Chapter 7: Conclave

 

“You were supposed to stay with him,” Jarod snarls, his finger stabbing into the dead center of Tyler’s chest. “You were supposed to make sure he’d be safe.”

Tyler’s teeth glint when he opens his mouth to argue. “I was checking on you, dumb ass. How was I supposed to know those things snuck up on him?”

Jarod stretches up on the balls of his feet, not quite tall enough to match Tyler’s height, but certainly furious enough to keep prodding at the wasp nest. “You would have known if you’d stayed with him.”

Strong hands slam into Jarod’s chest, only just winding him, shoving him away. “Back the fuck off before you do something you’ll regret, Samuels.”

“Try me.”

“Jarod, Tyler. Stop, I’m fine.” A hand pulls on the back of Jarod’s shirt. Gabriel’s hand, probably, but Jarod’s too angry to look just now. “Stop.”

“Keep him off me or I’ll hit him, Anderson, I swear to you.” Tyler’s hands are bunched into fists, his muscles bulging.

“Not if I fuck you up first, Torres.”

“Enough.”

The word cuts through the room like a frozen knife, leaving the men still as statues, rooted to the spot. That’s always the effect Esther’s voice has on them anyway, like a mother accosting her children, a boss chiding her underlings, or, most fittingly, a lioness warning her pack. The echo of her voice lingers in the air of the salon she calls home, not quite sucking the tension out of the room, but trailing just long enough to remain the whisper of a threat.

“I expect more from you. From all of you. This isn’t a time to be bickering over who did what. Get your priorities straight.” Esther sniffs her disapproval. “If the two of you want to kill each other over this, so be it. Just don’t do it where I sleep. I hate the smell of blood.” She sniffs again. “And sweat. And it stinks bad enough with the two of you working out your idiot aggression right where I sleep.”

Tyler slinks away first, his eyes still hard with anger, but his shoulders drooping, just enough to show obeisance. He links his fingers together, then stares down at them, leaning against the far wall. Jarod looks down at his feet, at his thumbs, the anger sucked out of his body.

“Children,” Esther hisses.

Jarod’s skin goes hot, and he doesn’t raise his head as he pads away, not stopping until he reaches the opposite wall. He folds his arms and focuses on the ground.

“No more of this crap until we solve this. The Hive’s in enough trouble as it is without the two of you fighting.” Esther sighs. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I need you both, and I need you working together.”

Somewhere across the room Tyler mutters a sluggish apology. Jarod nods, then chances a glance upward. Gabriel’s in one of the salon chairs, clutching at his head. Daniel’s hovering over him, probing his scalp with curious fingers.

“I’m fine,” Gabriel says, swatting at Daniel’s hand.

“You aren’t fine until I say you’re fine,” Daniel says, though gently, with the same amount of care he puts into inspecting Gabriel’s skin. Jarod looks on expectantly, but it doesn’t take long for Daniel to smooth down Gabriel’s hair, then raise his head and make his professional assessment. “He looks okay. That zombie got him good, tore out some hair at the root.”

Jarod winces.

“But otherwise he’s fine.”

“That’s what I needed to know.” Esther nods. “Thank you, Norwood. As for the rest of you, we’re going to need to take a closer look at this wall you were talking about.”

“I didn’t get much of a look,” Gabriel says.

Tyler coughs, like he’s only just regaining his voice. “It’s there, all right. Huge as anything. Twelve feet high, maybe taller.”

“And cameras,” Jarod says. “All along the top of the wall.”

Esther curses. “It’s Vertex. That’s all it can be.”

“Maybe they’re here to help,” Daniel says.

Esther grunts. “Highly unlikely, but we don’t have much choice in the matter, do we? We need to send out a team to find where the wall ends. There has to be a gap somewhere, a gate or an outpost.”

Like the encampment over the barricade they set up just outside Pleasance, when the Paragon outbreak first began. The same encampment established by the mercenaries Vertex hired, the ones who gunned down dozens of innocent people when a zombie was found among the city’s refugees. Who’s to say there’s even going to be a gap in the wall? But Esther’s right. They don’t have much choice.

“The question is why they’d bother sending up that flare.” Esther cups her chin, her jowls shifting as she pauses in thought. “Are we supposed to come to them?”

“Seems to be the case,” Jarod says. “But I don’t like it.” He and Gabriel spent all this time and energy running from Vertex. Now Esther wants them to do the opposite? She knows better than that. Still, what else can they do at this point?

“The water we collected will run out in a week, at best.” Daniel rakes at his hair and sighs. “It doesn’t look like we have much of a choice.”

Rubbing at her temples, Esther shuffles out of her chair, then folds her hands behind her back. “Then it’s the only option that we have. Torres, lead a sortie to the wall, as soon as you can. Today, if you can manage it.” She looks to Jarod. “Head in the direction of the facility. I have a feeling that’s where you’ll find the answers we need.”

