by Darien Cox
A minute passed, then came a reply. ‘JT says this is why we can’t have nice things.’
Laughing, Christian closed it out with, ‘Have a good night. I know I will.’
Time passed slowly, and it dawned on Christian that he and Myles didn’t even have each other’s phone numbers. He had no way of knowing if he was delayed, or what time he’d be back. Feeling a bit weary from the beer he’d had earlier, he decided to take Myles up on his offer of waiting in bed for him.
Stopping in the bathroom, he helped himself to some of Myles’ toothpaste and finger-brushed his teeth. He returned to the bedroom he’d seen on his earlier scout mission. Staring down at the big soft bed, he wondered if it would be okay to get undressed, if that was presuming too much. But shit, Myles had asked him to wait for him in bed. It wasn’t so they could hang out and play checkers.
He stripped off his jeans, shoes and socks, then pulled back the blankets and climbed in. The mattress was comfortable, and the pillows smelled like Myles. He left the light on and the door open, but allowed himself to relax, reminding himself that he’d been invited here. He wasn’t Goldilocks taking a nap in a bear’s cabin. And tonight, he didn’t feel like the Christian who had to hide all his secrets and always be looking over his shoulder. He allowed himself a mental reprieve from that side of his life. On this night, he wanted to be just a man who wanted to make another man his lover. JT had found his little slice of normal with Rudy. Couldn’t Christian have the same for himself?
I can, he told himself as he snuggled in, hugging the pillow. And I will, damn it.
In the stillness, the only sound a softly ticking grandfather clock out in the hallway, Christian drifted off to sleep.
****
“Wake up. Up up.”
Christian slowly and drowsily emerged from his slumber, disoriented. Something had woken him. A voice. Was it in his dream, or was Myles home? Opening his eyes, he was startled to see Myles lying beside him in bed, sound asleep. He probably hadn’t wanted to wake Christian when he got back. Christian wished he had. “Myles?” Myles didn’t stir.
Christian sat up abruptly, sensing something wasn’t quite right. The light was still on in the room. He studied Myles, who lay on his stomach atop the blanket, fully clothed in his uniform still. Even his shoes were on. Eyes closed, he breathed slowly and evenly. “Myles.” Christian shook his shoulder. When he didn’t rouse, Christian shook him harder. “Myles!”
“Chrischris, up up.”
Christian whirled around, falling back onto Myles as he let out a hoarse cry. When he saw Baz standing beside the bed, he rolled over Myles and tumbled to the floor, then scrambled, crab-crawling back across the floor until he hit the wall. Myles remained still on the bed. “Baz! What...what the fuck are you doing here?” he whispered, gut trembling.
Baz was dressed exactly as he’d been three months ago, the first and only time they’d met: canvas pants with hiking boots, Arctic Angel Brewery tee shirt, black beanie pulled down over the top of his long, white, corn-silk-thin hair, and dark wraparound sunglasses. The black beanie and sunglasses accentuated the chalky pallor of his skin, and Christian was struck by his height. Baz had been seated during their last encounter. Standing, his height was jarring. JT had guessed him to be six foot five, but standing in Myles’ bedroom, his head almost reached the ceiling, and Christian guessed he was closer to seven feet.
“Apology. Speak, Chrischris? Come with. Okay?” Baz’s long-fingered white hands fidgeted with the bottom of his tee shirt, a nervous, human gesture. But he wasn’t human, not fully, and Christian couldn’t control his shock and terror, despite Baz’s gentle demeanor the last time they’d met.
Remembering Myles suddenly, Christian leapt to his feet. “What did you do to him?” He moved to the bed and stared down at Myles. “Myles.” He shook him hard, but Myles didn’t stir. “Myles!”
“No harm,” Baz said. “No harm, Chrischris. Sex man sleep.”
Swallowing hard, Christian looked up at Baz, noting the small cleft at the end of his nose, the long chin. The big sunglasses made his face appear bug-like, the clothes hanging off his tall, thin body. “Why won’t he wake up? What did you do to him? Did you drug him?”
“No drug.” Baz pointed to his own temple. “Abilities. No harm. Just make sleep.”
