Never Let Me Fall

by Abbie Roads

  Thomas sent an if-looks-could-kill glare at Malone. He tried to get to his feet but couldn’t get his arms and legs to move into the correct position. He was still too weak. Helen made a sound behind her duct tape and started toward him, but Malone nabbed her arm and kept her at his side. “Stay here.” His voice sounded every kind of cordial and polite, as if Helen weren’t standing with her hands tied behind her back and duct tape on her mouth.

  “Don’t you fucking touch her.” Thomas lurched to his feet by sheer force of will. His legs quavered, and he wasn’t sure he could manage a step forward yet, but at least he was upright.

  With his free hand, Malone reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a plastic baggie—the kind mothers used when packing a sandwich for their kids’ lunch. He tossed the baggie toward Thomas. It landed on the pavement between them. Next, he threw a pair of handcuffs. They clattered against the road.

  “Please swallow what’s in the bag, then put the cuffs on.” Malone’s tone contained a friendly quality, so at odds with what he demanded from Thomas.

  “No.” The word popped out of him before he contemplated the consequences.

  With an almost casual move, Malone flicked his wrist to the side and fired the gun.

  Ppgglll.

  The gunshot was loud and obscene in the quiet of the night. The sound of the shot didn’t echo. Instead, it stretched out like a rubber band, getting thinner and thinner by the second until only silence stood between them.

  Malone jammed his gun into Helen’s side. “I’m sorry. Taking the pills is nonnegotiable.”

  Translation: Take the drugs or she’ll get hurt.

  Thomas’s mind spun through the options. If he charged Malone and the guy shot Helen, wouldn’t he be able to heal her? He’d healed her from the gunshot wound to her chest. He’d healed her waking sleep paralysis. But there was something fundamentally wrong about intentionally placing her in harm’s way. Even if he did follow through on that scenario, Thomas would still have to deal with Malone before he could heal Helen. What if Malone shot him and he wasn’t able to get to her, heal her?

  Fuck. When the options were Helen hurt or Helen unhurt, he had to opt for unharmed.

  Anger and defiance shone in Helen’s eyes. She didn’t want him to take the pills.

  On wobbly legs, he walked forward and retrieved the baggie and the cuffs. His fingers were awkward and thick-feeling as he pried apart the bag’s opening. “I take these pills, and she walks away from this?”

  Helen shook her head violently. She didn’t want him sacrificing himself. But what she didn’t understand was that he wouldn’t want to survive if anything happened to her.

  Malone raised the hand not holding the gun in a swear-on-it gesture. “I promise.”

  Not for a second did Thomas believe the guy, but with a gun aimed at Helen, there weren’t a lot of alternatives. He tossed the four round, white pills in his mouth. Immediately, they went chalky and tasted like ass. As if trying to win an Oscar, he pretended to swallow, while shoving the pills into the back of his cheek. He just needed a spare second to spit them out. But…he could feel them dissolving, filling his mouth with their awful flavor.

  “They’ll help you relax.” Malone’s volume hadn’t changed, but there was something in his tone, something meant to soothe and cajole.

  A heavy sensation started between Thomas’s shoulder blades and traveled up the back of his neck. The fucking pills were already beginning to take effect. How long before he was completely out of it? Maybe only minutes.

  “Take your coat off and lay it on the pavement for her.” Malone gestured with his head to Helen. “We’re going to have to leave her here, and we want her to be warm enough. Don’t we?”

  He kept using the word we as if they were a team—buddies or something. “She won’t freeze, especially with your coat. We’ll even leave your cell phone so she can call for help.”

  Thomas shrugged out of his coat and set it on the pavement. Cold air licked his skin but offered no comfort. He met her eyes, tried to tell her that everything was going to be okay. That she would be okay. And he would be okay. He just needed to get Malone away from her. Despite the guy’s words, Thomas knew the violence contained inside the man. “My phone is in my coat pocket. Call Kent. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Actually, it would be better to call the Prospectus County Sheriff’s Office. They are only twenty minutes away. They’ll get here faster than anyone.” Malone sounded ever so helpful. The fucker. As if this mess wasn’t caused by him. “Here’s the key to the cuffs she’s wearing.” Malone tossed the piece of metal on top of Thomas’s coat. “See, Tommy? We’re going to do everything we can to help her out after we leave. I just need you to put those cuffs on so we can go.”

