Survivor Stories

by J P Barnaby

  Bren didn’t say anything for a long time, just looking at the picture of the young man with the scars marring his handsome face. After a few minutes, he set the phone back down, climbed into bed under the covers, and opened his arms to let Anthony lie against his chest. He lifted just a bit as he twisted to turn off the side lamp. Then he wrapped both arms around Anthony, who could not get close enough.

  I am home drifted through Anthony’s mind as his last thought before he fell asleep.

  Twenty

  “HEY, COULD you turn on the television? I’ll grab the movie from the bedroom.” Bren pressed a small kiss to his temple, and Anthony smiled up at him.

  “Sure you don’t want me to go with you to get that movie?” He winked, and Bren laughed, not just a giggle or a snort, but an outright belly laugh. Anthony loved how his face lit up with that one simple act. As much as he understood why Bren wanted to wait and make sure they were starting on a solid foundation, God, he wanted to crawl in bed with the beautiful man and never come out again. He didn’t want to think about school or his parents or the direction of his future except where it included Bren.

  My boyfriend.

  They hadn’t talked about making anything official, but Anthony could feel it. Bren was the real thing.

  Anthony grabbed the huge Sony remote from the low coffee table and hit the Power button. It took a minute for the screen to come on, and when it did, his heart stopped. A two-dimensional image of Jay staring back at him from the photograph he still had in his backpack made everything inside him freeze.

  “Oh my God,” Anthony said to no one and turned the volume up so he could hear the news report.

  “The teenager, fifteen-year-old Rory Samuels, was found dead with a gunshot wound to the head, an apparent suicide, based on reports from neighbors who witnessed the incident.”

  “Okay, I—”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Anthony saw Bren enter the room, but he couldn’t turn. He couldn’t take his eyes off that face on the screen. Anthony simply held up one finger, silently asking him to wait.

  “In conjunction with the suicide, a Detroit native, fifty-two-year-old Jason Huehn, has been arrested and charged with two counts each of kidnapping and sexual assault. Huehn allegedly lured Samuels from his home in Columbus, Ohio, back in March, and held him against his will. Another teenager, a sixteen-year-old boy whose name is being withheld, was found locked in a basement room of Huehn’s house.”

  The newscaster read the story in a detached voice, surrounding Anthony with cold. He didn’t realize he was shaking until Bren wrapped strong arms around him.

  “Shh… it’s okay. It’s okay, you’re safe here,” Bren whispered in his ear, and he almost believed it—until the next image appeared on the screen.

  He barely recognized the skulking teenager filled with anger and rage. His mother must have taken it at some family gathering, because he recognized his backyard and a glimpse of his father in the background.

  “Oh shit….” Bren’s words were barely more than an exhalation.

  “But tonight, we need your help. Another young man, eighteen-year-old Anthony Downing from DeKalb, Illinois, is also missing. Sources report Downing disappeared and may have been on his way to meet Huehn. If you have information on the missing teen, please call Crime Watchers at….” The sound faded as the blood roared in Anthony’s ears.

  “Oh Jesus,” he whispered as his legs crumpled. Bren caught him and eased them both onto the sofa.

  “Anthony….”

  “He… he wasn’t a kid. Jay wasn’t…. He wanted to…. Oh God.”

  “He didn’t, Anthony. He didn’t. You’re right here with me. You’re okay. It’s going to be okay.”

  “The only reason he didn’t rape me and keep me locked in his basement somewhere was because my car broke down. I… I could have been Aaron. I would have been Aaron.”

  The beautiful dinner Bren had made for him came bubbling up from his stomach, and he launched himself off the couch. He rounded the small table with the ugly vase and made it into the bathroom, where he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet as everything contracted and he vomited violently into the bowl. Bren came in right on his heels and lowered himself to the floor next to him, one hand rubbing lightly on his back.

  He heaved again, and Bren’s hand left his back. Acid burned his throat as wave after wave of stomach contractions pushed everything up and out into the toilet. A cold cloth touched the back of his neck, and finally, the violent rebellion of his body stopped. He didn’t dare move, though, for fear it would start again.