“Well, is he gonna fucking wake up?”
“Speak with Baz. Then man wake. Come?”
Christian looked down at Myles. “Where?”
“Out. Out door to speak?”
Christian reached over and folded his side of the blanket over Myles, covering his body, then looked up at Baz. “I don’t like this,” he said, and his voice quivered. “I don’t want to leave him like this. Why can’t we speak right here?”
Baz pointed at Myles. “Private. Speak private. Chrischris, Baz.”
“But he’s out. Whatever Sand Man thing you did to him. He won’t wake up.”
Baz shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Better safe than sunny.”
Christian’s shoulders relaxed a bit, and he smirked at the hybrid. “Sorry. Better safe than sorry.”
“Okay.” Baz smiled. “Come, yes? Important.”
With a final, wistful glanced at Myles’ sleeping form, Christian slowly rounded the bed. “It better be.”
“Follow,” Baz said. He turned away, ducking his head low to move through the doorway.
Christian tugged on his jeans, pulled on his tee shirt and stepped into his shoes. He made sure he had his phone. He didn’t exactly mistrust Baz, but hey, better safe than sunny.
Then he left the bedroom, finding Baz by the open front door, waiting. “Come.” He stepped outside.
Taking a deep breath, Christian followed, but paused when he stepped out onto Myles’ front porch. The air was thick with white mist. “Baz!” he whispered.
Baz appeared in front of him.
Christian looked up at him. “Why is it like this?” He looked around. “This mist.”
“No harm,” Baz said. “Just shelled.”
“You’ve shielded us?”
“Better safe than...sorry.”
Christian hesitated.
Baz slowly lifted his arm, holding his hand out. “No harm. Touch? Lead Chrischris.”
Closing the door behind him, Christian stared at Baz’s outstretched hand, those long fingers, the delicate bones of his wrist. Come on, Christian. You can handle this. Finally, he stepped forward and took Baz’s hand. He’d expected that moonlight-colored skin to be cool to the touch, but it was fever-hot, and very soft.
“Come.”
Baz led Christian down the stairs, then they began walking, the thin white mist shrouding them. Night creatures hooted and crickets chirped, and Christian smelled pine trees. The sound of old leaves and twigs crunching beneath his shoes told him he was likely moving through a copse of trees, entering the woods that edged Myles’ property. They walked for a time, and Christian’s hand began to sweat where it held Baz’s. He wondered if the hybrid noticed, and was grossed out by it. Baz’s soft hand remained hot and dry.
Baz finally stopped walking, and Christian stumbled and fell into him. When Baz’s long arm wrapped around his waist to catch him, Christian jerked violently away from him, taking several steps backward. The mist cleared in the small circle of trees where they stood, but it still surrounded them on all sides. Baz turned and faced Christian, slowly raising his hands. “Apology.”
Christian wasn’t sure why he’d jerked away from Baz like that. He was a jumble of nerves, the move almost instinctual. Baz hadn’t given any indication that he was a danger. But Christian’s deepest senses could feel Baz’s otherness, could see it in the unusual, alien features, and knew what the eyes beneath the sunglasses looked like.
And he was suddenly deeply ashamed. He’d been cocky enough to get the double-iris tattooed on his flesh, claiming a connection to the Whites, when he was young and reverent and thought he knew it all. But now he stood trembling, having recoiled from the creatur
e, a creature who was part human, and who had shown only gentleness. “No need to apologize,” Christian said. “I’m just a little confused and jumpy.”
Still with his hands raised, Baz lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged. He rested his arms on his thighs, shoulders hunching, like he was trying to make himself appear smaller. “Apology. Frighten Chrischris. Apology.”
To make up for his faux pas, Christian stepped closer, and lowered himself to the ground as well, mirroring Baz’s position with his legs crossed.
“House still there.” Baz pointed in the direction they’d come. “Sex man safe.”
Christian chuckled. “His name is Myles. Not Sex Man.”
Baz’s head tilted. “Love?”
“Ah...” Christian smiled, shaking his head. “We’re not there yet. Not really out of the gate yet.”
It was unnerving not being able to see Baz’s eyes with the sunglasses, but the hybrid appeared to be frowning. “Out gate?”
