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The first night Jimmy and Ben were assigned together on patrol had been little more than a partnering of convenience and circumstance. Before that night, Jimmy usually did rounds with an older ginger-haired boy named Franklin. They'd partnered together a number of times since 2nd Massachusetts had set out and got along alright together. Despite proving himself capable time and again, other scouts refused to work alongside the formerly-harnessed Ben. There was too much lingering mistrust and too great a reminder of current events. Ben's father, Professor Mason, climbing into a space craft with one of the alien scourges didn't exactly help his floundering image. Bad for morale, Captain Weaver explained away his tolerance of the fighters' behaviors and as reasoning for keeping Ben, for the most part, on the sidelines. Jimmy had always been close to Ben's family. Professor Mason empathized with Jimmy's situation, but didn't coddle the orphaned teenage boy as most of the other adults tended to do. At least, the ones that weren't behind Jimmy’s back secretly wishing the 2nd Mass would leave him behind. They saw him as nothing more than a burden on the group to care for and a useless mouth to feed. Admittedly, Jimmy didn't trust Ben when the other boy was freshly un-harnessed. At times, Jimmy could be crueller than any of the other children, perhaps, because of his close relations with the rest of the Mason family. Part of him felt threatened by the return of the middle Mason son, having been for a time Ben's de facto replacement. However, another part of him felt obligated to befriend Ben and his hate of that obligation caused him to rebel viciously against it. Didn't he have enough responsibilities on his shoulders to carry without adding a forced friendship with the weird freaky kid? Almost like a comical joke played by the cosmos, Ben seemed intent on befriending Jimmy. In those first several days after the harness came off, as he learned to live life again as an independent human with a free will and full-use of his faculties, Ben followed Jimmy around camp like a lost puppy dog. It came to a point where Jimmy felt like a cornered rabbit. He pushed the envelope of his cruelty towards the other boy, causing a rift between himself and the Mason family, and took to hiding in store rooms and loose air vents in the school building the convoy had set up camp at when he wasn't actively serving the 2nd Mass. And then the incident in the mountains happened. The 2nd Mass children were sent away to an alleged haven that turned out to be a trap laid by traitorous humans dealing with the Skitters. Ben played a pivotal role in helping them all escape, and Jimmy was forced to reconsider his conflicted feelings towards Ben. He made attempt to treat the other boy more fairly, after all, he owed a lot to the Mason family and it wasn't as though it were Ben's fault the alien invaders had taken him hostage and turned him into a weird freaky kid. Jimmy was far from wanting to be best friends but he became the only child in the 2nd Mass that was not an immediate member of Ben's family to tolerate Ben's presence. So when Franklin fell ill, Weaver seized the opportunity to stick Jimmy with Ben. The partnership got off to a rocky start. They argued the first fifteen minutes of their patrol about which route to take. “We should head up north first, follow the creek around the perimeter, then take the interstate back to camp. It's more efficient, we can cover more ground in less time,” Ben hissed. He'd been repeating the same plan most of the argument as though restating his idea somehow made it more appealing, “You know I'm right, you just don't want to admit it.” Someone seriously needs to teach this kid better persuasion techniques, Jimmy thought “Most of that trek is over rough terrain,” Jimmy shot back, “And there's no coverage along the interstate! Me and Frankie have been working the same route the past week. It's solid and there's no reason to change it up now. This is just a one-night thing anyhow, tomorrow Frankie will be feeling better and we'll go back to patrolling together again. You don't have to put so much effort into it.” That seemed to end the argument for Ben. While Jimmy didn't understand the other boy's sudden loss of interest in arguing his cause, Jimmy didn't really press the matter. He was glad to have won and to finally be getting on with the night's patrol. For the most part, they spent that first patrol in silence. It wasn't until a few hours in that the silence ended with another argument about when and where to take a break and eat the stale saltine crackers and Slim Jims they'd been given for the walk. “Do we really need to stop now?” Ben demanded, “Can't you keep going for just a few more hours? Then our shift will end and you can just eat back at camp.” The desperation to press on glimmering in Ben's wide wild-looking eyes frightened Jimmy in some ways. Yet in other, very strange ways, it excited Jimmy. Professor Mason and Hal, the eldest Mason boy, had never talked much about Ben before recovering him from the Skitters. It was as though, to them, speaking about their missing family member was paramount to condemning him to a fate worse than death. But the youngest Mason boy, Matt, had spoken about Ben often and when Jimmy had had the time and patience, he would sit and listen to the small boy's reverent ramblings of his lost elder sibling. The Ben that Matt had painted with words, of a shy bookworm, looked nothing like the Ben that stood before Jimmy, with arms folded across his chest and hard, intense eyes staring in an almost threatening way. Predatory, came to mind. Ben Mason was a predator. And the way he looked at Jimmy, sometimes, it felt as though he were assessing his prey. Ben was the hunter and Jimmy his hunted. The idea flitted into Jimmy's mind that first patrol, almost in the way a scrap of paper flits in the wind, only to solidify into something hard and permanent, taking root and growing, branches stretching upwards and outwards. Try as he might he couldn't shake it free. “Maybe you can keep going without rest but some of us are only human,” Jimmy scoffed, again causing Ben to abruptly lose interest in the argument. They found an inlet with a rock overhang to settle in and eat. Jimmy sat on the damp ground and ripped open his Slim Jim. Ben leaned against the back of their little inlet, resting his rifle across his lap and closed his eyes. For several minutes they sat like that. Jimmy ignored Ben, eyes wandering out at their forested surroundings. He kept one ear alert to Ben, aware of every shuffle and shift of the other boy's body. “Hal spoke about you a lot,” Ben finally interrupted the quiet. Jimmy took a sip from his canteen of fresh river water and remained silent. “When I first came to, after they took off the harness,” Ben went on, “He was catching me up on things, I guess.” Jimmy made a noise in his throat. Ben moved the rifle up to lean across his chest and against his shoulder, its barrel pointing upwards. “He kept telling me stories about things you had done, things you and he had done.” If things had been awkward before than this was just downright disturbing. Jimmy took another bite of his Slim Jim and tried to remain apathetic to the conversation, despite the terrible stone-cold feeling settling against his chest. So Jimmy had looked up to Hal for a time, thought of him like an older brother, tagged along a lot. So Hal had been looking for someone about Jimmy's age to replace a gaping hole in his life where Ben was meant to be. So Jimmy had been looking for someone, anyone, to fill the gaping hole in his life where his family used to be. So they had needed each other and things had worked out. At least, worked out until Ben came back and Hal didn't need Jimmy as his adoptive brother anymore. Jimmy understood, sort of, that a substitute loses purpose when the real thing returns. He was fine with making himself scarce. It all figured itself out, right? Jimmy had backed down and Ben had retaken his rightful place as the second eldest Mason son. No muss, no fuss. So where the hell was Ben going with this, exactly? “I was jealous, you know,” Ben continued and Jimmy smirked sardonically to himself. Of course, that's where this was going, “I kept thinking, what do I care about this Jimmy kid. It was supposed to be me doing all those things with Hal, but I was too busy serving some alien overlords, right?” “I'm not going to say 'sorry', if that's what you want,” Jimmy muttered. He tilted his head to one side so he could watch Ben without actually looking interested in the other boy's actions. “I don't. You know. Because after a while I realized what Hal was really trying to say. What he was trying to tell me. He was saying, this Jimmy is a good kid. He wanted us to be friends,” Ben explained. Jimmy said nothing. He shifted uncomfortably, took another bite of his Slim Jim to give him something to do with his mouth. Ben sighed and shook his head, as though silently laughing at a joke no one told. “Somehow...that made it easier for me to listen to the stories. And you know, as he told me more and more about you, you know what I realized?” Ben opened his eyes and locked them on to Jimmy's own iridescent blue orbs. “I like you, Jimmy,” he admitted, firm and unwavering. The confession sent a shiver up Jimmy's spine and caused his heart to crash at breakneck speed against his chest. He didn't know exactly how to respond, so he didn't, remaining stoic, his expression apathetic. Ben lowered his eyes and looked away, as if suddenly bashful. “I guess that sounds weird,” Ben mumbled. “Yeah. It does,” Jimmy snapped, turning his attention back to the forest to hide the color suddenly spreading through his face. “When Hal talked about you, you just sounded like someone I could have been friends with. You know. Before,” Ben explained. His voice was a lot softer now, uncertain. He sounded afraid, as though he'd crossed some invisible line and was just waiting for the horrible repercussions. Before. Jimmy weighed the word in his mind. It used to be a simple word and now it carried a deep, multifaceted meaning for humanity's last survivors. Sometimes Jimmy couldn't remember before. Before he had killed another living being. Before he'd picked up a gun and felt its heaviness in his hand, and the kick of its recoil. Before the 2nd Mass had claimed him amongst their ranks. Before he'd spent months as a frightened child searching for signs of life amongst a wrecked city. Before he'd left home one morning, said the last words he would ever say to his family again, and the sky came crashing down to Earth. Before. “We should get going,” Jimmy said in a voice that sounded cracked and strained even to himself. His mouth was dry and his eyes slightly damp around the edges. They didn't talk the rest of the way back to camp.
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It was a full two weeks before Jimmy was forced to spend any amount of time around Ben again after that first patrol. Frankie had recovered and returned to patrolling with Jimmy and, for the most part, things returned to normal. The 2nd Mass had moved to a new location over the course of the past few days, their third after leaving the school behind. They had taken refuge in an abandoned woodland resort, taking shelter in a cluster of cabins which had not too long ago been used to rent out to eager tourists looking to escape the city. There was a town near their base camp. Weaver asked for a volunteer scout party to head out and search the convenience stores for any supplies that may have escaped the attentions of looters. Without hesitance Jimmy offered up his services. He wasn't surprised to learn that Hal was leading the party but he was extremely annoyed to see Ben would be coming along. Dai was there as well. He would be driving the red Chevrolet pick-up, their transport on the ‘shopping’ trip. A frizzy haired, middle-aged woman named Jamie and a gangly, pimple-faced teenaged boy named Ulrich were also part of the group. Hal rode his bike, shooting ahead every so often to keep a watch on where they were headed, no surprises. Ulrich followed several yards behind on a bike of his own, guarding their rear. Jamie sat in the truck carriage with Dai. Jimmy and Ben sat alone together in the truck bed. They maintained a distance from one another. Ben sat near the front of the truck, leaning back against the carriage and watching the side of the road roll by. Jimmy pushed himself into the corner of the back of the truck bed, his knees pulled up, balancing his rifle across them. He watched Ben from the corner of his eye. Wind whipped around them, threatening to drown out any conversation. Not that either boy was really interested in chatting. At least, Jimmy wasn't, and he was certain from Ben's expression that the other boy felt the same. It was a quiet midday. A hazy overcast blanketed the town and every so often bits of rain would drizzle down, causing a chill despite the summer heat. Ben seemed somber. His eyes bore down the horizon, gazing at something in the distance that only he could see. His hard-cut jaw clenched and unclenched, a small muscle in his cheek twitching with the tension. From the angle he sat the metal rods that ran the length of his spine, protruding inelegantly out of his skin as the only remaining physical evidence he was ever harnessed, could not be seen. Rifle aside, in his faded gray t-shirt and weather worn blue jeans, chestnut hair tousling in the wind, he looked like any other average teenaged boy. In the stark light of an instant, a burst of sunlight through the graying clouds, Jimmy flashed on his last conversation with Ben. You just sounded like someone I could have been friends with. You know, before. A strange ache yawned in Jimmy's chest. For whatever reason unexplainable, perhaps just born of a simple curiosity, he suddenly wished he'd known Ben before. 'He had to wear reading glasses and he hated them. He thought they made him look like a dork', Matt once told Jimmy in a quiet evening when Professor Mason and Hal were out on a mission. Jimmy had volunteered to entertain the youngest Mason so as to give his babysitter, Dr. Anne Glass, a short break. Conspiratorially, Matt had whispered, 'They did. Hal used to make fun of him for them all the time. Ben liked to play chess, too. He was really good. He could almost beat dad, too. Well...he could beat dad, if he wanted to. He told me he always let dad win. Isn't that silly?” Jimmy tried to imagine the Ben sitting across from him wearing glasses and playing chess. The AK-47 draped across his chest wasn't giving the partially conjured image any credence. Jimmy tried to picture Hal teasing Ben, calling him such menial insults as ‘dork’ or ‘nerd’, but, strangely, all Jimmy could hear was his own sister's soft, sweet voice as she sung her 'ABCs' and him shouting at her to 'shut-the-hell-up'. He tried to think of Ben and Professor Mason playing a game of chess and what would possess a boy to let his father win but all Jimmy could think was that the last thing his own father had said to him, yelled at him, was to take out the garbage and that he never did. “Hey Jimmy, you okay?” Jimmy blinked back to reality. The truck had stopped. Dai and Jamie were climbing out of the carriage to go meet with Hal and Ulrich. Ben leaned over Jimmy, propping himself up with the top edge of the tailgate, concern etched in his features. “Yeah. Why?” Jimmy shot back, more sharply than he'd intended. He suddenly felt aware of every part, every limb, every follicle, right down to every blood cell of his own body. Ben winced, darted his eyes away, and pulled back slightly from the other boy. “I...it's just...you're crying, is all,” he pointed out, his voice so low Jimmy barely heard him. Jimmy automatically reached a hand up to touch his face. It was true. His cheeks were damp with a few stray tears. He scowled and pushed himself to his feet, shoving Ben aside in the process. “I'm not crying,” he snapped, and pathetically explained, “It was just...the wind...is all. Could you not stand so close to me? It creeps me out.” Jimmy jumped from the truck bed, leaving a painfully silent Ben staring stunned after him. He ignored the questioning looks from Hal and the others in the group as he approached.
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Jimmy pressed himself as far into the closet as he could. It didn't leave much room for Ben but it was a small space and there wasn't much that could be done about it. Ben pulled the shutter door closed, his body rigid and far too warm squashed against Jimmy's own. “Could you just...will...you...” Jimmy grumbled. “Shit...oh...sorry...ow,” Ben murmured. Ben had stepped on Jimmy's foot, and Jimmy had managed to smack Ben in the eye before they were able to fix themselves standing chest to chest, trying to make the most of the millimeters between them. Jimmy's expression was a dark, irritated glower. Ben's was an apprehensive apology. The stench of blood wafting around them was strong and nauseating. “This is all your fault,” Jimmy leveled accusation, harsh and low. “My fault?” Ben replied, brows jumping so high they nearly hit his hairline. “You're the one that wanted to come in to this fucking house in the first place,” Jimmy hissed; days, weeks, months of pent up anger and frustration towards the other boy finally boiling over. “I...you....” Ben stammered, his mouth opening and closing again in a comical impression of a goldfish. Finally his eyes narrowed and he seethed, “Well you're the one who left you're fucking gun in the kitchen.” It was Jimmy's turn to be the fish. He balled his hands into fists and bit back, “You're the one that emptied your entire magazine into one fucking Skitter.” “I only had half a fucking mag and you know it!” “That doesn't excuse a bad fucking shot!” Ben grabbed Jimmy's shoulders, pushing him with a hard THUNK against the wall at the back of the closet. “What the hell...?” Jimmy started protest but Ben quieted him quickly, slapping a hard, calloused hand over Jimmy's mouth. Jimmy's brow furrowed in confusion. Ben cocked his head to one side, his expression distant. He was clearly straining to hear something. “Skitter,” he mouthed. He raised a finger to indicate one. That meant the other two were probably still downstairs. For the next few seconds, the boys remained silent, simply listening for any noises. Jimmy couldn't breathe; his heart had frozen in his chest. The stench of sweat, dirt, and blood, the mingling scent of him and Ben, was causing his head to swim. Ben hadn't removed his hand from Jimmy's mouth, his other still sat on Jimmy's shoulder, holding him firm against the wall. His entire front body was flush with Jimmy. It was a strange feeling. Never had Jimmy's entire body been so fully in contact with another person's. He knew it should feel uncomfortable, awkward even, but it didn't. Oddly enough, despite the boys' predicament, Jimmy felt…safe. And then Jimmy heard it; the dreadfully familiar sound of multiple shuffling legs entering the bedroom where the boys had hidden. Jimmy closed his eyes, relaxing under the weight of Ben, breathing in the other boy as if to remind himself that at the very least he was not alone. They were completely unarmed. If the Skitter found them, they would have no chance in the world. They would be dead. Or worse, they would be taken and harnessed. It wasn't fair. Ben had only just gotten the harness taken off. Jimmy's brow furrowed. He squirmed in Ben's grasp. It wasn’t right, he knew, to be concerned first for the other boy. Someone he didn't really like and didn't fully trust. But he liked the Mason family, Jimmy reminded himself, and they had only just recently gotten Ben back. If Ben were re-harnessed, it would break their hearts. Unless, of course, Jimmy could stop it. Jimmy pursed his lips, absently placing a hand on Ben's arm, as a plan formed in his mind. If it came to it, he could sacrifice himself for the other boy. Throw himself at the Skitter, give Ben an opportunity to escape. He would fight to the end, of course. Jimmy would rather die than ever be harnessed and used against his own people. He just hoped Ben would catch on and run for it. The hand at Jimmy's mouth slipped away. He immediately missed the touch, then quickly shook that inexplicable emotion away. “It's gone,” Ben whispered, his hot breath warm against Jimmy's cheek. Jimmy opened his eyes and met Ben's. “We should probably wait a few more minutes to be sure,” Jimmy whispered back, “Then we could probably climb out of the window and rendezvous with the others.” Ben nodded. He had turned his head to one side to listen for the Skitter. His hands had repositioned to hold Jimmy firmly in place, resting on either side of the other boy's arms, long fingers wrapped around slender biceps clothed in long, dark blue sleeves. Jimmy took a few seconds to catch his breath and get his bearings straight. “You know, I'm not going anywhere,” he finally said. Ben looked at him, question shimmering in soft hazel eyes. Jimmy looked pointedly at the hands gripping him tight. He quirked a brow at the other boy. “Oh,” Ben pulled his hands back, “I'm sorry, I just-” “Forget it,” Jimmy cut in. He shifted his weight, leaning as far away from Ben as he could manage in such a small space. It was far too hot in there. Ben looked dejected. He dropped his hands to his sides and turned his attentions back to the rest of the house, listening for their opportunity. The Skitters weren’t going to leave, not if they thought the boys were still there. “Are you going to be okay?” Jimmy questioned. Ben glanced at him, and dropped his gaze to the tear down the length of his arm. Blood had soaked the side of his shirt, dripped to the floor, and was now starting to form a small pool at their feet. “Yeah,” he murmured, “You?” Jimmy could feel rather than see the lump forming at the top of his forehead. He gingerly traced it with a finger and winced when he applied a small bit of pressure. “I think I'll live,” he joked. Ben smirked, “Couldn't be too sure. After all, you are only human.” The boys locked eyes. A thousand and one responses, each more wittier, more sarcastic than the last, crashed into Jimmy's mind and not a single one could make it through his tightly clenched throat. And there was that look. Hunter. Hunted. Jimmy's heart like a rabbit's. Ben's leer like a wolf's. BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM. The boys startled, wild eyes darting around through the dark, all senses on full alert. The sound of gunfire lasted only a few moments, but it echoed in the boys' ears for quite a time after. “Ben? Jimmy?” Hal's voice shouted downstairs, pitched and panicky. Ben opened the closet door and both boys tumbled out. It felt twenty degrees cooler in the bedroom. “We're up here,” Ben called down. He held his bloody arm to himself now, attempting to squeeze the wound shut. Jimmy snatched an old button-down shirt from the closet, it smelled of dust and mothballs. He brought it over to Ben. “Here, use this,” he said. He wrapped the shirt around Ben's arm and held it to the other boy, applying a firm pressure. “Thanks,” Ben mumbled. “About what I said...about this being your fault...” Jimmy started, his eyes studying the floor, avoiding the other boy's intense gaze. “It was my fault,” Ben admitted. “Yeah,” Jimmy conceded, “But no one else needs to know that.” He met Ben's eyes, hands still holding the make-shift bandage in place, “It was my idea to come into the house. Okay?” “Why...?” Ben began, his face scrunching in confusion. “It's nice for them,” Jimmy mumbled, dropping his eyes and letting go of the bandage. He took a step away from Ben just as Hal rushed into the bedroom, “To have you back.”
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If Captain Weaver was surprised when Jimmy volunteered himself to go with Ben on patrol, the old man did a fantastic job hiding it. He did, however, have a few concerns that he didn't bother to hide in the slightest. “I'm not sure about sending you out, Jimmy, not after what happened on that scouting party in town a few days back.” “It was a lapse in judgment, sir, it won't happen again. I promise,” Jimmy pleaded. Captain Weaver looked Jimmy over, assessing, examining, considering. Jimmy had spent enough time with the captain to know the older man's expressions. He liked to joke that he could read the captain's mind, but really, he just understood him. They were a lot alike. So Jimmy knew the captain already had a 'no' prepped on his tongue, and Jimmy also knew he needed to switch his approach if he ever wanted to see action as a fighter again. “I know that Ben has a lot of skills that would be useful to the 2nd Mass,” Jimmy said. Captain Weaver rolled his head to the side and looped his thumbs through his trouser belt hooks. I'm listening, his expression said. “Whatever the Skitters did to Ben, well it made him something else...something more than human,” Jimmy continued, “We need him out there. He can hear a Skitter coming from miles away, same with mechs. Problem is, no one trusts him, and he can't exactly be out there by himself, and you can't have Hal with him all the time because you need Hal doing other things.” Captain Weaver set his jaw. His lips pressed together and his eyes looking off into the distance. He agreed with Jimmy, at least to that point. “If you send me out with Ben, we can use his skills. I can watch his back, and you can tell anyone who's worried about it that I'm out there watching Ben to make sure he doesn't do anything weird,” Jimmy said, rambling the last part off quickly. He braced himself for Captain Weaver's response. A long period of silence passed. Captain Weaver readjusted his hat. Then he nodded. “Fine. You boys can start patrol tonight. Take the nine to three shift,” Captain Weaver said. A broad grin broke across Jimmy's face, but he hastily wiped it away and gave a short salute before rushing from the Captain's office. Outside, through the crowd of people busily seeing to various tasks that kept the 2nd Mass community running, Jimmy caught sight of Ben amongst a cluster of other children with the youngest Mason brother, Matt. If Jimmy were standing beside the children he probably wouldn't have noticed, but at such a far distance he could see the wide berth the other children gave Ben. Avoiding him as though he carried a viciously contagious disease. Jimmy frowned, straightening his field vest. He caught sight of Franklin amongst a group of other older teens. Franklin waved him over, and Jimmy walked a few paces towards the group. Franklin sucked a long drag from a cigarette and offered it up. Jimmy accepted, took a hit that burned nicely all the way down his throat and into his chest. He handed it back. “What'd the old man say? We on patrol tonight?” Franklin asked. Jimmy shifted uncomfortably and shook his head, studying the moss-covered ground. It was a brilliant shade of green, a kind of color he never imagined could occur in nature. The entire forest was blanketed with the stuff. He thought of his dad suddenly. His dad always used to promise to take him camping, “we'll go this weekend, son”, he'd say, only to cancel last minute for some work-related reason or another. Now, here Jimmy was camping with complete strangers and his father was dead. The universe really did have a sick sense of humor. “Uh...no...it looks like the captain wants me on patrol with Ben,” Jimmy said. It was only a half-lie. “The freak razorback? That's shit,” Franklin replied, “Tough luck, Jimmy.” The others voiced their sympathies. Jimmy nodded and murmured incomprehensible words that sounded agreeable. He excused himself and hurried away. Jimmy shared a cabin with a widowed woman and her three younger children. She was out washing laundry with some of the other women and the children were out playing at the moment, so it was one of those rare days when Jimmy had the cabin to himself. He entered amiably and lay on the bunk he shared with the woman's eldest son, a five-year-old named Tyler. Tyler talked in his sleep. Jimmy thought it was sweet. That the boy could sleep, that is. The talking thing kind of bothered Jimmy. Tyler didn't always say pleasant things. Jimmy was the only true orphan in the 2nd Mass, the only one younger than eighteen without a family, and that hadn’t been harnessed. In the world of Skitters, children didn't last long on their own, either killed by scavenging adults or taken by Skitters. Yet somehow, Jimmy had survived and continued to survive. He was the exception to a rule no one wanted to admit existed. Jimmy closed his eyes and tried to invite slumber in. He needed to rest if he would be out patrolling until three in the morning. He wouldn't be able to sleep, not truly. No one really did those days, especially not the fighters. Though it wasn't really so much out of a desire to stay alert, but a desperation to keep the night terrors away. For Jimmy, the night terrors could be worse because when he awoke in a cold sweat, crying out in fear, there was no one to go to, and no one that would come to comfort him. Tyler had awoke the other night in a fright, screaming frantically. His mother had been at his side in an instant. She'd gathered him in her arms, rocking him back and forth and humming a made-up lullaby. Jimmy had lay as still as possible, holding his breath, and keeping his eyes tightly closed, listening to her ministrations, and relishing in the maternity falling off her in droves. When Tyler had finally fallen asleep once more, his mother remained another several minutes stroking the boy's back, then she tiptoed out to the room she shared with her other two children. Alone in the dark, Jimmy had to bite on his fist to hold in the sobs as tears streamed steady down his cheeks. Jimmy rubbed his palm over his face, mussing his hair. He folded his arms over his chest, settling into the mattress, digging his muddy heels into the end of the bed. He always slept in his boots, fully clothed, so he could jump up and run in a pinch, if need be. The trick, Jimmy had found, was to not sleep long or deep enough to dream. He wondered if Ben had bad dreams, frowned at the thought, then exasperatedly gave in, humoring his wayward mind with the reasoning, “of course he has bad dreams, he was harnessed by the Skitters for how many months.” If anything could give a person nightmares it had to be that. Jimmy checked his watch. Still only five. He decided he would tell Ben about their patrol in a couple hours. That would give the other boy enough time to prepare. “I can't believe I'm actually nervous about this. What is wrong with me?” Jimmy muttered, laying an arm across his face. He could have asked that question a million times for a million different reasons over the past few days. What was wrong with him that he had practically begged Weaver to put him on patrol with Ben? What was wrong with him that his thoughts were constantly finding their way back to Ben no matter how desperately he tried to alter their direction? What was wrong with him that he was watching Ben every opportunity he had, searching him out in the crowded camp almost instinctively? What was wrong with him that their roles had so drastically changed in the span of a short few days, that now he was the lost puppy dog following Ben around? And what was wrong with him that he couldn't get the words Ben had spoken to him on that first patrol out of his head, that they just kept replaying over and over again, a CD track on repeat: I like you, Jimmy.