Jarod grits his teeth. Back to the facility? He reaches for words he doesn’t have, for some kind of protestation, but he knows she’s right. He nods at the floor.

“I’ll go with them,” Gabriel says.

“And I won’t stop you,” Esther says. Jarod’s ears prick up. He doesn’t like that shift in her tone, the unfinished thought. “But we’re going to have to do something about your hair.”

A small whimper comes from Gabriel’s corner of the room. He shrinks into his chair, just as Jarod’s heart shrinks in his chest.

“No. I’ll be okay. I’ll just wear a cap, like Tyler.” He’s scrabbling against the chair, hands grasping at the edges. Behind him, Daniel scratches at his forehead, hiding his face behind one hand. From the far wall, Tyler coughs softly. Gabriel shoots Jarod an imploring look. “I’ll be fine. No one needs to do anything about my hair. Right, Jarod?”

He can’t believe he’s agreeing with Esther again today, over something else that he’s so vehemently against. Jarod squeezes his eyes shut, then clenches his fingers.

“She’s right,” he breathes. The words hurt his throat on their way out.

“No. No. I’ll be okay, I promise.” Gabriel reaches for his head, tugging at his hair, patting at it, tucking a lock of it behind his ear. “Please. It’s just hair. It won’t happen again.”

Gabriel flinches when Esther approaches him, her hands held out in placation. “It’s all right, Anderson. This is for your own good.”

“Please. Don’t cut it.”

This is too much. Jarod clears the floor in a few steps, settles his hands on Gabriel’s lap, then kneels before him. “It’s to keep you safe, Gabriel. We don’t want what happened out there to happen again. We can’t risk it.” He squeezes Gabriel’s hand. “I can’t risk it. Please.”

“Please,” Gabriel says. “Danny? Tyler? Don’t let her do this.”

The men are silent. Tyler covers his mouth and coughs again. Daniel shakes his head in sympathy, then walks away, his face in his hands.

It’s just hair, Jarod tells himself. Just hair that he loves so much, hair that he’s played with so often over these past months, that he tugs on when they make love, that he washed when Gabriel was injured. It’s just hair. It’s nothing, and everything.

“It’ll grow back,” Jarod croaks.

“But you like my hair.” Gabriel looks around the salon for support, or perhaps comfort, up at Esther. “Please.” Nothing.

The light in the salon reflects off Esther’s glasses, enough that Jarod can’t see her eyes, but her face is heavy as she picks up a pair of scissors. Gabriel shrinks away.

“It’ll grow back,” Jarod says again. “But if something happens to you, we can’t fix that. It’s just hair, Gabriel. I love you. No matter what.”

And maybe that’s what finally works. Gabriel’s eyes turn steely, his jaw setting, and Jarod knows it’s him trying to be brave. His cheekbones slide under his skin as he clenches his teeth. His gaze settles on the wall, and his nose raises just a fraction of an inch.

“Do it,” he says, his voice hard.

Somewhere above him Jarod hears Esther spritzing Gabriel’s hair, the mist clinging to his skin. He sits back on his haunches, letting Gabriel crush his hands in his grip, staring into his eyes encouragingly, watching him be still on the surface, and struggling not to hurt when he finds him breaking apart underneath.

Then comes the first snip. Gabriel’s lip quivers, and his eyes go moist, but he says nothing, sits perfectly still. Then the next snip comes, and the next. Gabriel squeezes his eyes shut. He sniffles, but only once.

Each cut reveals more of his face, the hard edges of his cheek and jaw. Every lock of hair that tumbles to the ground seems like more and more of Gabriel’s boyhood falling away from him. Jarod knows he’ll miss that softness, but again, that isn’t important. What matters is keeping him safe. Alive.

It doesn’t take long, and by the time Esther’s finished it’s clear that she meant to cut off just enough. Gabriel’s hair is still much shorter, shorter even than when he and Jarod first met.

Gabriel reaches up to his head, patting at his scalp. When his fingers meet the trimmed ends of his hair, the tears lingering just behind his eyes finally threaten to burst past the threshold.

“You look good,” Jarod says. “I like it.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“It suits you, actually,” Daniel says, his voice bright with his smile. Good old Danny. “Shows off your face.”

“The point is that you won’t run into any more bullshit with those zombies,” Esther says, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s better this way. Trust me.”

Gabriel looks to each of them uncertainly, then stands up to look into a mirror. “Oh god,” he mutters, his voice quavering. Jarod squeezes his hand.

“It’s fine.”

“I don’t even recognize myself.”

“Handsome as ever,” Jarod says, almost forgetting that they aren’t alone. He brushes loose hair off of Gabriel’s cheek, then presses another kiss there, almost wondering when he suddenly grew more comfortable being this affectionate around other people, much less Esther, or worse, Tyler. He tastes salt, the one stray tear that made it down Gabriel’s face. He dabs it away with his thumb.

“I hate it.”

