, freezing it in time, until he got back on his feet, but he couldn’t do that with Jude in the room. One more mention of BDSM, and he had a feeling Jude would freak out completely.

  “Yeah, okay, well, I just wanted to assess your condition. I’ll come back and see you in a few days,” Kage said abruptly. Ben searched his Dom’s face but couldn’t get a read on his mood, which wasn’t unusual for them. Kage had his own laundry list of issues and shut down from time to time.

  “Thank you for coming to see me.” The lame sentiment hung in the air between them, garbled by the white noise of drugs making his vision fuzzy. Kage turned on his heel and walked out of the room, and Ben didn’t have the balls to look up at Jude.

  He closed his eyes and let the sweet, swirling mist of darkness take him.

  Six

  THE WEEKEND passed quickly and quietly, for which Jude was very thankful. Monday morning, his alarm woke him as he slept in his own bed for the first time in nearly a week. Ben’s mother had volunteered to stay at the hospital with her son so that Jude could go back to work. Andy hadn’t been pleased with his text Friday morning to take that last sick day, and Jude couldn’t really blame him. With Ben’s parents in town and doing nothing other than sitting at the hospital with him, Jude didn’t have any excuse for missing work to stay at the hospital except that he needed to be close to Ben because he loved him.

  Somehow he didn’t think that would fly with his boss.

  Even though Ben rarely got up before Jude left for work, the apartment seemed empty and cold as he sat on the couch drinking coffee and reading the RSS feeds on his phone. Normally, Max kept him company during his morning ritual, but he hadn’t gone to get their boy yet. Nothing in
his life would be back to normal until Ben came home. He felt so off balance.

  The phone chirped, and he switched to his e-mail. Theodore Foster had a new novel coming out. Jude welcomed the distraction of clicking the link to take him to Amazon so he could preorder it. With the high-speed wireless in the apartment, it took less than ten seconds for the page to load. One click, one confirmation, and he was done. Damn technology. He surfed around in the “if you like that, check this out” section, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on reading anything. His brain felt like an omelet from stress and lack of sleep. Even one of Foster’s erotic novels wouldn’t hold his interest for long.

  Tucking the phone into his pocket, he wondered if Ben’s parents had shown up at the hospital. They were staying in a little no-name motel a couple of blocks from Mercy. He’d thought about offering to let them stay with him, but their couch didn’t fold out and he doubted they wanted to live, however short term, with a complete stranger. God, he was tired, but like his mom used to say, bitching about it wouldn’t solve anything, so he hauled himself to his feet. The click of the front door sounded final, like the closing of a tomb, and he shivered in the cool morning air. Shaking off the feeling, he traced his steps back to his car to start another day.

  THE WALK from the parking lot to his desk seemed longer, steeper, as he put one foot in front of the other and tried to focus on the day in front of him. He’d have a fucking pile of shit to do after being out for three days unexpectedly, and he didn’t even want to see the inbox of his e-mail. Ignoring Dennis’s smirk as he passed the prick’s desk, Jude headed into the employee kitchen to put his lunch in the refrigerator.

  “Oh Jude, I’m so sorry. How’s your boyfriend?” Carrie Taylor asked while Jude pushed other boxes, bags, and take-out containers out of the way to find room for his lunch. If he hadn’t been so tired, he might have nailed the back of his head as he reared back to look at her.