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Jimmy and Ben's second time patrolling together should have gone smoother but the awkward tension between them was too thick to ignore. It put them both on edge, so much so that any word out of one boy's mouth would instantly set the other off -- a nuclear explosion that caught them in a fiery ball of rage and when the mushroom cloud had cleared, leaving nothing standing in its wake. After three full-blown arguments, and a handful of short quarrels between, Jimmy finally threw his hands up. “Fine. Why don't you just go off and patrol however the hell you want and I'll go patrol however the hell I want and we'll just meet back at camp,” he roared. “Fine,” Ben spat back. “Fine,” Jimmy shot in return. They spun on heel in separate directions and fumed off into the woods. Jimmy had walked for nearly twenty minutes, arms wrapped tightly around himself, sniffling every now and then as the chill of the nighttime forest was making his nose run. He lied to himself that it was also the cold causing tears to cascade down his face, dribbling pathetically off his chin, before he realized Ben was following him. He kept walking with that knowledge for several more minutes, letting the tears stop and the anger to well in the bottom of his gut again. It seemed the only way Jimmy could confront the other boy was with rage, so he gathered up all the reasons he hated Ben, ticking them off in his head starting with that damned harness and ending with that cocky smirk he sometimes wore when the 2nd Mass kids played a game of soccer and he'd scored a goal. Jimmy stopped dead in his tracks, studying the ground, kicking over dead leaves with his boot toe, and waiting for the other boy to approach. “What are we doing, Jimmy?” Ben questioned, a few erratic heartbeats later. “I'm patrolling,” Jimmy bit out tersely, “I don't know or care what you're doing but if you're looking for something then you can start by fucking off and leaving me alone.” In the distance, a bird – probably an owl – shrieked into the wind. It sounded reminisce of a woman screaming or a small child. A shiver ran the length of Jimmy's spine and he shuddered involuntarily. “You know what I mean,” Ben insisted. Jimmy tilted his head to look at Ben. He was sitting at the base of a large oak tree, his back with the horror-show spikes leaned against its trunk. He had his knees propped up, his rifle in his lap, his forearms balanced on either knee. He stared down at Jimmy through half-lidded eyes, his mouth forming a straight line. They were the same age, but in that moment, Ben looked so much older than Jimmy, who was whimpering like a petulant child. Jimmy resented it. “Go. To. Hell,” Jimmy seethed. He turned his glare back to the ground and blinked away newly forming tears. “Or go back to the Skitters. I don't care which.” Ben snorted softly. “Why don't you make me?” he muttered. If prompted, Jimmy couldn't have explained how the next few things happened. In the span of time it takes a sparrow's wings to flap in flight, Jimmy had bridged the distance between himself and Ben, and connected a fist to the other boy's jaw. Ben was on his feet. He tossed his rifle aside and tackled Jimmy low, grabbing him round the waist and knocking him back. They crashed to the ground in a tangle of wildly flailing arms and legs, and twisted around in the moss and mud, attempting desperately to injure the other but probably injuring themselves more in the process. Finally, Ben proved the victor, pinning Jimmy's arms to his sides and sitting atop, straddling the other boy's lower half. A bruise was already forming on Ben's jaw and the laceration on his arm from that Skitter encounter a few days back had apparently tore open afresh, blood soaking through the sleeve of his light blue sweater. Jimmy's bottom lip was cut, blood filling his mouth and his wrist felt like it may have been sprained either in the scuffle or the initial fall to the ground. “Why did you have to say it?” Jimmy demanded, his words muffled by barely contained sobs and his own blood. It took Ben aback and he relaxed his grip slightly, his face washed blank. “Why did you have to say that you liked me?” Jimmy moaned, “I don't even like me.” His ice blue eyes cut into Ben, dark thoughts swirling behind their glassy, pristine surfaces, dark thoughts that no thirteen-year-old boy should ever have but often do. Ben sat back on his haunches, releasing Jimmy's arms altogether. Jimmy had succumbed to his emotions, a rush of river after the dam has broken. He buried his face in his palm, a futile attempt to hide his sorrow-ravaged face. Beneath Ben's comforting weight, Jimmy's body shook violently with harrowing sobs. After a few seconds ticked by, an eternity of Jimmy balling uncontrollably, Ben leaned forward and placed his hand on Jimmy's forehead, gently pushing the other boy's hair away from his face the way a mother might, except Ben's hand was rough and covered in grime and somewhat clumsy. It was clear he wasn't accustomed to consoling another person. Ben sighed and softly, imploringly, asked, “What happened to you, Jimmy?” Jimmy shook his head reply. There were some crimes he'd never confess to committing. Sins he would rather take to the grave. His sobs were fading now, his breathing was heavy and, for the first time in a long while, he felt like he could sleep for a hundred years, with Ben's hand light on his forehead and the weight of Ben's body atop Jimmy's own. Ben stopped stroking Jimmy's hair back, instead, just letting his hand rest, lost, against Jimmy's temple. In that moment, Jimmy found himself curious about Ben's expression. What kind of look was he wearing on his face? Jimmy imagined it was something exasperated, maybe weary. Jimmy, ever the burden, was weighing on that already overloaded boy's shoulders. It hurt him to think that that was what he had become to Ben, another burden for him to bear. “You can get off me any day now,” Jimmy croaked out, too tired to even attempt sounding annoyed. Regrettably, Ben's hand pulled away from Jimmy's forehead as he stammered a meek somewhat apology, “Right. Yeah. Sure. I didn't mean to...” Seriously, Jimmy thought bemusedly, I threw the first punch. That’s when they heard it, the mechanical siren call of doom. They froze. Jimmy propped up on his elbows, and Ben straightened. Their wide eyes, like deer in headlights, both turned the direction of that all too familiar, fatalistic bellow. “Mech,” Jimmy breathed. Ben was on his feet in a flash, pulling Jimmy up off the ground by his collar. “We have to get back to camp,” Ben rattled off, rushing to grab his rifle, “Warn them...” “Or,” Jimmy interjected, knocking the mud from his clothes. Ben faltered in his retreat, turning a quizzical look back to the other boy. Jimmy motioned to his pack where he’d dropped it on the ground beside his rifle before their fight. “Or we could blow the bastard up.”
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Jimmy and Ben shimmied along the ground on their bellies through the underbrush. Ben lead the way. They came to a stop when they were close enough to have a visual on the giant, bipedal robot that had come to play a major role in both boys' recent nightmares. It was accompanied by a Skitter, scampering at its feet. “Dai always sneaks me a couple explosives when I head out on patrol,” Jimmy whispered explanation, pulling the aforementioned bundles of C4 from his pack as he spoke, “Weaver would have a conniption if he found out, but Dai says you should always be fully prepared for battle, whether you plan to go into it or not.” “Dai's a smart man,” Ben acknowledged. Jimmy nodded agreement. “Mech's always travel with at least two Skitters,” Jimmy continued in a low voice. He pointed to the one with their targeted mech, “That's one.” “So where's the other...” Ben mused. He listened intently a moment, putting a finger to his lips as a warning to Jimmy to remain silent. He pointed through the thicket, “About half a klick that way.” “We should take out the mech first,” Jimmy said, “Then the Skitters should be easy pickings.” Ben smirked, tapping a finger to a faded purplish blob on Jimmy's forehead. The lump had all but disappeared but the bruising still remained, a colorful reminder of their closet adventure. “Yeah. Easy,” Ben teased. Jimmy flushed, rolling his eyes and shrugging. “We don't have to do this if you don't want to,” he grumbled. “No. I want to,” Ben stated firmly, “I really want to.” Jimmy looked at Ben, interested by the determination in his words. The way Ben's eyes were lit with anticipation licked like fire through Jimmy's veins. Again, the comparison of Ben to a hunter fluttered unbidden into Jimmy's mind, except now Jimmy didn't feel as though the hunted and the impression was less exciting and a lot more frightening. Ben was dangerous. The plan was simple. Ben climbed a tree along the mech's path with the explosive and dropped it on the tin-can at the appropriate moment. Jimmy, perched in the bushes nearby, sniped the Skitter with a head shot. The second Skitter would hear the commotion, come to investigate, and Ben would see its approach from the tree and take it out with his own rifle. Executing the plan wasn't quite so simple. The explosive took out the mech without a hitch, but a piece of shrapnel nearly took off Ben's head and the force of the explosion about blew him from the tree. Jimmy wasn't as crack a shot as he needed to be, and the Skitter managed to ascend the tree and almost get hold of Ben before Jimmy managed to put a bullet into its head. In all the commotion the second Skitter had sprinted towards its fallen comrades and, catching the boys by surprise, sprung from the thicket and grabbed hold of Jimmy, throwing him out of sight and quickly following. Ben jumped from his perch in the tree and raced after, Jimmy's cries of pain and the sounds of struggle, his only guide through the night. By the time Ben found the Skitter, Jimmy had fallen silent and was still out of sight. Ben took the Skitter out with a single shot to the back of its head. He rushed forward to search for the other boy. “Jimmy,” he shouted, “Jimmy, where are you?” Jimmy stirred from darkness, his eyes peeling open but his vision only greeted by more darkness, the sound of Ben's frantic shouts echoing in his ringing ears. He couldn't move, a dead weight lay across his body and an awful stench invaded his lungs. Bile rose to the back of his throat and threatened to spew out. “I'm here,” Jimmy gasped; afraid at first that Ben hadn't heard him and that he wouldn't be able to reply any louder. The weight, which turned out to be the Skitter, shifted from off Jimmy and he was able to untangle himself from the body and gracelessly climb to his feet. Ben stared wild-eyed at Jimmy, brow furrowed, mouth parted. He held the side of his head with one hand, his rifle with the other. “Shit,” Ben breathed. “Is it dead?” Jimmy questioned, kicking the Skitter and gagging, fighting to hold in the contents of his stomach. He could bathe for years and never get the stench of dead Skitter on him out. “Yeah. Yeah. They're all dead. Shit. I thought you were dead,” Ben stammered. He took a step towards the other boy. Hesitated a moment, took another step forward. “I thought I was dead,” Jimmy admitted. His words sounded calmer than their meaning would suggest he should be. Ben took another step forward and tentatively lay his hand on Jimmy's shoulders, as if confirming the other boy were real. He gave Jimmy a gentle shake. A beautiful broad grin broke out across Ben's face, the after-adrenaline rush euphoria now commandeering his senses. The realization of what they'd done and that they'd actually survived it skyrocketing him on an endless natural high. “Shit, Jimmy, I could kiss you right now,” he laughed. Jimmy smirked bitterly at the dead Skitter. His mood more somber than ecstatically maudlin at that moment. They had done it. They had killed a mech and two Skitters by themselves. Just the two of them. The implications of their victory made him feel slightly sick to the stomach and Ben's words barely registered. “Yeah. You could,” Jimmy absently conceded. Ben's laughter trailed off and the smile faded entirely from his face. He lowered his chin and peered up at Jimmy sheepishly through lashes. It took Jimmy a few seconds to process the conversation. His cheeks blossomed red before he could stop the apparent reaction. He shouldered his rifle, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground, and strode rigidly past the other boy. “We should head back to camp,” Jimmy declared. “We can't,” Ben murmured, running a hand over the back of his neck. Jimmy spun round to glare at him, alarmed, “Why not?” Ben pointed to the watch on his wrist. “We still have an hour of patrol left. We head back now it'll look suspicious,” Ben explained. “Oh,” Jimmy ran his hand over his face, feeling foolish, “Right.” “Let's go find somewhere to rest. Clean off,” Ben suggested, “There's a river nearby. You're covered in Skitter goo.” “Kind of your fault, man,” Jimmy replied, falling in step behind Ben as the other boy led the way through the forest towards the promised river. “Why is it everything is always my fault?” Ben shot back. “Hey, you're the one that blew out the Skitter's brains all over me,” Jimmy replied. Ben stopped abruptly and spun round causing Jimmy to nearly run head first into him. They were far too close, only an inch or so between them. Self-consciously, Jimmy took a step back but almost instinctively, Ben closed the gap again. “And you're the one who suggested we blow the mech up in the first place,” Ben calmly noted. Jimmy swallowed hard. Their close proximity seemed to cause an almost unbearable heat. He glued his gaze to a spot on Ben's shirt. Which had a few splatters of blood, he noticed. His eyes trailed up, following the crimson trickle to its source. The side of Ben's head was gashed open. Jimm'ys eyes widened, his jaw dropped. “Doesn't that hurt?” he demanded, pointedly staring at the gaping wound. Ben startled, and touched a hand to his injury. He grimaced. “Oh. Yeah,” he mumbled, “I guess it does.” Jimmy grabbed Ben's arm and steered him towards the forest once more. “Where's that river?” Jimmy demanded, striding hastily forward as he spoke, “We need to get your head cleaned up. I've got bandages in my pack, not a lot but...” “Uh...Jimmy, you really don't know where the river is, do you?” Ben cut in and Jimmy paused, looking dumbly out at the walls of trees around them. He'd been through the area surrounding camp numerous times already, he'd visited the river Ben mentioned several times, but he still didn't quite have a lay of the land. “No. Not a clue,” he murmured, flustering. He was glad of the night, so that Ben couldn't see how red his face had grown. Ben burst into laughter. He slung an arm around Jimmy's shoulders and spun them more to the right, guiding the other boy, while still leaning his body casually against him. In that moment, Jimmy didn't know what made his head feel lighter, the exhaustion from their recent bout or the feel of Ben alongside him.
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“We fell,” Jimmy said. “A lot,” Ben added. “Down a cliff,” Jimmy elucidated. “A large cliff,” Ben, again, added. Captain Weaver glanced between the two boys, each sporting several injuries. Included amongst them was a split lip, a black eye, and a poorly bandaged head wound. Weaver’s eyes were narrowed to such thin slits that the pupils were barely visible between the lids. The corner of his mouth twitched every so often, either from annoyance, anger, or a combination of both. He stared for a very long time. Assessing the boys. They remained unmoved, standing at attention, eyes locked forward on their captain. Finally, what seemed an eternity later, an eternity that Jimmy spent holding his breath and desperately fighting the urge to glance at Ben, Captain Weaver sighed and shook his head in resignation. “Just...watch where you boys are walking next time, alright? We got enough to worry about with the aliens without you two trying to do the job of killing yourselves for them,” he said. He waved them from the office. As soon as they were outside, Ben gave a whoop of excitement. “I can't believe we got away with that,” he exclaimed. Jimmy waved his hands frantically to quiet Ben and shook his head angrily, glancing around and behind them. “Will you shut up?” he hissed. Ben looked around confused. Jimmy folded his arms over his chest; relaxing only once he was satisfied Ben hadn't been overheard, at least, not by anyone too curious about their conversation. They walked side-by-side out into the campground. A few people were bustling about around them, mostly fighters who had been up all night anyway. Most of the civilians were just beginning to wake up. The kitchen staff was preparing breakfast, the scent of oatmeal wafting from the mess tent. “You don't lie much, do you?” Jimmy scoffed. “For your information,” Ben said matter-of-factly, “I lied a lot growing up. I lied to my parents all the time.” Jimmy stared at Ben skeptically, one brow carefully arched. “Uh-huh,” he droned sarcastically, “And how often did you get caught?” Ben squirmed slightly under Jimmy's scrutinizing glare. He sought to focus his attentions elsewhere. “Is that really important?” Ben stammered, fidgeting with his head dressing, “We didn't get caught this time. That's what matters, right?” Jimmy rolled his eyes and announced, “I'm getting breakfast.” “Yeah. I'm starved. Who would've thought patrolling would work up such an appetite,” Ben declared, none too subtle about the euphemism intended behind 'patrolling'. He stretched languidly and walked alongside Jimmy towards the mess tent. While standing in line for their oatmeal, Ben casually questioned, “So what are you doing later today?” Jimmy looked at Ben with reproach. They seemed to both flash on the same thought, I could kiss you, and their cheeks blistered red. Suddenly they found the insides of their empty bowls very interesting. “Well...what I meant was...” Ben stammered, turning the bowl over in his hands nervously as he spoke, “I mean...what I'm saying – asking – is...” “Shut up,” Jimmy snapped, clenching his jaw and holding his bowl out for the woman manning the big pot of oatmeal to ladle some in to, “Forget about it.” “Right. Sorry,” Ben muttered, “I was just thinking we could go out – hang out – and uh...practice our shooting a bit. We're both pretty shit shots, you know?” Jimmy eyed the woman behind the oatmeal pot a moment, surveying her for any piqued interest in Ben's odd suggestion. She didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, so Jimmy took his bowl and headed for the utensil table to grab a spoon. Ben hurried after him with his own bowl of oatmeal. “What do you want?” Jimmy demanded in a low hiss, growing increasingly annoyed. It seemed they were back to Ben being the puppy dog again, and, Jesus Christ, if he wasn't obnoxiously good at it. “It's just...you didn't answer me?” Ben sheepishly explained. Those big, brown, over eager eyes certainly didn't help dispel the puppy dog image. Jimmy spotted Franklin across the mess hall with his group of older teens. They were eying Jimmy and Ben's interaction with dark, suspicious looks. Jimmy chewed his inner cheek and took a calming breath. “Fine,” he gritted out between tightly clenched teeth, “At thirteen hundred we'll meet in the woods. Far into the woods...out near that old ranger outpost, and we’ll practice there.” Ben looked at Jimmy quizzically, “Why so far...?” “We don't want people suspicious about our sudden need to be better shots, do we?” Jimmy explained, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Oh yeah. Right,” Ben agreed. He smiled at Jimmy expectantly. Jimmy glared at him in irritation. A few seconds ticked by. “Now...go away,” Jimmy peevishly instructed Ben. Ben's face fell. “Right,” he murmured. Jimmy watched the other boy retreat a moment before turning to join Franklin and his group, the only other fighters in the tent at that hour. “Hey guys,” Jimmy greeted nonchalant and most everyone returned the pleasantries. Everyone, except Franklin. Franklin seemed more interested in Ben, who was across the mess tent taking a seat at an empty table to eat his oatmeal alone. “What'd the Razorback want?” Franklin asked in a low growl. Jimmy flinched involuntarily, though he wasn't entirely sure why. “Oh...uh...nothing,” Jimmy stammered response, “Just...” he shrugged, stirring his oatmeal with his spoon, “Patrol stuff.” “Right. Patrol stuff,” Franklin repeated. He turned his penetrating gaze on Jimmy, “You need to watch yourself around that Razorback, Jimmy. There's no telling what those Skitters did to the freak.” The other teens voiced their agreement. Jimmy spooned some oatmeal into his mouth and nodded absently. “You know, I heard, I heard, well, they're saying he's more, more, Skitter than human, now. Like a fucking alien, you know? He's like, like, uh, part alien, I guess. You know.” One of the other boys, Leo, commented. “Those barbs in their backs, all those kids, they freak me out,” one of the girls, Teresa, added, “I caught sight of his...when we were still at the school, not long after the surgeries...” she shuddered, “I still have nightmares about it.” Franklin took a seat next to Jimmy and leaned back against the table. He smacked Jimmy's shoulder gently to get his attention. “Just keep an eye on him, okay?” Franklin insisted, “Don't let your guard down.” “I won't,” Jimmy promised, feeling somewhat awkward and uncertain. Their words were hammering away in his skull: more Skitter than human, barbs in their back, Razorbacks, watch your back. Then somewhere in the farthest corner of his mind, Ben's voice chipped away: ...someone I could have been friends with. Jimmy swallowed his mouthful of oatmeal down and pushed the rest of the bowl away. “I got to go,” he quietly excused himself, not feeling hungry anymore. Without another word, Jimmy bolted from the table and out the mess tent. He could feel all their eyes watching him leave in such a dramatic hurry. He could feel Ben's eyes watching him.
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The fifth aluminum can target fell to the ground with a Ch-Ting, a bullet hole ripped through it dead center. Jimmy set the safety back in place on the Glock and lowered the weapon. From his seat on an upturned crate nearby, Ben gave a low, appreciative whistle. “You are really not a shit shot,” Ben noted. Jimmy scowled, walking the few paces towards the other boy and handing him off the gun. “It doesn't really count on the range,” Jimmy said darkly, “If you're a shit shot in the heat of battle, where it does count, then you're a shit shot,” he picked up the bottle of coke they'd snuck from the food stores and took a swig, “I am definitely a shit shot.” Then he plopped down on the crate beside Ben, their shoulders flush. “And you're not,” Jimmy concluded. “I am so...” Ben began protest. “You took down that Skitter with one shot,” Jimmy argued, “It took me four rounds to put down my Skitter and it took me forever to get them off.” Ben rolled his eyes. He relieved Jimmy of the coke and took a short gulp. “I'm just...I freeze,” Jimmy went on to say. He leaned forward on his knees and cupped his chin in his palm, glaring at the cans lined up on the ground, neatly riddled with near identical bullet holes. “I don't know why, but I can't do it.” “No. I understand. I totally get that. It's not easy when all hell has broken loose around you and your adrenaline is pumping and everyone is depending on you to get that one bullet into the Skitter's head,” Ben argued, “I have the same problem.” Jimmy snorted softly. Agree to disagree. “No, really. When I went out with Hal a few times, when I was first learning...I would just seize up. I couldn’t even fire one bullet,” Ben continued, “Really pissed Hal off.” He shook his head at the memory then peeked at Jimmy, still sulkily staring at the dead cans. Ben sighed. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, that was only the second Skitter I've ever killed.” Jimmy blinked once. Twice. He turned his face to stare blankly at Ben. “Really,” he deadpanned, “Those are your words of encouragement. 'It's only the second Skitter I've killed and look, Jimmy, I'm already a crack shot!'. Seriously, you should consider a career in, like, counseling, therapy, or something, because you are fucking fantastic at it.” Ben rolled his eyes and took another drink of his coke. “Fine, be a smart ass,” he snapped, “I'm just trying to help out but I guess I'll stop...” “Could you? Please? Stop.” Ben smacked Jimmy's shoulder mock angrily. Jimmy stole the soda back. “Listen. You want to know what I do...what Hal told me to do?” Ben prompted. Jimmy frowned at the bottle opening and wondered if his and Ben's mouths having both touched it made it a form of indirect kissing then shrugged and took a tentative sip. “No. What?” Jimmy lazily replied. “Just pretend that the Skitter is going after something you really care about. Not just really care about but...like, the most important thing in the world to you. Like the thing that you know if you lost you'd just...just die. It would outright kill you,” Ben explained, “That you're protecting the one thing that matters most...I'm talking more than your own life.” Jimmy processed Ben's suggestion, turning the words over in his mind. He sipped the soda absently as his thoughts wandered. Matters most, matters most...what in the world was left for him to protect that mattered most to him? Perhaps, the 2nd Mass. But that didn't make sense. Jimmy felt every time he leveled a gun at a Skitter that he was doing it to protect the 2nd Mass and it certainly didn't help make him a better shot in battle. “Is that what you did? When you shot that Skitter last night? Visualized that I was the thing you cared most about?” Jimmy questioned, “Like your dad or your brothers or something like that?” Ben was quiet for a long time. Jimmy glanced at Ben and he lifted his soft brown eyes, shadowed with some indecipherable emotions, to meet Jimmy's. “Uh...yeah, something like that,” Ben replied, smirking. Jimmy furrowed his brow, suspicious. “So...then...what exactly did you visualize?” he pressed. “Oh...um...you know....” Ben pulled at a loose thread coming from his pant leg. “Come on. You're not going to tell me what you were imagining I was in order to save my life,” Jimmy teased. “Uh...okay, fine. Uh...a....uh....I was thinking of...uh...a Playstation 3,” Ben stammered, then a little more firmly declared, “I was totally visualizing a Playstation 3.” Jimmy fixed Ben with a dark glare. “Really. A Playstation 3. You expect me to believe that the most important thing in your world, at this moment, at this very point in time, is a fucking Playstation 3,” Jimmy drawled sarcastically. Ben took the soda from Jimmy's hand, gaining buoyancy at his answer, he continued, “Yeah. I would totally kill for a Playstation 3 right now. You have no idea.” “Oh, I have an idea,” Jimmy muttered. “Really? So you do understand where I'm coming from?” “Yeah. You're an ass.”
