The Long Fall of Night: The Long Fall of Night Book 1 (41 page)

“Yeah, especially if you don’t want her sinking her teeth any further into him.” For being Cami’s friend, she was kind of brutal about her.

“Okay. I’m gonna need a couple more beers, though.”

“I’ll get them,” she said generously, then pulled him into the cavern.

His eyes tracked straight to Donnie, who had Cami on his lap, leaning back on his shoulder with half-glazed her eyes. Good, they were still there. If they’d been missing, Chris would have stolen the golf cart and returned to the barracks, not giving a damn if he stranded seven other people. Hey, there was only so far being a good person went. He already served his country. What more did they expect, his dignity, too?

LeAnne plopped two more cold cans into his hands, and when she sat beside him again, it was at a greater distance but not so far away she couldn’t lean over and whisper encouragement in his ear.

“Why do you care so much?” he rasped. A couple of the others giggled at him, so he figured he wasn’t actually as quiet as he tried to be.

“I like an underdog.”

Buoyed by LeAnne’s backing, Chris flirted, touched, and otherwise made himself known to Donnie as much as he would have a girl, without coming out with the words themselves, and as the night wore on, Cami got more hostile, and Donnie got more confused.

“What are you doing?” he leaned over and whispered at one point when Cami had excused herself to go outside for bladder relief with LeAnne and the other girl. “You’re totally blocking me here. Worst wingman ever.”

Chris took advantage of Donnie’s closeness to breathe hotly in his ear. “I’m about ready to go, but I’m not leaving without you.”

“Are you that drunk? What happened with Cami’s friend?”

Chris waved dismissively. “Not interested, and now, neither is she.” It was true. LeAnne had moved from Chris’s side to flirt with Bruce, the quietest of the other guys. From the look on Bruce’s face, he was stunned to have potentially pulled for the night. Especially up against two soldiers in uniform.

“Chris, you’re fucking up my mojo here. What’s wrong with you?”

It was now or never.

“I have something to tell you, and I’m a little freaked out. Well, that’s not true. A lot freaked out.”

“Is this the thing?”

“Huh?” Chris asked, his inebriated brain trying to connect Donnie’s dots. The thought had him imagining licking from one of Donnie’s nipples to the other, and down to his belly button.
Now
his dick got happy and perky.

“Whatever it is you’ve been keeping quiet?” Donnie’s face was intent, and sudden clarity washed over Chris. This was his guaranteed ticket to get Donnie to go back with him. Donnie wouldn’t leave him hanging over some tail he’d known for a day—even if he was guaranteed to get laid—if Chris spilled his guts.

“Yes. But I’m not comfortable telling you here. Let’s get them to take us back.”

Donnie studied him for a long moment, finally slumping his shoulders in defeat at the realization there would be no repeat with Cami, at least not that night.

“Your timing fucking sucks, dude.”

Chris raised his empty can and rattled it, the drops inside giving a tinny shimmy. “Liquid courage.” He stood unsteadily and offered Donnie a hand up as well. It wasn’t pretense when he lost his balance and had to lean on the man to keep from falling.

“Gentlemen,” Chris addressed the remainder of the group as though he were a king pontificating to his loyal subjects. “If you would be so kind as to return us to our quarters, we’d be pleased. Such gratitude for the beer given its recent rarity has made me partake more than I should, I daresay, and I must retire. Tomorrow will suck bad enough without me getting puking drunk.”

Maybe tomorrow will suck in a good way,
he thought hopefully.

“We probably should be getting back,” Bruce agreed. “It’s almost three in the morning.”

Those who weren’t quite as tipsy as Chris darted around the cave to pick up discarded cans and put them in a plastic bag to be strapped to the golf cart. Taking the lantern with them, they filed out, the three guys in front, and Chris and Donnie following. Frankly, the caves and tunnels were romantic if you were with the right person in them, Chris thought.

They encountered the girls on the way out, and it was Cami’s whine that grated most. “Sure you don’t want to stay?” she needled Donnie, taking his arm. She leaned up to whisper in his ear, but her state of drunkenness didn’t make her subtle either, and Chris heard her. “I’ll make it worth your while.” Her fingers skated toward Donnie’s pants button, but he grabbed her hand.

“You’re a sweetheart,” he said. “But we gotta get back. Chris is right, we’ve got an early morning, and we both kind of overdid it since the beer was so good.”

