by Jake Bible
“Get out, Gil,” Highlander said. “You are wasting your time.”
“Come on, Gaylander,” Gil responded. “Hand the pills over and I’ll disappear from your life for at least a few hours. I know you have a stash of oxy in here somewhere.”
“Yeah, I do,” Highlander replied. “But it is for medical use only, not recreational.”
“This is medical, Gaylander,” Gil insisted. “If I don’t get a hit of something, I’m going to die from boredom. Same with the rest of the gang. It’ll be an epidemic and all your fault.”
“Go away, Gil,” Highlander said again, his anxiety building to a dangerous level. Too much more and he’d either freeze up completely or snap. He’d snapped before, and his parents almost had him committed. His father had to pay off the kid he’d hurt. Highlander took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Medicine is for medical purposes only. Medical purposes only, Gil. That is all it can be used for.”
“That is all it can be used for,” Gil repeated in a mocking, sing-song approximation of Highlander’s voice. He smacked the pipe against his open palm. He took his own deep breath, letting it out slowly in perfect imitation of Highlander. “Know what this can be used for?”
Gil had been after him ever since the teenager had walked through the sanctuary’s doors. Highlander let Gil have his intimidation fun. It was easier that way. But he always knew it would come to an end one way or another.
That end was about to come. The cathedral was empty of all painkillers stronger than acetaminophen or ibuprofen. No more oxy, no codeine, nothing. Highlander hadn’t told anyone, not even Morty or Hannah. He was too embarrassed to admit he’d let Gil bleed the infirmary dry, let it get that far.
But, he’d had to. It kept Gil from getting violent. Highlander couldn’t have Gil get violent or bad things would happen. Highlander knew that part about himself. The dichotomy of his personality.
He saved lives and . . .
Highlander’s heart hammered in his chest and his hands shook as he reached behind him to fumble at the small table. The other part of him, the part he kept secret, was going to take over. Highlander wished it wouldn’t, even as he brought a scalpel out from behind his back and held it out in front of him.
Gil’s eyes went wide and he paused in mid-thwack of the pipe. Then he followed through with the motion, a meaty sound joining the chuckle he made as he nodded his chin at the blade.
“What are you gonna do with that, Gaylander?” Gil asked. He sneered and let the hand with the pipe fall loose at his side. “Gonna cut me, faggot?”
“Go away, Gil,” Highlander insisted. “Leave the infirmary now. Please.”
“Or what?” Gil asked and moved in closer, barely an arm’s reach away.
“This isn’t my fault,” Highlander said. “I said please. If I say please, it’s not my fault.”
“What the hell are you babbling about, retard?” Gil asked as he took two more steps toward Highlander. “God, you are messed up.”
Unfortunately, for Gil, he’d stepped within Highlander’s long reach.
“I said please,” Highlander whispered.
The scalpel flashed in the filtered daylight coming in through the stained-glass windows. Blood splashed across the floor and stained the front of Gil’s shirt.
The teen looked down at his chest, his mouth agape and eyes painfully wide.
“You fucking cut me,” Gil said, more to himself than to Highlander. “You. . . . You cut me . . .”
Highlander knew he had no other choice. The cut was superficial, and the second Gil realized that, he would strike. Highlander’s hand shook as he went in for a second slash, one that would have a much deadlier result. The bully was about to find out how wrong he’d been about the power dynamic between him and Highlander.
“What is going on?” Hannah shouted from the infirmary’s doorway. “Highlander? What is that in your . . .”
Her voice trailed off as Gil turned to face her, his shirt soaked with blood.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “What happened here?”
“He tried to kill me,” Gil shouted and retreated quickly to Hannah’s side, his pipe once again pointing in Highlander’s direction.
Hannah didn’t fail to notice the blunt weapon. The look of shock and horror on her face turned instantly to one of suspicion then understanding.
“Highlander? What happened?” she asked, as she gently took the pipe from Gil’s shaking hand.