“It’s an expression. It means we’ve only just started to...we’re still getting to know each other. We’re not...ah...”
“Not Rudy, Shaytee. Love.”
Grinning, Christian rolled his eyes. “Not like Rudy and JT, exactly.”
Baz seemed to nod, but it was more a head-bob. “Not love. Not to sex, to laugh, to argue. To sex to talk. Repeat.”
A laugh barked out of Christian. “That’s what you think love is? At least human love?”
Baz smiled, showing even white teeth. “Apology. Words wrong?”
“Actually...that was a pretty accurate assessment of the average romantic relationship. Um...you haven’t been spying on JT and Rudy again, have you?”
Baz’s body curled in on itself, head bowing.
“Baz? You can’t keep doing that. It’s an invasion of privacy. I mean, if you don’t have a good reason. An important reason. You shouldn’t watch people without their knowledge.”
Straightening slightly, Baz said, “Apology. Stop. No more. Watch.”
“Hey wait a minute,” Christian said. “Rudy and JT argue?” He grinned. “What do they argue about?”
Baz was silent for a moment, then he smiled and wagged his finger back and forth. “Chrischris. Privacy.”
“Oh don’t you wag your finger at me. You’ve been using Rudy and JT as your own personal reality show!”
“Ah ah ah! Apology. No more.”
“Fair enough. What do we need to speak about? The craft that crashed into the lake?”
“Important. Urgent to tell. To speak. They, to Baz, convince.”
“Okay...the Whites actually asked you to do this? Talk to me?”
“You, Shaytee, or. No Nolan. No Ellytot. Too...hot? Volatile. Meeshelle...far away.”
Christian nodded. “Nolan and Elliot are a little volatile. And your language skills have improved since we last spoke.”
Baz smiled. “Practice.”
“It’s working. So why’d you choose me over JT?”
Baz’s shoulders hunched. “Shaytee...sexing.”
“Oh.” Christian chuckled. “Figures. Those two fuck like bunnies.”
“Ah ah ah! Yes. Okay.”
“So I wasn’t your first choice. JT was.”
“They. Apology. They.”
“I’m not offended. JT has a level head. But I’m here. And I’m listening.”
“Good. Okay. Vehicle?” He made a spade of his hand and raised his arm high, then slowly brought it down. Making a fist, he punched the ground. “Fall. Splash.”
Christian took a deep breath. “Yeah. It sure did. You left JT a message? On the slate. ‘Not They’ you said?”
“Okay. Yes. Not They.”
“So it’s true. The craft at my marina doesn’t belong to the Whites.”
“Nooooo.”
Christian smiled at the way Baz dragged out the word. He was definitely picking up human inflections. “So that’s a big no. You probably know what I’m going to ask next.”
“Not...not They.”
“Then who?”
Baz picked up a twig, and Christian thought he was going to draw something in the dirt, as he had during their last encounter months ago. But Baz simply turned it over in his hands. He’s fidgeting. The facial expressions Christian could discern showed something like sadness, his pale pink lips tightening like he was holding back some emotion.
“Are you nervous about this for some reason? Telling me where the craft came from? Does this make you upset?”
“Okay. Baz not so happy. They. To you. To destroy.”
Christian flinched, his blood running cold. “The Whites want to destroy the craft?”
“No. To you. To Shaytee. To destroy.”
“They want us to destroy the craft?”
“Okay.”
“No! Not okay. Not okay at all, Baz!”
Baz’s shoulders hunched. “Necessary. To stop harm.”
“What harm? And why can’t they do it their damn selves?”
“Oh.” Baz twisted the edge of his tee shirt with his fingers. “Complicated. Difficult to...talk the complicated. What you say? Big story?”
“Long story. Okay, I can understand it’s probably complicated. But you can’t ask us to destroy that thing without an explanation. A good explanation, preferably one that Ogden will understand.”
“No, Hoggin.” Baz sat up straighter. “Hoggin no. To tell.”
“You don’t want us to tell Ogden? Baz, come on. He’s our boss. He’s...this is his show. There’s no way we can keep this from him. Do you understand that? When it comes to matters like this, Ogden has all the authority. We have to do what he says.”