She glared at Chris, and he was so beyond caring he nearly flipped her off. He would have if he could have figured out how to work his fingers. Hopefully the ride back to camp would sober him up a bit.

The same riding configuration as the journey to the cave took them back down, but this time, LeAnne on his lap was nice. She was warm and the temperature had really dropped. He leaned his head on Donnie’s shoulder and dozed for the ten minutes it took them to return to the shed. They exchanged pleasantries with the group, and LeAnne gave Chris a kiss on the cheek while Cami tried to shove her tongue down Donnie’s throat and lick his liver.

“I hope it goes well,” LeAnne whispered, then called to her friend. “Oh my god, roll your tongue back in, Cam. They have to go.” It earned her a dirty look, but behind the girl’s back, LeAnne gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up, making him chuckle.

They turned toward their barracks and suddenly, Chris was a riot of nerves. Sure, the ride had sobered him enough, but it also robbed him of his alcoholic edge. Reality loomed, and he’d well and truly backed himself into a corner. He couldn’t back out, and Donnie would know if he lied. He always did. It was now or never.

“Okay, I don’t know how to say this, but seeing how you’re glaring at me and probably thinking I fucked up your night with what’s-her-face, I just have to do it.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve been weird the last couple weeks because I’ve been thinking about you.”

Donnie took his time answering that, and Chris’s heart beat a tattoo in his throat. “I don’t think I follow. Why is thinking about me enough to make you push me away and then cock-block the hell out of me?”

“Maybe thinking isn’t the right word. Let’s try fantasizing instead.”

It took several beer-laden seconds, but Donnie’s eyes got wide and his head whipped around. He stopped in his tracks in the grassy field, the camp lights swaying as a breeze picked up.

“You’re fantasizing about me? How?”

Chris shrugged and laughed nervously. “You want explicit details?

“I mean, how—? You’re straight.”

Scuffing his toe and ducking his head, Chris broke the look between them. “Apparently I bend. I didn’t even know that was possible, but now that you’re in my head that way, I can’t get you out of it and back to the best friend box. It’s been driving me nuts.”

Donnie looked affronted. “Clearly. You
tried
to kick my ass.”

“You called me a coward. It’s a good thing I want to fuck you, or I’d have leveled you.”

Donnie coughed. “How drunk are you?”

“Pretty fucked up,” Chris admitted.

“Gonna remember this tomorrow? I don’t think now’s the best time to discuss it.”

“Yeah, I’ll remember. You?”

“Think so.” Donnie frowned. “If I don’t, you get the pleasure of telling me again.”

“Gee, thanks,” Chris deadpanned.

They’d resumed their steps and had reached the shelter containing their racks, the interior dark as men and women slept inside. Chris waited for Donnie’s reaction one way or another, and it was killing him not knowing what his friend was thinking. Was he cool with it? Pissed off? About to take Chris’s head off? Maybe he was fine with the… Chris supposed bisexuality was the word, but perhaps Donnie as the object of Chris’s fantasies upset him. How was he supposed to sit back and wait for Donnie to detonate their friendship? Or what if there was no explosion, and Donnie just never spoke to him again? That would be worse.

As Donnie reached for the door, Chris grabbed him and pulled him into the shadows. His insides quaked with determination and fear as he looped his arms around Donnie’s neck, cursing their half a foot height difference. Before he could consider the wisdom of it, he locked his lips over Donnie’s and gave him the kiss of his life, throwing the last weeks’ pent-up desire and frustration into it to fuel the passion. Donnie returned the kiss after momentary surprise, and the warm feel of his hands on Chris’s hips was the anchor Chris needed since he was so far out on a limb, he was terrified. Did Donnie kissing back mean he was interested, too?

God, if he would just use his words.

When they broke apart, breathing heavily and staring at each other, each waited for the other to react. Donnie broke first, but only by turning around and going in, leaving Chris staring stupidly after him. Following his friend into the dark, he didn’t dare demand to know what Donnie was thinking and risk waking those around them. But he kept trying to meet Donnie’s eyes and use hand signals to ask what was going on in Donnie’s head. To his dismay, Donnie quickly shed his boots and pants, slipped beneath his rack’s covers, and showed his back to Chris, closing the subject.