The teen tried to keep his grip, but despite his outward stance of outrage, he was shaking like a leaf and the pipe slid from his sweaty palm with ease.
“Why are you asking him?” Gil shouted. “The fucking faggot retard tried to kill me!”
“Gil! Do not call anyone those names,” Hannah snapped. “And I doubt he tried to kill you.”
“I did,” Highlander admitted, his face nothing but deep, deep shame. “I said please, then I tried to kill him.”
That stopped Hannah cold.
“Oh, dear Lord,” she said. She took a step back from the both of them and gripped the pipe tight. “I want answers now. Real answers.”
Before Gil could spin a yarn, the truth poured out of Highlander’s mouth. What had just happened, what had been happening for years, and how the infirmary was out of painkillers because Highlander had been too afraid to stand up and tell Gil no. Too afraid of what he might do to Gil. Too afraid of exactly what he did do. It was one long run-on sentence that had been trapped inside him for so long. So, so long.
Gil protested when the sentence finally finished and Highlander’s words were no longer echoing off the infirmary walls.
“I don’t even want to hear it,” Hannah said. “Take off your shirt.”
“What?” Gil shouted.
“Take off your danged shirt,” Hannah shouted back.
Gil scrambled to get his sticky wet shirt off. He held it limply as Hannah stared at the gash across his chest. She frowned and looked over at Highlander.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
“Why would you ask that faggot?” Gil snarled. “Didn’t you hear how he’s out to get me?”
“Shut up, Gil. One more word out of you and I leave here and pretend I didn’t see a thing,” Hannah snarled. “Is that what you want?”
Gil glanced at the bloody scalpel that Highlander still held.
“No,” he said, barely controlled rage and violence dripping from the one word.
“How bad is it?” Hannah asked Highlander again.
“Superficial,” Highlander said. “Doesn’t need stitches. It’ll be fine with some glue and bandages.”
“I can do it myself,” Hannah said and held out a hand. “Give me the supplies.”
Highlander nodded and fetched the supplies, setting them in Hannah’s open palm. He offered the scalpel as well, but she shook her head.
“Sanitize that and put it where it belongs,” Hannah said, her voice heavy with disappointment. “And stay here. Do not leave this room.”
Highlander frowned as he looked around the infirmary. “I never leave this room.”
“Good,” Hannah said and took Gil by the elbow. “Come on, you. I’ll have Elisa fix you up while I talk to Artus about this.”
Highlander watched as Hannah pulled an infuriated and protesting Gil from the infirmary. He licked his lips several times and didn’t move from where he stood for a good fifteen minutes after they had left. Then he looked down at the scalpel and went to start a pot of water to boil so he could sterilize the blade.
He thought about running, about leaving the sanctuary to avoid the punishment he knew was coming. But where would he go? He shrugged to himself, discarded the thought, and cleaned up the blood on the floor with some bright green disinfectant he fetched from the cardboard boxes stacke
d in the corner. No oxy or codeine left, but plenty of Simple Green.
He had a job to do.
2
ELISA LAUGHED AS Gil whined and cried like a toddler while she squeezed a thin line of super glue into his laceration then pressed it closed inch by inch with her fingers. Once the flesh held, she wiped it clean once more and bandaged it. Then she gave him a sharp pat on the cheek.
“Get out of my face, dick,” Elisa said quietly enough that only she and Gil could hear, despite most of the eyes in the nave being on them. “Go after that boy again and I take your balls off. Super glue won’t fix that.”
“Boy? He’s six years older than me,” Gil protested. “And he tried to kill me! Why isn’t anyone doing anything about that?”
“Do you think I’m blind, Gil? Let me answer for you. I’m not. I’ve known assheads like you my whole life. You push and push until it’s not your fault,” Elisa said, making air quotes around not your fault. “I know better, though. Go after Highlander again and it’s snip snip, asshole.”
