Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All the resemblances are completely coincidental. All the characters, situations, and everything else in the story is owned by myself beloved. Contains descriptive sexual scenes between males. If you are not supposed to read it, do not read it! Feel free to e-mail me.
This is a sequel to Specter'Gamble. You don't have to read the first one in order to get this one, but it would make it easier to understand the characters in this story.
- XXXI -
- February 14th, 2:03 AM.*
Sam moaned and peeled his eyes open. Everything around him was pitch-black and it was beyond cold. He tried to figure out where in the world he was. He got up, shaking uncontrollably from cold, wrapping his arms around himself. He had no idea what time it was, and he had no idea how he got here. He also had no idea where `here' was. He could hear water splashing somewhere below him, and the wind was merciless.
He shoved his hand into his pocket, hoping to find his phone. The pocket was empty. He tried the other one, but the result was the same. He lowered himself into a crouch, trying to make his body to wrap around itself, to get at least an illusion of warmth. Finally, his eyes adjusted to the darkness somewhat, and he could see an outline of some building not too far from him. He got up shakily, his teeth clattering from cold, and walked towards that building.
He knocked on the wooden door loudly, waiting for an answer. When he didn't receive any, he wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and turned it slowly. The door creaked open with restrained complaint, and Sam looked inside. It was dark and he couldn't see much.
"Hello...?" he called carefully. "Anyone here? Hello...?"
The only answer he got was silence. He bit his lip and glanced around once more. Finally, he shrugged to himself and stepped over the threshold, shutting the door behind him. He had no idea what to do, so he decided to wait until it gets lighter outside. He would try and make his way back when he could see where the hell he was.
"How did I even get here?" he muttered, carefully making his way farther into the dark room. "Did I sleepwalk or something? God..."
He hit something rather hard with his knee and he swore softly, bending down slightly, extending his arms, searching for whatever it was. It felt like a small table, so Sam let out a sigh, sat down onto the wooden floor, thankful for the absence of the wind, and pressed his back against the table. It was still cold, but not as bad as it was outside. He was positive that he wouldn't be able to go to sleep, but several minutes later, his left shoulder blade splashed with unbelievably warm wave, and a few seconds after that happened, Sam was asleep again. He didn't wake up until the sun was high in the sky. The next time he woke up, it was one in the afternoon.
6:30 AM
Desmond felt like beating his head on the steering wheel. His shoulder ached mercilessly but he ignored that. He's been driving around since six in the evening. Right now, it was six-thirty in the morning, and he found nothing. He realized that his hands were shaking from hunger and gritted his teeth. Finally, he sighed and glanced around. He drove for ten more minutes until he saw a small diner with an `Open' sign. He sighed again, parked next to it, and got out of the car.
Half an hour later, after he almost finished his breakfast, his phone rang.
"Yeah," he said shortly.
"Anything?" Rayhe's voice was tired and desperate.
"Nothing," Desmond said quietly. "Bloody nothing... Have you talked to Blair?"
"Not yet," Gabriel said tightly. "Decided to call you first... He never called, so I guess he didn't find anything as well."
"I am eating right now," Desmond downed the rest of his coffee. "Gonna be done in five minutes. Then I am going to get some gas and drive around some more. Where are you?"
"West 53rd," Gabriel said, and Desmond coughed.
"Rayhe, it's almost seventy miles from our house, not forty-five!"
"Yeah, well... There is nothing but a bloody field forty-five miles away, so I figured maybe you took a shortcut of some sort..."
"Rayhe..." Desmond closed his eyes. "Gabriel, there is no shortcut in the world that could turn a distance of seventy miles into forty-five... What's in the field?"
"Cows," Gabriel said gloomily. "Lots and lots of cows... Unless it's some sort of a cow conspiracy, I don't think Sam is anywhere in the west. Maybe you should've kept the tattoo. I mean, it could lead you to him somehow..."
"Uh huh," Desmond shoved the empty plate away and put some money on the table. "Or maybe I would fall asleep again and murder you and the `fire guy'... Would you seriously be willing to take that risk?"
