Chapter 17
“I DIDN’T get a chance to look around the one time I was here,” David said. “Nice place. This stuff new, or did Alan leave it furnished?”
It was Sunday evening. Mike had headed over to his sister’s in Gunnison, and David and Zach had left the house a little while ago, ostensibly to watch some movies at Zach’s.
“No, most of his stuff was pretty old by the time he left,” Zach said. “The kitchen table was his, but he had this grotty plaid couch I dumped immediately. Mom and Dad gave me the TV for Christmas.”
David glanced around in puzzlement. The wine leather couch faced French doors leading out to the balcony overhanging the garage, and there was no sign of a television. “What TV?”
Zach picked up a remote from the end table and clicked a button. A screen descended from the ceiling in front of the French doors, completely blocking out the light and turning that wall into a movie screen. “You can set the size of the image,” Zach said, and pressed another button. An ESPN sports show appeared on the screen, covering only a small portion of the center. “Twenty-six-inch,” Zach said, and pressed another button. “Thirty-two. Thirty-eight. Forty-two… by six-inch increments, ’til you get to just about the whole screen. And the resolution doesn’t change; it’s still high-def.” He grinned as the screen went black, then the words “Star Wars—Episode IV” crawled across the now-enormous screen.
“You are such a geek. I take it that’s not a projection system, though.” David went to the wall and fingered the edge of the heavy fabric curtain.
“No, it’s new tech. Dad’s thinking about buying the company. Not so much for this as for some of their nanotech projects. This is just a toy, though it might be a godsend to the movie theater industry: every showing is as crisp and high-definition as the first, no film to distribute, deteriorate, or jam projectors—no projectors. Just nanoflix.”
“Nanoflix?”
“Yeah, that’s what I called it. Dad liked the name, though.”
The giant star destroyer cruised across the screen as David said thoughtfully, “You ever think about going back to school?”
“I think about it, yeah. You want something to drink?” Zach switched off the screen and it crawled silently back up into its holder on the ceiling.
“No, thanks. So… are you?”
“Drinking? Yeah.” Zach turned from the fridge, a Corona in his hand.
“Going back to school.”
“No.”
“Why not? You’re only twenty-two; it’s not like you’d stand out or something. Didn’t you get that scholarship to MIT?”
“MIT? Are you fucking nuts, Taff? I don’t even have a fucking GED, and places like MIT won’t even look at people with GEDs, anyway.”
“That’s bullshit. You could pass the GED in your sleep, and MIT would take you in a heartbeat.”
“Because of my dad’s money.”
“Your dad’s money didn’t get you the early admission, Zach. You’ve got brains….”
“I had brains,” Zach snapped. “Fuck, Taff, the first time I even heard of an iPhone was less than two years ago. I missed the digital revolution. I’m as clueless as a caveman. I listen to Dad talk about shit and he might as well be speaking Klingon. My folks got me the latest and greatest CAD software ’cause they know I used to love playing with it, and I don’t fucking understand how to even open the program!” He threw himself on the couch. “I’m a fucking Neanderthal. I can’t even work on newer cars ’cause I don’t understand their computer systems.” He drank, then set the bottle on the end table. “I’m down on points, Taff, and I don’t know if I can catch up.”
“You don’t have to win the game, Zach,” David said quietly, “you just have to play.” He sat down beside Zach and threaded his fingers through Zach’s. “Okay, maybe you’re not ready for prime time. Maybe you need to just recover some lost ground. Get the GED, maybe take some classes at UCo….”
“No,” Zach said. “Maybe some online classes. I’m not going to sit in a classroom and have people stare at me.” He swallowed and his fingers tightened on David’s. “Who I am and what I am and how I look—bad publicity for Tyler Tech, Taff. Especially if I’m taking remedial math classes and stuff.”
“Fuck Tyler Tech. Hire a tutor, then. Hell, I can tutor you. I’m teaching a class on Computer-Aided Design. Sure, it’s basic CAD, but you can use it as a refresher. Get you back up to speed. You can even audit some classes if you want. I’ll bet the admin at Wesley will let you register under a fake name if your dad asks.” He drew Zach’s fingers up to kiss them. “It’s not an insuperable obstacle, Zach. Just one small step after another.”
“I feel like I’m stumbling around in the dark,” Zach said wearily. “I don’t know where to go or what to do. I gave up in Venezuela, Taff. Nothing was ever going to change except whatever bullshit Esteban was going to pull that day. But it was familiar, like it was all I’d ever known—all I ever would know. The only dream I had was to kill Esteban, and I knew that would never happen. I didn’t dare think of what would happen after that. But here—now—I’ve got all kinds of choices, all kinds of options. And I don’t feel capable of a single one.”