Gil hesitated for a second, then jumped up from the pew he sat in and hurried off to the gang of teens waiting in the corner of the nave. They became a huddled bunch of lowered heads and angry whispers when he reached them. Elisa stared at the teens until Kimmy looked over and waved. The other girl in the group, Joanie, caught her waving and told the others. Angry eyes turned on Kimmy, forcing her to look down. Then the angry eyes returned Elisa’s stare. The teens stomped out of the nave, off to find a quiet place where they could complain about the injustices of life to each other.
“Want I should whack him?” Coins asked as he walked up to Elisa. “I could whack all the little delinquents. Put ’em six feet under. Save us a ton of headaches.”
“No, Coins, I think we’ll let them live,” Elisa said. “They’re teenagers. I was a hundred times worse when I was their age.”
“Don’t doubt that, doll,” Coins said. “You got moxie.”
“Knock it off,” Elisa said as she gathered up the medical supplies Hannah had given her. “I hate it when you pretend to be a gangster.”
“Pretend?” Coins replied, mock confusion on his stony face. “Do I look like I’m pretending?”
“You all woke up at the same time,” Elisa said. “None of you are what you’re carved to be. Look at Nissa and Tessa. They’re, what, faeries? They talk like sailors and act like drunken frat boys half the time.”
“So? Maybe that’s what faeries act like,” Coins said. He flipped his namesake into the air, but Elisa snatched the stone coin away before it could fall back into his palm. “Hey!”
“What do you want, Coins?” Elisa asked as she gave him his coin back then peeled the latex gloves from her hands and wadded them up into a ball with the rest of the trash left from her quick duty as substitute medic. “You obviously want something.”
“A walk with a friend?” Coins suggested, no hint of bootlegging gangster in his voice. “Got a feeling in my guts and I think you should know about it.”
“Me? Why me?” Elisa asked. “Why not tell Hannah? Or Birch? Or talk to one of the other Gs?”
“If I wanted to talk to them, I woulda gone and talked to them,” Coins said. “Except, a G can’t keep a secret, and Hannah and Birch would probably blab to Artus.” He hooked a stone thumb over his shoulder. “Hannah’s out there with Artus now trying to work out what to do about the Highlander and Gil situation. Those two will be waxing philosophical for another hour before they decide there’s nothing they can do except keep an eye on Gil. Not like Highlander is going anywhere anytime soon. He’ll be in that infirmary until the end of time.”
Elisa smiled and looked toward the courtyard. It was easy to see Hannah and her white hair out in the bright sunlight. Her head was tilted up and she was nodding as Artus said something to her that Elisa couldn’t hear.
“Okay, let’s go for a walk,” Elisa said. “Let me throw this trash away and stash the supplies somewhere. Meet you in the north avenue?”
“I was thinking outside,” Coins said.
Elisa gave him a hard look then nodded. “Okay, outside then. I’ll grab my sunglasses.”
“Meet you at the front doors,” Coins said.
Elisa turned and hurried off to her room. She tossed the trash in a large steel barrel down the hall before turning the corner and finding Geffe, the short, donkey-headed grotesque, waiting for her at the door to her room.
“You too?” she asked as she stepped past him and into the small, windowless cubicle that barely had space enough for a cot, a table, and a single chair. “You got a secret you have to get off your chest?”
“Huh? Now, what are you talking about?” Geffe asked. “I was coming by to see what the scuttlebutt was. Heard Highlander finally snapped and gave Gil a taste of his own medicine.”
“Yeah, he cut the kid good. Nothing that I couldn’t fix up,” Elisa said as she set the unused medical supplies on her table and picked up a pair of wrap-around sunglasses. She hooked one of the stems of the glasses into the collar of her T-shirt and left the room, shutting the door securely behind her before pausing. She slowly turned to face Geffe. “Wait, what do you mean by finally snapped? You expected Highlander to do this?”
“Ha, that’s a hoot,” Geffe said and chuckled. Then he furrowed his brow and gave a short, donkey bray. “You don’t know? Sweet merciful Stonecutter! How could you miss it? You ever see the look in Highlander’s eyes when Gil comes around?”