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Jimmy hadn't realized how dead he had felt inside for so long until he realized how alive he felt out on patrol with Ben. Out in the wilderness, alone, just the two of them. They would walk for hours, laughing and joking, or just quietly reveling in the other's company. Sometimes Jimmy would humor Ben's desire to push on without rest and they would spend the entire night wandering. On rare nights they stayed out well past the end of their patrol. There was a feral look in Ben's eyes, something dark and primal, haunted and eager all at once. It reminded Jimmy of the last time his parents had taken him and his little sister to the zoo. Jimmy was a brat fifth grader at the time. Convinced he was too old for something so childish as a day at the zoo with the family, he stole away when his parents were too busy pointing the monkeys out to his sister and roamed the park alone. By himself, Jimmy had found the tiger's den and, leaned against the railing on the wrong side of the yellow 'Do Not Cross' line. He had watched the big cat pace restlessly in its oversized, poorly decorated cage. It had darted these mesmerizing looks at its surroundings, its large golden eyes surveying its very small and unimpressive domain. Those eyes, much like Ben's. The eyes of a caged tiger. Ben would talk about the Skitters as if they could be around the next corner, and every time they rounded that corner and a Skitter wasn't there, Jimmy felt certain Ben was just a little disappointed. By the end of the night, Ben would be drained of all excitement, as if the lack of killing on their parts was physically exhausting. Sometimes Ben would humor Jimmy. They would take their time, lingering in places that interested Jimmy, resting here and there, staring longingly up at the sky and appreciating the vast milky ocean of stars. “There's Orion's belt,” Ben pointed out, “And that one over there is the Big Dipper.” Jimmy gaped in awe. “How do you know these things?” Ben seemed an endless array of information on patrols. 'There's some ragweed', he would say, or 'Do you hear that? Badger.' Ben shrugged and leaned forward on his knee. The two boys were sitting back to back on a wind-polished rock; their rifles leaned against a nearby tree. “My dad,” Ben explained, then more reverently, “And my mom. We would go camping a lot on family vacations. Her pick. My dad always wanted to do some historical museums or reenactments or something like that. Hal loved camping. I loved the historical stuff. It's weird, because now I think...I miss the camping more and Hal misses the historical stuff.” Jimmy snorted lightly at that, and leaned back to peer up at the stars again. Ben stood up and brushed his bottom off, walking around the rock then coming to stand off to the side with his hands on his hips. He went on with his story, “When we'd get out to the woods it was like my parents were walking encyclopedias. Everything had a name, a history, an interesting fact, and between them they seemed to know them all.” “You really miss your parents,” Jimmy noted, he nodded to the sky and asked, “You think your dad's out there somewhere.” Ben shrugged, nodded, tilting his head back to look at the stars as well. “He is. And I'm going to find a way to get him back someday,” Ben vowed, then more quietly, almost so that Jimmy couldn't hear, he said “I'm going to find a way to get them all back.” The wind teased their hair. Somewhere in the far distance a wolf, or an orphaned dog more like, cried into the night. Jimmy drew his field vest more tightly around himself and leaned forward to glare at the muddy ground. “My dad never took me camping,” he confessed. Ben turned to stare openly at Jimmy. His mouth was slightly unhinged, his eyes a bit incredulous. “What?” Jimmy questioned, suddenly self-conscious. Was there a Skitter growing out of his head? “Nothing,” Ben hastily replied. He shrugged and explained, “You just...I've never heard you talk about your family before. I mean, I figured you had one but...” Jimmy glared at his hands and sniffled loudly. “Let's just get going,” he muttered. He stood, snatched up his rifle, and started to walk off but Ben darted in his path and put a hand to his shoulder to stop him. “No wait,” Ben said, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like a jerk.” “But you did,” Jimmy shot back, “Can we forget it and just move on?” “Jimmy...” Ben pleaded. Jimmy pushed the restraining hand off, jogging a bit away before slowing his pace. His breathing was heavy now, it felt like something was sitting on his chest, making it hard to pull air in. He was gasping for it, but it never quite filled his lungs. His eyes stung. He swiped angrily at his face, wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. He barely had the will to fight when Ben caught up, grabbed hold of his vest and spun him round. “Jimmy-” Ben started. “You think I don't know what people think when they see me?” Jimmy cut in, his voice borderline shout, “There's Jimmy, poor Jimmy. No family. No one who cares about him. All alone. Poor little pathetic Jimmy. Would've been better if he just died in the first attack instead.” “No one thinks that,” Ben argued. “Oh, and suddenly you're a mind reader? Did the fucking Skitters do that to you too?” Ben flinched inwardly, taking a few steps back and shaking his head angrily at the ground. Jimmy felt a pang of guilt but he kept his eyes hard and jaw clenched. For a moment, Jimmy was staring down a ravine, he could jump or he could fall, but either way, he was destined to shatter at the bottom. He slung his gun across his chest by its strap and shoved his hands in his pockets. He turned his face out to glare into the forest. When Jimmy spoke again, his voice was steady, but each word twisted in his gut with a sickening wrench, “My dad worked a lot. At a bank. He was a broker or whatever. Never had enough time, you know.” Ben dared a peek at Jimmy, remained silent. “My mom stayed at home. She volunteered a lot,” Jimmy went on. He wiped away a stray tear but kept talking. His body was shaking, trembling, but he tried to tell himself it was only the cold making him shudder, “At soup kitchens or PTA shit. Stupid things like that. She'd make me go, on weekends, sometimes. She...um...” Jimmy's voice started to crack but he kept talking. Ben lowered his eyes again. He said nothing. “She said I needed to learn responsibility and...uh...selflessness. I hated it. I would sneak off, hide in th – the – uh...the storage closets and play my gameboy. She'd get so mad,” he closed his eyes, smirked humorlessly at the memory, “She wouldn't talk to me the whole car ride home.” A rabbit kicked up dirt nearby. A cricket chirped happily a song that spelled the secrets of its soul. “I don't have a family,” Jimmy said softly, “It's easier to say that. To say that than to say that...that...that these people existed and now...now they don't.” Jimmy buried his face in a palm, rubbing his face dry. Ben watched a worm burrow into the ground. They stood like that a few seconds, lost in their own swirling thoughts and trying to pretend they weren't fully aware of the other boy standing in front of them. “Let's get going,” Ben finally decided and Jimmy nodded. They crunched ahead, Ben in the lead and Jimmy sulking behind, fidgeting with his gloves. “Ben,” Jimmy called, his voice a hoarse crack. He cleared his throat. “Yeah?” “About what I said...the Skitter comment,” Jimmy mumbled, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.” “Yes, you did.” Ben shouldered his rifle and clambered deftly up a hill. Jimmy followed more slowly and with a great deal less deft. “Well okay...maybe I did, but I am sorry. I won't say those kinds of things anymore. I promise.” “Yeah, you will,” Ben scoffed, pausing and turning towards Jimmy. “Fine. Maybe I will,” Jimmy admitted, looking up to lock his eyes on Ben's, “But I won't mean them.” A toothy smile spread across Ben's face. He slowly closed the distance between himself and Jimmy until there were only inches between them. “Yes. You will,” Ben insisted, and then he returned, “You think I don't know what people think when they see me? The razorback, right?” Jimmy flinched but gave Ben the same respectful silence he'd received. “They try to be nice to my face: poor kid harnessed by the Skitters, at least he's free now. So long as they don't have to touch me, or talk to me, or get anywhere near me, it's easy for them to feel sorry. But I just know they're all waiting to see if I turn back into a mindless alien slave. All of them, even you,” Ben ranted, eyes burning with a barely contained fire, “Difference is, at least you'll say it to my face.” Jimmy chewed his inner cheek, drawing blood from the tender flesh. He felt like he'd been punched in his stomach. Was that really how Ben saw it? “I kind of really like that about you,” Ben confessed. The blood rushed to Jimmy's head all at once. He nodded stiffly and hoped Ben didn't notice or wonder at the sudden color to his cheeks. “I don't know entirely what the Skitters did to me. I know I'm not normal anymore and that it scares people,” Ben murmured. He sniffed loudly and glared out at the forest, “It scares me.” Jimmy folded his arms over his chest and glanced away from the other boy. Those kinds of confessions tended to be embarrassing for everyone involved. Ben shoved his hands in his pockets and touched his chin to his collar bone. “So people tiptoe around the subject. Some won't even say the word 'Skitter' around me. Like it's the dirtiest secret in the 2nd Mass, that I was harnessed,” Ben continued, he turned his gaze back to Jimmy, “But then there's you. You just make these comments about it, like it's no big deal and I feel like...like maybe it is no big deal.” Ben's hand twitched forward suddenly as though to reach out for Jimmy, then fell limply back to his side just as suddenly. He frowned and sighed heavily. “When I'm with you, it's like, I know I'm not normal, I know that the Skitters did things to me, things I don't even know about, but it doesn't scare me,” Ben admitted. He took a deep breath. Slid his eyes shut and whispered, “I'm not scared when I'm around you.” A single heartbeat pounded in Jimmy's ears. For a split of a second, he was acutely aware of everything about Ben. His lithe muscular form. His strong shoulders straight and naturally rigid. The steady rise and fall of his chest. The cut of his jawline. The curve of his lip. The line of his neck and definition of his collar bone. The scent of his body a mild, musky mix of citrus and pine and a metallic hint of blood. Everything right down to the width of his stance and the golden roots of his hair. In a hushed breath, Jimmy conceded, “Yeah.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A couple days later, a patrol group failed to return. A few of the fighters volunteered to search; Hal, Jimmy and Ben were amongst them. Captain Weaver wanted larger groups of four and five searching the perimeter in case there were alien troops in the vicinity. While the parties searched, the rest of camp would work at packing up to be ready for a quick retreat. Hal immediately took charge of their group. Ben rolled his eyes to Jimmy at his brother's bravado. Jimmy covered a smile. They were saddled with another boy, a fifteen year old, curly haired youth by the name of Jackson. Jackson had only just learned to shoot a rifle and the search party would be his first real mission. He eagerly followed Hal's every command which seemed to agitate Ben. Jimmy trailed behind the group, watching the other three boys' interactions with amusement. Hal would give a command. Ben would question it. Jackson would quickly execute it. Hal would reprimand Ben. Ben would give Jackson flack. Jackson, often confused at the berating, would alternate between hanging back with Jimmy and following closely in Hal's footsteps. At one point in time, following a particularly harsh argument between Hal and Ben, and Ben's subsequent lashing out at Jackson, Jackson fell to the back for several tens of minutes. Jimmy, concerned by the silence trailing at his back, peeked behind him and caught Jackson staring at the Ben's neck. Poking out from beneath the collar of Ben's t-shirt, a few of the silver rods that ran the length of his spine could be seen. Those hideous last remaining bits of his harness. Jimmy cleared his throat and piped curiously, “You okay?” Jackson glanced at the younger boy than lowered his eyes, having the decency to at least appear sheepish at having been staring. “I guess it's true, huh? He's one of them?” Jackson whispered reply. Jimmy felt a sudden surge of protectiveness. He narrowed his eyes at Jackson threateningly. His hand at his side, the one not resting on the hilt of his gun, balled into a fist. “One of who?” he demanded. Jackson shrugged and traced a finger over his gun trigger. “One of those harnessed kids,” he mumbled explanation. Jimmy relaxed slightly. At least Jackson hadn’t used the slur, it was a good sign he didn’t mean any harm. “I mean, I'd heard about him. Him and all the others. Everyone had. But it's a big group, lot of people. I'd never seen one of them before...not up close anyway” Jackson rambled on, “Kind of weird to think, isn't it? That we might have one up'd against the Skitters? Taking the kids back?” “I guess,” Jimmy murmured, channeling some of Ben's annoyance towards the young man. “Sorry. I know how I sound but I guess some of us just aren't used to hoping anymore,” Jackson said, “Not like you.” “What?” Jimmy blinked, faltering in his step. In his time with the 2nd Mass he'd been called a lot of things, hopeful wasn't one of them. At Jimmy's sudden stop, Ben paused and looked back to the other two boys in concern. Jackson furrowed his brow, clearly confused by the reaction. “You're Jimmy Boland, right? The Ghost of Dorchester?” Jackson pressed. A flicker of pain crossed Jimmy's features and he glanced at Ben, surprised and strangely relieved to find the other boy staring intently at him. “People say you're a tough kid. That after those first attacks, you survived two months alone in Dorchester,” Jackson continued, ignoring the ever darkening look on Jimmy's face, “Then the militia found you and they didn't even have to ask, you just picked up a rifle. You know, I didn't even think I could do it – be a fighter, I mean – until I heard about you and I figured, a thirteen year old kid could do it, I should be able to. And I just always thought that to do what you did, to go through everything you did, it just had to take a lot of guts. And a lot of hope. A lot of hope.” Jimmy could feel his breakfast climbing his throat. His eyes burned a hole into the ground, his grip on his gun was tight enough to turn his knuckles white and bruise his fingers. “Not as much as you'd think,” he muttered bitterly, though his words were softer than a mouse's yawn out of fear that anything louder would take the contents of his stomach with them. “We should keep moving,” Ben finally spoke up, the annoyance heavy in his tone. “Ben's right,” Hal took over, for once that trip agreeing with his brother, “We don't have time to waste on chit chat. We need to find the lost patrol and get word back to the 2nd Mass.” Gradually, the boys started forward again. Jackson caught up to Hal and Ben fell back to walk beside Jimmy. Jimmy watched the path pass beneath his feet. Ben didn't say a word but every so often his arm brushed against Jimmy's and, somehow, that was all Jimmy needed from the other boy. About half an hour later, Weaver called the scouting parties back. The patrol had been found, dead, but not by Skitter claws. Their lives were ended by their own hands. Apparently, the two twenty-somethings had stolen pills or vials and needles or something like that from Dr. Glass's medical stash and overdosed on it. The popular theory around camp was that the two wanted to get high and underestimated the dosage, but a few whispered about a suicide pact. Jimmy didn't seek out too many more details. The idiots were dead and gone. Over, done, hands washed clean. The 2nd Mass's location hadn't been compromised; they could stay in the woods a little longer. That was all he cared about, everything else was just frills. Later in the day, Jimmy hung out on the outskirts of camp helping Dai inventory artillery. He hadn't gone all the way back into camp since returning from the search, afraid he wouldn't be able to look anyone in the eye. The Ghost of Dorchester. Was that what people really called him? It wasn't as though it didn't suit him but it still stung all the same. Two months alone in Dorchester. The fact that so many people knew so much about Jimmy's past, that they talked about it, shared it with others, was what really disturbed him. It was personal. It was private. It was something he wanted to forget. “I'm going for dinner,” Dai announced. It was his first full sentence since Jimmy had met up with him. He'd been his typical taciturn the entire afternoon. That was what made hanging out with Dai so nice. Hours would pass without a word and they were comfortable, serene hours. Not to mention, the work Dai usually needed help with took a great deal of mental focus, so those hours weren't spent reflecting. Dai departed without waiting for a response. Jimmy watched Dai's retreat back into camp for a few seconds before returning to his task at hand. He'd been counting cases of ammo, rearranging them by size, and refilling magazines. There were a lot of magazines in the 2nd Mass, of all shapes and sizes, for nearly every gun imaginable, and getting through half of them had taken the better part of his day. But there was something soothing about loading magazines. Something soothing about the click of the bullet sliding into place. Jimmy froze when he heard a throat clear behind him. He cursed himself for letting his guard down, letting someone get so close without his noticing – he's supposed to be a fighter, for crying out loud, until he turned around and saw it was Ben. Ben, with his freakish Skitter-gifted ninja abilities, didn't exactly count. “Sorry,” Ben apologized all the same, “I didn't mean to startle you.” “Then make noise once in a while when you walk,” Jimmy growled, fixing his eyes back on the magazine he was busily filling. He didn't bother looking up again when he felt Ben slide up behind him on the trailer bed, where the 2nd Mass stored most of its ammo. He leaned his back comfortably against Jimmy's and stared out the trailer into the surrounding woods. “It's going to rain,” Ben noted. Jimmy glanced up at the rumbling overcast. He slid another bullet into place. “It'll be nice. It's been such a dry summer,” Ben continued. For whatever reason, Jimmy suddenly noticed the rods in Ben's back. They'd sat in that position a number of times and he'd never really noticed them before. Probably because he usually had his field vest on at the time and the extra padding made it impossible to feel the tiny nubs, but he'd discarded his vest hours ago when high noon sun and thick humidity made the additional layers unbearable. Now Jimmy could distinctly feel Ben's rods beneath their shirts. He frowned, slipping another bullet into the magazine. “Don't let it get to you, Jimmy. Those things that jerk said,” Ben whispered. Jimmy fumbled with the next bullet and it clattered to the wooden floor of the trailer bed. “Don't do that,” Jimmy bit out tersely. “Do what?” Ben asked, genuinely confused. He pulled away from Jimmy and twisted round to look curiously at the other boy. “I don't know what,” Jimmy muttered, “Just don't do it.” “That is so obnoxious,” Ben spat. “What?” “You,” Ben snarled, “You with your usual closed off, passive aggressive – or sometimes just plain aggressive – attitude. You act like you're the only one who’s going through things.” “You don't understand,” Jimmy grumbled. “Right? Because nobody understands,” Ben persisted, “And you know what? You're right, I don't understand your crybaby, me against the world, bullshit. You talk about how you're all alone, but nobody is allowed to get close enough to you to help out. You let anyone two steps in and you shove them fifty steps back out the door. I just wanted to help-” “Will you shut up? I'm not a fucking charity case, goddammit, Ben,” Jimmy roared. He plucked the bullet from the ground, and on his feet, tossed it across the trailer and jumped out of the bed. He paced a few times, heading several steps away from the trailer and then walking back. Ben watched Jimmy, eyes still simmering with residual anger. “Go away,” Jimmy commanded, rubbing his hand across his forehead, “Just go away and leave me alone right now.” “Shit,” Ben mumbled, head lolling forward and shoulders sagging, as though he were suddenly exhausted, “Shit, shit. This isn't why I'm here. I didn't come to argue.” “Go away,” Jimmy repeated. He folded his arms across his chest and turned his back to Ben. After a few pounding heartbeats, he could hear Ben sliding from the trailer bed, hear the other boy's footsteps pad away a few paces and stop. Jimmy sniffled for effect, and squared his shoulders, preparing himself to attack verbally or otherwise if need be, lining up the words he knew would cut deepest. “I just came to tell you...I just wanted to say,” Ben stammered, obviously searching for the right phrasing. He sighed, probably deciding there was no delicate way to say exactly what he wanted, and just let the words roll out, “I will never ask you about Dorchester.” A lump caught in Jimmy's throat. He loosened his stance slightly. Grimaced at the thorny binds squeezing in his chest. “That's all. I just wanted you to know,” Ben murmured, “So...yeah. Later.” Ben started away again, certain to make a bit of noise in his departure. Jimmy spun round, eyes following the other boy a moment. “Ben,” he called. Ben stopped, turned back slightly, his brow arched in question. “How's about we do something semi-normal tonight?” Jimmy suggested. Ben turned fully around to face Jimmy. He put his hands on his hips and tilted his head to the side, interest piqued. “Like what?” Ben asked. Jimmy smirked devilishly.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“You have done this before, right?” Ben asked for what might have been the hundredth time since he and Jimmy had slipped past the night watch and across the camp common grounds. Jimmy tilted his head side-to-side, thinking on the question. The boys ducked beneath one of the convoy station wagons as a cluster of civilians, teenage girls that felt their sewing skills would prove more useful than any skill they could develop with a gun, strode by giggling and chatting noisily. “Jimmy,” Ben hissed, and the so-named young man couldn't help smirking at the extreme annoyance in that strangled tone, “You said you'd done this before.” “Well...yeah, a few times. But...uh...not at this camp,” Jimmy sheepishly admitted. Ben shot him a bewildered look. He shrugged, “And uh...usually with someone else who knew what they were doing.” They sprinted towards the main cabin, where the one kitchen on the grounds was located and a lot of the 2nd Mass food supplies were currently being stored. Jimmy produced the key from his pocket, grinning impishly. He hadn't exactly been clear on how he'd obtained the key, but he was exact when he said that it needed to be returned in precisely fifteen minutes. Inside the main cabin, Jimmy led the way to the kitchen and to the large walk-in freezer. He opened the door and commanded Ben to, “Wait here,” then disappeared inside. He was gone less than a minute, returning with two large bottles. Before exiting the main cabin, Jimmy handed one of the bottles to Ben. He tucked the other into the side of his vest. Ben glanced curiously at Jimmy, and tucked his own bottle under an arm, which didn’t hide the bottle nearly as well. Jimmy rolled his eyes but made no comment. Crossing camp to the cabin Ben shared with his two brothers was a lot easier. Jimmy left Ben there with the bottles to return the key and returned several minutes later looking fully rejuvenated. He clapped his hands together and declared, “Okay, let's drink.” They spread a blanket out behind the cabin and sat side-by-side on it with their backs against the faux wood log wall. Jimmy popped open the bottles with the knife he kept strapped to his hip, handing one off to Ben and tentatively sipping at the other. Ben eyed the opening wearily and even peered inside in an unintentionally comical manner. He took a taste then made a bitter expression. “So this is normal?” Ben questioned, slightly skeptical, and fighting down his gag reflex. “Yeah,” Jimmy confirmed, and took a gulp of his bottle's contents. It was a thicker brew than he was used to, and felt heavy in his belly. “How?” Ben demanded. Jimmy rolled his eyes. “We're thirteen year old boys,” he pointed out, and when Ben still didn't seem to be comprehending, he added, “We're supposed to steal booze from our parents' liqueur cabinet, sneak out at night, and get stupidly drunk with friends. It's our right as teenagers, and there's no reason an alien invasion ought to take that away from us. So what if mom and dad are actually the 2nd Mass, we're not exactly sneaking out because no one can actually tell us we have to be inside, and it really wouldn't be wise to get stupidly drunk because the Skitters could attack any moment and we'd be dead, but that's why I said semi-normal.” Ben looked at the bottle, then back to Jimmy, still clearly not convinced. Jimmy shook his head and guided the bottle to Ben's mouth. “Just drink,” he commanded. Ben took another sip and gagged. He watched as Jimmy tilted his head back, eyes closed, and let the liquid slide easily down his throat. He finished with a belch and smiled boyishly, wiping dribbles from his chin. Ben sighed, threw caution to the wind, tossed his own head back and chugged a good quarter of the bottle. “Now you're getting it,” Jimmy laughed, slapping Ben's shoulder good-naturedly. “Yeah. This stuff isn't so bad,” Ben replied, laughing as well. “Good,” Jimmy said, relaxing back and taking another drink of his beer. Out the corner of his eye, he watched Ben chug another quarter of his own beer, the bottle now more than half empty. Jimmy swallowed his beer down hard and warned, “You should slow down. You're already halfway through a forty, and if you've never drunk before...” “Wha...?” Ben looked at Jimmy through glossy eyes and an oddly quirked brow. “You'll get drunk really fast,” Jimmy finished with a groan, frowning. Ben burst into giggles, resting his bottle between his thighs and leaning his shoulder heavily against Jimmy's. He innocently quipped, “Is that bad?” Jimmy fiddled with the label of his own bottle, delicately peeling it off in micrometers, then smoothing it back down. “I guess not,” he muttered. Not like he really wanted to have coherent conversations or enjoy Ben's company in a relaxed atmosphere outside the throes of war or anything. “Is this what you used to do? Before?” Ben asked. His words were starting to slur, never a good sign. He took a smaller drink of his beer, then just held the bottle opening against his bottom lip, eyes boring into Jimmy. “What do you mean?” Jimmy asked, still intent on the wrapping of his own beer. “I mean, steal booze and get drunk with friends?” Ben pressed. “You promised you wouldn't ask about that.” “No,” Ben's voice was starting to regress to a childish whine, “I promised I wouldn't ask about Dorfendorsh – er – Dochesher – oh – shit, what was it called? That place where you were at.” “Yes,” Jimmy whispered exasperated, then in a meek murmur, “Yes. This is what I used to do.” “That's what I thought,” Ben said, snickering a little as though it were a private joke. The admission kind of stung Jimmy. He couldn't help wondering if he was really so transparent. He took a heavy draught of his beer, let it slide quickly down his throat in long, shivering waves. Ben would be plastered in a few more sips, Jimmy figured he ought to catch up. “I guess this means we're friends now,” Ben noted, though it sounded more a question than a statement. He peered at Jimmy, clearly afraid the other boy would slap away the proverbial hand extended towards him. “We've been friends, Ben,” Jimmy assured him. He wasn't exactly sure how long it had been true. Maybe since the night he'd told Ben about his parents. Or maybe it was when they blew up the mech. Or maybe it went as far back as that first patrol. A broad, satisfied smile spread across Ben's face and refused to leave. He lay his head back to stare at the stars, only tearing his eyes away every now and then to take a small gulp of his drink. He finished his beer a lot sooner than Jimmy and his buzz was stronger and a lot cleaner. They talked, but not about anything relevant. They laughed, but not at anything funny. They argued, but not out of anger. It was the happiest Jimmy had felt since the sky had fell. Eventually, Jimmy declared he needed to return to his cabin. He made the attempt to stand, but stumbled over his own feet and fell again to the ground, deciding instead to lay back and turn over to stare at the sky. He was on the floor, he didn't know why, and for some reason he couldn't stop laughing at that mystery. Ben laughed uproariously at the display and then his joyful face filled Jimmy's vision. He leaned curiously over the sprawling Jimmy, bracing himself with his hand, though he was quickly sinking to his forearm, on the other side of Jimmy's body. “You okay?” Ben gasped, between laughter. “Yeah,” Jimmy confirmed. He put a hand over his eyes and smiled distantly. “I'm fantastic.” The world was spinning out of control. But it was at the center of that spinning, the center that everything cycled round, that Jimmy could clearly see that thing, that one thing, that important thing that he cared more about, that mattered more, than his own life. His heart felt tight and small. His lungs compressed. Every hair on his body stood on end, every cell of his skin tingled. The weight of Ben across him was nice, it kept him grounded, otherwise he would probably fly off into the night sky with this electric feeling jolting through him. I like you, Jimmy. A hand covered Jimmy’s own across his eyes, holding him blinded for a moment, and Jimmy froze at the ghostly touch to his lips. It was skin, but not. Tender, curved, slightly damp, and a bit chapped, rough: a mouth. Soothing and familiar, yet, strange and disorienting all at once. It was barely there at first, then it settled in, its curves finding a way to nestle perfectly against his own and gently, almost so it seemed of his own accord and perhaps it partly was, separating his lips a fraction of a millimeter and allowing a taste of the slick warmth within. An oddly delicious mix of sweetness like an apple, and bitter like the beer he had finished drinking tens of minutes ago. And then all at once, it was gone, taking with it all of Jimmy's breath and strength, so that he could only languish on the ground gasping for air. “M'sorry,” Ben mumbled, the hot blast of his breath exacerbating the already overwhelming tenderness in Jimmy's lips, “My fault.” Ben pulled away, and with him went all his warmth and security and Jimmy was left feeling cold and vulnerable as he slipped into a dream-tortured sleep.