“You are capable of all of them,” David said fiercely.
Zach said nothing, just turned and slid from the couch to his knees, laying his head against David’s thigh. David stroked the thick pelt of Zach’s hair as Zach wrapped his arms around David’s calves like a drowning man clinging to a piece of driftwood.
After a while David said, “What do you want to do, Zach?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, what do you think you might like to do?”
Zach was quiet another long moment, then said, “Build things.”
“What kind of things? Houses? Buildings?”
“High-speed rail. Fusion power plants. Spacecraft. Nanomedical equipment.” Zach looked up at David, a spark in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Stuff that integrates the green-tech that Dad’s working on with stuff that’ll make the future happen.”
“See?” David smiled. “You do know what you want to do. And it’s brilliant. Beautiful.” He leaned forward and kissed Zach. “And do you know what I want?”
Zach released David’s legs to cup his face. “What?” he breathed.
“I want to watch you do it.” David kissed him again and stood. Drawing Zach to his feet, he pulled Zach’s face down toward his. “I want to be there when you do it. I want to be right by your side when you show the world what you’re made of.” He traced Zach’s cheek with one finger; his cheek, and his jaw, and his lips. “But you know what I want most of all?”
“What?” Zach whispered again.
“I want you to do what you want. Change the world—or not. Build a ladder to the stars—or not. Be what you want, ’cause whatever it is, it’ll be great because it’s you. And I love you.”
Zach’s eyes were blurry, but he could see well enough to kiss David. “Thank you,” he said against those soft lips.
THUNDER rumbles. Esteban looks up from his computer where he’s probably watching snuff porn, and says, “Puppy needs a bath.” I whimper, knowing what comes next.
He gestures for Che to push the cage out into the middle of the camp, into the clearing that’s open to the sky. Lightning flashes to brighten the black sky, but it’s a camera-flash on a dark night, fast and fierce and gone instantly. I curl up in a ball as close as I can to the corner of the cage, knowing it won’t do any good, that the wire of the cage gives no protection from the violence of the tropical storm. Unimpeded by leaves, the rain will pummel the ground—and me. Sometimes it hails, and while the cage does protect me against the bigger, bone-breaking hailstones, it does nothing to guard me from the stinging, pellet-sized hail. Rain or hail, it doesn’t matter; it’s going to hurt.
But it doesn’t. The patter of raindrops is soft, and gentle, and warm. I remember a YouTube video of a choir of people imitating the sound of a storm by rubbing their hands and snapping their fingers. (Why do I remember YouTube? I’d never heard of it before the jungle swallowed me up.) This is like the finger-snapping—the soft pops of raindrops plopping.
I turn my face upward toward the soft rain, my eyes closed. A drop hits my lip and I lick, eager for the sweet taste of rainwater.
It tastes strange, metallic, like copper. Like blood.
I open my eyes.
Taff’s dead face gazes down at me. It’s scored and bloody, like the rest of his body, spread-eagled across the top of the cage. What I heard as the soft plop of rain are the drops of blood falling from dozens of knife wounds—little cuts, none of which individually would matter, but together have flayed Taff’s skin from his bones. His dead eyes stare at me, unseeing.
I scream.
The dead eyes don’t blink, but the dead lips form a word: “Zach…”
“ZACH! Zach, come on, wake up!!”
He blinked, and David’s face swam into view, David’s very alive, very frightened face. “Taff?” Zach’s voice was hoarse and his throat hurt.
“Jesus, Zach, scare the fucking shit out of me, why doncha?” David’s face was white, his eyes wild.
“Sorry. Nightmare.”
“Nightmare, my ass,” David said. “That has to be an understatement. I’ve never heard screaming like that.”
Zach reached up and touched his throat. His skin was wet. “What, did you throw water on me or something?”
“No, dweeb. That’s sweat. Fuck, I thought you were having convulsions. Then I thought one of those panic attacks, but I didn’t think you could have one of those in your sleep.”
“No, just nightmares.”
David sat back on his heels and rubbed his forehead. Zach sat up and grabbed his hand, pulling it away from his face. There was a big scarlet patch on one cheekbone. “I hit you,” he said flatly.
“No big,” David said. “You were just kind of flailing around and I walked into it. I’ve had worse.” He reached out and brushed his thumb across Zach’s lips. “Besides, now we’re even for me socking you last night. You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” Zach threw his legs over the side of the mattress and sat up.