“You look fine,” Tyler grumbles, clapping Gabriel on the back. “God, honestly.” He sits himself down in the vacated chair, takes off his cap. “Catch,” he says, tossing it at Daniel, who receives it in both hands, bewildered. Tyler nods at Esther, then points at his own head. “Do me.”

Esther cocks an eyebrow. Gabriel stops complaining. And Daniel, Daniel gasps.

“Whoa, hold on,” Daniel starts.

“It’s for safety,” Tyler says. “And solidarity,” he adds, giving Gabriel a wink. Jarod stiffens.

“You don’t have to,” Gabriel says. “Not for my sake.”

“It’s cool.” Tyler rolls his head around, the joints in his neck popping as he does. He plants his hands firmly on the arms of the chair. “It’s what brothers do.”

“Torres.” Gabriel half-blubbers and half-chuckles. “You’re the best.” Jarod grits his teeth.

Tyler’s hair is longer, but Esther hacks it off mercilessly, doing quick work of it. Daniel looks on with his hand cupped over his mouth, eyes wide. Strangely, Jarod feels a sort of kinship with him in this moment. Esther brushes her hand over Tyler’s head, and the last loose bits of hair fall to the floor.

“All done.”

Tyler rolls his shoulders, then leaves the chair. He and Gabriel look even more like brothers now. Impossibly, he’s even more handsome, the shorter hair exposing and highlighting his features. Jarod doesn’t know why he’s experiencing a fresh new spurt of resentment.

“You’re lucky I’m not with you for your hair,” Daniel says, brushing more stubs off of Tyler’s shoulder.

“I wasn’t worried,” Tyler coos, preening in the mirror. “I look good either way.”

“Dumb idiot,” Daniel says, but he’s grinning.

Esther groans. “Everyone get the hell out of here. You sappy bastards are killing me.”

Tyler gives her a casual, loose salute. “Thanks for the haircut, mom.”

“Torres. I’m serious. Bring a team to the wall, then come right back and report.”

He nods, his face hardening. “We’re on it.” He claps Gabriel on the shoulder again, then nods once at Jarod. “Up top, in an hour.” He leaves, with Daniel in tow.

Esther clears her throat. “You’ll be fine, Anderson. You know why we had to do it. Don’t hold a grudge against me.”

“I know.” Gabriel shakes his head, sniffs, then scratches the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I made such a fuss. I’ll be okay.”

“Good. Take care out there.” Esther practically shoves them out.

Jarod takes Gabriel by the hip, pulling him in gently. “You sure you’re okay?”

Gabriel smiles wanly. “You’re right. It’ll grow back. I was being silly.”

“I like you with long hair,” Jarod says. “But I like you this way, too. It’s not the hair, Anderson. It’s you.”

“I know,” Gabriel says, chuckling. “Stop. You’re making me blush.”

“Okay. As long as you’re fine. An hour though, god. Think that’s enough time for a nap? I’m beat.”

“Actually, I’m going to wash off some of this hair.” Gabriel scratches at his neck. “Kind of itches.”

“Sure,” Jarod says. “Take care. Up top, one hour.”

Gabriel heads down the stairs and Jarod starts for their apartment, relieved that the ordeal is over. He meant what he said. Gabriel’s hair is such a pitiful concern compared to his safety. It’s not like Jarod’s with him because of how he looks. And even then, the new hair’s kind of cute. It’ll grow on the both of them.

He sighs as he pushes on the door into their apartment. One hour. That’s not enough time to get any shuteye, and they’ll need to be rested for the next leg of today’s journey. Jarod won’t deny that he feels a great sense of trepidation for having to go back to the facility, something that’s so deeply against every instinct in his body. Vertex was supposed to be behind them, but then came Paragon, and now this?

Jarod kicks off his shoes and sighs. Any rest he can get before this hunt will be better than none at all. He starts to pull at the hem of his shirt, just about ready to shuck it over his head when he notices someone at the door.

“Back so soon?” he calls out, but then he hesitates. The figure at the door isn’t wearing a tank top, and it doesn’t have freshly shorn hair. It’s in a gray hooded jacket. Is this another recruit? Some new member of the colony that he hasn’t met yet?

“Can I help you?” Jarod says. “Are you lost?”

The figure steps closer, but doesn’t answer. Instinctively, Jarod reaches for his bat.

“Hey, man, you’re probably new, but you can’t just barge your way into someone’s apartment like this.”

The figure stops, then lifts a hand in greeting. “Hi,” he says, his voice muffled.

Jarod tilts his head and squints, his hand tightening even harder around his bat. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Don’t be so sure,” the stranger says, pushing his hood back.

Jarod’s heart stops.

Not six months ago, in his former life at the Vertex facility, Jarod made a rare friend, someone he shouldn't have learned to like, this boy with delicate curls of brown hair, huge blue eyes, and a smile that could melt ice. That friend stands before him now, robust, beautiful, breathing. But most of all, alive.

The smallest gust of air finds its way into Jarod’s lungs, just enough to let him speak a single word.

“Robbie.”