The Heart of It All (HeartSick Series Book 1)

by Weston Mitchel

  Austin would have probably done it for free, a chance to see behind the veil, plus the added bonus of getting the hell out of his Brian-full apartment. When she threw the five hundred on top it felt eerily similar to when Izzy begged him to come up there that night after the roller derby double date. Considering he was now what some would call cash poor after his make shift bank was burgled, he agreed quickly.

  “I’ll be there in twenty.”

  “I’ll be waiting, Mr. Kyle.”

  Austin hung up, and jammed the phone into his pocket. He wanted to climb through his bedroom window and take the 2 story plunge into the mulberry bush outside of his downstairs neighbor’s window. Anything to get out of going back in there and doing what he knew he had to.

  Once it became clear you couldn’t trust someone, the mind would begin doubting that person’s every word and action that followed, ad infinitum.

  Austin stopped thinking about it, if he hadn’t he would still be there now debating his next action. He opened the door leading out to the short hallway into the living room. All the anger that had been boiling inside him had vanished and was replaced by a calm storm. His eyes stayed locked on the doorknob as he walked across the room, feeling Brian’s gaze on him the entire way. Austin mentioned something about needing or having to go somewhere as he got close, Austin wasn’t exactly sure what or why even.

  For a second Austin thought he might leave without saying another word about anything to Brian. His mind changed as he heard and felt the brass balls clank in his boxers.

  ***

  It took Austin Kyle three minutes longer than what he told the Doctor it would to get to the Foundation. Walking up to the Blood Center it looked like he was going to be shit out of luck. Only the sign on the side of the building and the front vestibule were lit up. All of the windows were dark, and he couldn’t see much past behind the lit area through the glass doors.

  Great… this should add nicely to my collection of shitty moments from the past couple days.

  Dr. Greer must have been watching for him though, as soon as his nose hit the glass to peer in she came gliding out of the shadows all smiles with keys in hand. Austin gave a quick awkward smile before turning his eyes to the ground, as he waited for her to unlock the door. His hands were in his pockets and he let out a rush of warm air that left his lungs in a white cloud drifting off into the crisp air. As he watched the cloud dissipate, he lifted his feet off the ground alternately in a mock jog in place to give her the hint he was cold, even though he really wasn’t all that cold.

  “Mr. Kyle,” she said as soon as the door cracked open, “come in before you catch a cold.” Dr. Greer tried and failed at keeping a giggle from escaping her lips. Austin didn’t catch the humor.

  “Thanks,” Austin said.

  They walked through the corridor without uttering another word until they were in the lab.

  “This way,” Dr. Greer said ushering him to her office.

  Austin sat in the chair directly in front of the disorganized desk of disarray. He waited for her to sit behind it in her chair before giving out a questioning “Sooooo?”

  Catherine Greer, upon sitting down pulled out the top drawer on the right hand side of the desk, dipped her hand in and coming back out with a manila folder tossing it on the desk between them.

  “Here, take these home with you. Fill them out when you can and just get them back to me whenever. There, the business part is over,” she said standing back up urging Austin to follow with a wheeling motion of her hand.

  Austin didn’t even open the folder to peruse the contents before propping himself back up. She had banked on this, if he had peered at the papers he would see about ten copies of the same paper he filled out that first day, just something to give the file heft. Austin was now tagging along right behind her, with folder cradled like a flat football in his arms.

  “Now this is where the magic happens,” Catherine said like every single rock star and rapper on MTV Cribs showing off their bedroom. Instead of a luxurious bedroom on display however it was, at first glance, a well put together medical lab. Once Austin looked closer at things he could see that the K Prize wasn’t as cutting edge or well off as he previously thought.

  He could see layers of dust and stray hairs atop almost every piece of equipment and little flecks of shining glitter in different spots around the room. If Austin didn’t know any better he would think that these were tiny pieces and fragments of broken glass left over from a shoddy cleanup job, surely not though.

  Austin didn’t dare let on to the doc that he was seeing anything out of the ordinary for fear of insulting the woman that was paying him damn good money for what basically boiled down to a few minutes every 6 weeks or so.

  “And back there is the clean room, but we can check that out here in a minute, I want to show you something else first. This is cool.”

  So at least there is one clean place around here.

  “Cool,” Austin blanched at himself echoing the same word right after her, but continued, “show me whatcha got.”

  “Ok, sit right here,” Dr. Greer said grabbing him by the sides, a shoulder in each hand guiding him, backing him up until he fell backwards into what he thought of as the squeezey chair. It was the pillowy recliner he sat in squeezing a rubber asteroid as his blood drained from his arm.

  Dr. Greer continued talking as she gathered some necessary equipment “So, I thought that instead of just telling you what we found, I would simply show you.”

  “But isn’t it, I don’t know, unhealthy to give blood again so soon? I mean isn’t that why we have to wait so long between, fifty something days right?” Austin asked unsure of what was about to happen.

  “Yes it is, if we were pulling another pint out that is. Which we’re not.”

  Dr. Greer slid on a pair of white latex gloves with a puff of white talcum powder spilling out as she snapped it at the wrist. “For what I’m about to show you we only need a little tiny bit. Remember when we did the type test? Like that.”