A breath whistled out of Baz, and he snapped the twig in half.
“What? What’s the matter?”
“We...I...Baz go unhappy when They get the know. They tell to Baz that Shaytee, Chrischris say this. To tell Hoggin. Loyalty.”
Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Christian smirked, amused. “In other words, the Whites told you I’d say that. And you hate it when they’re right.”
Baz smiled, his head bobbing. “Hate it when they’re right.”
“Okay. Tell me why the Whites haven’t collected the craft themselves? We all find that unusual. Me especially, now knowing they want it destroyed.”
Baz let out a soft growl. “Oh. Complicated. The words. The speak to Chrischris words.”
“The Whites trust you to be their ambassador when it comes to us. I trust you, Baz. You can explain this to me. I know you can.”
Baz’s long neck stretched, back straightening. He looked almost proud. “Okay. Try. Baz to try.”
“Good. Take your time.”
A minute passed in silence. Christian didn’t intervene. Baz seemed to be thinking it over. Finally, he made a spade of his hand and repeated the motion he’d done before, sailing it to the ground, punching his fist on the dirt. “Accident. Yes? Other...not They. Speak to say accident. Accident?”
“Yes, that’s the right word. The crash was an accident. You’re telling me someone else...these others. They communicated to the Whites that their craft crashing into the lake was an accident.”
“Okay. Yes. They...Whites not to trust. Others.”
“They think the others did it on purpose?”
“Okay.”
“Why would these others do that? Who are they?”
Baz fiddled with a piece of the twig he’d broken. “Angry.”
“Who? The others?”
“Yes. Okay. Others...angry. Not happy. Angry...nasty? Angry nasties. Not nice.”
Christian swallowed hard. “Baz. This is important, so please tell me. These angry nasties...are there...” He let out a breath. “Is there something inside the craft at my marina? Is there someone inside?”
Baz rocked back and forth. Christian had seen him do this the last time they met, and it seemed to indicate he was getting agitated, emotional. Slowly, he lifted two fingers.
Christian’s mouth fell open. “
Seriously?”
Baz lowered his hand.
“There are two...others inside the craft?”
“Two.”
“Fuck!” Christian’s hands went to his head, rubbing his scalp. “I need to tell Ogden.”
“Stop wait,” Baz said. “Chrischris, sealed.” He clapped his hands together. “They. Seal vehicle.”
Christian’s hands dropped to his lap. His heart was beating too fast. “They can’t get out?”
“Signal. Whites signal seal when vehicle come. Can’t get out. Enter...circle? No.” Baz did that odd headshake, then let out a soft, frustrated growl. “Circum...circumference. The space?” He held his arms up. “Around. Mountains. Village. Base. Whites.”
“Perimeter?”
Baz pointed at Christian. “Yes. Okay. Perimeter. Others...to not. To stay out. To cross? To enter...perimeter. They.” He clapped his hands. “Sealed.”
Christian nodded. “Okay. The craft entered the Whites’ airspace. Invaded their perimeter when it crashed in the lake, in Singing Bear Village. So the Whites...sealed it shut?”
“Good, Chrischris. Yes. Okay. Others. Any. All. Others to cross perimeter. Get sealed. Protection.”
“Are the things in the craft...are they still alive?”
“Maybe yes. Maybe no. Sealed? Not...antipay? Anticipay? Not...”
“Anticipate. The others didn’t expect to get sealed in.”
“Yes. Maybe alive. Maybe no more alive.”
“And they’ve yet to be unsealed. So for some reason the Whites don’t want them getting out.”
“Okay.”
“Why haven’t the Whites collected the craft? You said they’d been in contact with whoever it belonged to. That they were told this was an accident but don’t believe them.”
“Yes. Don’t trust.”
“Then tell me. Why haven’t they just come and grabbed it from us? I know they can do that. I’ve seen what they can do.”
Baz held up a finger. “They. What They can do? All. To use, to...fuck!” He shook his head. “Fuck words.”
Grinning, Christian said, “It’s okay. I’m pushing you. Take your time.” He laughed. “I kind of like that you said fuck though.”