“This happen a lot?” David asked quietly. “The nightmares, I mean?”
“Often enough,” Zach said curtly. “That’s why I moved up here. Used to wake my parents. Freaked ’em out.” He stood and reached for his sweats.
“Where you going?”
“Need a drink. My throat hurts.”
He went into the kitchen but bypassed the bottled water in the fridge for the bottle of Scotch on the counter, pouring himself three fingers’ worth and tossing that down. He relished the burn on his raw throat before refilling the glass. Then he crossed the floor to the couch, dropped down onto the leather cushions and gazed out the French doors at the lightening sky.
A minute later David joined him on the couch, not saying anything, not touching him, just sitting there. Zach said roughly, “No point both of us being up. Go back to bed.”
“Too much adrenaline in the system,” David said. “Not sleepy.”
“Sorry,” Zach said, and took a swig of his drink. “And before you ask, no, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” David replied. He was quiet a moment, then said, “Wanna fuck?”
Zach froze in the act of raising his glass to his lips again. After a beat, he said, “Thanks for not asking that question when I had a mouthful of booze. This stuff’s expensive.”
“I thought about it,” David said, “but you’re right. Shouldn’t waste the good stuff. So.” He held up his hand. There was a condom between two fingers. “You—ahem—up for it?”
Zach set his glass on the end table, then reached out and took the condom. Then he said, “Beat you to the bedroom,” and took off, David at his heels.
Inside, he stepped to the side as David came in and grabbed him around the waist, tossing him onto the bed. “For the love of pancakes,” David gasped, “what the hell do you press?”
“Easily more than you weigh,” Zach said, and pounced on him, pinning him to the mattress. “No wrestling shit,” he murmured against David’s mouth.
“No wrestling shit,” David whispered. He wriggled his arms loose from Zach’s hold and wound them around Zach’s neck. “No shit at all. Make love to me, Zach Tyler. I’m yours.”
Zach kissed him leisurely, thoroughly, then abandoned David’s mouth for more interesting territory farther south. He loved David’s body, the strong, lean muscles, the long bones and graceful conformation. A beautiful package. Then he made the mistake of looking up into that beautiful face as he licked into the divot of his navel and saw David watching him, his heart in his brown eyes.
Zach closed his own eyes. David loved him. David loved him. He didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know if he was even capable of reciprocating. He wanted David, true, but love—that was asking more than he felt ready to give. It was commitment. It was eternity. It was prison….
He flipped David over and started back up at David’s neck, kissing the nape, safe from those eyes. He licked down the spine, pressing hot, wet kisses to each of the bumps of vertebrae. When he got to the small of David’s back, he closed his hands on David’s hips, hiking him up on his knees, then pushed his knees apart and licked down David’s crease to his opening.
David arched his back, moaning as Zach’s tongue stroked him, and his hand went down to curl around his own dick, his other arm supporting him. Zach nuzzled him until David was rocking back with every brush of Zach’s tongue; then Zach fumbled for the condom he’d dropped on the bed and reached for the lube on the nightstand.
He eased into David slowly, carefully. They’d only actually fucked the one time last night, and he was worried about David still being sore, but it had been David who’d initiated this, so he figured he was okay. Still, he was careful, and took his time. He eased forward and kissed David again on the nape of the neck.
David turned his head so that he could kiss Zach. “That feels good,” he said, a note of surprise in his voice. Zach smiled at him, then kissed him behind his ear. “Good,” he said. “Cuz it feels great to me.”
“You know,” David said thoughtfully, “there are other ways of doing this.”
“I know,” Zach said, and slid his arm around David, across his chest, cupping the front of David’s shoulder, pulling him close as he sat carefully back on his heels, David in his lap. “Like this.”
“Oh,” David said, and then as Zach rocked forward into him, “oh.”
A shaft of early sunlight had broken through the bedroom window and Zach’s movement had brought them into its illumination. Across the room, their bodies were reflected in the big mirror over Zach’s dresser. Zach watched them move a moment, seeing David’s skin bright in the light, his own dark sweats and dark hair a shadow behind him. “Look at you,” he whispered in David’s ear. “Look at you—so beautiful.” And he was, his slim body a bright shaft against Zach’s darkness, his lean thighs splayed wantonly on either side of Zach’s, his elegant cock curved high. Zach slid his hand down to play with that lovely thing and looked up to see David’s head thrown back against his shoulder, his sleek golden chest glittering with sweat and his breath coming hard. “Open your eyes,” he said in David’s ear. “Open your eyes and look at yourself. I want you to watch yourself.”