  Water ran in the sink as Bren wet the cloth again and then pulled on Anthony’s shoulders, bringing his face away from the putrid smell of regurgitated pasta. Bren wiped Anthony’s forehead, his cheeks, and then his mouth before throwing the rag up into the sink and pulling Anthony back against his chest. Bren lowered them so they rested against the tub, Anthony nestled in Bren’s arms.

  “We need to call the police station and let them know you’re okay,” Bren murmured against Anthony’s hair as he stroked the side of Anthony’s face. “There’s a guy on the force we can call. He was good to me after the shooting. It will be okay. I’ll be right here.”

  “I need to call them.”

  “The police?”

  “My parents.”

  Anthony stayed in the safe, quiet circle of Bren’s arms for a few long minutes before he crawled off the floor. His mouth tasted like stale shit, and it took an effort not to throw up again. Bracing himself with unsteady hands on the sink, he caught Bren’s reflection in the mirror.

  “Do you have any mouthwash, or something?”

  Bren opened the medicine cabinet and brought out the open second half of a dual pack of toothbrushes and handed it to Anthony before picking up a tube of Crest.

  “Do you want me to stay?”

  Anthony nodded. He didn’t know if he could be alone right then. None of the thoughts swirling in the tempest of his mind would slow long enough for him to catch them. He couldn’t focus. Hell, he couldn’t even breathe.

  “Shhh…,” Bren crooned in his ear, and as he leaned back into the safety of his boyfriend’s arms again, Anthony hadn’t even realized he’d dissolved into sobs. He spit the toothpaste out, rinsed with the cup of water handed to him, and tried not to choke.

  They made it to the one room of the house where Anthony had most wanted to be for weeks, except Bren’s blankets felt like sandpaper against his skin. The soft scent of Bren on the sheets helped to calm the live wires of his body as he nestled against the strong chest under his face.

  He didn’t know how long they lay together like that, but being held by Bren felt as right as anything Anthony had ever experienced. But they couldn’t hide forever. The police were looking for him, and as soon as people started calling in to that number, they’d be looking for Patrick too.

  “I don’t want to call my parents.”

  “I know, but you have to let someone know you’re okay. Anthony, I don’t even know what I’d do if I couldn’t find you, or Patrick went missing. After everything that’s happened in our lives, it would destroy me. Even if your parents don’t feel that way, I bet your brothers do.”

  “I just… I’m finally happy here. What if they make me go back to DeKalb?”

  “Baby, they can’t make you do anything. You’re eighteen years old. You have a place to live. You have a job. You’re fine right here. There is nothing they can do to make you leave.”

  Anthony took a deep breath and lifted his head to find Bren’s worried gaze.

  “You sure I’m worth the trouble?” Anthony whispered.

  “I want you to have the world. I just hope there’s room for me in it,” Bren whispered back, and Anthony moved quickly, wrapping both arms around him, nuzzling into his neck.

  “You’re at the center of it.”

  They lay like that for a few more minutes, longer than Anthony intended to. He needed to call someone, and as much as he wanted i
t to be Allen, he knew Allen would try to talk him into coming home. Aaron was his only shot. Aaron would understand what it meant for him to finally be happy after all these years.

  “Okay. I’m ready. Can I use your computer to get into my e-mail? That’s where all my phone numbers are stored.”

  Bren grabbed an iPad off his bedside table and handed it to Anthony. With quick efficiency, Anthony used the browser to access his e-mail and then took the cell phone Bren held out for him. He typed in the number, hit Send, and held his breath.

  It only took one ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Aaron?”

  “Anthony? Oh God. Are you okay? Where are you?”

  “I’m fine. I’m in Detroit.”

  “What? Why are you in Detroit? What happened? Mom said you ran away and then we’re getting all these cops showing up about some rapist in Detroit. Are you safe? Where are you?” Aaron’s words tumbled over each other, and Anthony took a long, slow breath.