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jimmy woke when a sharp pain exploded in his side. His eyes peeled open, and squeezed shut again. Too bright. “Get up,” a hard voice growled. There was a sound nearby, shuffling and grunted complaints. “Cut it out,” Ben's voice grumbled, “Let go...” At the other boy's words, Jimmy bolted up into a sitting position, eyes open and alert, frantically surveying the situation. He was still behind the Mason's cabin, except it was morning now. Hal was dragging Ben up off the ground not too far away, his face contorted with several degrees of anger. Anthony stood behind Hal, arms folded over his chest, eyes downcast. Maggie was also there, leaning against the cabin and peering round its corner at the boys' interactions. Jimmy's eyes darted to the beer bottles, lying empty and obvious on the crumpled, muddy blanket where they had left them the night before. Jimmy scrambled to his feet, “Hal, I can explain...” he started, but it came out a scratchy croak. His throat throbbed with pain. Passing out in the open air hadn't been the best of ideas, it seemed. It's not his fault, he tried to say, but he couldn't make the sounds come out. “Stay out of it, kid,” Anthony warned kindly, walking towards Jimmy and placing a restraining hand on his shoulder. They all watched quietly and somewhat trailed after, as Ben struggled against his older brother leading him into the cabin. Jimmy leaned against the door frame, arms folded over his chest, brow wrinkled in a mix of apprehension and pain from the thrumming hangover he had. Maggie and Anthony huddled together nearby, trying to appear disinterested, and glancing at him every now and then. Hal, Maggie, Anthony, none of them had any lectures to give Jimmy about the evils of drinking and staying out late, they'd all shared a beer with him once or twice. Sometimes they forgot how young he was or maybe they just didn't care. But Ben could never be forgotten. He was Hal's younger brother, there was an obligation of protection and a memory of someone innocent before the war. Inside the cabin, bits and pieces of the brothers' shouted conversation could be heard. “What the hell were you thinking, Ben?” Hal demanded. Muffled response from Ben. “Matt was inside this cabin sleeping....” Incomprehensible, angry words, “...if something happened...” “...taken care of it,” Ben growled. “...drunk...you couldn't stand...passed out...” Jimmy shifted his weight from one foot to the other and lowered his face. He chewed his inner cheek until blood spilled out, then, wincing, dug his tongue into the newly made hole. “...act like you've never done anything...” “This is different! Everything is different! You need to realize that and grow up-” “You think I don't know that? I know better than anyone how different things are!” There was a crash inside, like something smashed or thrown. Jimmy startled, his reaction more exaggerated because of his exhaustion. Maggie pursed her lips and wrapped her arms around herself anxiously. Anthony lifted his eyes to the door, clearly considering whether he should interfere with the fight. There were more exchanged words unheard and then Ben shouted, “....you know what the fuck is going on with me!” Another muffled exchange. “Dad would be so impressed,” Hal spat, “Getting wasted...mouthing off...” Ben interrupted with something else. Hal raged in return, “Maybe you shouldn't be hanging out so much with Jimmy.” Jimmy felt as though he'd been sucker punched. He drew his breath in shakily, and tightened his arms around himself. Maggie's eyes searched his out, her own soft and sympathetic. Anthony's attention never left the cabin door. There were a few more inaudible verbal jabs inside, and then the cabin door slammed open and Ben burst out. His eyes found Jimmy, burning with an overwhelming intensity. It was that wild animal, that predatory look, the one that scorched through every inch of Jimmy's skin. Instinctively, regrettably, Jimmy shrunk back from it, startled. Ben's expression fell at that reaction, his eyes downcast. He shook his head, frustrated maybe, or trying to dispel the pent up, restless energy. Hal's figure filled the door frame, “Ben, get back in here right now.” Ben ignored the command. He turned away and stalked off across the camp. Hal made to go after him, but Anthony jumped in the way, holding the younger man back with a firm hand on his chest. “Let him go,” Anthony advised, “He's not getting far, it's a small camp. So just let him go, and give yourselves time to cool your heads.” Maggie, however, was still watching Jimmy, her expression blank, her eyes unreadable. Yet, there was something there in the small twitch at the corner of her mouth that sent a shiver down Jimmy's spine. Something like a knowing. A shared awning of realization at something that Jimmy couldn’t even begin to comprehend, but felt nonetheless. Several heartbeats ticked off a slow passage of time. Jimmy turned and followed after Ben.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jimmy watched Ben pace, sitting on an upturned crate at the abandoned ranger station. Neither of them had said anything since leaving the Masons' cabin. Every now and then, Ben would pause, put his hands on his hips, shake his head, make incomprehensible noises, then start pacing again. Jimmy was leaned forward on his knees. He traced his bottom lip with a thumb and struggled to sort out the twist of memories and emotions from the night before. Most of it was a blur. He remembered getting the key and sneaking into the food stores to steal the beers but afterward everything got fuzzy. He couldn't recall any particular conversations or anything they might have done. In fact, he really couldn't distinctly remember much of anything, except... Jimmy lowered his eyes. Blood crept up his neck towards his cheeks, his forehead, and out to his ears. He took a slow breath. Jimmy could remember Ben's mouth on his. He could almost still feel it, taste it. He looked back to the other boy, standing now with one hand on hip, the other massaging his forehead. Jimmy wondered how much Ben remembered. He decided against asking. It was an accident. It just sort of happened, no reason to make a big deal over it. “You know, when Hal was fourteen our mom caught him smoking,” Ben finally broke the silence. Jimmy straightened, full attention on Ben. He'd always seen Hal as being perfect. The all-American golden boy that never broke any rules his parents laid down, though he might toe them every now and then to prove he could if he really wanted. The image of a smaller, scrawnier Hal holding a cigarette, choking on its fumes, was almost comical, if not slightly disturbing. “We came home from the grocery store, Hal was upstairs with a bunch of friends...teammates from lacrosse. They had all lit up cigarettes and were attempting to smoke them. Mom could smell it as soon as she walked in the door,” Ben went on with his story, folding his arms over his chest and scowling at the ground, “She raced upstairs and found them all coughing and hacking up lungs in Hal's bedroom. They had already put them out and were trying to crack a window by the time she got there. He was grounded for a whole month.” Jimmy swallowed down the chuckles threatening to burst out at that story, he could tell Ben hadn't told it for laughs, but it was hard to see Hal being so stupid about sneaking cigarettes. “When he was twelve, and our dad took us fishing, and we were allowed to invite a friend and he brought his one friend from school...Dustin...Justin...whatever, they stole one of the beers from the ice chest and tried drinking it when dad was showing me how to tie a proper fisherman's knot and was really just making a mess of the line,” Ben kept going, “They couldn't stand the taste but they chugged it to get it done quickly and when we got on the boat, they both blew chunks. At first Dad thought they were just sick, maybe food poisoning from the taco stand we stopped at for breakfast, but then he realized one of his beers was missing. Hal was grounded for three weeks.” Younger Hal really was an idiot, Jimmy decided, smirking despite himself. It was a good thing the older version seemed to have developed common sense, otherwise, Jimmy was sure he'd have been dead or harnessed long ago. Ben sniffed, ran the back of his hand under his nose and across his mouth. “And when Hal was ten and I was seven, he told me I should ask our grandmother what a blow-job was, that she would like it.” Jimmy couldn't stop himself from laughing at that one. He quickly muffled the half-snort, half-snicker that burst out of him, but by then it was too late, the seal was broken. Ben looked at the other boy, unamused, if not slightly miffed at the display. “I'm sorry,” Jimmy sputtered, not convincing with a fist dug into his mouth to stifle the laughter, “But please tell me you didn't...” “My grandma referred to me as 'the little pervert' whenever she thought I was out of earshot, and she never got me another Christmas or birthday present right up to the day she died,” Ben griped. Jimmy clutched his stomach, bowling over with hysterical laughter. “Will you stop that?” Ben cried, “It's not funny...” Jimmy shook his head, unable to contain himself. Ben glared at the ground, a small smile warming his features. “Maybe it's a little funny,” Ben admitted. Eventually, Jimmy's laughter began to die down and he smirked apologetically up at Ben, inviting him to continue. “The point is,” Ben grumbled, frowning again, “Hal is a hypocrite.” “I guess. He's just being the older brother,” Jimmy shrugged, mumbling, “It's not an easy thing to be.” Ben perked a brow at that, folding his arms across his chest, waiting for Jimmy to elucidate on that statement. Jimmy ran a hand over his face and leaned forward on his knees again. “It seems like it would be, anyway…I guess,” he mumbled, “And maybe Hal is right. It was stupid of us to do that...” “It was your idea,” Ben started. “I know,” Jimmy snapped, pinning the other boy with an icy blue glare, “And it was stupid. I guess I wanted to forget responsibility for a bit...but we can't do that, we don't have that choice. Because if you forget your responsibilities, for a day, a minute, even a second...you can lose everything.” Jimmy dropped his gaze to the ground and sucked on his lower lip, blood seeping through dry cracks, “I forgot that. And I know better.” “Jimmy...” Ben began to say, a question ready on his tongue and Jimmy hastily shook his head to stop it. “Maybe you should take it a little easier on Hal,” Jimmy suggested quietly, “He's doing the best he can given current situations...” “Why are you suddenly on his side?” Ben demanded, pacing again, in restless agitation. “I didn't say I was,” Jimmy replied earnestly, “I just said relax a little. And would you sit down, you're making me nauseous.” “Sit down?” Ben repeated dumbly. His brow shot up and he glanced around them before settling his focus back on Jimmy and noting, “There's just the one crate.” Jimmy made a face. They'd shared that same crate a few days ago, sitting side-by-side with shoulders flush, plotting the night's patrol and swapping stories about their fellow 2nd Mass fighters. He searched Ben's expression for a clue, and when their eyes met, a shared acknowledgment jolted through them. Yup. Ben definitely remembered the night before. Their faces blanched and they found sudden interest in anything but each other. “So...um...last night...” Ben stammered. Jimmy bolted to his feet, feeling like he suddenly needed to be somewhere, anywhere, but right there in that moment. “Just forget about it. We need to get back to camp,” he announced, unable to look at Ben as he spoke, he knew he wouldn't be able to stomach the pained expression that he would find on the other boy's face, “After what happened yesterday, Weaver will be doing random head checks every other hour for the next month and if we're not there for one, all hell might break loose.” Jimmy didn't wait for a response, jogging a couple meters away before slowing to a determined stride towards camp. He didn't know if Ben was following and he couldn't bring himself to look back and see. It was an accident. It happened, it was over, and done. There was no reason to rehash it if they both just accepted that it was a momentary, drunken thing and meant nothing. After all, some things were better left unsaid. Some things were better left in the past. And some people deserved to be alone.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Franklin stood, one leg propped up on the stool, making a jerking motion with his balled up hand near his crotch and grunting exaggeratedly. The other teens sitting around laughed at his display. Jimmy sat cleaning out his rifle; he peered up curiously, smirking slightly but for the most part ignoring the other boy. “...and he just kept beating off, you know,” Franklin was saying excitedly, eyes misty with the long ago memory he was sharing with the group, “So she's staring at him now, just like standing right in front of him, just gaping, and he's really going at it hardcore now...” Maggie took a seat beside Jimmy, she'd been working on her own rifle a few chairs down, and he nodded acknowledgment to her. She smiled in return and took the lubricant Jimmy had been using moments before to grease the barrel of his gun. She jutted her chin out in a gesture towards Franklin. “You're not listening to this shit, are you?” she whispered. Jimmy shrugged, “I've heard worse things.” “That's not what I mean,” she said. She faltered and seemed to decide on a subject change, “How's Ben doing?” Jimmy lowered his eyes, narrowing his focus on his work. He hadn't seen Ben, not since that “morning after”. That was a day and a half ago. He didn't want anyone to think he'd been avoiding Ben, but when he'd skipped several meals, decided a shower could wait another day when he spotted Ben entering the park bathhouse, and spent three hours in a storage closet counting mothballs just because someone had mentioned Ben asked about him, he didn't exactly have a whole lot of evidence to support otherwise. Maggie nudged Jimmy with her shoulder to get his attention, his prolonged silence probably worrying her. “What Hal said the other day,” Maggie told him, “Don't let that keep you away from Ben.” Jimmy nodded numbly, trembling fingers fumbling his rifle pieces back into place. If only Maggie knew the half of it. “Hey Jimmy,” Franklin called, “A few of us are going to toss a frisbee. Want to come?” Jimmy glanced at Maggie, intent on pretending she was more interested in her rifle at the moment. He secured the last piece of his own rifle into place and hefted its weight in his hands, making a show of examining its sight for accuracy to hide that he was scanning the area the other teens were heading in for any signs of Ben. It wasn't that he thought anyone would know what he was doing, but he felt like Maggie might suspect, and that thought unnerved him. “Yeah, sure,” Jimmy answered Franklin casually, lowering his weapon. He stood and slung the rifle over his shoulder, falling into step with the older boy. “Since you been patrolling with the razorback, I never see you anymore. I'm hurt, Jimmy, really,” Franklin teased. Jimmy rolled his eyes, ignoring the sharp jolt that shocked through him at the careless slur. “How are things going with that freak, anyways? Is it weird? Is he weird?” Franklin asked. Jimmy jerked to a halt. He had to bite down hard on his tongue to stop himself from launching into a verbal assault on the other boy. His head felt far too hot for comfort. “Shit,” he seethed, after a few seconds, letting all his heat burn out in that one word before grumbling excuse, “I forgot. Weaver wanted me to...uh...help Dr. Glass with something. Moving stuff, I think.” Franklin furrowed his brow, unimpressed but he shrugged and said something about 'next time', continuing after the other teens. Jimmy watched the older boy retreat, then shouldered his rifle and turned back in towards camp. He didn't return Maggie's questioning gaze as he hastened by towards the mess tent. They were serving hamburgers for lunch; one of the scouting groups had found frozen ground beef in the back of a grocery store in a nearby ghost town up north. The find had been like Christmas for the 2nd Mass. It was in the mess tent that Jimmy spotted Hal. He hadn't exactly been avoiding the eldest Mason son, but considering outside of Jimmy the few other people that didn't act as though they were merely tolerating Ben's presence was his family, Hal sort of ended up avoided out of brotherly association. Jimmy watched the older boy a moment from the outskirts of the crowded tent. Hal was setting his youngest brother, Matt, up at a table with some food next to Uncle Scott, the kindly older gentleman that taught the 2nd Mass children in lieu of the proper education they'd been robbed of by the alien invasion. When Matt looked amply secure, happily munching down his burger, Hal slipped from the tent. Maggie's advice moments ago came flitting back to Jimmy then, don't let that keep you from Ben, and his heart fluttered in his chest. Hal's words had affected Jimmy, he couldn't lie to himself about that, but he couldn't help wondering if his foolish actions were keeping Hal from Ben. Jimmy strode off in the same direction Hal had left. He found the older boy sitting around one of the pick-up trucks with Dai and Anthony, they were talking in hushed whispers, Jimmy assumed about the missing Mason patriarch. Jimmy knew Hal had been tossing around ideas to rescue his father, most of them were just grandiose bullshitting but on rare occasion, when he thought he'd come up with something concrete, he'd meet with a few of the fighters he trusted most, like Dai and Anthony, and hash out details with them. For the most part, those fighters usually talked Hal out of the plan, pointing out glaring flaws like the fact they had no clue where to even begin in finding Professor Mason. The three young men stopped in their talks when Jimmy approached, and Hal was the only one not to look directly at the younger boy. Jimmy halted several paces back from them, swallowing hard, and clearing his throat. “Uh...Hal...can I talk to you?” he asked, wincing at the waver in his words. His legs felt like jelly. He worried Hal might attack him, yell, or worse, say 'no'. Hal darted a glance up at Jimmy, then fixed his eyes on a spot in the distance. He nodded stiffly. Dai and Anthony exchanged a look, silently agreeing to make themselves scarce and wandered far enough off that they were out of hearing range but close enough to keep an eye on the interaction between the two conversing boys. “About the other night,” Jimmy began, and he could see the darkness gather in Hal's expression, but clenched his fists and continued on unabated, “It was my fault. My idea.” Jimmy ducked his head down in a manner he knew made him look weak and squeezed his eyes shut, “Ben didn't even really want to...I practically forced him. So don't be mad at Ben...be mad at me.” Hal didn't respond for a long time. Jimmy dared a peek up at the boy, keeping his face lowered and peering at him through loose strands of shaggy brown hair falling across his features. Hal's expression was hard, his jaw tense and eyes haunted in a way that instantly made Jimmy think of Ben. Jimmy's heart thundered in his chest. A small, strange sound, like a whimper or squeak, escaped his throat. He chewed his inner cheek until the blood spilled out. “I'm sorry,” Jimmy whispered, “I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about Matt and I never would have...if I....I really am sorry, Hal.” He dropped his eyes again, his entire body tense and trembling. He had to fight the next words out of his mouth and once he had, it seemed, they sliced his heart clean in half, “I'll ask Weaver to take me off patrols with Ben.” Hal shifted, the ruffle of his clothing marking his movement. “You don't need to do that,” he said. His words were terse, but sincere. “You don't want me hanging out with Ben,” Jimmy pointed out. There was a long drawn out silence. It felt as though the air around them dropped twenty degrees in temperature and that the distance between them had spread from a few feet to worlds apart. “You heard that?” Hal mumbled question. Jimmy didn't say anything. He didn't need to, Hal already knew the answer. Another rustle of clothing, and then the weight of a large hand fell on Jimmy's shoulder. Jimmy startled, looking up at Hal in surprise. Hal was still glaring at that nothing in the distance. “You're a good kid,” Hal admitted. Jimmy pursed his lips and dropped his gaze once again. He felt like a charlatan. A wolf parading in sheep's clothing. “And you're Ben's only friend,” Hal noted, his eyes finally falling to Jimmy, and quietly he said, “Ben would never forgive me if I were the reason he lost you.” Hal snorted softly, glared in the distance once more. “If that happened, I think he would hate me more than he already does, and usually I wouldn't think that were possible,” Hal mused aloud. Jimmy frowned, hastily protesting, “Ben doesn't hate you.” Hal dropped his hand from Jimmy’s shoulder and walked back towards the truck, absently running a hand through his hair. Jimmy was suddenly struck with the notion that he was an intruder on a very intimate scene. “You know what's funny?” Hal said, his tone light and slightly bemused. He glanced back at Jimmy and Jimmy shrugged response, a little whip-lashed by the sudden shift in their conversation, “That thing you said, about the other night being your idea. You know, Ben said the same exact thing. That it was his idea and that you didn't really want to do it.” He gave Jimmy an appraising once over, as though suddenly he were seeing the younger boy cast in a completely new light, “And I don't really know who to believe.” Jimmy considered the comment. He nodded shortly, a small smile hiding in the corner of his mouth, and turned to leave.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was only the second down of the first quarter and dad had already found something more pressing to occupy his attention. Work had called, they needed the papers for the Stanton Estate, and had the accounts for Fillmore and Donovan been settled, and where was his briefcase, and goddammit James, could you put your fucking dog outside. Mom had only just pulled the third pie out of the oven. Pumpkin, apple, and cherry, one for everyone, she'd joke. The Wilson's were on their way over, hopefully Beverly Wilson made her famous candied yams, they were dad's favorite and he could almost taste them melting on his tongue. The stench of turkey has soaked into every crack and crevice of the house, dinner will be ready soon. James, put your jacket on if you're going out. The Wilson twins wear matching bow-ties. They take turns pinching Jimmy's arms, flicking his ears, hey, James, look over there, SLAP. Why does he look every time? What an idiot. Beverly Wilson and mom politely disagree about the best way to mash potatoes. Jack Wilson and dad talk about Dow Jones and hedge funds and those fucking bleeding heart liberals are bleeding the economy dry, always wanting to give our money to every Tom, Dick, and Harry. Jimmy. She stares up at him with blue eyes so clear they reflect the world around her. Her dress is paisley, it comes to her knees and she's so proud of it, she spins it round to show how it twirls. I love you, Jimmy. You'll always take care of me. Right? The turkey is burning. It's turning black in the oven. Mom and dad are yelling, James turn off the television, James put the fucking dog outside, James what did you do to the twins, James you get to your room right now, young man. A bottle of wine tips off the counter, crashes to the ground, its contents spilling out in a gushing stream, crimson red soaking into the carpet. The Wilsons are leaving. Dad has to leave for the office. Mom doesn't want to clean the kitchen, dad should make his fucking secretary do it, she does everything else for him and, for crying out loud James, where is your sister? Where is your sister?
Right? Jimmy shot up from the bed, sweat drenched and gasping for air to fill his lungs, his hand twitching towards his rifle against the wall. He was in the cabin. In the woods. It wasn't Thanksgiving with the Wilsons, and as far as he could tell, the aliens weren't attacking at the moment. He buried his face in his hands, rubbing away the emotions swarming there. “Tyler, don't forget that corner over there,” a shaky, high-pitched voice warned, “Jenny, use more bleach. Get the rag wet...the rag.” Jimmy lowered his hands, his brow furrowing in confusion. He looked around the room. Out of the window he could see it was pitch black outside. He glanced at the watch on his wrist, the digital numbers read '1:27'. Why were the small children awake at such an hour and what were they doing with bleach? Tentatively, Jimmy climbed from out of bed and slowly tip-toed to the door. He cracked it open and peeked out. All three children were awake. They were wearing light clothing, the things they slept in, and they were barefoot. They had damp rags and were on their hands and knees, moving the rags along the cabin's wooden floor, cleaning it as best they could with their small arms and groggy states. Their mother was amongst them, furiously scrubbing with her own rag. There was a bucket full of water that reeked of bleach in the middle of the room and every now and then she would dunk her rag in the bucket, wring it out, and continue scrubbing. Jimmy opened the door completely and stepped out. The three children stopped in their work, staring up at him in wide, pleading eyes. Their mother didn't pause, rubbing the rag desperately back and forth with all her weight. “Mrs. Hayes,” he spoke up, uncertainly. Her behavior unnerved him, in some ways frightened him more than a Skitter, but she was an adult who had been rational hours ago when he said good-night as she put Tyler to bed, so he was certain talking to her would somehow bring her back to normal. She didn't really stop her cleaning, just slowed and looked up at Jimmy, her expression startled but not surprised. Her eyes were strange. Jimmy couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something there that caused him to take a tiny step towards the children and wish he'd brought his rifle with him. “What...are you doing?” Jimmy asked, his voice quiet and slow. “Cleaning,” Mrs. Hayes explained. She sounded breathless and her words came out in a rush, “We have to clean this whole place. You should help. Grab a rag.” Her focus went back to the floor and again she was viciously attacking the wood with her rag. Cleaning, Jimmy mouthed, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why?” he blurted out. “Because we have to,” Mrs. Hayes stated, matter-of-factly, “This place is a mess. It needs to be completely scrubbed down. Every inch. Washed, bleached, and polished.” “All of that tonight?” Jimmy cried, “These kids need to be in bed. They’re exhausted.” The youngest was crying now. The girl had her arms wrapped around her knees. Tyler seemed frozen in place, staring blankly at his mother. “But it needs to be done,” she protested. “No, it doesn't,” Jimmy argued. Mrs. Hayes stopped altogether. Her eyes locked on Jimmy and, for just a moment, something twisted, sinister, contorted her features and for just that moment, Jimmy felt certain he might actually need his gun. “Mrs. Hayes,” Jimmy started, thinking a new approach might be in his best interest. He kept his voice calm and steady, holding his hands in front of himself in a way he hoped she didn't find offensive, “Look at what you're doing. You're scaring your kids.” “They aren't scared...” “But they are,” Jimmy calmly explained. He wet his lips and swallowed down a growing lump in his throat, “Look at them. They don't need to clean. They need to go to bed.” “But the cleaning...” Mrs. Hayes whispered. Her face had fallen. She was frowning now, her bedraggled hair falling in her confused eyes. “It's not important right now,” Jimmy assured her and added, “It can be done in the morning.” Mrs. Hayes opened her mouth and closed it again. She blinked a few times, the strangeness in her eyes fading, their look returning to something more normal. She looked around herself, running a hand over her face. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right. This isn't important now. We should go to bed,” she agreed. She looked up at Jimmy, concern etched in her features. She reached to clutch his hand, “Jimmy, I'm sorry, sweetheart. We didn't wake you, did we? You work so hard to protect us all, you and all the other fighters. It's so important that you get your rest.” Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, shrugging. “No, Mrs. Hayes, you didn't,” he whispered, “Why don't we go to bed now? Okay?” “Okay,” Mrs. Hayes agreed. Mrs. Hayes seemed to pass out as soon as her head hit the pillow. Jimmy put the children to bed in his and Tyler's shared room. He sat with the youngest, rubbing circles in the small boy's back, until his sobbing stopped and his breathing became soft and steady. The rest of the night, Jimmy sat on the floor leaning back against the wall in the room with the bucket, staring at it and the abandoned rags. His pistol rest heavy on his lap, and he rolled a single bullet thoughtfully between his finger and thumb. Right, Jimmy?