“What?” David said in confusion, and opened his eyes. He stared at their reflections in the mirror. “Oh, my God, Zach.”
“Watch yourself,” Zach said. “Watch how beautiful you are,” and he rocked forward again, his hand moving on David’s cock. David reached his arms back to circle Zach’s neck, freeing Zach from the need to hold him; he released David’s shoulder and began to use both hands to caress his lover’s body as he made love to him. When he felt David beginning to tense, he said urgently, “Don’t close your eyes!” and met David’s gaze in the mirror as those dark eyes glazed and his body surrendered to Zach’s.
Then Zach was climaxing too, his hands pressing on David’s hips and thighs as he plunged deep and came, then fell backward on the bed, David clutched to him. David rolled them both onto their sides and Zach straightened out his legs and spooned himself against David’s back, oddly reluctant to disentangle himself.
After a while David said, “Well, that was interesting. It’s not quite what I had in mind, but it was interesting.”
“What did you have in mind?” Zach asked sleepily.
“I was thinking more in terms of face to face,” David said. He turned his head to look at Zach. “I’d like to watch you come sometime. I know, I should have been able to see that this time, but quite frankly I was completely out of it. You do that to me, you know. Fuck me into oblivion.”
“Is that a good thing?” Zach asked, not completely sure.
“Oh, yeah,” David smiled, and kissed him. “Oh, yeah.” He kissed him again then curled back into the shelter of Zach’s body. Zach lay his head on his pillow.
IT HAD been easily five a.m. by the time they’d gotten back to sleep, so David was surprised when he woke at six-thirty to find himself alone. The apartment was silent, no sound of water running or footsteps, and when he rolled over and felt the sheets, they were cold. He got up and pulled his jeans on before padding barefoot out to the kitchen.
Zach wasn’t there, either, but David’s cell phone rested on the breakfast bar, so he picked it up and pulled up the Andrew application. “Good morning, David,” Andrew said.
“Good morning, Andrew. Can you give me Zach’s location, please?”
“I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Andrew said in the voice of Hal from 2001: A Space Odyssey.
David laughed. Zach had programmed Andrew to say that when he was about twelve. “Funny, Andrew. Where’s Zach?”
“According to his cell phone, he’s headed northwest on Route 24 at speed toward Cascade,” Andrew said. “He had me open the concealed north gate twelve point six minutes ago.”
“Thanks,” David said, puzzled, and disconnected. Then he saw the piece of paper on the kitchen table.
It read, in Zach’s oddly childish scrawl, “Had to go out. See you later.” No salutation, no signature. David stared at it a long moment, feeling sick and confused. He let out his breath in an exasperated exhalation. Something told him he’d better get used to that feeling.
ZACH saw David about fifty yards ahead of him as he came over the last rise north of the house. He slowed the Ducati immediately, letting its engine drop rpms until it was a low, barely audible purr, the bike going just fast enough to stay vertical. David had to have heard it, but gave no sign, just kept running at his usual steady speed. Zack kept pace with him until he turned off on the track that would take him away from the main house and toward his own. Then Zach stopped and watched until he vanished before revving the engine again and driving into the garage.
He went upstairs. There was no sign David had ever been there: the bed was neatly made, the towels Zach had left on the floor hung back up, the bedroom garbage emptied and the sink devoid of the glass he’d had his Scotch in last night. The note he’d left for David wasn’t on the table; he found it crumpled in the garbage and wondered if it meant anything other than David’s tidying up before he left. Maybe David was pissed at him. Maybe he’d decided it wasn’t worth the effort. That would make it easier on Zach; the decision taken out of his hands. If David wrote him off, he wouldn’t have to worry about any of it. No fear of hurting David; no fear of David hurting him. No decisions to make. Done. Over. Just the rest of his life to go through alone, but that was okay. He could do alone.
He opened the refrigerator and took out juice and a couple of slices of Annie’s homemade bread for toast. There was microwave bacon there, too, so he took that out as well and put the whole package on the paper plate he put in the microwave while the bread was toasting.
He ate the toast dry and the bacon crisp to the point of almost burnt, but tasted none of it.
The apartment was so quiet. Why would it seem so unusually so? It wasn’t as if he was a noisy tenant at the worst of times. But today the silence was different—more hollow, more echoing.
More lonely.
“Shit,” he said aloud, and tossed the paper plate into the garbage. No point in hanging around here; there was a fully equipped gym with his name on it at the house. And gyms didn’t care.