  “I was on my way to meet him. He made me believe he was a teenager. But my car broke down just outside Detroit, and I’ve been staying with a friend. I’m fine.”

  “A friend? What friend?”

  “His name is Patrick.”

  “Okay, so, your car is broken down? I can send you money, or we can come and get you. You have a place to stay?”

  “Yeah, Aaron. I’ve been staying in an apartment Patrick owns since I got here. I’m fine.”

  “An apartment Patrick owns? How old is this guy, Anthony? Are you okay?”

  “He’s thirty, and yes. I keep telling you that I’m fine.”

  “I’m at Mom and Dad’s now. We’re coming to get you. We’ll pack a few things, and call Allen, and we’ll be there. Just hold tight, Anthony, okay? Where are you?”

  “Aaron, you’re not listening to me. Fuck, no one ever listens to me. I’m fine, Aaron. I’m not coming home. I want to stay here. I’m happy here. I saw my face on the fucking news and wanted to tell you that I’m not dead.”

  “What do you mean you’re not coming home? Of course you’re coming home. You’re a fucking kid, for Christ’s sake.” His voice muffled as he spoke away from the phone. “He’s fine, Mom. Yes, I’ll find out where he is.”

  “You’re not listening,” Anthony yelled. Bren put a hand on his leg.

  “Do you have any idea what your little stunt did to Mom?” Aaron growled into the phone, his voice tight. “Do you even care? Where the fuck are you? Your friend’s name and number just came up on my caller ID. You really think I can’t use that to find you?” Aaron growled. “I can make a computer do fucking anything. Tell me where you are.”

  The tears came before Anthony could stop them. Bren reached for the phone, but he held up a hand. They were going to make him go back, no matter how miserable he was there.

  “I’m staying in an apartment above Patrick’s liquor store. Tonight I’ll be staying with his brother, Brendan.” Anthony looked to Bren, who nodded, then rattled off Bren’s address and the address for the store. The place he knew by heart. The place that had become his home.

  “That’s fabulous. A recovering drug addict and alcoholic living above a liquor store.”

  “It’s not like that. God, I fucking hate you. Do you know why I called you? Do you? I thought maybe out of all of them you’d understand that I’m happy now. I’m finally fucking happy. After being thrown down in that basement and forgotten about for years, finally, finally someone sees me. Someone cares what the fuck happens to me. You want to come, fine. Don’t expect me to go home with you. I’m eighteen goddamn years old and can take care of myself.”

  Anthony screamed the last and hit the End button. He tossed the phone onto the bed before burying his face in his hands.

  Twenty-One

  BREN’S HEART ached as he held Anthony tight, trying to help contain the devastating sobs. They went on for what felt like hours, but in reality only lasted a few minutes. He stroked the shaggy brown hair that had started to become overgrown during Anthony’s renegade summer in Detroit, leaving kisses between its strands. Anthony didn’t want to go back to Illinois, and Bren didn’t believe that was the best course of action either. He wanted Anthony to stay, and not just because his heart ached at the thought of never seeing him again. They could get him enrolled in college, and he could build a life here. He could live, maybe for the first time in years, and if that life included Bren, even better.

  “Okay, this is what we’re going to do,” Bren whispered against Anthony’s hair. “It’s only about six thirty, so we’re going to call the police and let them know you’re okay. They’ll probably come and take a statement. You know that apartment is yours for as long as you want it. Patrick will say the same thing. You have a job. You have been talking about maybe going to Wayne State with Sean and the rest of your friends. You have friends here, Anthony, people who love you. We won’t let them bully you into leaving. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

  “I don’t want you to take care of me,” Anthony said as he wiped his face on the bottom of his T-shirt and sat up. “We’re supposed to be a team, not you taking care of the kid who can’t handle shit.”

  “Hey, I never said you couldn’t handle shit. I’m the one who can’t handle shit. Today was a big fucking shock. Okay? I’m not sure how I would have handled it either. All I’m saying is that you have options.”

  “And people who love me?” Anthony asked in a small voice.