Gabriel let out a desperate sigh.
"I am going to drive back," Desmond got up. "I need to stop by the school and let them know that I won't be coming in today."
"Can't you just call them?" Gabriel asked irritably. "Des, we are running out of time!"
"I know that," Desmond said shortly. "The school is on the way to the south, might as well..."
"South?" Now Rayhe sounded puzzled. "Blair said..."
"I remember what Blair said," Desmond got into his car and shoved the key into the ignition. "But there is nothing here, there is nothing on the west, and apparently, there is nothing on the east as well, unless the stubborn bastard decided not to call us and ended up getting killed..."
"We could just call him, you know..."
"Yeah," Desmond threw his car into gear. "You do that, and I am going to go south. Call me if..." He thought for a second. "If anything," he finished.
"I will," Gabriel sighed deeply. "Des..."
"We'll find him, Rayhe," Desmond said quietly. "I don't care if I have to cut my own head off to do that, but we'll find him..."
"Call me if anything," Gabriel said as quietly, and then the line clicked dead.
Desmond threw the phone into the passenger's seat and floored the gas pedal.
9:00 AM
Desmond made it to school at nine in the morning, since he decided to give the north part of the city one last chance. Finally, he gritted his teeth, realized that he was wasting time, and turned around. When he got to school, the first person he ran into was Richie Zabrowski. He stood next to Desmond's office, glancing at his watch every several seconds, deep frown on his forehead.
"Zabrowski!" Desmond said when he got closer. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you," Richie said quickly and handed Desmond the key to his office. "I had to give it back to you..."
Desmond rolled his eyes and took the key.
"Zabrowski..." he said while sliding the key onto his keychain. "You could've left it in my mailbox in the main office. Don't you have a class to go to?"
"Yeah," Richie shrugged. "It's math, nothing big. Not everyone sees through my excuses, you know..."
"Those are called lies, Zabrowski," Desmond rolled his eyes again.
Richie grinned.
"That's exactly what my Granddad used to tell me," he said. "He would read me like no other... Not as well as you, of course," Richie shrugged. "Hell, nobody could read me as well as you... But Gramps was good though," he nodded thoughtfully.
Desmond started walking towards the main office and Richie followed him, telling him something about his Grandfather. Finally, Desmond rolled his eyes again and turned towards him.
"Zabrowski," he said. "I don't care..."
"...watchtower," Richie finished something he was saying. "Oh..." he blinked. "Right..."
He looked uncomfortable.
"Well, I'm gonna go to class..." he said finally and turned around.
Desmond frowned the second he heard the word `watchtower.' He tried to figure out what it was that he felt. He had no idea.
"Zabrowski!" he yelled when Richie was almost by the door leading to the stairwell.
Richie stopped and turned around. Desmond walked towards him quickly.
"What was it that you said about the watchtower?" he asked sharply, and Richie blinked several times.
"Oh," he said finally. "My Granddad used to work there while it was still operating... But they shut it down thirty years ago... The reason I said it, is because he used to keep an eye on the criminals, you know? So he was pretty good at telling if someone was lying or not... Then they built a new prison and demolished the old one, so they..."
"Where is it?" Desmond interrupted his blabber impatiently. "The watchtower... Where is it?"
"Oh," Richie said again. "Do you know the bowling alley? There is a cool deli place across the street from it..."
"Pure Luck, I know," Desmond nodded. "I've been there but I have never seen any watchtowers..."
"Oh, that's because you have to take your last left turn right before you hit the main intersection," Richie explained. "It's kinda easy to miss, cause it doesn't even have a street name or anything... Plus, nobody ever goes there now anyway," he shrugged. "And then you have to drive up... Like, way up, you know? There is that snaky road and it goes all the way up... It'll take you right to the watchtower. That road is nasty though," he added. "They don't even clean it anymore, so it's kinda hard to see the edge of it, which sucks, cause if you manage to drive off the edge, you'll end up falling into the water..."
"Zabrowski..." Desmond breathed. "The mid-term...?"
"Yeah?" Richie said very carefully.