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Three days had passed since Jimmy had so much as seen, let alone spoken, to Ben. So when Captain Weaver selected the two for a scouting mission up to the next town, in search of a new location to move camp, Jimmy felt a little apprehensive, if not altogether scared shit-less, at the prospect. The trip would take a few days and a small group – no crowd to get lost in. “Ben can get in places others can't,” Captain Weaver had explained, “And it seems you're one of the few he trusts to watch his back. As a matter of point, he specifically asked for you to come along.” Captain Weaver assured Jimmy that the two boys wouldn't be alone. Hal and Maggie would be accompanying them and Jimmy couldn't shake the image of the two older teens as chaperones. They left early afternoon, taking two bikes, Hal and Ben on one, Maggie and Jimmy on the other. They had rifles each, stacks of ammo, a few rolls of explosives, sleeping bags, flashlights, a map, some extra fuel though they had enough in the tanks to get them the distance they needed and back, and provisions to last them those few days. For the first several hours they traveled nonstop, and Jimmy could relax. He didn't have to face Ben just yet. When it got too dark, they found an abandoned gas station to stay for the night, breaking in through the front window. Most of the place had been picked clean of anything useful: food, drinks, medicine, hygiene and feminine products, batteries, even the security equipment and the building's electrical wiring had been stripped clean. Just about the only thing that hadn't been touched was the till box. They shifted the shelves around to create a barricade and set up their sleeping bags in the back. They ate some of their food; jerky and dried fruits. Hal and Maggie spent several minutes going over the map, plotting their morning route. Ben watched out the store front. Jimmy checked on their artillery, making sure the guns were fully loaded and re-securing the C4 bundles. They took the night watch in shifts. Maggie first, then Hal – the drivers would need to be the most rested for the trip in the morning, Ben went third but it seemed he didn't intend to wake Jimmy for the last shift. Roughly half-an-hour after Ben was supposed to switch, Jimmy grew restless waiting. He sighed and sat up, scanning the darkness for the other boy and spotting his silhouette at the store front, sitting on the floor, one leg stretched out, the other propped up balancing his rifle on the knee. Jimmy crept around Hal and Maggie's sleeping forms, and hurried to join Ben. He stood over the other boy with arms folded across his chest. “Did you fall asleep or something?” Jimmy whispered demand. Ben didn't stir, his gaze fixated out the store window. “I can watch the rest of the night. Go back to bed,” Ben replied. Jimmy snorted softly. He took a seat on the floor across from Ben, folding his legs Indian-style and leaned back against one of the shelf-barricades. Ben glanced at him curiously. “I'm fine, Jimmy. Go to bed,” Ben said, eyes back to staring out the window. “It's my shift. You go to bed,” Jimmy retorted. Ben shook his head, moving his gun up to rest the barrel against his shoulder and replacing it with his arm across his knee. There was a cold spot in Jimmy's chest, a lump of ice ever expanding. He hated Ben for a moment, sitting there so calm and perfect, unable to even bring his eyes to look at the other boy that was sitting there fighting for what rightfully belonged to him. “I don't need as much sleep as you,” Ben quietly reasoned. Jimmy's right hand balled into a fist. He narrowed his eyes on the other boy, twin blue lasers burning a hole into Ben's cheek, chin, nose. “You still need sleep-” “And I've had enough,” Ben interrupted. He closed his eyes, pressed his lips together a moment, he said, “And you haven't.” Something deep inside of Jimmy snapped at that. “Just because the Skitters turned you into some inhuman freak doesn't mean you can steal my shift and tell me what to do,” Jimmy hissed. Ben flicked his eyes on Jimmy, a shadow cast over his intense expression, exaggerating the curve of his face. “Yeah. I am a freak,” Ben bit out evenly, a sharp edge to his tone, “And the fact I'll be relying on you tomorrow to keep me alive means I can tell you to do whatever the hell I want, like get some sleep when you look like the walking dead. Now stop being a stubborn ass and go back to bed.” Ben turned his attention back out the window. Jimmy gaped at Ben, speechless and slightly mortified – though he'd never admit it. Then, as the words sunk in, Jimmy slumped forward, defeated, burying his face in a palm. The air felt sharp and jagged all around, it pricked his skin, and cut its way down his throat and nasal passage. His head throbbed, seizing into itself. “I can't sleep,” he mumbled. Ben glanced at him briefly, “What?” “I can't sleep,” Jimmy repeated, somewhat louder. He straightened and, sort of, pouted pathetically Ben's direction. Ben turned his attention back to Jimmy, brow stitched together, his mouth softened at the edges. “Why?” Because ghosts are haunting me, Jimmy inwardly mused, because you're haunting me. He shrugged, aloud replied, “I don't know.” Seconds ticked off in Jimmy's mind like the rhythmic beat of a rigged bomb. In that passage of time, an understanding passed between Ben and Jimmy, an understanding that became caught up in a tidal wave of tortured and tender emotions. Then Ben closed the distance between them, sliding across the floor to sit at Jimmy's side. Jimmy pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms round them and resting his forehead atop. Ben put an arm around Jimmy's shoulders, his steady gaze returned to the window. Jimmy knew he should protest the close proximity, after everything that had happened over those past few days. With the mission they were undertaking, he really didn't need anymore weirdness, but the familiar feel of Ben beside him, the permeating warmth and soothing scent, were too overwhelming for him to find the strength to muster an argument. He relaxed; every muscle in his body that had been held in a constant state of tension finally unraveled and loosened. His head floated, light and feathery, in a faraway and beautiful place. “I was beginning to think you were never going to talk to me again,” Ben murmured. “Big concern?” Jimmy questioned, his words meshing together from fatigue. Ben didn't say anything. Jimmy lifted his head up to take a peek at the other boy. Ben’s eyes were distant, melancholy. A soft smile played on his lips. Jimmy could hear his own heart splintering to look at that expression. He lay his head back down and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “I could never never talk to you, Ben,” Jimmy promised, and then added wistfully, “After all, someone has to tell you when you're being a creepy freak.” Ben snickered lightly at that, his hand sliding across Jimmy's shoulders to the back of his neck and giving a gentle shake. “Good,” Ben conceded, and his broad grin could be heard clearly in his voice.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The explosion rumbled inside of Jimmy's chest. He threw himself to the ground, shrapnel crashing and rocketing all around, laying there for only a second and then pulled himself to his feet once more, running at a breakneck pace. Crumbling buildings, crushed and twisted vehicles and chunks of metal, piles of shattered concrete blurred by in a gray-black haze. He rounded a corner, sprinted down the street. A hard body tackled him, knocked the air clean out of his lung, gripped his vest, and dragged him down behind an overturned cream-colored Ford sedan. Jimmy’s back was pinned against the car's cool fiberglass body; a familiar hand clasped his mouth, soft brown eyes burned intently into his own shimmering blue. The hand fell away. “Hal and Maggie...?” Jimmy began. Ben shook his head, a warning to stay quiet, not safe yet. He glanced around the car and pulled back hastily, squeezed his eyes shut tight. Jimmy took a deep, shaky breath. The battle cry of a mech sang out on the wind. The last of their C4 lay in a rubble pile down the street and around the corner. The mech's mechanical footsteps crunched their direction. Ben motioned to a narrow alleyway. Held up three fingers and plucked up a rock from the ground. Jimmy nodded understanding. One. They spread themselves out a bit, gave one another room for the sprint. Two. Jimmy secured his gun and pack. Ben tightened his grip on the rock a moment, loosened it. They exchanged a look. Three. Ben tossed the rock one direction; the boys took off the other. The sound of rapid gunfire not being aimed at them was a good confirmation that, at least so far, their plan had worked. They cut into the alley, raced to its end. Ben leapt over the chain-linked fence blocking their path in three strides. Jimmy took a little longer, tossing his pack and rifle over to his anxiously awaiting friend. He dropped to the ground and saw the mech down the alley attempting to break a path through the red brick walls. Together they raced until they found an open door and slammed inside, greeted by darkness. Jimmy fumbled in his pack for his mini Maglite, and its tiny beam lit up a dank, concrete corridor. “Where are we?” Jimmy asked, between spastic coughs and gasps for air. “Movie theater service entrance,” Ben answered. Ben took the lead, pushing forward. Jimmy moved to follow, only to reel back, gasping as a shock of pain ripped through his side. His flashlight clattered to the ground, he gripped the area, face contorting in pain, a wave of nausea hitting him so hard he gagged on the stomach acids climbing his throat. Ben was beside Jimmy in an instant, flashlight snatched off the ground and in hand. “Let me see,” Ben commanded, prying Jimmy's hand away and repositioning the light. On Jimmy's left side, near the naval, blood had soaked through his shirt and into his vest. Jimmy leaned back against the door. Carefully, hand trembling, Ben peeled the fabric up and away to reveal a gash in Jimmy's flesh roughly five inches in length. Poking out of the center was a slender chunk of glass. Ben glanced away, putting the back of his hand against his mouth and grimacing. Fighting his own sudden sickness. He blinked a few times, choked back the revolt, and turned his attention again to the injury. “It doesn't look too deep,” Ben said, “Maybe quarter of an inch at most. I have to pull it out, Jimmy.” Jimmy shook his head, biting his bottom lip, eyes shimmering with fear, and a couple tears slid down his cheeks. “I have to,” Ben pleaded, “If we leave it in there, it'll make it worse. You can't move like that!” “Shit,” Jimmy moaned, he hissed, sucked in a deep breath and whimpered, “Fine. Do it.” “Where's your pack?” Ben asked. Jimmy handed the ragged bag over. Ben put the rifle aside and dug around in Jimmy's pack for the small first aid kit all fighters took with them on outings. Jimmy's had a packet of Tylenol, an ace bandage, and some alcohol in a tiny bottle. He pulled the items out as Jimmy took off his vest and shirt. Ben handed Jimmy the flashlight, he glanced meaningfully at the removed shirt. “Bite it,” he recommended. Jimmy took a deep breath, closed his eyes and put the cloth in his mouth. Ben braced Jimmy against the door, his forearm across his chest. He dumped a bit of the alcohol on the injury, got a firm grip on the glass shard and slowly, steadily pulled it out. Jimmy screamed bloody-murder into the shirt, tasting the cotton fibers, and all the dirt, grime, sweat that had soaked into them, in his teeth. His right hand gripped Ben's shoulder, his other wrapped round the forearm holding him in place. His fingernails bit through fabric and flesh. Seconds that felt like eternities later, the glass shard – not quite a half inch wide– dropped to the ground. Blood bubbled quickly to the surface of the injury. Ben splashed more alcohol on it. He used a somewhat clean rag from the bag, drenched with the rest of the alcohol, to press against the injury as Jimmy unsteadily wrapped the Ace bandage around himself, then Ben took over, finishing wrapping and tying off the bandage. Jimmy slid to the floor, holding his head up with a blood drenched hand. Ben shuddered, sniffled, and dropped to his knees in front of Jimmy. “Hal and Maggie?” Jimmy asked again. “I don't know,” Ben answered earnestly, “They were heading up Main Street towards Fourth and G, the rendezvous point, last I saw. After you took out that Skitter on me...nice shot, by the way-” “Thanks.” “Then I heard the mech heading your direction and just started running. That's when I lost track of them,” Ben concluded. He plopped fully onto the ground and Jimmy glanced at him. Ben's eyes were locked on the bandaged wound at Jimmy's side. Jimmy closed his eyes. “Want to kiss it better?” he absently joked. “Yes,” Ben replied, soft and earnest. Jimmy's eyes shot open, his heart slammed head first against his ribcage. He suddenly found he needed air; it seemed it was in short supply. Ben still stared intently at the injury. His brow was slightly furrowed, his mouth a thin, rigid line. Ben's words, every last one Jimmy ever heard spoken, cascaded down on Jimmy all at once, reverberating throughout his mind. I like you, Jimmy. And suddenly, everything that was Ben came rushing to Jimmy. His cocky smile. His haunted, faraway stare. The slope of his brow to his nose and into the cut of his jawline. His smell of citrus and pine. The feel of his hand, of his fingers. The weight of his body, the warmth of his presence. The feel of his back and those horrible metal rods that jutted out along his spine. The taste of his mouth, bittersweet.
You just sounded like someone I could have been friends with.
Now was really not the time for this. There were so many other things more pressing, much higher priority. “Then why don't you?” Jimmy murmured.
You know, before.
Ben rose his eyes to meet Jimmy's. Those cool blue orbs gazed out somberly, expectant, with a hint of challenge behind them. And there was that look, it shot through Jimmy like a bullet, burning a path of beautiful destruction beneath his skin. Ben the hungry predator, Jimmy his trapped prey. Jimmy straightened his back against the door, pressing his palms flat against the cement floor to hold himself upright. Ben started forward, crawling himself towards Jimmy, inch by excruciating inch. They held each others eyes, each daring the other to go through with it, each daring the other to back down. Ben held himself up with his hand on the door beside Jimmy's head, he placed his other hand on Jimmy's knee, leaning forward, close enough Jimmy could feel Ben's breath on his face. His eyes slipped shut; he waited for that delicate touch. It never came. Jimmy flinched involuntarily, his heart constricting. He opened his eyes again. Ben had stopped and pulled back slightly. His head was cocked to one side, straining to listen to something too far for Jimmy's ears to hear. Jimmy stumbled hard back in to reality. The mech, it had found them. Or the Skitters. Or both. They had no C4, they couldn't take down a mech with bullets alone, at least not with the bullets they were packing. They only had the one gun, anyhow. Ben had lost his, Jimmy wasn't sure when or where. There hadn't been time to ask. If Skitters swarmed, more than three or four, they would be dead before they had the chance to line one up in the sight. “It's them,” Ben whispered, sighing. He looked back to Jimmy with a crooked smile, “Hal and Maggie. They're in the theater. It doesn't sound like they were followed.” Ben stood easily. Jimmy unfurled his bloody shirt and carefully pulled it on. Ben offered Jimmy his hand, Jimmy accepted, and Ben dragged him upright. Then Ben gathered the pack, and Jimmy shouldered his rifle, heading down the corridor towards the theater. “Hey, Jimmy, wait a sec,” Ben called. Jimmy slowed, managing to turn halfway, when Ben's mouth crashed against his own, lingered there momentarily, and pulled away. Short. Sweet. Sheepishly ducking his head, Ben tried to maneuver passed, but Jimmy halted him, a hand gripping the front of Ben's shirt and holding him in place. Jimmy stared dazed at Ben's collar. A heartbeat passed, two, three. He stepped forward, placing his mouth against Ben's and waiting there for response. Another heartbeat, and Ben replied, easing into the kiss. Everything was almost exactly as Jimmy remembered. There was the gentle, there was the rough. Here was the parting of the lips, and now, the taste. Then there was a change as Ben's tongue started in and... There came a scraping noise from the door at the end of the corridor and the boys broke hastily apart. The door burst open, the boys were both breathless, flushed, and eyes staring wide at the two figures standing in the door frame, guns poised to shoot. Hal stepped forward and gave the two a glance over. “We've been looking everywhere for you both,” he informed them, “There are Skitters everywhere.” “No shit,” Ben muttered, agitated. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, cheeks deeply colored with heat. Jimmy folded his arms over his chest and tried not to appear too bothered, he slid a hand down to cover the bandaged wound in his side, his shirt still damp with blood. Hal's brow drew together and he eyed them both suspiciously. “Did something happen?” he asked. “No,” Ben and Jimmy both said, too rapidly for it to be believable. Hal and Maggie exchanged a skeptical look. “Jimmy was impaled,” Ben quickly covered. “What?” Hal's eyes widened in alarm. Maggie perked a brow. “I was not,” Jimmy argued. “With a huge piece of glass,” Ben added. “It wasn't that huge!” Jimmy protested. Maggie covered a smile. Hal rolled his eyes. “It was pretty big. I had to pull it out. There was blood gushing everywhere,” Ben went on. “Will you stop that,” Jimmy groaned. “He was about to die,” Ben insisted. “I wasn't about to - “ Jimmy shook his head and explained to Hal and Maggie, “I was not about to die.” “I pretty much saved your life,” Ben insisted, grinning broadly at the other boy, “I think that means I own you now.” Jimmy shot an exasperated look to Ben, his head completely drained of blood. Maggie snorted, and turned away to cover her small chuckle. Hal shook his head in annoyance. “Alright, you two,” he chastised, “We have to get out of here. We're not exactly out of any danger yet,” he paused, looked between Ben and Jimmy, then shook his head and smiled, “You guys can discuss the terms of Jimmy's indentured servitude back at camp.” “Oh, we definitely will,” Ben agreed, smirking proudly at Jimmy. “You're such an ass,” Jimmy readily informed him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Getting out of town didn't prove too difficult with just the four of them. Tricky, but not difficult. Not to mention, the use of Ben's superhuman abilities came in handy. They'd left the bikes a couple yards out of town, covered by debris in the woods off the highway. Maggie and Hal retrieved them while Jimmy and Ben kept watch. It was a couple hours into the drive home before Jimmy started to feel sick. Eventually, he had to force Maggie to pull over, stumbling into the high grass on the side of the interstate and puking up the few contents of his stomach. His body shook convulsively and it was covered in a thin layer of sweat. “Jimmy, you okay?” Maggie asked when Jimmy returned, she put a cool hand to his forehead to check his temperature, “You're burning up.” “I'm fine,” Jimmy insisted, he sounded anything but, “Let's keep moving.” They gave Jimmy some water and continued driving for several more minutes. When his arms went lax round Maggie's waist she pulled over again and shook Jimmy awake. “Sorry,” he murmured, gazing groggily up at the three worry-lined faces staring down at him, “I don't know what happened.” Afraid Jimmy might black out again and fall off the back of the bike, Hal decided to switch things up, Ben with Maggie and Jimmy with him. They secured Jimmy in place, tying his hands together around Hal, but they didn't get much farther, maybe an hour more, before being forced to stop when Jimmy's breathing became erratic and he couldn't contain his tortured moans. They found a convenience-store-slash-gift-shop off a small dirt path along the interstate and decided to rest there. “His wound is infected,” Maggie determined, having peeled away Jimmy's bandage a bit to investigate, “And it's still bleeding. A lot.” Jimmy now lay drifting between consciousness and feverish sleep in the back of the store sprawled out on a sleeping bag. Hal, Ben, and Maggie huddled in the front around the counter discussing the issue. “I put some antiseptic on it, wrapped it up again,” Maggie continued, “But we can't keep moving him like this.” “And we can't wait here for too long, either, we're losing daylight,” Hal replied, glancing sidelong at the younger boy moaning in the back of the store, “We're due back at camp tomorrow afternoon.” Jimmy whimpered, gasped, struggled in the sleeping bag. Ben squirmed where he sat on the counter, wrapping his arms tightly around himself and watching the other boy steadily. “Is he going to be okay?” Ben demanded, “I mean if we kept moving, would he be okay?” “We need to close that wound,” Maggie said. Hal paced back and forth once, stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed and unfocused. “We could cauterize it,” he suggested. “You want to burn him,” Ben cried, disgusted at the very thought of intentionally causing Jimmy anymore unbearable pain, “No way, Hal. There's got to be something else.” “We don't have the materials to stitch it closed and we can't leave it open like that any longer,” Maggie reasoned, “Cauterizing's the only way. It'll leave a nasty scar.” “But it'll probably save his life,” Hal returned. Ben didn't look convinced, but the two elders had made their decision. Hal gently stirred Jimmy to wakefulness, cupping the younger boy's face in his hands. Ben stood behind Hal's shoulder, body tense and arms wrapped around himself, clearly distraught. He wouldn't look at Jimmy. “Hey, Jimmy, can you hear me?” Hal questioned. Jimmy attempted to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. He nodded vaguely. “We have to close your wound, alright? We're going to try cauterizing it,” Hal continued to say, “Do you know what that means?” Jimmy shook his head, no, he'd never heard of such a thing. Out the corner of his eye he glanced Maggie nearby. She'd found a small, metal container, it looked like a skillet of some kind, and had started a fire inside of it. She had her long blade out and kept rhythmically running it through the flame. Ben closed his eyes, tears that never quite formed lined the edges, and he brought his fist up to rest against his mouth. “We're going to apply extreme heat to the area to seal the skin closed,” Hal explained, “It's going to hurt a lot,” Ben shook his head angrily, walked out of sight, as Hal went on to say, “But it'll stop the bleeding. We need to stop the bleeding, Jimmy.” Jimmy nodded his head, mouthed the word 'okay', he understood. They pulled the shirt up to Jimmy's chin, removed the bandages, a glob of blood spilled out of the surface and slithered down his side. Hal put a rag in Jimmy's mouth for him to bite on, took position to hold Jimmy's legs down. Ben knelt at Jimmy’s shoulder, briefly placed his hand on Jimmy's forehead, it felt like a block of ice against the fevered heat burning through Jimmy. Ben would be holding Jimmy's shoulders down. Maggie appeared with the knife, its core a fiery red. Her cheeks were splotched white, her mouth pressed into a tight frown. She met Ben's eyes. “I'll try not to burn anymore skin than I have to,” she promised him. Ben scowled at the blade. “Just get it done quickly,” he replied, sounding bitter. Maggie nodded, took a deep breath, and lay the blade against Jimmy's skin. It didn't hurt a lot. To say that it did implied that anything, such as pain, could register through the searing white hot that licked through Jimmy's body and mind. He bucked and kicked against the three others, instinctively fighting them despite all conscious desire to let Maggie do her work. Hal practically leaned his entire body over Jimmy's lower half to hold him in place. Ben had one arm, like a braided industrial cord, wound around Jimmy holding his arms to his chest so he didn't thrash them violently. Ben's other arm cradled Jimmy's head to him, as though an attempt to soothe the other boy. Eventually, the shock proved too much, and Jimmy lost consciousness, slipping into a swirling sea of black, white forms dancing, flickering in and out of sight of his mind's eye.
Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb...Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow...