  She rolled herself on the stool that she just pulled underneath her a bit closer to Austin, getting in the ready position to draw blood.

  “I’ll draw a little bit of blood out first, put a drop or two on a slide under a microscope in there,” she said as she yanked her head in the direction of the clean room, “and you can watch it do it’s thing. Trust me, you’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Okay… cool.”

  Really? Again?

  Austin wasn’t afraid of needles, but that still didn’t mean he could ever get used to the sight of watching one penetrate his skin. Just as the Doctor had banked on the fact that Austin wouldn’t look in the folder at boring paperwork, she also counted on him turning his head away as she slid the needle into a vein.

  Austin did just that before the Doctor even brought the vaccutainer up above the armrest into Austin’s peripheral, making it easier than expected to switch it out with the syringe she had prepared earlier, before she placed the call setting tonight’s events in motion.

  Knowing full well what Austin’s blood was capable of, or an idea of it anyway, Catherine didn’t bother swabbing the puncture site with alcohol before easing the needle deep into his medial cubital vein.

  Don’t think you need to worry about any infections there Mr. Kyle, she thought letting this giggle free without an attempt of hiding it.

  “Whoa,” Austin said bringing his focus back to the procedure, “that feels different than las-” was all he was able to get out before the room swooned and his head became too heavy to hold up.

  “Everything is okay Mr. Kyle, peachy in fact. Just breathe, everything is fine,” Dr. Greer spoke as if she were giving a three year old a vaccine, not trying to upset the already crying toddler even more.

  Austin’s head lolled on his chest, making it look to Dr. Greer as if he had three chins and she let out another laugh. This time a heartier version of the two before.

  She wasn’t sure if she was l
aughing because this shit was funny or if her brain was using laughter as a safety valve. Relieving pressure a little bit here, a little bit there in somewhat strange ways before a gasket blew causing a meltdown from all the stress she was heaping on herself.

  “Wha… za… fah…” Austin dribbled out in a low, soft murmur, but to his mind he had been yelling it full out, ripping his vocal chords if he could have.

  “Shhhhhhhh, no need for such vulgarity, Mr. Kyle. We will need to learn to work together, you and I, if we are ever going to make it as a team.”

  Dr. Catherine Greer got up from the stool and walked across the room. Austin’s vision was foggy, each light shooting beams of a glossy opaqueness in every direction at one time. Some he could see through, some almost solid, bouncing off any object that had any shine to it whatsoever. The combined brightness becoming too much to keep his eyes open any longer.

  “Door to door service, Mr. Kyle,” Dr. Greer said this and then began a deranged all out laugh, holding nothing back now. Austin could have sworn he saw what looked like her silhouette pushing the outline of a wheelchair up to him before the bright swirling room overtook him and caused him to give up and pass out.

  No-Tell Motel

  Brian had been afraid this would happen ever since he let Ashley talk him into what basically boiled down to spying for that crazy ass mom of hers. He hadn’t been scared of getting kicked out of the apartment, Brian was used to that. He had been worried that Austin would find out, screwing up the only real friendship he ever truly held.

  Part of him wanted to just say screw it, he screwed it up just like he screws everything up.

  So fuckin what, move on.

  Find another place and another schmuck to take him in like usual. The bigger part of him, the more grown up and mature part that let him keep a relationship with Ashley still going, even if it was as rocky as a boat in the middle of a hurricane. This part of him knew he needed to make amends. If the friendship couldn’t be spared so be it, he would have to live with that, but Austin deserved more than just another disappearing act.

  He would have to work on his amends later though, now he focused on doing what Austin asked, getting his shit and getting out. Brian knew his friend would need his space, which probably twisted the knife of his betrayal a bit more, he was sure.

  After what happened with Mia, Austin needed a friend more than ever and all I did was let him down.

  What made Brian feel even worse about this situation was that everything he owned, or at least the stuff he cared to take with him, could fit in a small carry-on size bag. If it weren’t for his textbooks he would have only needed his backpack.

  He was used to traveling light while he was couch surfing, even more especially when he was on the streets. However, he had been living in the same place now with Austin for almost three months, a streak he was not likely to break anytime soon.

  Brian left his key on the kitchen countertop bar that looked out into the living room and let out a sorrowful sigh at himself. He was just about to open the door before he remembered one last thing. He went to the far corner of the living room, between the futon and wall was the floor lamp, he knelt by the base of this lamp and tilted it to one side.

  This lamp had a big box-like base for what looked like a box kite of a lamp, about six feet tall with a square, wrinkled paper shade down the length of it. The veneered wooden base was hollow. So when he tilted the lamp at a 45 degree angle the thing he had almost left behind was staring back up at him.

  The Smith and Wesson M&P 9mm pistol was right where he left it. Brian had always looked a lot older than his actual age, so at 16 when he went into a rundown pawnshop few questions were asked that weren’t involved with cash and how much. Brian figured even if the shop owner knew his age he still would have sold it to him, might have just been a bit more expensive is all.

  He had gotten used to sleeping with the pistol under his pillow the last couple of years but he couldn’t very well do that when his bed was the futon in the middle of his friend’s living room. He also didn’t like the idea of hiding it anywhere too far out of reach either.