What do you expect? That was his first time kissing a guy, too. He could be just as freaked as you’ve been.
As Chris lay down and closed his eyes, the thought was cold comfort.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. What have I done?

T
he cradle rocks above an abyss
, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.

—Vladimir Nabokov

T
HEY’D
DARED NOT STAY at the abandoned hospital more than one night, though resting until late the next afternoon helped. Jason’s pain was manageable due to more stolen narcotics. The argument over whether or not to attempt breaking into the pharmacy’s controlled substances safe had been made moot by Tim putting a bullet in the lock.

“There, no breaking in required.”

“Are you insane?” Charlotte had shrieked. “That could have ricocheted, you daft fool.”

Tim looked at her with scorn. “My friend is in pain. May end up losing his leg. Stop worrying about your precious selves and take care of him.”

Aaron restrained her when she moved to crowd Tim’s personal space and yell some more. “Not worth it. Let’s get what we need and go.”

Elliot murmured to Ash, “Is he cracking?”

“Hope not,” Ash replied. “We’ve had enough to deal with the last several weeks. You got your medicine?”

Elliot held up a 300-quantity pill bottle, mostly full. “Good for a long time, now.”

“Fabulous,” Ash said. “Finally something goes right. Let’s get out of this creepy-ass building.”

The night in a bed was good for Ash. He and Elliot managed to squeeze together on one and make the most of it, but no hospital bed in the history of ever was comfortable, and the dark, silent building had gathered great spookiness. There should have been beeps and hums, the sound of squeaky wheels as carts were pushed down carpeted corridors, the clack of computer keys, and the page of the intercom overhead. The unnerving silence, coupled with the dim corridors that went pitch black as night deepened, got to Ash, and the feeling of being observed wouldn’t leave him. The sooner they left, the better.

Aaron argued for another day on Jason’s behalf, to rest and recover in someplace relatively safe, but Jason ultimately vetoed it.

“The sooner we get out of this fucking state, the sooner we can get me to a doctor who can fix my foot. I don’t want to wait around, and if you guys are up to carrying me, then there’s no reason to stay.” Jason shivered as though the building bothered him, too.

So they’d provisioned up; Aaron replenished his medical kit of bandages and cleansing wipes, and they’d carried on, Brian and Tim carrying the stretcher for the first several miles as they trudged out of Seward. Two days walking put them at the banks of the Platte River and back on Marvin’s coordinates, just south of Central City. Ash decided to move them to a small state park away from the banks of the river due to the possibility of spring flooding. They didn’t need to be swamped in their sleep.

By the time they reached their landing spot on the eve of day thirty-two, it was clear there was a problem.

“He’s burning up,” Aaron murmured. He emerged from Jason and Tim’s tent, having helped the injured man bed down with more painkillers. “I knew I should have grabbed IV antibiotics at that hospital. All I have are pills.”

“What does that mean?” Tim asked, looking fretfully at the entrance to the tent.

“It means he’s got an infection. I don’t know what or how bad, but I don’t like it,” Aaron admitted with a frown. “I gave him the antibiotics I got from the hospital, but I don’t know if they’ll be strong enough. Injury like his, it could get bad fast.”

“Is one of his cuts red and obviously infected?” Charlotte asked, drawing on her very little medical knowledge.

Aaron nodded. “All of them. It makes me wonder if there wasn’t something on that bear trap.”

“What do you mean, ‘something’ on the bear trap?” Tim demanded.

Aaron looked miserable and wouldn’t meet Tim’s eyes. “I’ve read about such traps being tipped with dangerous things, like poison or feces. The target ends up with something life threatening in their system before they realize the wounds from the trap aren’t the only things they have to deal with.”

“If it were poison, wouldn’t he be dead already?” Elliot asked, his brows drawn together in concern. “It would work faster than three days, right?”

Aaron shrugged. “So a bacteria of some kind then. Fecal matter makes the most sense. It’s pretty deadly if it comes in contact with the bloodstream, and it’s not like it’s hard to come by.”

“But you’ve got medicine for him,” Tim supplied, as if that were enough. “You said you gave him antibiotics.”

“I gave him as big a dose as I thought would work, with enough left over to keep administering in a controlled release the next couple of days. But it’s pretty serious. Infection out here with no facilities could be deadly.”