  A loud whooshing started in his ears. The heaviness in his neck moved down into his body and up into his brain. He’d never felt like this before. It was odd, but not unpleasant.

  What was he supposed to be doing? Thinking was getting hard. Holding on to a thought even harder, as if every thought had to be pulled out of a thick haze. Despite all his intentions, the pills were taking over.

  Malone pointed to the cuffs. Oh yeah.

  Thomas bent down and retrieved them, lost his balance, and stumbled a few steps before regaining his footing.

  The metal cuffs were cold against his skin as he tightened them, the ratcheting sound coming at him as if through a wind tunnel.

  “Tommy, I need you to get in the truck.” Malone’s voice sounded oddly pleasant, almost like a father instructing his son.

  Thomas’s legs started moving, but he watched Helen. She was angry and scared, and he couldn’t remember why. Then their reality came back to him. “Iloveyou. That’sallthatmatters.” His words came out in a slow smear of sound.

  Her eyes softened, and love reflected back at him. It cleared a bit of the fog encasing his mind and body. On the other side of this situation, they were going to be all right.

  And then Malone was in front of her, and Thomas couldn’t see what was happening.

  His head seemed to weigh too much, and he let it fall forward on his shoulders. Time jumped forward a few minutes, and Malone was there, guiding him by the arm toward the truck. A distant part of himself didn’t like what was happening, but he felt powerless to stop it. And he was so damn hot. Despite the cold winter air, sweat dripped off him.

  “You don’t love her. She’s just tail.”

  Thomas heard the words but couldn’t find any meaning to them. He was so tired. Every bit of him too exhausted to move. He just wanted to sleep. He let his eyes fall closed, but then remembered Helen. His eyelids snapped open, and he found himself in the passenger seat of his truck. How’d he get there? Where was Helen? Before he could open his mouth to ask the question, blackness wrapped its arms around him and hugged him to sleep.

  Chapter 16

  Iloveyou. That’sallthatmatters. Tommy’s words were slurred from the pills, but there was no mistaking what he said.

  Who the hell was this woman? Tommy never dated. Never. And suddenly, he’d found someone he claimed to love? No. No way. Not again.

  Reality and the past merged together for Robert, and he saw his Evan saying the same thing to Rosemary—his bitch wife. Back then, it had hurt to have to share Evan’s love. Right now, with the knowledge of hindsight, it made him angry. Angry at not being enough for Evan. And even angrier that Evan had let a woman destroy them.

  Never again. He strode up to the woman, aimed the gun right between her eyes. She didn’t move. Just stood there, staring at him, her eyes flat and challenging. Not full of the fear they should’ve been. His finger itched to pull the trigger, but he wasn’t one to murder frivolously.

  Wielding the gun like a rock, he bashed her on the side of the head. The impact of the blow resonated up his arm. She fell back and to the side, collapsing in a messy heap on
the pavement. He stood over her, daring her to move. She didn’t.

  He glanced back at Tommy, who leaned against the truck. The pills were doing their job, making him passive and pliant.

  He knelt next to the woman, blocking Tommy’s view. He lifted her head in his hands and for the first time really looked at her. She was beautiful in the classic sense of the word. High forehead. Arched brows. Pert nose. Plump lips. Something about her was vaguely familiar, but after so many years of being a public servant, everyone looked familiar.

  It didn’t matter who she was. He would not let another woman annihilate the good thing he was about to create. Anger from decades without Evan galloped through him. He slammed her head against the pavement. The solid thunk of flesh and bone against asphalt sickened and satisfied at the same time. He didn’t intend to kill her. He just wanted to hurt her. Really hurt her.

  He wanted to keep going, wanted to crush her skull and pulverize her brain, but time was not on his side. Every moment out here in the open was one of risk.