"You get a hundred," Desmond nodded and walked away, leaving Richie alone by the door. Richie looked as if he was trying to figure out whether Desmond was joking or not.
...Desmond stormed out of school building fifteen minutes later, after cancelling all his classes for the rest of the day, and dealing with the grumpy secretary who kept grumbling something about filling out one form or the other. Finally, Desmond's patience was gone for good, he leaned closer, and said in a very quiet, dangerous voice:
"Loretta, you are going to fill out all those forms and leave them in my mailbox, and you will not say anything else about it, do you understand me?"
She blinked at that, and opened her mouth to unleash some very righteous fury on Desmond's head, but then she looked into his eyes, shut her mouth, and nodded rapidly.
"I will be back tomorrow morning," Desmond said after he straightened up. "I'll sign everything then."
Loretta nodded again, but he wasn't looking at her anymore. By the time she finally drew a quick shaky breath ("Good God, he looked murderous...!"), Desmond was out of the building.
..."Rayhe!" he said into the phone sharply after he was driving towards the highway. "Get your ass down to that deli!"
"Which deli?" Gabriel sounded beyond tight. "Des, did you find..."
"I think so," Desmond threw the wheel to the right without even bothering with the turn signal. "The deli, Rayhe! Pure Luck, remember?"
"Okay..."
"Don't go all the way to the deli, though," Desmond slammed on his brakes and swerved to the left, avoiding a collision with some slow-moving car in front of him. He flew around that car, cutting it off in a most obnoxious manner, and not giving a damn about it. "Take a left turn right before the main intersection," he said without even glancing into his rearview mirror. "It's easy to miss because it doesn't have a street name or anything. Go up that road, it'll take you to the watchtower..."
"Are you there?"
"No," Desmond switched lanes again. "I just left school..."
"School? Goddammit, Des..."
"Believe me, Rayhe," Desmond muttered after he cut off someone else. "It's a very good thing that I stopped by the school, otherwise I wouldn't have any idea about the watchtower... Just get your ass there as quick as you can," he said impatiently. "Call Blair!"
"Yeah," Gabriel said quickly.
"And Rayhe...?"
"What?"
"For the love of God, don't drive the way you usually do..."
"Don't worry," Gabriel muttered. "Right now, I could leave you in the dust..."
"See you there," Desmond said without a smile and snapped his phone shut.
He threw it into his passenger's seat and pressed the gas pedal even harder into the floor, seeing someone trying to get ahead of him. He flew into the highway-turning lane without even bothering to slow down, and shot straightforward, ignoring screeching of the tires, angry honking, and all those gestures he got as a result. Then, half an hour or so later, he started swearing wildly, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. There was some sort of an accident on the highway, and everything was blocked.
"Goddammit...!" he yelled for probably thirtieth time, glanced into his side mirror, and jerked the wheel to the right without lifting his foot off the gas pedal. He flew into the nearest exit right before he managed to miss it and hauled down the road, maneuvering through the cars and trucks with desperation of someone who has minutes left to live.
He crossed the intersection right before the light turned red and locked his jaw tight, his inner map drawing a hasty picture in his mind. He made his way through the labyrinth of small, back streets, and finally, he was able to get to the unblocked part of the highway. As soon as he got there, he grabbed his phone from the passenger's seat.
"Rayhe!" he barked into the phone a minute later. "Take the exit 75, and try to figure out how to get to the exit 79 through the back streets... I don't have time to explain it right now, just use your brain, okay...? There has been an accident on the highway," he grimaced impatiently. "Some huge-ass truck crashed in the middle of the road, and it's blocking everything...! So yeah, take 75 and figure out your way to 79, okay? The road is clear there... Tell Blair...! It took me almost an hour and a half to get through the damn labyrinth, so it will probably take you two at least a couple of hours... I am nothing like him...! Shut up, Rayhe!" he grimaced once again. "Just remember, exit... Yeah, that one... Uh huh... Okay, see you," he snapped the phone shut and threw it onto the passenger's seat.
http://visions.heliohost.org