“Sepsis,” Charlotte whispered, horrified. “If it was shit on the bear trap, you’re talking about him getting septic.”

“Is that bad?” Jennifer asked, dreadful of the answer.

Aaron nodded. “It’s bad. But we’ll keep a close eye on him and do what we can. I don’t think it’s wise to travel while he’s in this state.”

“Agreed,” Ash said. “So we’ll need to stock up on fish, fresh water, and firewood. I know he wants to get out of this state, but it won’t do any good if we carry him over the border dead.”

Tim sat heavily on the ground by his and Jason’s tent. “What about going into this town and getting the antibiotics you wanted, Aaron? Like the heavy-duty stuff? Then we can stay here until he’s better, let him rest.”

“That’s possible,” Aaron said. “I can start an IV, and we can blast him.”

“It’s not dark yet.” Tim stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, hold on.” Brian raised his hands in a “slow down” gesture. “We would need to get a few things together first.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Well, hurry up then. Time’s wasting.”

Brian started to say something more, but Ash put a hand on his shoulder. “If it were Elliot, you’d be as anxious. We can go and get back fast. Central City is probably just as deserted as Seward was. Still haven’t seen any people since that psycho’s property, so it’s not as risky as it was.”

“Fine, fine,” Brian conceded. “I’m game.” He snatched up one of the rifles. “Let’s get going.”

Ash motioned for Charlotte. “Can you pack up my backpack while I look up where the hospital is? Be ready in case we have to move out fast.”

“What about the tents?” she asked, wide-eyed. She’d picked up something in his tone that suggested this wasn’t a usual supply excursion. He had a bad feeling about this run.

“Hopefully I’m just being paranoid.”

“Riley!” she called. “Help me pick up camp.”

“Aw, Mom!” Riley protested from his crouch, where he’d tipped over a rock and was studying the squirming bugs beneath.

“Don’t argue with me,” she ordered, and he snapped to.

“We’ll go faster if we’re not carrying anything,” Aaron said, upending his backpack into the mouth of his tent. He grabbed his hunting knife, his bottle of rainwater, and reloaded his handgun.

Brian shrugged out of his pack. As Aaron stood and gave Jennifer a kiss, Ash found himself wishing he could do the same with Elliot. He didn’t think anyone but Tim would care, but the man had been on a hair-trigger since the prepper’s land, and with him armed, Ash wasn’t taking chances poking the bear.

They set out at an easy run, leaving Charlotte, Riley, and Elliot at camp to look after Jason. Central City was about three miles away, and they took a little under half an hour to get there and find the hospital. Tim didn’t bother looking around before shooting at the glass of the sliding door at the emergency entrance. The pane spider-webbed with the whisper of safety glass but held in the frame.

“Dammit, Tim,” Brian complained. “Tell the world we’re here, why don’t you?”

“You have a faster way?” he asked, using the butt of his gun to clear the glass, which tinkled to the ground like jagged confetti. “Jason’s sick. We can’t wait.”

“He won’t let us get him properly treated,” Aaron grumbled, and Ash blinked. One second, Aaron was about to step through the door, and the next, Tim had him pinned to the window beside the entrance, a forearm across his throat and his teeth snapping close to Aaron’s nose.

“Don’t you dare blame him. He didn’t ask for this. Blame that fucker over there,” Tim snarled, pointing his gun in Ash’s direction. Ash flinched and ducked out of the way.

We’ve got to get that gun off him.

“Hey, Jason was the one trying to talk us all into crossing that guy’s land. I just went with the majority.”

“You’re the one in charge, or did you not get that memo
everyone
has been shoving down our throats since we joined up with you?” Tim snapped.

“Ash called for a vote, dude,” Aaron said, his voice squeezed by the arm at his throat. “If you want to blame someone, blame the fucker who set a shit-smeared bear trap. Jesus, Tim. Get a grip.”

Brian set a steady hand on Tim’s shoulder. “We’re wasting time, buddy. Let’s argue about it after we have what we need, and Jason’s getting the good stuff pumped into his veins.”

That might have been the only thing anyone could have said to make Tim back off, so they breathed a collective sigh when he stepped away. Aaron coughed and rubbed his throat. Surprising all of them, he hugged Tim and murmured something in his ear Ash didn’t catch. But Tim nodded and patted the back of Aaron’s head.