  It hadn’t been hard getting the BCI to send Thomas. Robert had known exactly what to say, how to say it, and who to pretend to be when he said it. Then it’d just been a matter of paying a less-than-ethical acquaintance to impersonate Sheriff Ace Tetter.

  He turned toward the truck. Tommy waited for him. Hadn’t tried to escape. Hadn’t tried to help the woman. Part of that might’ve been the drugs, but still he’d waited. And that meant something.

  For the first time since Evan’s death, Robert felt something good. If he had to find a name for the emotion he’d call it…hmm…anticipation. Something amazing was about to happen. He could feel it.

  “Come on, Tommy, time to go.” He opened the truck door and motioned for Tommy to enter. Once he situated himself, Robert reached across and buckled him in like the precious cargo he was.

  Tommy leaned back against the headrest, sighed heavily, and seemed to fall asleep. The drugs had hit him harder and quicker than anticipated. Robert unlocked Tommy’s cuffs. On both wrists, red welts had formed.

  “Aww… You put them on too tight.” Robert rubbed the skin. The crisp hair on Tommy’s wrists tingled against his fingertips. “That should be better.” He lifted both wrists to his mouth and kissed each one lightly.

  He stepped back and shut the truck door, then headed over to the driver’s side. When he climbed in, the wonderful scent of Tommy—a mixture of soap and man that Robert found so damn alluring—hit him. A smile pushed up his cheeks. He was so close to getting his Evan back.

  He shifted the truck in gear and drove around the bodies on the pavement toward their new beginning.

  The night was his coconspirator on this mission. They passed no other cars, and the few houses they passed had no lights on. It was as if the world cooperated with his plan to remake Tommy into Evan.

  Robert looked forward to the process. The pieces of himself that had been missing for so long started filling in.

  After twenty minutes, he pulled into a wooded area near the Scioto River and followed a narrow set of tire tracks to his car. The truck’s headlights splashed across the naked trees, creating a world full of mystery and secrets to be discovered.

  He parked close to the riverbank, out of sight from the road. Leaving the keys in the ignition—if he was lucky, maybe someone would steal the thing—he got out and went to his car.

  The gray sedan was so anonymous, even he couldn’t remember if it was a Toyota or a Honda. Exactly what he wanted. He started the car and turned the heat up to full blast. Didn’t want Tommy to be cold.

  The next phase of his plan was about to begin. They’d drive to the little cabin in the woods where Tommy’s transformation would take place. Anticipation put a skip in his step as he went to help Tommy out of the truck.

  When he opened the truck door, all he could see was Evan. Evan’s face. Evan’s body. Evan’s scent. The only difference was the hair. The hair always shattered the illusion, but he had a solution.

  “Tommy.” He cupped the side of his stepson’s face, luxuriating in the sensation of stubble against his fingertips. “Wake up now.” He spoke softly, soothingly.

  Tommy groaned a sleepy sound. “Aw… Goddamn it. I’msofuckinghot.” Sweat slicked his skin, and he sat there without opening his eyes.

  Robert pressed his palm to Tommy’s forehead. The man was burning up. Was he having an allergic reaction to the pills? Not one Robert had ever heard of. Or was he coming down with the flu? All he knew for certain was a body that hot needed to be cooled. He unbuttoned Tommy’s shirt and slid it off his frame, all the while feeling the intense heat radiating from him.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” He rummaged in his pockets and found a tissue. Tenderly, he wiped the sweat on Tommy’s face and looked at the scar, really looked at it, taking in all the nuances with an odd sort of remorse. He’d done that to Tommy. He’d never felt guilty about it until recently. But there’d be plenty of time to make up for it.

  He grabbed the bottle of water sitting in the console and held it to Tommy’s lips. “Drink for me.”

  Obediently, Tommy drank, then slumped back against the seat. Never once opening his eyes.

  “Feel better now?”

  “No.”

  Well, at least the man was honest. “We need to switch vehicles.” Robert unbuckled him. “Come on.” He tugged at Tommy to get his attention.