  “At least one person in this very bed.”

  “You love me?”

  “Yep.”

  “Let’s fucking get this over with. I want to take you to bed,” Anthony said, and Bren laughed.

  “Isn’t that my line?”

  “Dude, I don’t care who says it as long as we end up in bed later. Naked. I’m going to go clean up a little so they don’t think I’m actually homeless.”

  “I’ll bring you a clean shirt.”

  “Thank you, Bren. You and Patrick saved my life. Not just from that guy, but in so many other ways. I love you.” Anthony dropped a kiss on his cheek, and Bren laughed at Anthony’s reluctance to kiss him after his bathroom escapades, even after he’d brushed his teeth.

  “Thank you for picking our parking lot. You’ve changed my life too. Now I have something to live for.”

  “Stop, or we’re going to end up in bed anyway, and we’ll never put this shit behind us,” Anthony said with a grin, the first since the news report started.

  “If you want to take a shower, I can get you a towel.”

  “Nah, just the shirt. I’ll take one later. We have at least five or six hours before my family descends on your house. God, I hope they at least wait until morning. It will be like one a.m. by the time they hit town.”

  “Text your brother and tell him your family can stay here if they want. I have two more bedrooms and a couch.”

  “They won’t. They don’t trust easily, not after what happened to Aaron.”

  “I’m okay with that too. Let them find a hotel.”

  Bren sat back against the headboard and patted the space between his legs for Anthony to sit. He wrapped his arms around the tiny scrap of a boy who had filled out into a handsome scrap of a man.

  “You ready?”

  “No, but let’s do it anyway.”

  Bren pulled up Officer McClusky’s number on his phone, a number he saw about once a month when Darren McClusky called to check in on him. Their dads had been friends, and Darren walked into the carnage of the store to get Bren out. He knew he could trust Darren with Anthony.

  “Hey, Bren, what’s up? You okay?”

  “Yeah, Darren. I have a favor I need to ask you.”

  “Sure, man. What do you need?”

  “So, the news just showed a missing kid. Anthony Downing, you heard anything about that?”

  “Yeah, the whole station is buzzing about it. They just found out about him today when they started going through Huehn’s electronics. Do you know anything about him?”<
br />
  “He’s sitting right in front of me. His car broke down in the parking lot of the liquor store. Patrick kind of adopted him. He’s been staying with us. We didn’t know anyone was looking for him. I just wanted to let you know he’s fine and he’s at my house if you want to take a statement from him.”

  “He needs to come down to the station.”

  “That’s the favor. I want to be with him. He had no idea Huehn was a rapist. He’s pretty shaken up about it.”

  “I get you.” Papers shuffled on his end of the line. “Okay, let me talk to my captain. I don’t think it will be a problem to do the interview there when I explain.”

  “Thanks, Darren.”

  He ended the call, and the two of them sat there, not speaking as the minutes ticked away. Bren didn’t want to leave the safety of Anthony’s warmth any more than Anthony did, who seemed happy to stay in the circle of Bren’s arms. They were content to sit quietly among the smell of fabric softener from the freshly washed bedding, the gentle breeze coming in through the window, and most of all the rhythmic rise of fall of their own breathing.

  “Can I ask you something?” Bren whispered against the shell of Anthony’s ear.

  “Always.”

  “How long have you had the money for your car?”

  Anthony leaned to one side, turning his head so Bren could see his face. A small smile played across his lips even though his eyes were wide with surprise.

  “How did you know?”

  “I do the accounting for the store. Even if you’d been spending half of your paychecks, you’d have the money by now.”

  “I didn’t want to tell Patrick I had the money because I was afraid….”

  “Afraid he’d tell you it was time to move on?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’d never tell you that. You’ve become like another little brother to him. He wants you to stay almost as much as I do.”

  “Almost, huh?”

  “No one wants you to stay as much as I do.”

  “I will. I just need to figure out what I’m going to do. When my mother sees that apartment with no appliances and barely any electricity, she’s going to freak.”