Stealing into the dark hospital, Aaron led them to the pharmacy, homing in on the location like a hunting dog on point. Ash guessed it was in his blood, knowing where to find the inventory of his job.

This is outside his job description. He’s not a doctor.

Still, Aaron was their best bed, and a damn sight better than what they’d had when Russ had been injured.

They made quick work of stuffing an IV kit and bags of antibiotics in Aaron’s bag, along with a couple bladders of saline.

“Grab more than one IV kit,” Ash suggested. “You never know….” He wouldn’t finish the thought, the brief image of Elliot lying unresponsive, post-seizure on a sleeping bag, rising like foul smoke in his mind. He shoved it away. A shiver plinked up his vertebrae like a delicate piano melody, and the overwhelming need to return to camp almost bowled him over. As though a soundtrack played in his head, the score changed to one of foreboding.

“Hurry,” he urged, and after Aaron zipped the bag and shouldered it, Ash went down the corridor at a trot, not bothering to make sure the others followed. Their boots on the tile floor told him all he needed to know, the echoes in the empty building adding to his sense of urgency.

The run back took less time, mainly because Ash set a pace he’d have never thought himself capable of before the blackout. He wasn’t a runner. He worked out, sure, since it helped him keep his stress under control during school, but running bored him. Turned out, all he’d needed was a goal at the finish line, something—or someone—he was desperate to see.

A little over twenty minutes later, they stumbled into camp, breathing heavily and sweating. Aaron beelined to Jason’s side and attempted to get the IV started, but he had to take a moment to quell the shaking in his hands and get his gasping under control.

Charlotte intercepted Ash, the look on her face stopping him in his tracks.

“What?” he demanded. Her scared eyes met his and she shook her head.

“Elliot,” came her whispered reply.

“No,” he said in denial, pushing past her to their tent. “When and for how long?”

Ghost stood sentry outside the tent flap and snapped at Ash’s ankle, emitting a low-throated growl and a sneer full of teeth and threat. Charlotte knelt to soothe the dog, murmuring to keep him calm.

“Good boy,” she said, looking at Ash. “He alerted Elliot something was wrong before the seizure hit. Elliot was able to get to his sleeping bag before he locked up.”

“How long?” Ash demanded again. Brian had followed them, his face a map of worry lines.

“Maybe seven minutes,” she said shakily.

“Fuck,” Brian muttered.

Ash didn’t bother with him, diving into the tent to see his boyfriend—a status he no longer considered too much for their relationship. Elliot lay pale and vulnerable on top of the sleeping bag, a small puddle of drool beneath his mouth. Ash grabbed the shirt he’d been using as a pillow to mop up Elliot’s lips, his other hand smoothing Elliot’s curls off his forehead.

“Has he come to since it ended?”

“No,” Charlotte said, kneeling with the dog at the open mouth of the tent. “This one was bad. He’ll probably be out for quite a while. We need Aaron to look him over.”

Ash peered through the mesh window Charlotte must have opened to get some air flow into the stifling tent and spotted Aaron, Jennifer gesticulating in their direction. Looking grim, Aaron hefted his bag and strode over.

“What have we got?” he asked, crowding in. He made no effort to be gentle as he shoved Ash out of the way.

Charlotte did her best to fill him in on the situation. Aaron took Elliot’s pulse and shone a penlight into his eyes.

“Pupils are equal and reactive. That’s good,” he said quietly, as though speaking to himself. “Jennifer, bring me the box of meds I dumped in our tent before we left.”

“Think you have something?” Ash asked hopefully, scrunching himself into a corner, as far out of the way as he could get. When they’d stayed in Seward, Ash had hoped Aaron kept Elliot’s epilepsy in mind when they raided the drug supply. They certainly hadn’t taken the time at the hospital in Central City.

“I don’t know that it would be helpful, since he’s not seizing at the minute. I just want to see what I have in case he has another one. Does he have specific triggers?”

“Stress and sleep deprivation,” Ash said automatically. “And without his music, he’s not getting as much rest as before. I have to sing him to sleep.”

Aaron eyed him, his eyes softening to something like sympathy from the clinical medic he was while looking Elliot over. “If anything qualifies as stressful, it’s a cross-country walk through booby-trapped farms and living off the land. He needs to get to a real hospital if his seizure activity is increasing.”