“...Jimmy...?” Jimmy. “Jimmy...” Jimmy had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb...Jimmy had a little lamb, her fleece was white as snow... “Mnng...shut up, Cass...” “Jimmy, wake up.” And everywhere that Jimmy went, Jimmy went, Jimmy went, everywhere that Jimmy went, the lamb was sure to go... “Shut it...stop singing...” “Jimmy?” Tiny dots of cold sprinkled his forehead. He swallowed dry air, coughed, shuddered violently. His eyes opened to little slits, squeezed closed again, then parted just enough to take in light. Maggie sat over Jimmy, stroking the hair out of his face – it was damp and clinging to his skin with sweat. Her eyes were soft, studying his features, her mouth a small, pouted frown. “You with us, Jimmy?” she whispered. He sought the words to cull her worries. “...water...” he croaked, the sound as painful as the word felt clawing from his throat. Maggie nodded understanding. She reached for something, the canteen. She lifted his head, pressed the canteen opening to his mouth and tilted it back to let the warm liquid inside spill down his throat. He took a few small gulps, the taste was bliss. “Not too much,” she warned, taking the canteen away. She fumbled for something, her clothes rustling, and held her hand up to Jimmy's mouth, “Here,” she said, popping two tiny beads past his lips, “Take these.” He swallowed them down and she gave him more water, then set his head back down. Jimmy glanced around to get his bearings straight. Ben sat beside him on the left, leaning against a knee and staring silently at Jimmy. He held Jimmy's hand, which surprised Jimmy; he hadn't noticed the tight clasp. Hal was nowhere in sight. Jimmy's shirt was still pulled up; a damp rag lay over his stomach, covering the injury. Maggie ran her hand over Jimmy's forehead one more time, then stood and walked towards the store front, leaving the two boys alone. When her footsteps had faded, Ben spoke. “You were only out a few minute,” he answered the question Jimmy hadn't even thought to ask, “Hal found a storage room in the back that looks like it may not have been opened after...well, there's stuff still inside. He's looking for clean bandages. We'll re-bandage the wound, wait an hour to see if your fever goes down, then get moving again.” Jimmy nodded. His eyes slipped closed. He frowned. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “Don't be,” Ben said. He gave Jimmy's hand a squeeze. “Maggie did a good job, it doesn't even look that bad. It might not even scar.” “Liar,” Jimmy muttered. “Yeah,” Ben agreed, he shifted himself into a more comfortable position, leaning over Jimmy, his mere presence a comfort, “The smell was awful.” Jimmy nodded. He hadn't even realized the smell. The stench of burning flesh always lingered in his nose. Ever since that first time he'd encountered it, what seemed an eternity ago. Ben brushed a kiss across Jimmy's parted lips. It sent a shiver through Jimmy's body. He said nothing, lying very still and concentrating on breathing. “Jimmy?” Ben whispered. “Hm...?” “Can I ask you...who's Cass?” Jimmy's face distorted a moment. A small noise escaped his throat. “No.” Ben dropped another kiss to Jimmy's mouth, and with it somberly murmured, “Okay.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Captain Weaver was disappointed with the news Hal's scouting party returned with, they needed to search out another direction for the 2nd Mass's new camp location. They would be running low on supplies soon and needed more options. Most of the residences, stores and warehouses in the area within a fifty mile radius were already picked clean by looters. Dr. Anne Glass praised Maggie and Hal's decision when it came to Jimmy. “It was the right call,” she said, “If you'd waited for stitches, he might not have made it back to camp.” Jimmy spent the next several nights in the medical van under Dr. Glass's careful watch. His fever progressed over the first couple days. It spiked on the second day at 103.5 and Dr. Glass contemplated an ice bath, but where the fuck would she get the ice, then it broke on the fourth. In the meantime, Ben was assigned patrols with a young girl named Valerie. Jimmy fretted about it. “She's a very skilled shot,” Dr. Glass promised Jimmy, but he didn't feel assured. The idea that Ben was out there, patrolling, with someone that wasn't him, Jimmy couldn't explain it, but it turned his stomach inside out. On the fifth day, Dr. Glass released Jimmy from observation. His vitals were normal. His fever was gone. He still felt groggy and weak, but Dr. Glass told him that the feeling would fade after he spent some time outside, getting fresh air and exercise, but to check back in with her in a few days. Despite the all clear from Dr. Glass, Captain Weaver wasn't eager to put Jimmy back on patrols or anything. He suggested a short leave from duty, nothing too long, just another week of resting. “But why?” Jimmy argued, feeling like a child being sent to bed without dessert. Another week. His heart was fit to burst. That was another week of lying around camp uselessly. Another week of Ben out there with that Valerie girl. “I want you at 100% before I put you back out there,” Captain Weaver explained, and dismissed Jimmy with a sharp command. There was a note at the cabin for Jimmy: Ranger station. Thirteen hundred. Ben was already at the station when Jimmy arrived, shooting at tin cans lined up about thirty meters away. He grazed one, clipped the top of the next, and missed the third entirely. “Those tin cans must not be posing much threat to your Playstation,” Jimmy called jokingly. Ben lowered the weapon and glanced over his shoulder to see his approaching friend. Jimmy faltered, for a moment, a shadow lingered in Ben's eyes, a dark haze that hinted a brewing storm. Ben looked away, put the rifle down. “We have to talk, Jimmy.” Jimmy's heart stopped, then kicked into full throttle. Thoughts overwhelmed him, a mountain of 'what ifs' galvanized to life. Ben changed his mind about Jimmy, he learned something, found something out, saw the dark things swarming inside Jimmy and was repulsed by them, realized in the week apart, in the week with Valerie, that there were other people in the world, other people that were kinder, gentler, easier to deal with, easier to be around. “And I mean really talk,” Ben pressed, turning round to face the other boy now, his expression light now, but stern, “Without yelling, attacking, no arguing, and none of your guarded bullshit attitude either.” “Bullshit attitude,” Jimmy scoffed complaint, folding his arms across his chest. “Yeah, that one, right there,” Ben exclaimed, jabbing a finger Jimmy's direction, “I mean, if we're going to do this...” Jimmy's eyes darted up at that, wide and alarmed, his jaw unhinged. Ben's mouth snapped shut, his teeth clattering against one another. They both stared, neither wanting to be the first to speak, to acknowledge the first verbal verification that anything had actually happened – was actually happening – between them. “Do...what?” Jimmy asked, feeling like he was speaking around a large cluster of cotton balls. “I...” Ben tipped his chin down, studying the ground, eyes moving back and forth, “I don't know what.” He met Jimmy's gaze again, brown searching, imploring blue, “I know we're doing something. I don't know what it is, I don't know what it means...but it's something...something...that I know I want.” Jimmy nudged the muddy ground with the toe of his boot. He watched a line of ants race from somewhere into the abandoned ranger station door and back into the farther reaches of the woods. “Oh,” he mouthed, “That.” “Yeah. That,” Ben snapped. He shook his head, grumbled, “I've been thinking so much about it this past week, my head hurts. And then on top of that I was patrolling with this girl, Valerie...” Here it comes, Jimmy braced himself, the discussion about his replacement. “And I realized something out there with her,” Ben continued. Jimmy chewed his inner cheek furiously, grateful of the metallic taste that filled his mouth when his teeth tore the gum. Ben took a few steps towards Jimmy, paused, put his hands in his pockets and stared up at the sky. “She told me a lot of things about herself on patrol,” Ben began, casually, as though they were having a whole new conversation, “Her dad and her little brother survived the attack together. She had an older sister, went away to college in California...UCLA...they haven't heard from her, don't know if she's alive or dead, but her dad doesn't have much hope. Her mother died when she was twelve, car accident. She learned how to shoot on hunting trips with her dad. She and her brother are both really good shots, but their dad doesn't want them to be fighters. He only lets her patrol sometimes when he's sure she won't run into anything at night, but she really wants to be a fighter, they fight about it a lot.” Jimmy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, losing the tension in his shoulders, and scrunching his face up in confusion. Why was Ben telling him all of this and would he be getting to a point soon? “She wanted to be a fashion designer before, used to sketch clothes all the time. She still does, when she's bored. She had two best friends in school, Pam and Tracy. Pam died, her whole family died, in the first attacks. Tracy is harnessed, Valerie knows it for certain. Because she's seen her. She thinks we might be able to get Tracy back, like me. “She's afraid of me. She tells me all the time, that there's something not right about the way I look at people. She says it’s not my fault though, and she feels bad for thinking it. Every time she says 'Skitter', she gets really quiet and looks at me with these pitying eyes and says 'I'm so sorry', it drives me up the wall.” Ben sighed, shook his head and smirked, somewhat fondly and Jimmy hated the way that memory made Ben react, it caused his stomach to lurch. “Her favorite color is teal. She always wanted a rabbit; she used to collect stuffed rabbits. Her whole room was filled with them. It's the thing she misses most about home, the one thing she wishes she could have back, or at the very least just one of them. Oh, she also misses Uncle Chow's Chinese Take-Out, they had the best Lo Mein, the drive-in theater behind her house even though it only showed movies made in the eighties, and her favorite clothing boutique, Hannah's Hand-Me-Downs.” Ben finished with a quirk of his brow, looking almost expectantly at Jimmy. “So...” Jimmy started slowly, “She never shuts up?” Ben pursed his lips, fighting the smile twitching in the corner of his mouth. He shook his head, angry again. “In one week I've learned more about her than the total number of words I've been able to get out of you about yourself in the entire time we've been patrolling together,” Ben concluded. “That's what this is about?” Jimmy demanded, irritated. This conversation was way too stupid for words, “You want to know things about me? Well, okay. I don't have a favorite color but I too really miss my rabbit collection. A lot.” “No,” Ben growled then shaking his head, “I mean, yes, I do want to know things about you but that's not what this is about. It's that...she talks to me.” “I talk to you. I'm talking to you right now.” “No, you don't. You make sarcastic comments, snappy insults, lash out in anger, and every now and then, you might actually say something but then you take it back too fast I can't tell,” Ben ranted, “She's scared of me and she's told me her life story, her hopes, her dreams, her innermost fears.” “Well if that's what you want, then maybe you should make her your permanent partner on patrols,” Jimmy bit out. “That's not what I want,” Ben cried, he threw his hands up in disgust, “I said no arguing!” “You started it!” “Stop that. Don't you get it, Jimmy? I care about you,” Ben roared, and the emotion slammed into Jimmy, burning a hole clear through his chest, “I care about you so much I couldn't even make the choice that would save your life because it was the one that would cause you an intensely excruciating amount of pain and I can't handle that. Fuck!” Ben spun around and buried his face in a hand, flustered and frustrated all at once. Jimmy wet his lips with a quick dart of his tongue, bunched up his shoulders, and ducked his chin down. A cool breeze ruffled his hair. Somewhere in the forest, a bird broke out in merry song. “I know you've got things you don't want to talk about. We've all got things we don't want to talk about,” Ben finally spoke again. He sounded so distant, as though he were whispering across the ocean to Jimmy standing on a foreign shore, “But sometimes I get the feeling that you do have things that you want to talk about, you just shut it all up as soon as you get close to letting any of it out. You just hold it inside and...and it's ripping you apart...and I hate it.” The ranger station had been abandoned long before the aliens ever invaded. It was evident in the structure's design, the lack of brass hinges, and the warping of the wood. Overgrowth around the building was far too thick to be attributed to six months or even a year of desertion. Ben's breathing was shallow and heavy. He sounded winded, as though he'd run a mile in a minute. Jimmy felt lost. His eyes were seeing the world around him, but none of it looked familiar; the ranger station, the trees, the overturned crate, the rocks, the flowers, the muddy ground, the boy in front of him, they were all alien to him. “I don't want to burden you with my past,” Jimmy admitted stiffly. His voice was steadier than he felt it should be. “Even though I'm asking you to?” Ben challenged, turning slightly to eye Jimmy, brown orbs cast with shadows. “Especially because you're asking me to,” Jimmy returned. They stared at one another, finding themselves at an impasse. They both wanted the same thing. They both needed the same thing. They both had vastly different ideas how to achieve it. Ben lowered his eyes first. Jimmy blinked away tears he wished hadn't formed. “Is this your noble sacrifice?” Ben scoffed. Jimmy smirked sardonic, “More like my punishment.” “Should I even bother asking?” “Nope.” They shared a sad smile. Ben turned back towards Jimmy, walking towards him until they were only an arm's length apart. “It's just...when you say things like that, when I see you hurting, I want to be able to help,” Ben sheepishly confessed. “You do,” Jimmy admitted. He rubbed his face and sighed, saying, “In a weird way, you do.” “Really?” Ben snorted softly, disbelieving. “Yeah, really,” Jimmy repeated grumpily. Was that so difficult to understand? That just by being there, just by merely existing, Ben made a difference? Silence settled between them. They both reflected on the conversation, sorted through the emotions, the anger and frustration, the disappointment and insecurities, it brought out. Finally, Jimmy asked, “Was that all you wanted to talk about?” “Well, that...and the other thing,” Ben shrugged. “Other thing?” Jimmy repeated numbly, peeking timidly at the other boy. There were only so many 'other things'. “Yeah,” Ben took another step forward, “The...uh...” He touched his lips to Jimmy's for a wonderfully tender moment, “...thing.” “Right. That thing,” Jimmy murmured. He made a face, “We really have to talk about that?” “I think so,” Ben answered casually, “It seems like we should.” “Really? Okay. So...uh...about that?” Jimmy mused awkwardly, running a hand over the back of his neck and trying to ignore the color rising to his cheeks, “It's...well, a thing...a thing…that keeps happening…” “A...bad thing?” Ben interrupted, quirking a brow. Jimmy shrugged, “I don't...no. I don't think so. Unless you think so?” “Yeah. No,” Ben hastily agreed, “It's just a thing.” “Yeah. A thing,” Jimmy nodded, “Not a bad thing. Just a thing.” “Right. So we're clear?” “Yeah. Entirely clear.” “Cool. Good talk.” “Yeah.” Another silence between them. Jimmy took a deep breath and leaned forward to clumsily press his lips to the corner of Ben's, it was brief, almost shy, and when he began to pull away Ben moved swiftly forward and caught hold of him, dragging him in once more. Ben closed the entire space between them, pressing their bodies together, to get a better grip on Jimmy's mouth. There was a curiosity to this kiss that challenged the chastity of those that preceded it. It touched on a desire neither boy was yet ready to admit to but would readily indulge in if the way their mouths melded together were any indication. Ben worked their lips apart, the tip of his tongue daring to cross the threshold of Jimmy's teeth, then sheepishly jumping back out, and then dove back in a second time; just to taste, tantalize, tease. Jimmy broke away first, gasping for breath. He put a hand on Ben's chest, pushing him back slightly. Ben furrowed his brow, confused and somewhat hurt. “I have to say something,” Jimmy choked out between gulps of air, “About what you said...” “Which part?” Ben questioned dismissively, leaning forward against Jimmy's restraining hand. As far as he was concerned, their talk was over. “The caring about me part,” Jimmy snapped, as if it were Ben's fault he wasn't exactly being clear. He ran the fingers of his free hand over his lips, wiping away the saliva there, or rubbing it in, he wasn't really sure what he was doing, “I just...Icareaboutyoutoo,” he mumbled, the words tumbling so quickly and quietly out that Ben could barely understand them. “What?” “You heard me,” Jimmy grumbled. Although it was obvious Ben hadn't, Jimmy had no intention of repeating the words. He dropped his hand from Ben's chest, “And that was it. That's all I had to say...” Ben rolled his eyes and shook his head, grinning at the irrepressible boy in front of him. “You're so stubborn,” he noted, a hint of peevishness in his tone as he moved in to pick up that kiss right where Jimmy had left it off.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Franklin drew his breath in slow and let it out steady. His eyes were narrow slits, his lips pressed together in a thin line. A bead of sweat was forming on his brow, curved with intent. Jimmy glanced bemused at the older teen, while absently flicking the safety of his gun on and off. “Puh,” Franklin breathed out then pursed his lips, lined his fingertips up, laced them together and pointed at Maggie with both index fingers, “Pisces.” Maggie blinked at him, her stare blank. “No.” Franklin snapped his fingers and shook his head at her, saying, “Are you sure? You seem like a Pisces.” Maggie turned her attention back to the stretch of road leading into the town where she, Hal, Jimmy and Ben had scouted a couple weeks prior. There were five of them staked out that day, waiting, watching, as Ben ran recon. They were trying to determine how strong the alien presence was there and if it would be possible for the 2nd Mass to punch a path way through. “If China is gone, does their zodiac still work?” Hal wondered aloud. “That's a really good question. I don't know, because it all has to do with stars, right? You would think it doesn't matter,” Maggie replied, mock serious. “Pisces is astrology. Not Chinese Zodiac,” Franklin interjected, annoyed. Maggie and Hal glanced at him briefly, humorously, then back to one another. “There's more than one zodiac?” Maggie questioned, donning a ditzy tone and tilting her head to one side. Franklin blinked rapidly several times and opened his mouth to respond. “He's taking a while,” Jimmy interrupted, his attention locked on the town, “Shouldn't he have been back by now?” Hal glanced at the watch on his wrist and shook his head. “There's still five more minutes ‘til check in,” he assured Jimmy, sighing and stretching. He leaned back in the bed of the pick-up truck they'd driven in. “Of course, it might not be such a bad thing if he did run into some trouble in town,” Franklin chuckled. Three pairs of eyes turned to him, each varying in emotion from confused to downright outraged. “What is that supposed to mean?” Hal demanded. Franklin glanced at the other boy curiously, ignoring Teresa at Hal's shoulder furiously shaking her head. “Just that it would be one less problem for the 2nd Mass to worry about,” he innocently remarked. “And how exactly is my brother a problem?” Hal pressed, straightening considerably and readjusting himself for easy maneuvering. Jimmy subconsciously clicked the safety of his gun back into the off position. Maggie darted her eyes between the boys, seeing things getting ugly fast. Franklin shrugged, nonchalant and apparently oblivious to the danger he was talking himself into. “Well, isn't that why the Captain sent him in there and told us to wait out here like bumps on a log? If anything happens to him, no huge loss,” Franklin persisted, then for a moment seeming to remember himself and having the decency to look slightly abashed about it, amended, “Except to you, Hal, of course. But you have to know that the 2nd Mass would be better off...” “Without my brother,” Hal finished in scathing sarcasm, “Because he's such a huge fucking problem.” “What Frankie is just saying,” Teresa stepped in, “Is that him and all the other harnessed children pose a threat and...” “They're not harnessed anymore,” Hal snapped at Teresa, and she shrank back from his venomous tone, “My brother is not a problem. Captain Weaver didn't send him in to town because he's hoping Ben doesn't come back, he did it because Ben is twice the fighter you or any of us is, and don't you ever forget that.” “Everyone knows that's only because of what the Skitters did to him, and who knows what else they could have done. The razorbacks can't be trusted and you're stupid if you think that one can just because it has the face of your brother,” Franklin argued. Jimmy gripped his gun tightly to himself, eyes dropping slightly as he listened to the exchange, heart racing in his chest. Franklin's words sounded insane but his voice was calm, rational. He truly believed what he was saying and Jimmy wasn't certain what frightened him more, Franklin's zealous fanaticism, or the possibility that he may be right. One glance at Hal and it was obvious the older boy was having the same dilemma. “They may have cut the harness off but for all you know, the razorbacks are still under the aliens' control. Even now. And all it’s doing is pretending to be your brother, it's going through the motions, putting on an act, but it'll cut your throat in your sleep the minute its Skitter master gives the command,” Franklin concluded. “That's bullshit,” Hal growled. “Come on, Jimmy, you've spent time with the razorback and it's not your brother. Unbiased opinion, what do you think?” Franklin called, suddenly casting the spotlight on the youngest member of the group. Jimmy glanced frantically between all the glares and expectant stares. His throat closed, his tongue felt shriveled and dry. There was a roaring in his ears like the ocean. All he could think of was Ben's mouth hot on his own and the thought of it being an illusion created by the Skitters, his stomach churned with sickness. “Back me up here, Jimmy,” Franklin pressed. “Yeah, why don't you tell us what you think, Jimmy,” Hal insisted, his expression hard and unwavering. His words from weeks ago echoed in Jimmy's ears: you're Ben's only friend... “You don't have to say anything, Jimmy,” Maggie whispered kindly, then to the older boys she seethed, “Will you two lay off and calm down? Or are you forgetting that the real enemy is very close right now and that we're currently on a mission to help keep the 2nd Mass alive? If, that is, either of you really are all that concerned about the safety of the 2nd Mass.” “Um...you guys...” Teresa murmured. Everyone turned to her, but she had her eyes fixed behind them. They all spun round, fumbling for their guns, and faltering when they realized what it was Teresa was looking at. “What's going on?” Ben asked, slowly walking towards the truck, a rifle slung over one shoulder, eyebrow perked. If he had caught any of their conversation, it wasn't evident in his features. “Nothing,” Hal spoke up first, as they all recovered from the initial shock of Ben's arrival. Hal glanced warily at Franklin, and explained, “Political debate.” “Government collapsed, there's not much to debate,” Ben pointed out, dropping his rifle in the truck bed and climbing in after it. He took a seat next to Jimmy. “I got what we needed. The town was mostly empty, I think the Skitters were just passing through the other day. But I got some pictures of the area, should come in handy if we do move through as planned. We should head back to camp now.” Hal and Maggie went around to climb into the front carriage. Teresa and Franklin settled into the truck bed across from Ben and Jimmy, whispering low amongst themselves and sending dark looks Ben's direction every so often. Jimmy was frozen in place. His fingers fidgeted with his gun safety again and he stared intently as the tiny lock switch shot back and forth. He could sense Ben next to him, but there was a distance between them. Their shoulders weren't touching the way they normally did when seated in that position and, though it was a small almost pointless detail, it stung in Jimmy's chest almost as if Ben had taken a knife and drove it through him. They stopped for the night in an empty diner. The building had an independent generator, which meant electricity, which meant heat. Summer was coming to a rapid close, and the nights had been growing increasingly colder. That night was no exception, the chilly air dipping close to thirty degrees. Adding to their good fortune, there was also running water, and while none of them would be drinking anything from the faucets, they were certainly looking forward to working toilets. It was nice to be able to relax in a temperature controlled environment and indulge in indoor plumbing for once, a luxury no one forsook those days. They broke into groups of two, lining the tables up in front of the windows to provide a wall, and blocking all entrances except the one they chose to use, the back entry. They had decided to park their truck around back, to hide it from the open road. Then they laid out their sleeping bags in the dining area and sat down for a shared meal of trail-mix and peanut butter sandwiches. “Captain Weaver says there's a small town about two hundred miles passed that city. According to reports, Skitter activity around that area is almost non-existent,” Hal was explaining to Maggie and Jimmy, “He seems to think it would be a good place to bolt down.” “If we can just get passed the city,” Jimmy complained. Giggling erupted from across the dining area where Teresa and Franklin occupied a corner, whispering and laughing amongst themselves. Maggie and Hal only gave the other two teens a brief, reproving glance, then returned to their conversation but Jimmy watched them a moment. Franklin pushed the hair back from Teresa's ear, leaning in close and talking in a low voice. His hand was set on the small of her back, the other rest on her knee. Whatever Franklin said must have been hilarious, as Teresa burst into more laughter, playfully slapping Franklin's shoulder and delicately covering her mouth with sprawled fingertips. “Do you think he heard?” Hal asked, and Jimmy darted his attention back to the two older teens he sat with. They were looking to the front of the dining area where Ben had taken up residency, curled up between the tables and staring ever-vigilant out one of the windows. Hal meant the conversation earlier, the one where Franklin basically called Ben a traitor waiting to happen. The one where Jimmy said nothing in Ben's defense. Jimmy lowered his eyes and frowned at his hands. “He heard,” Jimmy determined with absolute certainty. “Jimmy's right,” Maggie sighed, “If Ben can hear a mech coming from a mile away, he can certainly hear two arguing hot heads from a few yards away.” “I could strangle Frankie for saying those things,” Hal seethed, shaking his head as he spoke, “He's such an asshole.” Jimmy balled his hands into fists, wondering internally the same thing he knew Hal and Maggie were wondering, the thing they were all too afraid to voice aloud, the thing that Jimmy hated himself so much for: but what if that asshole is right? That night, they slept in shifts. Teresa first and then Maggie, Hal was third. It was during Franklin's shift that Jimmy awoke with the intense need to pee. He tip-toed groggily around the huddle of rumpled sleeping bags bulging with slumbering masses, and stumbled into the dark bathroom. The door behind him shut silently and he froze. In the moonlit restroom, Jimmy could hear heavy breathing, gasping, grunting, a rhythmic noise similar to two ham-hocks slapping against one another. There was an unfamiliar turning in his stomach, a heat swelling in his cheeks and dropping into his lower abdomen. He frowned, edging forward in tiny, noiseless steps, peeking into each stall along the way. It was after the last stall that he found them. Franklin had his back to Jimmy. His blue jeans and boxers were in a heap around his ankles. He held Teresa, her bare breasts smashed against the tiled wall, her face was turned away from Jimmy, her fingers were curled into the tile, as through attempting to claw their way through the mortar. Her buttocks was pressed into Franklin's front and he gyrated back and forth against it. At first, Jimmy could only gape, paralyzed by the image, tormented by the sounds coming from both older teens. And then the heat in his abdomen spread through his body, like an awakening, a breaking dawn. His limbs felt heavy and weak, his head swirled, light and burdensome. Blood flowed viciously through him, rushing to parts of his body he wasn't expecting and reacting in ways he had encountered before but was not yet accustomed to and didn't yet fully understand. His own breath was becoming haggard, unsteady. As Franklin and Teresa approached climax, Jimmy too felt himself approaching something that all at once revolted and fascinated him. He pulled away from the scene and fell into one of the stalls. Then the bathroom door creaked open. Jimmy froze again, wondering who else had awoken with the same urge as him and would stumble on the same awkward surprise. Franklin and Teresa remained oblivious to both the first and now second intrusion. It wasn't until the steps of the second to walk through the door grew closer that Jimmy, a drop of dread in his stomach, recognized the odd scurrying sound. He cracked open the stall in time to see the familiar creature shuffle past on six legs. Jimmy opened his mouth to scream warning to Franklin and Teresa but the word, 'Skitter', stuck in his throat as he heard the startled cries of the two teens. They were dead, he felt it without doubt, there was no rescuing them. He hadn't heard the door open the third time and stumbled farther back into the stall surprised when Ben swiftly rushed by, knife in hand. The Skitter spun round at Ben's approach, but it wasn't fast enough to defend itself, as Ben drove the knife down its throat to the vulnerable spot in the back, and it crumpled to the ground at his feet. Franklin and Teresa were still alive and relatively unharmed, pressing their half-naked bodies flat against the tiled wall, staring wide-eyed in surprise at Ben. Ben briefly returned the look, then turned rapidly away, wearing an expression that was a strange combination of bashful and utter disgust. He glared at Franklin out of the corner of an eye. “Aren't you supposed to be on watch?” Ben demanded, but must have realized they weren’t alone. He cocked his head to one side with his knife at ready. Then Jimmy stepped into view from his place in the stall and Ben wheeled hastily around only to gape at the other boy and drop the knife to his side. All three of the teens were giving Jimmy the same bewildered look. He shrugged awkwardly, folding his arms over his chest. “I needed to...” he gestured towards the stall, “And then I found those two...” He made a face at the memory, “Then the Skitter...and you...” He dropped his eyes to the ground and mumbled, “I'm gonna go.” He started for the bathroom exit, paused and, doubling back around into the bathroom stall, explained sheepishly, “I still have to...” Jimmy clattered the stall door closed and fell back against it, rubbing his hands over his face. He kind of wished the Skitter had murdered them all, because the mortification he had just faced was by far the worse fate.