  Underneath the base of the lamp was a perfect spot. The gun fit snuggly under it and was within a stretched out arm’s reach from the futon, if you always slept with your head on the same side, towards the corner not the door, which Brian always did.

  Brian picked it up, blew off a few dust balls and stood back up with a helping push off the futon with his elbow. He then unzipped his bag, took out a shirt that had been balled up and stuffed in. Brian wrapped the t-shirt around the pistol and shoved it back into the bag.

  Brian looked around one more time to see if there was anything else he was forgetting, and of course now there wasn’t. He opened the door, twisted the small almost insignificant lock on the door knob and shut it behind him, not exactly sure yet of just where he was going.

  ***

  Before Brian met Austin and they became quick friends, Brian was used to not knowing where he would be sleeping for the night. What he wasn’t used to was trying to figure out his sleeping situation with a wad of cash in his wallet and two more in his bags, one in each.

  After meeting with Dr. Greer, once he dropped off Austin at the apartment when they got into town earlier, he presently had twice as much money on him than he had ever seen in the past. So finding a place to take shelter until he could figure out his next step with Austin wasn’t a problem.

  Hell I could stay at the Four Seasons if I wanted to… for a week maybe.

  He knew if he did that however he’d broke and homeless by the 8th day.

  He had barely spent any of what he earned from the Doctor. It was tainted money and Brian could feel it burning in his back pocket. Not like money usually burned a hole in a pocket from itching to be spent. This was more of a thermal heat that was caused by knowing what he did to obtain it. Always aware of it’s presence.

  He used it for bills and for whatever Austin wanted or needed on the trip back home. He figured it was quite literally the least he could do. It didn’t have any effect on the cash though as it left his hands to the cashier as he paid for cash or snacks. The money seemingly leaving green stains on Brian’s fingertips and thumbs as evidence of his betrayal.

  Brian guessed he had grown soft during his stay with Austin, because he couldn’t bring himself to stay on the street, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to relish in his treasonous income at a luxury hotel, or a mid-lister motel for that matter.

  So after paying 30 bucks cash to the front desk clerk he was now throwing his stuff down on the bed of one of the more seedier establishments he ever had the pleasure of staying in. Brian wasn’t a chain-smoker, close though, and even he was thrown off by the dank, smoky aroma that seeped out of every pore in the room.

  He dumped the contents of both bags onto the bed not trying to count the holes burned into the comforter or the rather suspect stains as he did so. Seeing this he was almost thankful for the lack of sleep his brain was wreaking on him the last few weeks as the what he had been doing weighed heavier on his mind.

  Changing his focus from the quilt of queasiness to the balled up shirt that was covering his gun, Brian unwrapped it, and held the 9mm in his hand. The rough texture of the polymer grip not letting it slip out his cold, stiff fingers. He depressed a small button just behind the trigger guard with his thumb, letting the clip fall out into his other hand. The brass shining through a tiny hole just above the number 5.

  Still 5.

  Brian never actually shot the pistol before, neither for target practice nor for protection, thank god. It had come close one night in July. An unbearably sweltering, sweaty night. Seemed like every one he bumped in to that night was in a shitty mood, the heat making people a little on edge. He was laying on the concrete using his backpack as a pillow with the gun snugly tucked underneath.

  The first few times he slept on the street he sprang up like a cat at each scurrying sound that echoed off the buildings and dumpsters i
n whichever alley he was staying in. He had been an old pro at it now though for two years. Or so he thought. If he had been a pro he would have known the sound he heard that night coming towards him wasn’t vermin, not the small furry type anyhow.

  During the summer months when school was out, as long as you stayed away from 6th street you didn’t have to worry about drunk college kids trying to mess with you. Brian was an intimidating figure while standing up, if not from his stature then by his no nonsense glare that warns of a lurking storm behind his eyes that you don’t want to unleash. Asleep and snoring on the concrete doesn’t cut as quite as an imposing figure.

  So on that night last July when the three high school teenagers, who were out looking to cause some trouble after getting kicked out from several bars for being underage, came across Brian, they thought they had their mark.

  Being kicked awake is just as unpleasant as it sounds. The pain shooting through his stomach curled him into a ball on his side before he knew what was going on. The smallish kid tried kicking him in the face but Brian’s senses came back quick and was able to grab the foot and twist it away, causing the punter to fall back.

  Brian didn’t have time to grab his gun, and wasn’t sure he should just yet anyway, before he had to block a bat from hitting his ribs. His forearm took the brunt of this hit hurting like hell, but giving him time to stand up while the swinger cocked the bat again. The third kid was waiting for this, and laid a square, ham knuckled fist into Brian’s jaw before he was fully stood. Brian toppled back over on the ground, his face landing right on top of his backpack.

  The small one, who had been tripped with a twisted foot, was back now kicking Brian in the ass, laughing as he did so, while the other two just watched laughing, egging him on. Brian took this chance to grab the gun from underneath his bag and chin, and came twirling around with it out stretched pointing it not at the kicker but at the one with the bat who was liable to do the most damage.