  Tommy started to slide out of the truck, lost his footing, and went down hard on his side. He groaned but didn’t try to get up.

  “Careful. We don’t want you to get hurt.” Robert helped hoist him to his feet, then inserted himself under Tommy’s arm and grabbed on to his waist. Tommy weaved and tipped, his balance nonexistent. The pills were doing a real number on him. Add a fever on top of that, and things were bound to get worse before they got better. When the drugs worked out of his system, the hangover was going to be a monster. But by then, the transformation would be complete and Robert would be there to care for him.

  Chapter 17

  Thomas’s eyes were too heavy to open as his mind floated in a vast, open sky. His thoughts were clouds, shifting and changing, never solidifying. He drifted along, vaguely aware of a nagging sensation that there was something important he needed to remember, but he couldn’t seem to find the memory.

  A sharp chemical tang in the air offered only slightly more clarity. He recognized that he sat slouched in a chair, head hanging off the back of it, and his skin was on fire. His insides melting.

  Cold water suddenly doused his head. He startled but relaxed into the soothing coolness. Then the water was gone and hands massaged his scalp, but they were hot, burning against him. He tried to move away, but his body didn’t fully cooperate.

  “No, no, no. Just hold still while I finish rinsing your hair,” a familiar male voice cajoled.

  Thomas couldn’t make sense of the words, but relaxed again as the cold water returned, dousing the heat. But then it stopped.

  “Evan…I need you to help me get you back to the bed.” That voice again. How did he know that voice? And who was Evan?

  Distantly, he felt his arm being lifted, felt someone insert himself underneath. “Okay. Try to stand up.”

  He tried, or at least thought he did as he weebled and wobbled to his feet, each step taking an act of concentration while the person helping him served as a living crutch.

  “Okay. You can sit down now.”

  His body collapsed more than sat. Cool sheets against his hot cheek. Even though he lay on a bed, his body felt weightless, carefree. Exactly how it felt to be around Helen. As if everything that had been wrong had been forgotten. She was beauty and peace and color all rolled into one.

  Helen.

  She was the only solid thought he could find. The image of her on his bed—his mouth between her legs, while her body writhed in pleasure—flitted through his
mind.

  An urgent and desperate longing for her burned through him.

  “Helen?” Her name slipped from his lips in a slurry plea. Blindly, he reached out to her, feeling along the mattress, searching for her body alongside his. “Where are you?”

  Ssmmkk. Pain exploded in his cheek. His head wrenched to the side. White stars flared behind his eyes. He recognized the sensation well—he’d just been slapped.

  “You will not speak that name.” Fury threaded the man’s tone. “You will not think about her. You will forget she ever existed.”

  The man’s words were abhorrent, wrong. “That would be like asking me to forget about my heart. I love—”

  Ssmmkk. A ball of agony flared over his cheek again. A wimpy whine slipped out of him.

  “Every time you mention her name, you will be punished.”

  His brain might not be fully functioning, and he might not be able to get his eyelids to rise, but he understood cause and effect. Say Helen’s name. Get hit.

  An ice-cold cloth was pressed against the sting on his cheek, cooling his face and the never-ending heat burning deep inside him. He leaned into the comfort like an abused dog finding solace when his master decided to stroke his fur. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t him. When he’d been a boy, he’d been quiet and compliant in order to survive. But the moment he’d gotten old enough to fight back against Malone, he’d never backed down.

  Malone. Recognition crashed over him. His insides jerked. That familiar voice was Malone. He was with Malone. And that heat was Malone’s shadow of death.

  Memories jammed into his brain. Helen. Oh God, where was Helen? Was she all right? Was she alive? He sensed her presence in the world, an invisible lifeline connecting him to her. He turned his head to the left—she was in that direction. He could feel her as if her heart were inside his, the two of them beating together.

  His eyelids weighed twenty pounds, but he forced them up to half-mast.

  A black-and-white world greeted him. He shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet he was. Helen had given him color, and it had felt so right, so natural, that his normal vision seemed wrong.