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Uncle Scott set up a projector in the mess tent to air a movie, some family comedy about a roadtrip and the hilarity that never actually ensued on roadtrips in real life. They would be leaving the woods soon, Captain Weaver had made the decision. Five more days and the 2nd Mass would be on its way to a new location, a small suburban community two hundred and forty-three miles southwest of their current location. Some people lamented that they would miss the forest and the comfort of its solidarity. Most were eager to be getting away from the intruding wilderness – a bear had walked through the camp-ground the other night, scaring most of the civilians, until the wild-eyed former criminal turned reluctant fighter, Pope, chased the bear away. Jimmy watched the movie with the Masons, Maggie, Anthony, a handful of other fighters, all around him. They laughed at some of the parts; they were somehow managing to really get into the movie. Matt seemed to be enjoying it the most, seated comfortably between Hal and Ben, which was, in some ways, the safest location in the room. Jimmy didn't laugh. He didn't find anything amusing in the antics of the two siblings in the movie. The father's anger at every little mishap was less entertaining, more depressing. The mother's benevolent tolerance of everything around her was the only thing Jimmy found any interest in, absently staring, unaware of the longing evident in his eyes, every time her face filled the screen. The rest of the movie was crap, as far as Jimmy was concerned, a grotesque perversion of a life less humorous than the laugh track would suggest. When the movie ended it was very late into the night. Most of the civilians had left earlier, dragging their children off to bed. The few that remained wandered off as soon as the credits began to roll. There hadn't been a lot of fighters that had even bothered coming to watch the movie, but those that had, remained to its end and then broke into small groups to chat for the night. Ben had taken Matt back to the cabin a half hour ago, Hal and the others huddled together, chatting and laughing. Jimmy remained where he sat, watching the credits roll. He recognized some of the names, actors and such, but very few. He barely moved when a hand lightly ruffled his hair, then Maggie dropped in the chair beside him. “Good movie?” she questioned. He shook his head, said nothing. She sighed, watched the credits with him a moment. “Do you think they're all dead?” he wondered aloud. She glanced at him, then back to the screen. She was quiet a long time, maybe, actually pondering the question. “No. I think they're all in a bunker somewhere under Hollywood,” she answered candidly, “Waiting out the invasion. When the aliens leave, they'll all crawl back out and start making movies again.” Jimmy smirked, “Yeah.” He stretched, yawned, then commented, “It's kind of sad to think, isn't it? That there'll never be any new movies made again. No new books written. No more new songs released. Billboard Music Awards, Emmy's, red carpets, tabloids...it's all over.” Maggie turned her gaze on Jimmy, her expression soft and somewhat taken aback. Jimmy flickered a look her way then shrugged, flustered. “I don't know,” he mumbled, “I'm gonna turn in.” Jimmy stood and hesitantly shuffled away. “Have a good night, Jimmy,” Maggie called after him, but he didn't look back or return the salutation. It had rained earlier in the day, and the dampness still hung in the forest air. The muddy ground squished beneath Jimmy's feet. He shuddered, drawing his jacket around himself, and hustling along the pathway towards his cabin. Jimmy sensed something was wrong the moment he stepped on the cabin porch. He paused, his hand on the wooden railing, rough and weather-worn beneath his trembling palm. He surveyed the area, ears strained for any signs of danger that would excuse the prickling upright of the hair on the back of his neck. He took a tentative step forward, then another. Put his hand on the cabin doorknob, and the muffled cries of a wailing child touched his ears. Drawing in a deep breath, he opened the door, and the crying became more prominent. He entered, alert and tense, wishing he had his gun. “Mrs. Hayes?” Jimmy called out. He stalked towards the bedrooms, taking in slow, steady breaths, eyes wide and darting towards every shifting shadow. Standing in the door frame of Mrs. Hayes bedroom, which she shared with her two youngest children, staring into the furniture-less room was where Jimmy found them. The toddler lay on the ground, empty pale gray eyes staring up at the ceiling, drowning in red that swathed down his front and pooled underneath his small body. Mrs. Hayes knelt over him. She held Jimmy's knife, the one he usually wore on his hip. It had a long blade with a jagged edge. It was coated in thick black blood and ichor. The two older children were pressed into the corner of the room, hugging one another. The girl was the one crying. Tyler only stared, blank, at his mother. His expression mimicry of Jimmy's own at the moment. “Mrs. Hayes,” Jimmy murmured, his mouth felt stiff and difficult to move. The woman turned around, knife poised to strike, eyes wild and seeing but not seeing the young teenager standing in her bedroom door. “I won't let you take them,” she hissed and Jimmy took a small subconscious step back. “What are you doing?” he stammered demand. His entire body quaked. His heart fluttering erratically, a moth trapped beneath glass. His eyes darted from her, to the boy on the ground, to the two in the corner and back to her again. Her lips were dry and cracked, her face splattered with shimmering droplets of crimson blood; tiny rubies in lantern light. She held the knife at ready, and dropped her free hand to the toddler's head, stroking it affectionately. “I'm saving them,” she answered, her voice vacillating between a choked sob and strict faith. She turned her eyes to the other two children and reached out her blood drenched hand, “Come to mommy, Emma.” “Stay there,” Jimmy whispered command to the little girl, his eyes locked with those of both of the children. Tyler squeezed his sister, the little girl nodded between falling tears. Jimmy edged into the room, a few cautious steps in, then pressed himself to the wall. It was getting harder to breath, a pressure forming on his chest. He had to get between Mrs. Hayes's and her children; of that much he was certain. The rest...well he could figure out the rest when he got there. His eyes were on Mrs. Hayes, alert to any sudden movements. She insisted her daughter come to her. Reached to her daughter, darted angry eyes at Jimmy that pinned him in place every time. “Emma, come to mommy. Everything will be okay, I won’t let anyone hurt you...just come to mommy...” “Mrs. Hayes, you have to stop,” Jimmy pleaded. The woman spun on him, a white fire whipping through her features. “Stay out of this! It has nothing to do with you. I'm going to save them. I have to save them,” Mrs. Hayes roared. “No, you don't,” Jimmy shot back. A few more steps and he'd be in front of the children, and then...and then he didn't know. Mrs. Hayes’s deranged eyes went to her children, and then fled back to Jimmy. Her fingers tightened around the knife. “Shit,” Jimmy breathed and Mrs. Hayes lunged at him. He barely had a chance to dodge the first swipe of the knife, shouting to the children “Run!” The two, thankfully, didn't need to be told twice, those several months in Skitter-world having finely honed their survival instincts. They sprinted towards the door frame before Jimmy even finished the command. Mrs. Hayes flailed the knife wildly. Her movements lacked grace and consistency, but she made up for it with speed and, well, having the knife. Her second swipe caught Jimmy's front, slicing open his shirt and drawing a bead across his chest, another caught the side of his neck, there were countless others he wasn't sure hit and didn't have time to think about. He blocked a downward slice aimed at his face with his forearm, his thick jacket taking the brunt of the blade, but he did feel it biting into his flesh. He made an attempt to grab at the knife, accidentally caught the blade in his hand, and she ripped it out, tearing his palm open and splattering blood everywhere with the motion. He caught hold of her other arm and she stabbed the knife deep into his shoulder and ripped it swiftly out, forcing a strangled cry of surprise and pain from his throat. He finally brought his fist down across the side of her head and she crumpled to the ground. He didn't wait to see if she stayed there, racing to the bedroom door where the two children stood waiting, watching wide-eyed his struggle with their mother. He swept the girl off the ground into his arms and snatched Tyler by the hand, bolting from the cabin. “Don't take my children from me. Please don't take my children!” Mrs. Hayes raged, wailing like a gale force wind, and then her words faded into a single bloodcurdling howl. “Help, help,” Jimmy cried, as soon as he'd exited the cabin, running and screaming until his lungs burned and throat was hoarse. People flooded from their own cabins, fighters racing from all corners of the camp. One of the fighters, a large man with creamy, mocha colored skin, caught hold of Jimmy by the shoulders. “What's wrong, son? What's going on?” he demanded. “She's crazy, she went crazy,” Jimmy desperately explained, the girl burying her face against his bloody neck, crying and sobbing, Tyler wrapped around his leg in the same pitiful state, “She killed him. I think she killed him! She's crazy.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
An hour later, Jimmy sat on the ground in the mess tent. The little girl in his lap, passed out from crying. Tyler sleeping next to him, head resting on the older boy's shoulder. Jimmy stared blankly ahead, near catatonic. He couldn't really see his surroundings, the image of that toddler on the ground still burned in his retina. There were people crowded around but none of them seemed interested in getting too close. They watched, talked amongst themselves. “Jimmy,” a kind voice spoke out above the monotonous buzz of whispering bystanders, “Jimmy? Sweetie...?” Jimmy blinked slowly, then looked into the gentle, dark-featured face of Dr. Anne Glass. Her assistant, Lourdes, stood at her shoulder, arms folded over her tiny frame. The younger woman seemed intent on finding everything to look at that wasn't Jimmy. The older woman gazed directly at him. She wore a sullen smile. “Why don't you come with me, Jimmy? We'll get you cleaned up,” Dr. Glass suggested. Jimmy glanced dazedly at the children strewn across him as though he were their security blanket keeping them safe and warm. “Lourdes will take care of them,” Dr. Glass assured Jimmy knowingly, and as if on cue, Lourdes stepped forward to peel the little girl off Jimmy's lap. The girl stirred, whimpered, reached out for Jimmy and sobbed a bit, then curled around Lourdes and dozed off again. They gently lifted up Tyler, who remained asleep and undisturbed. Jimmy rose unsteadily to his feet. He hesitantly began to follow Dr. Glass through the crowd towards the medical van. “Jimmy!” A familiar voice shouted, nearby but just too far away. Jimmy heard a cracking in his heart. He trailed his eyes through the ocean of faces and found Ben, struggling against Hal's grasp. The older brother clearly saw it best to let the good doctor handle things for a bit. “Jimmy,” Ben cried desperately when he saw those blue eyes his direction, then his brow wrinkled, suddenly lost and confused, when he saw the other boy’s expression and he stopped fighting his brother's grasp. Jimmy turned his face forward again, climbing into the medical van behind Dr. Glass, the door effectively shutting out the white noise whispers, the endless sea of people, the darkness of the night, the cold of it. Shutting out Ben. On one of the few beds in the medical van, Mrs. Hayes lay, eyes closed and completely unmoving. Her wrists and forearms were heavily bandaged. Her nails still had ichor beneath them. Jimmy froze to the spot upon seeing her and Dr. Glass lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It's okay. She's sedated.” Jimmy nodded. He took a seat on the free bed. Dr. Glass didn't say anything as she cleaned Jimmy's cuts, then worked at sewing the puncture in his shoulder shut. He watched Mrs. Hayes warily, never taking his eyes off the motionless figure in the bed across from him. “It was my knife,” he noted numbly. Dr. Glass paused, looked at Jimmy curiously, as she pulled thread through his skin. “It was my knife,” he repeated. He closed his eyes and sniffed loudly, shuddering though it wasn't cold. “I never leave it in the cabin. I did tonight and...” “It wasn't your fault,” Dr. Glass interjected sharply, in a tone that suggested that would be the end of that. Jimmy fell silent. He didn't say anymore as she finished stitching him up. While she bandaged the remaining injuries, there came a tap at the door and then it opened, one of the older fighters peeking in. He glanced at Jimmy then said to Dr. Glass, “Will he be much longer?” “I'm just finishing up,” Dr. Glass answered, “Why?” “Captain Weaver wants to see him when he's all done here.” Dr. Glass nodded understanding and the fighter hastily left, clearly uncomfortable. Dr. Glass wrapped Jimmy's hand up last. Then she gently touched his shoulder, gave it a squeeze to get his attention, and he raised his eyes to meet hers. She flashed a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “If you want, you can come back here, when you're done talking to the captain,” she began; it was an invitation for somewhere to sleep that wasn't that awful cabin. Jimmy's eyes went to Mrs. Hayes in the other bed and Dr. Glass pursed her lips, nodding knowingly, “Either way, I want to see you in the morning. Okay?” Jimmy nodded and wordlessly left the van. There was a strange relief to being in Captain Weaver's 'office'. The atmosphere there was one of dignity and military decorum, like the old man himself. It encouraged strength and bravery in the weakest of men at the weakest of times. Jimmy sat on a poorly padded computer chair with wheels, its seat spun. It was located on one side of a large desk that occupied the majority of space in the small room. There was a tall cabinet pushed to the far side of the room. All of the walls were covered in maps of the area and of Massachusetts. Captain Weaver had left when Jimmy arrived, telling Jimmy to sit and wait, and he returned a few minutes later, handing the boy a bottle of soda and taking a seat across the table. Jimmy held the bottle between his hands but didn't open it to drink. “How's your hand?” Captain Weaver asked. “Dr. Glass bandaged it,” Jimmy mumbled answer, lifting his hand up and showing off the white gauze as evidence. “Good, good,” Captain Weaver said awkwardly, nodding as he spoke. He smoothed his hands over the wood of the desk. He was looking for things to say, disquieted by the events of the evening, but wanting to provide a comfort to his distraught soldier. “And the shoulder?” Jimmy nodded. He picked at the soda bottle label, his eyes unfocused. Captain Weaver took a deep breath. He stood, picked up his hat and smoothed the hair back under it, then placed it down again. He cleared his throat. “You did good tonight, Jimmy. I want you to know that. It might not feel like it right now, but you did,” Captain Weaver said. Jimmy pulled the label back and it made a crinkling noise as it ripped from the bottle. He winced at the sound and tried to put the label back in place. A tear slid down his cheek, and he startled at the feeling of it. Captain Weaver sighed. He rubbed his hands together and paced a few times around the room. “What happened with Mrs. Hayes...” Captain Weaver began unsteadily, he swallowed hard, “Listen, son, sometimes people do things, terrible, horrible things...and they don't make sense to us. They don't make sense to anyone. But we want them to make sense. So we'll try to sort it out in our heads, make it rational, make it logical. Drive ourselves crazy with the effort. I don't want you to do that.” Jimmy sighed. He wiped at his cheek. His heart was seizing. “This woman, she did something terrible and she has to face that in the morning,” Captain Weaver went on, “Maybe she won't care. Maybe she’ll be ‘lucky’, and it won't even register. Doesn't matter. It's not for you to figure out. It isn't on your shoulders. So don't try to make sense of it, Jimmy, you hear me? It's not your responsibility. It's not on you. You did what you could and you did the best that anyone could've done in that moment, hell, you did better than most. Take that and walk away with it.” Captain Weaver fell silent, his piece said. Jimmy tightened his grip on the soda bottle. He stared intently at its contents, carbonated black syrup. It made him sick to stare at, tiny bubbles rising to the surface. Too many to count. Too small to matter. A toddler lying on the floor, covered in blood. A girl in a paisley dress, blanketed in sunlight. Gray eyes staring empty towards the darkened sky, begging for salvation. Blue eyes staring listlessly at the broken ground, begging for forgiveness. “Captain Weaver,” Jimmy whispered, his voice a low croak. Captain Weaver turned to the young boy curious and attentive. Jimmy lowered his eyes, a couple tears falling unbidden, he quickly smacked them away. He bit into his inner cheek, the old familiar pain crawling up his jawline. “What does it say about me...” Jimmy wondered, voice trembling under the weight of his own words, “What does it mean...” he turned his eyes up to the captain, “If it all makes complete sense to me?” Then he dropped his eyes once more, ashamed. “She just wanted to save them,” he whispered, shrugging, “...just to save them. I guess I can understand that.” Captain Weaver ran a hand over his scruffy mouth and chin. His wizened face was etched with every remorseful, grievous emotion God had had the cruel wherewithal to create. After a moment, he moved from the desk and strode to his cabinet. Opening it, he pulled out a glass bottle of opulent amber colored liquid and two small shot glasses. He set the glasses on the desk, filling one half way and the other to the brink. He placed the lesser of the two in front of Jimmy, then sat back down in his chair with the other glass in hand. He tipped his glass Jimmy's direction and then emptied it, setting it upside down on the desk with a THUNK. “Captain...?” Jimmy didn't know what to make of the odd gesture. Captain Weaver nodded to the glass in front of Jimmy encouragingly. “Drink. I think you need it,” he commanded, his voice harsh, rasped from the alcohol, “If anything, it’ll probably help you sleep tonight.” Tentatively, Jimmy leaned forward and picked his own glass up. He watched Captain Weaver, and Captain Weaver watched him, as he brought the glass to his mouth and easily tossed the liquid down his throat. It burned the entire way down, and Jimmy gasped, unprepared for the sensation, coughing and choking on air. Captain Weaver smirked, chuckling a bit at the display. Jimmy wiped at his mouth sheepishly, smiling vaguely at the old man's sudden lapse in melancholy. “You're a good man, Jimmy,” Captain Weaver remarked, smiling distantly. “Sir?” Jimmy wasn't sure what he had done that earned him the promotion to an adult pronoun, and was even less certain of what exactly had prompted the sudden praise, his morbid confession or his inability to drink straight whiskey. Captain Weaver gathered the glasses up, and returned them to the cabinet, ruffling Jimmy's hair on the way, and affectionately adding, “A true fighter.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Mom forgot to pack the CDs and they could never manage to pick up any good radio stations. In between static, they would find Talk Shows, Spanish ballads, Gospel - fucking Baptists, dad would complain - and even once classical, leave it on; the kids could use some culture. The kids get all the culture they need from TV, dad needs to stay awake to drive. Dad drove the entire trip. He always drives. Women are dangerous on the road, he teases, and mom doesn't laugh. Dad speeds up, slams the brakes, swerves through traffic, fucking asshole, watch were you're going, get off the fucking road. Not in front of the kids, goddammit, and James, put that goddamned video game down; you'll ruin your eyes. Dad sets up his laptop as soon as they check in to the hotel room. He promised, but there are accounts to settle, paperwork building up, money needs to be transferred and he has to transfer it, because no, no one else can fucking do it, and if he doesn't sell that stock now he'll lose money and if that happens, God forbid, mom will need to postpone her spa treatments. James, take your sister to the pool. She can't swim. Well take her anyway. What if she drowns? Then watch her. It's not my fault if she drowns. March your ass out of this room right now, young man, and take your sister to the pool. The hotel is three stories high, the higher up the better. Things splatter fantastically when thrown off the balcony. Vases shatter, plastic remotes crack into pieces, bottles of water explode. Dammit, James, did you throw my wallet off the fucking balcony? No, dad, I haven't seen your wallet. You little shit, you threw my fucking wallet off that balcony, didn't you? Didn't you! Don't hit him like that. Then do something about your fucking son, mom. Mom wears a broad-brimmed white hat and high-cut beige shorts. She slathers sunscreen over everyone, layers the gunk on their faces and arms, and ferchrissake, stop squirming, James, you need to wear sunblock, you know how you burn. It's fine, mom, leave me alone. There are quaint little shops along the boardwalk, mom loves everything in all of them, she buys so many bags worth. James, carry this, don't drag it on the ground, and your sister, hold her hand, James. Don't lose her. Jimmy. Dad ordered room service and mom isn't happy. They couldn't go to the restaurant downstairs because dad said it was too expensive, but he ordered it anyway, why couldn't they just go down? It's nicer in the room, they can watch TV, he can get work done. Of course, it's all about work. Dad is trying to compromise. Mom wants to know if he can define the word. James, eat some of the shrimp, it was expensive. He's allergic to shrimp, asshole. He's not allergic to shrimp, he's allergic to peanuts. He loves peanuts, but if dad is so sure, go ahead, James, eat some shrimp. I don't want any shrimp. Mom is just being a bitch, James. Dad is just trying to kill you, James. Jimmy, come on. Do not tell him things like that, he'll start to believe them. He doesn't need to be told, he can figure it out on his own, he's a smart boy. Right, James, you can figure out that your father doesn't care about you all on your own, can't you? And for crying out loud, James, where is your sister? Down at the pool. Hold her hand. Why is she down at the pool? Don't lose her. You told me to take her there. Where is your sister? And to watch her, James, watch her! Jimmy bolted upright, gasping for air and clutching his shoulder where the knife had sunk in. His entire body ached. It always did those days, but this was different. The pain was just a little more poignant, a little more acute, a little more unbearable. He darted his eyes around the room, searching for the retro-seventies wallpaper, the cheap landscape print, the glow of his father's laptop, but he settled when he realized he was sitting on a cot that creaked protest under his shifting weight in Captain Weaver's office. Several hours ago, he had requested he be allowed to stay there that night, and Captain Weaver had smiled softly and replied, “You can stay wherever you want.” Dr. Glass had then brought Jimmy something to take so he could sleep, two little blue pills that lodged in his throat and he had to chug several gulps of the soda, the one Captain Weaver had brought him when he first arrived at the office, to force them down. It was a little while later before they took affect and he'd slipped into a dull kind of sleep. Jimmy. A flash of paisley darted across the hallway and Jimmy startled. He peered at the open door and his heart thudded hollow in his chest. He chewed his inner cheek, already raw and ragged. His brow furrowed. A sweet, lyrical giggle echoed in his mind. Jimmy, come on. Let's go. “Cass...?” Jimmy called out. His head felt heavy. It was hard to concentrate. He wondered what it was that Dr. Glass gave him. There was a sound outside of the door, out in the hall somewhere. Footsteps? Could be. Jimmy tossed off the covers and stood up, wandering from the office into the hall. He glanced down one direction, then down the other. Again, the sound, a pattering noise, and Jimmy moved from the room and shuffled, swayed somewhat, down the hall. He reached the main cabin entrance and glared, confused, at the door. For a fleeting moment, he couldn't quite remember how it worked. He knew he had to twist something, then push. Then the moment passed, and slowly Jimmy opened the door and stepped out into the chilly, early morning woodland air. It was dusk. There weren't many people outside. A cluster of fighters was sitting not too far away, playing a game of cards and drinking beer. Jimmy scanned the camp grounds, gleaming over the group of young adults laughing uproariously and chatting in low whispers, and caught a quick glimpse of paisley in the distance. He walked towards it, eyes fixed on a pattern long since faded on the horizon. The fighters playing poker paused in their game, eying him. “Hey, Jimmy, y'alright?” one of them called. Jimmy ignored them, moving steadily across the camp ground, bleary gaze never leaving that one spot in the distance, that one place where he knew he saw it, the paisley. He didn't have his jacket on, the cold wind exacerbated his injuries, and constricted his lungs. He coughed, wheezed, pushed on. She was there, he knew she was there, he couldn't lose her again. Finally, breathless and skin raw from the ravaging chill, Jimmy reached his destination. He stared up at the empty cabin, the one he had shared with the Hayes family. The ramshackle structure looked like a ghost in its own right. Tears welled in Jimmy's eyes and the morning dew frosted on his lips. This was wrong. This was all wrong. She wouldn't be here. She had never even seen the place, didn't know it existed, how would she have found it. “Jimmy?” “Cass...?” Jimmy spun round, and his heart collapsed into itself, an endless chasm of despair. Ben stood there, a few paces down the path from Jimmy, staring up at the other boy, hands in his pockets and brow stitched together. There was a dark concern in his features, underlined with something else, some emotion