“Of course. Gil’s a bully and Highlander has had to watch his ass around the dickhead,” Elisa said. “Am I missing something else?”
“Apparently so,” Geffe replied. “Listen, I like Highlander. He keeps you wards healthy, which makes our jobs easier. But, that kid has got something rotten in him and he’s been trying to keep it bottled up in his guts for years.”
“That’s a weird image,” Elisa said, her hands firmly on her hips. She glared down at the grotesque. “So, let me get this straight. Gil has been harassing Highlander for years, and you’ve been expecting Highlander to do what he did today the whole time? And you never thought to say anything to me?”
Geffe shrugged his man shoulders while his donkey ears swiveled back and forth, both sticking straight up from his stone head. “Weren’t nothing to say. Humans do what humans do. What should a G like me care? You’re all wards, sure, but I ain’t your mama. You meatsacks can work out your own problems. We Gs have bigger fish to fry.”
“Don’t call me a meatsack,” Elisa said and started walking. “And stop talking like an extra from Unforgiven. I hate that about Gs.”
“Hey, come on now, I was just joshing ya,” Geffe said, ignoring Elisa’s complaint about his cowboy affectation as he hurried to keep up with Elisa’s long stride. He was practically running his stone butt off in order not to be left behind. “You know I like to joke. Where are you going?”
“To talk to Highlander about this,” Elisa snapped. “This shit stops today. Finally.”
“Oh, it’s stopped, that’s for sure,” Geffe said. “Highlander’s out of pills. No reason for Gil to even think of bothering him again.”
Elisa stopped walking and Geffe ran straight into the backs of her legs.
“What do you mean, he’s out of pills?” Elisa asked. She sighed and rubbed at her forehead. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Damn, you really are clueless, ain’t ya?” Geffe said. “Gil hasn’t been bullying Highlander—he’s been extorting the would-be doctor into giving him drugs. Dope. The goods. Now the infirmary is all out. No more pills to make all your human hurts go away.”
“Shit,” Elisa said as she continued to rub her forehead. “How long?”
“Since a few months after Gil and his crew got here,” Geffe said. “Those dumb kids getting high has been as much a part of life in this cathedral as
Morty’s cigars or Birch and Parsons getting sweaty when they think no one is around.”
Elisa’s mouth hung down to her chest. She started to ask a question, shook her head, started again, then waved it away.
“I don’t have time to think about Birch and Parsons,” Elisa said. “I need to find Gil. Find the other kids. Last thing we need is a bunch of strung-out junkie teens on our hands.”
“Oh, well, good luck with that,” Geffe said. “They’re long gone by now.”
Elisa wasn’t sure she could handle any more of her conversation with Geffe. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths before opening them again so she could look down at the G with a cool, calm gaze.
“Geffe?” she asked sweetly.
“Yeah, E?” Geffe replied, all innocent donkey.
“What do you mean they are long gone by now?” she asked.
“They’re long gone,” Geffe replied, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know where, so don’t ask me, but they sure ain’t on the sanctuary grounds no more.” He tapped his chest. “Felt them leave about five minutes ago.”
“Felt them leave five minutes ago,” Elisa parroted. “You felt them leave five minutes ago?”
“Yep,” Geffe said, smiling. “Felt them leave five minutes ago. All us Gs know when a ward leaves the sanctuary grounds. It’s like a weight is lifted. Kinda nice. They do it all the time. They come back eventually, usually before nightfall so they ain’t missed at suppertime. Sometimes only one or two come back to cover for the others. They trade off who has to do that job.”
“All you Gs know when a ward leaves the sanctuary grounds,” Elisa said.
Geffe looked over both shoulders then turned his head to stare at her with one eye. “You feeling all right? You want I walk with you to the infirmary so Highlander can check out that flesh gourd on your shoulders? Maybe you fell down and took a hit to your noggin.”