unreadable and undeniable. They stared at one another; Jimmy choking on harrowing breaths, Ben lost in a riptide of conflicted emotions. Time moved in heartbeats. Then Ben closed the distance between them. He dragged Jimmy forward, strong, sinewy arms wrapping tight around trembling shoulders, hot breath steaming against a frozen collarbone. At first, Jimmy kept his arms at his side. His body stiff. His heart sputtering pathetically against his chest. None of this was right, it wasn't the way it should be. The pieces were there but they were strewn across the ground, they didn't fit together, they didn't make sense, Jimmy couldn't see the image. It was all a blur, a horrible nightmare, faded and musty, and reality was just an alarm clock's screaming wake-up call and the gentle shake of mother's ginger touch away. Then slowly, Ben's warmth, the strength of his presence, permeated through the cold and melted a path into the parts of Jimmy that had frozen over. His heart began to pound more viciously; his mind awoke to his surroundings. There was no alarm clock to shock him from this nightmare back into a reality that no longer existed, and even though it was all still wrong and the puzzle was still strewn across the ground, the one piece that fit was there, in front of him, holding him as though his very life depended on it, and somehow that was enough. It had to be enough. Jimmy squeezed his eyes closed and the tears flooded down. His hands rose up to grasp the sides of Ben's shirt. They stayed like that for several minutes, Ben holding Jimmy until sensation returned to the other boy's extremities. Then, fully awake and aware, and now overly embarrassed by the overt display of affection, Jimmy gently pushed Ben away and used the inside collar of his t-shirt to wipe his face dry. He turned, and wandered farther up the path, to the other side of the cabin. He could feel Ben follow closely behind. On the cabin's backside, Jimmy sat on the ground leaning against the wall, eyes staring blankly into the forest. He could hear the 2nd Mass stirring to life. People waking up, leaving their cabins, the sounds of people beginning their early chores, preparing food, greeting one another, laughing, or chatting. Normal routines or the normal they had come to know over those past several months. A woman in their midst lost her mind and murdered her child the night before, a woman they all knew, they had all spoken to, worked alongside. She just snapped and killed her youngest child, and no one bated a lash, it was just back to the daily grind as usual. Ben stood over Jimmy for a time, hands on his hips, staring down at the other boy uncertainly. He didn't seem to be searching for something to say, maybe he knew there was nothing to say, or maybe he'd already found it, but it was the right time to say it that was the harder thing to find. Then eventually, he too sat down. “Jimmy...” Ben started, but couldn't seem to figure out how to finish it, so just left it hanging. He reached for Jimmy, faltered partway, balled his outstretched hand in a fist and let it fall to his knee. Several minutes passed, a stretch of time that could've been all of eternity as far as Jimmy cared. Then, as the sun crawled up the horizon and caressed the boys in its ethereal glow, Jimmy finally spoke. “My dad had a home office. It was under my bedroom.” Ben peeked at Jimmy, remained silent and unmoving. “Whenever I knew he was in there, working, I had this rubber ball...it was a dog toy...I would take it, and bounce it on the floor of my bedroom. Just...as hard as I could. He'd yell at me, 'James, knock that off',” Jimmy paused, convulsed momentarily, his eyes slipping shut and he swallowed down rising bile, “And I would, for maybe, ten minutes. Then I'd start doing it again. And it would be this back and forth, he would yell, I wouldn't listen...some days, I would stop eventually, maybe after a few times.” Ben ran the back of his hand under his nose and glanced aside, as if expecting someone to round the corner. Jimmy sighed, bit into his inner cheek, let his gaze rove across the line of trees that bordered the campgrounds. “Some days, I wouldn't...I would just push and push, until I would hear his footsteps climbing the stairs; loud, angry. He'd throw my door open, 'James, I told you to knock it the fuck off.' And I'd look at him innocently, 'I don't know what you're talking about dad. I'm not doing anything...' and he'd get so mad, 'you little shit' and...” Jimmy touched the side of his head; he could feel his father's heavy hand there, a phantom strike from the past. Ben glanced at Jimmy, his brown eyes shimmering with powerful emotions. Jimmy lay his arms over his stomach, drew in a haggard breath, and locked his shallow blue on Ben. “I don't know why I did that...why I would always do things like that,” he whispered, his timbre like a child's, lost and forlorn, “He was just trying to work, just trying to take care of his family, and I...” The rest caught in Jimmy's throat. He lay his head back against the wall and closed his eyes and let a few tears fall without sound. “I was a bad son.” Ben said nothing a long while. His eyes had never left Jimmy while Jimmy spoke, but now they lifted to scan the sky. Jimmy caught up to his racing breath, dragged it back to an even pace. He ran his hand over his face and Ben glanced to him at the movement. “Your bandage is loose,” Ben noted. It was true; the one around Jimmy's hand was coming undone. Jimmy frowned, fidgeted with it a moment, a clumsy child learning to tie his laces. “Give it,” Ben commanded wearily, stretching his hand out. Jimmy obliged, leaning back and closing his eyes. Ben unwound the white bindings and straightened the gauze underneath that covered the stitches in Jimmy's hand, and then he started delicately rewinding the bandage again. “Hal was the one that always gave dad a hard time,” Ben confided, paying more attention to re-wrapping the bandage than was probably necessary, “He still does – did – sometimes, I guess.” Jimmy nodded. Hal and Professor Mason certainly had their moments of extreme disagreement; he had personally bore witness to a handful of those moments. Ben slowed almost to a stop in his methodical wrapping, quietly admitting, “I always thought Hal was dad's favorite.” He sniffed loudly and started wrapping again, “Dad always seemed more interested in whatever Hal was doing. He got on his case for every little thing. Me? I could light the house on fire; dad would put it out, ask me if I was okay, then yell at Hal for not watching me closer.” Ben fell quiet and Jimmy peeked open an eye to look at him. Ben’s brow rippled, crashed into one another, creating worry lines that cascaded down his nose and slipped into the tiny frown of his mouth. “Hal was the ‘golden boy', the lacrosse player, the life of the party. He had friends to hang out with, girls sliding notes in his locker, places to go and people who wanted him there. I was the 'scholar'. Hal did alright in school, his grades were decent, I brought home the straight A's, always on honor roll. I was in clubs like Math-letes and Chess. I had friends but they wanted to play computer games online instead of hanging out in person, and girls didn't slip me notes unless they were for Hal. I couldn't play lacrosse, not on a team.” Ben shook his head, flickered a glance up at Jimmy. “Asthma,” he explained. Jimmy nodded, offered no comment. It was hard to picture Ben on a lacrosse field, gasping and wheezing, searching desperately for his inhaler, hard to imagine him in his reading glasses racing against the clock to solve advanced mathematical equations with other kids his age dressed in pressed jackets and bow-ties. It actually made Jimmy smile a little to think about. The awkward, stunted, Ben before. Ben paused again, tracing his thumb over the spot where the knife had sliced through Jimmy's hand. “There was this one time, end of sixth grade, I won this huge Science award from some contest that all the Honors Biology students were entered in. I was the only sixth grader picked, all the other winners were in eighth grade,” Ben scowled at the memory, “But the awards ceremony was the same night as the big game and my parents couldn't be at both, and Hal couldn't not be at his game, and he couldn't go alone and I couldn't go alone. So my parents compromised. Mom went to the awards ceremony with me and dad went to Hal's game.” The smell of oatmeal lilted in the morning breeze. Breakfast was starting. In the woods, somewhere, an insect, probably some beetle that Ben knew the name of, was buzzing, a long, low monotonous song. There was something about listening to Ben confess his innermost darkness that swarmed in Jimmy, as though he weren't listening to the words, he wasn't hearing them, but instead feeling them, breathing them. It unrest in him this strange yearning, this consuming desire, to be touched, for Ben to just touch him, entirely and everywhere. He bit it down, pushed it aside. “My dad had this old book collection, history books mostly, and I remember he had this one that was...it was like the Holy Grail to him. It was hand bound in leather, engraved with gold. His favorite professor in college had given it to him on the day he graduated,” Ben continued, his words trembling and anxious, “I remember I came home and...and Hal and dad were there, still riled up from the game. Hal scored like five goals and...” Ben took a deep breath, blinked a few times, “Late that night, I stole the book from my dad's collection, took it to my room. I opened it up and just...” Another deep breath, “Started tearing the pages out.” Jimmy sighed, curled his free hand around his own arm and gave it a tight squeeze. It hurt to even picture. Young Ben sitting in his room, destroying his father's most prized possession. “I don't know how many I actually ended up tearing out, not all of them...but...enough. I put it back in my dad's study and when he found it the next day, he called us all in and asked who did it. I just started crying and he knew. I thought he would yell, shout, maybe even take the belt to me – he always threatened us with it when he was mad but never did. But he didn't yell, didn't do any of that. He just looked at me, for a very long time...I'll never forget that look, not ever...and then he asked me 'why'.” Ben finished wrapping the bandage. His hand lingered around Jimmy's. He studied his work, turned it over to inspect the other side. “I couldn't tell him. I didn't know. Why? I still wonder. After, my dad took the book and went into his room and didn't come out for a really long time. I was grounded for two months but...” Ben's face contorted. He shook it away and rubbed his face, “You were just being a kid, Jimmy. Right now, looking back, it’s hard to remember that, I guess. But you were…you were just a kid. Don't be so hard on yourself.” Jimmy curled his hand around Ben's, grasping it loosely, and Ben looked up to meet his clear blue eyes. There, in that moment, there was nothing between them and they were together worlds away, in a different time, a different place. Jimmy wasn't the tough, guarded orphan playing at soldier. Ben wasn't the alien hybrid desperately grasping at his last threads of humanity. They were children, dreaming of the day they would bask in the sun. “Weird,” Jimmy commented, smirking inwardly, “I kind of like you like this.” Ben donned an expression of mock hurt. “You mean you don't like me talking about sex?” “Well, that is kind of a scary subject with you. I mean, I don't want to think about being pregnant with an alien baby,” Jimmy replied and then slammed his mouth shut so hard the clack of his teeth knocking together rang in his ears. Ben's eyes widened and then darted very quickly away. Their faces blanched and went pinkish in the cheeks. Jimmy stammered, “I mean...not that...” He shook his head firmly, lowered his eyes to examine the fingers tangled in his own, unsure of where to go with any attempted explanation at his careless comment. Was it even worth it to pretend that what was between them didn’t run deeper than a few passionate kisses and fumbling hands?“…never mind…”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jimmy and Ben sat together behind the cabin for a long while, a stretch of time that ebbed from dusk to mid-morning, and began to creep towards noon. The 2nd Mass was bustling, lively now. Breakfast had probably already been devoured, kitchen workers scraping the bottom of the pot for the last bits of oatmeal, and was now cleaned away. Jimmy hadn’t really been hungry, but he wondered about Ben. He was vaguely aware that the other boy was waiting on him, and though restlessness was evident in those soft brown eyes, Ben’s patience seemed never ending. For a good portion of their time sitting there, Jimmy was fascinated with their hands. He held Ben’s loosely in his own and then he unfurled it, tracing its contours delicately with the tips of his fingers. Ben squirmed a bit at the touch but said nothing. Then Jimmy laid their palms flat against one another. When he let Ben’s hand go, it was a sudden decision. One moment, they were connected by this single attachment, a flow of energy careening through them, the next, nothing. Then Jimmy curled his arm round his knees and lay his head down, closing his eyes. Eventually, Jimmy pulled himself to his feet, briefly wobbling, and announced, “Let’s go.” Of course, his throat was dry and lax from sitting so long without use, so his words sounded garbled and haggard, but Ben got the gist, rising to his feet as well. Side-by-side they strode from the cabin back towards camp. A lot more people were awake now, busily attending to whatever chores were needed of them that day. Some were just standing around, chatting, there wasn’t actually a lot to do when the 2nd Mass wasn’t on the move or Skitters weren’t attacking. For the most part, the people ignored Jimmy and Ben, maybe calling a greeting as they passed, but otherwise paying them no attention as they strolled by. But there was one cluster of teens, fighters mostly, sitting around a picnic table, that perked when they spotted the two approaching. Franklin was at the center of the group. “Great,” Ben muttered under his breath. The thought occurred to Jimmy, his and Ben’s embrace earlier that morning hadn’t exactly been expertly hidden. Others around camp saw them, it was definite, and whether word had spread about their intimate moment, or if Franklin had witnessed it himself, Jimmy couldn’t be certain, and he didn’t really have the strength to care. Right then, right there, he needed Ben more than he could ever admit. He wasn’t even sure he would be standing if not for the other boy’s presence, and for that fact alone, Franklin and his ideas about the un-harnessed children could go straight to Hell.“Hey, Jimmy, when’d you become a Skitter lover?” Franklin called. Ben tensed visibly but Jimmy never broke his stride. Franklin lifted from the table, walked a few paces towards the boys moving past. Some of Franklin’s friends smirked at the egging, muttering encouragement, but at least others had the sense of awareness to look uncomfortable provoking the youngster, especially after his ordeal the night before.“Seriously, you switching sides on us here, Jimmy? Turning traitor,” Franklin persisted.“Lay off, man, he had a rough night,” Ben grumbled, turning slightly to shoot a warning glare back at the older teen.Jimmy grimaced, a little louder, Ben, thank you.“I wasn’t talking to you, razorback,” Franklin snapped. Jimmy came to an abrupt halt. Up until that point, things had seemed so complicated. Here was this person, he bore the mark of the enemy, but Jimmy craved his presence, desired it more than he desired air to breathe. Here was this other person; he’d stood beside Jimmy in battle, they were comrades in arms, and they were meant to despise the enemy together. It was all gray matter. But by the sharp edge of that single word, the gray was suddenly, easily, sluiced into black and white.Without another thought, Jimmy spun round and stalked up towards Franklin until he stood toe-to-toe with the older boy, looking at him with slowly simmering eyes, hands shoved deep into his pockets.“Don’t call him that,” Jimmy commanded evenly, quietly, a note of threat playing through his words.Franklin’s brow rose, the other gathered teens exchanged looks; a few stood and took a couple steps towards the two boys standing off. Ben watched them all warily, taking a few steps of his own towards Jimmy.“Suddenly you’ve got a problem with ‘razorback’,” Franklin noted humorously, “Fine. What would you like me to call him then? Rim-rod? Spike? Maybe, scum-sucking half-alien traitor...? Or maybe just, the Skitters’ bitch.”Jimmy took a deep breath, his hands balling into fists.“Let it go, Jimmy, I don’t even care,” Ben murmured, still watching the other teens closing in, eyes darting every so often to Jimmy and Franklin. For Jimmy, there was no letting it go now, the can was open and worms were being squashed all over the floor.“The guy saved your sorry ass and you can’t even find the decency to show him just the tiniest little respect,” Jimmy spat out.“I don’t owe it anything,” Franklin returned, heatedly, “It probably told its Skitter buddies where we were in the first place.”“Jimmy…don’t…” Ben pleaded.Heat blistered through Jimmy’s head. He took another threatening step forward, trembling with his rage. His fists tightened to the point where his nails bit into tender flesh and fibrous bandages, and provoked the slice in his hand, sending mini-shockwaves of pain up his arm. His eyes bore into Franklin’s returned glare.“Now I get it,” Jimmy seethed through a clenched jaw, “What you hate so much about him. What it is that really bothers you. It’s that, with him around, using whatever the Skitters did to him to actually be helpful, it just makes it more obvious what a useless piece of shit you are.”Franklin’s eyes widened at that, his mouth parting in a minute display of shock. His face went white with his own barely contained rage. Then Jimmy brought it home with a cruel smirk.“Or maybe you’re just jealous. Maybe you wish the Skitters had taken you too, so that you could feel special also. But they didn’t want you, did they?”Franklin slammed his hands hard into Jimmy’s shoulders. Jimmy stumbled a few feet away, hissing in pain as he grabbed his stab wound. Ben leapt to claim Jimmy’s former place, eyes lit with a sudden wild fury.“Hey, don’t shove him,” Ben barked.“Back off, razorback,” Franklin hissed, “You think there’s a single person in this camp that hasn’t thought about putting a bullet right through your head? The captain? Your ‘loyal’ brother? Jimmy’s thought about it, haven’t you, Jimmy? Give ‘em a reason. Go ahead, give ‘em all a reason.”The final words had barely fallen off Franklin’s tongue when Jimmy pushed past Ben and swung at the older boy, throwing all of his body into that one, solid punch. His knuckles crushed through lip and teeth and Franklin fell to the side, clutching his face, blood seeping through his pale fingers. Ben gaped, breathing out a stunned, “Shit…”Jimmy smirked, turning to make a coy comment to Ben, but he didn’t have the chance as a fist slammed into his own face, and then everything became chaos. A slightly recovered Franklin and two of his friends moved in on Jimmy, and Ben jumped to Jimmy’s aid, surprising the three other boys, clearly and foolishly not expecting him to join in.Ten minutes later, Jimmy and Ben sat side-by-side in the medical van. Jimmy held a cold compress to his jaw, one side of his shirt was drenched in blood, more slinking from his shoulder down his belly and arm. Ben tentatively touched a gash under his own left eye where someone’s ring had caught and torn the flesh open, some of his knuckles were split and coated in blood. Across the van from them was Franklin, clutching his profusely bleeding nose, and his two friends; one out cold in a bed, the second standing nearby, holding his head in his hand.Standing between the two factions was Anthony and two other fighters, Brendan and Lane. They had broken up the fight and were now keeping guard to ensure another one didn’t erupt.Dr. Glass entered then and everyone stirred, glancing at her glumly. She looked around the van, taking in the semi-comical scene before her, and her roving gaze stopped on Jimmy.“You know, when I asked you to come see me in the morning, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she steadily informed him. Jimmy shrugged, readjusting the cold compress. Anthony stepped forward to speak with the doctor. He kept his voice low but the two adults were standing close enough that Ben and Jimmy could hear their hushed exchange.“I don’t think anyone is too damaged, we broke up their fight pretty quick,” Anthony explained, “That one’s nose is broken, he won’t shut up about it,” he gestured towards Franklin, “The one on the bed might have a headache when he wakes up but otherwise, he looks fine. And that one over there has a few cuts and bruises, but nothing big. Do me a solid, though, doc and pour a lot of whichever antiseptic stings the most into those scratches of his. He’s the one that sucker punched Jimmy there.”Dr. Glass smiled softly, putting a hand on his shoulder, and replied, “I’ll see what I can do.”“Now, despite whatever that one over there says,” Again, Anthony gestured to Franklin, “From where I was standing, that lot started the fight; Jimmy and Ben were just defending themselves and, unless you have any further need of me, I got to run over to Captain Weaver and let him know that. I’ve got a hunch their friends have already been over there whispering in the captain’s ears.”“Go ahead. I can handle things from here,” Dr. Glass assured Anthony, and as he and the other two fighters left the van she called after them a hasty, “Thank you.” Dr. Glass turned her attention to Jimmy and Ben, placing her hands on her hips and looking between the two boys with an expression that was a strange mixture of amusement and disappointment.“Look at the two of you,” she chided.“You should look at the other guys,” Ben joked and Jimmy smirked.“Uh…hey, doc,” Franklin called agitatedly, “I think I’m a little more priority here than those assholes. My fucking nose is broken.”“I’ll be right there,” Dr. Glass shouted return then in a conspiratorial whisper asked, “Which one of you is responsible for that?”Ben and Jimmy both pointed at one another. Dr. Glass shook her head at their antics, suppressing a laugh, as she left them to tend to her other patients. Ben watched her depart a moment, then stood, dragged his chair around and plopped in it, straddling the back so he was facing Jimmy. His brown eyes shimmered maniacal and proud.“We are unstoppable,” he told Jimmy in a low, firm voice, “We took down that mech and Skitters. We took down those assholes.”“I don’t think that makes us unstoppable,” Jimmy muttered.“I’m just saying, we make an awesome team,” Ben pressed, “I bet, you and me, we could take down that alien mother ship that we all know is out there somewhere, just give us the chance.”Jimmy rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself. Sometimes Ben’s cockiness was infectiously adorable. Jimmy faltered, his heart drumming an evil solo against his ribcage. Well, what he meant was…because ‘adorable’ wasn’t…oh, hell, why was he trying to convince himself that he didn’t think Ben was adorable.Ben leaned forward, tugging at the edge of Jimmy’s t-shirt collar, and Jimmy flinched back, startled.“Ben…” he began protest, blood flushing his cheeks.“Looks like that jerk ripped your stitches,” Ben commented, examining the area with a focused gaze. Jimmy calmed a bit. Of course that’s what Ben was doing, what else would he be doing in a place like this? In a small voice, Ben mumbled, “Thank you, Jimmy.”“For what?” Jimmy wondered silently. Ben let go of the shirt collar, folding his arms over the back of the chair and resting his chin atop them. He grinned brightly up at Jimmy, an expression that caused Jimmy’s heart to skip a few beats.“Nothing. Just…thank you.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Weaver sat back in his chair, massaging his forehead as he half-listened to the boys arguing around him. They’d each taken a turn telling their side of the story, Jimmy and Ben, and then Franklin and his friends, each barely making it through his tale, as the other consistently interrupted. Now they were shouting about who deserved punishment more and Weaver considered throwing them all in the brig, if only they had an appropriate one set up. Finally, overwhelmed with annoyance, Weaver slammed his fists on his desk, standing abruptly and roaring, “That’s enough!”The boys each fell silent, automatically standing in line at attention; Ben and Jimmy to one side, Franklin and his boys to the other. Weaver looked to his acting Second-in-Command, a sandy-haired man named Samson, standing aside, watching the interactions in equal annoyance to the captain. Weaver sighed, striding around the room and glancing over each boy with weary appraisal.“Way I understand this,” he began in a rigid timbre, “There seems to be some confusion as to who the enemy is.” He stopped behind his desk again and turned to face the boys, glaring down his nose at each of them, “I’m disappointed in all of you. Fighting amongst yourselves like children on a playground. We’re at war, in case you’ve forgotten. And we don’t need to be helping the enemy by taking each other out of the fight. Now either you boys sort out your differences, or at least learn to tolerate each other, or you’re all turning in your guns and retiring to the playground where you belong. You can finish out the war washing laundry with the women.”Jimmy scowled, his eyes fixed on Captain Weaver’s desk, feeling the hot sting of tears beginning to form. He’d come too far, pushed too hard to get to the point where he was taken seriously as a fighter to have it taken away from him now because of some half-witted asshole.“Now, I know you’ve all got scores to settle with the Skitters. I may not know the specifics, some of you I do, but there ain’t a being on this planet that doesn’t have some personal vendetta against those bugs,” Weaver went on, “So here’s where I draw the line. You want to keep fighting in one of my units, then you learn to work together, because I need all of you, but I don’t need anyone who can’t work with others. Figure out which side of that line you want to be on and get the hell out of my sights.”The boys started to turn and leave, but Franklin stood his ground, snorting bitterly. “That figures,” he grumbled. Everyone paused, turning their eyes on him, incredulous. Weaver spun round, raised a brow at the impertinent young soldier.“There a problem, son?” Weaver demanded.Franklin folded his arms across his chest, met Weaver’s eyes steadily, challengingly. Jimmy shot a look to the captain; the older man didn’t appear impressed.“Yes, sir, there is. I can’t help wondering if you’re being lenient due to your own personal emotions,” Franklin explained.“And what the hell is that supposed to mean,” Weaver pressed. Jimmy knew that expression on the captain’s face; he’d seen it during battles enough time that a very glimpse of it in those weathered lines made Jimmy’s hand twitch for his gun and instinctively seek out whatever nearby threat was hiding in the shadows.Franklin cleared his throat, folded his hands in front of himself and lowered his face, as he said, “Only that I think…I believe, sir, that if Jimmy were on my side in this then maybe you would have tossed that Skitter-hybrid out of camp.”The air grew suddenly heavy and thick in the room. It settled on Jimmy’s shoulders, it was too difficult to breath, and wouldn’t fit down his wind-pipes and into his lungs. Franklin’s friends exchanged looks, but they didn’t move to join Franklin. Ben was tense, Jimmy could feel him trembling from where he stood at Jimmy’s shoulder, and it bothered Jimmy almost as much as the foolish accusation Franklin had slung the captain’s way. How could anyone believe that Jimmy’s opinion would carry any sway over Weaver’s rationale?Weaver darted his eyes to Samson, a silent plea: please don’t let me strangle this kid.“Seems to me there were five boys in that fight,” Weaver replied evenly, arms crossing his chest, body turned fully towards Franklin, “Why in Sam Hill would I only punish one?”“He viciously attacked his fellows, didn’t hold back,” Franklin began.“The three of you attacked Jimmy, that wasn’t vicious? And what was I supposed to do? Just watch?” Ben interjected angrily.“It was between me and him, you had no right,” Franklin shot back.“He was stabbed the night before, you asshole, and he’s my partner, I watch his back,” Ben spat out, “And you know, if it had just been you, I know Jimmy could’ve handled himself but three against one isn’t exactly-““It was a fight between humans,” Franklin interjected, “You had no place in it.”“Enough,” Weaver bellowed, and once again, all was calm on the western front, “You’re walking a fine line here, Frank.”“Maybe I said some words, sir,” Franklin continued, swaying uneasily from side to side as he spoke, “But Jimmy did throw the first punch and maybe Lyndon was a little too quick to defend me, but we all had no choice but to fight when the razorback stepped in.”“He has a name,” Jimmy muttered.“Just because it answers to one doesn’t mean-““No, Jimmy’s right,” Weaver interrupted Franklin sharply, “Ben is a fighter, same as you, and you ought to respect him as one.”“My point exactly,” Franklin stammered, gesturing angrily between Jimmy and the captain. Jimmy furrowed his brow, confused. Captain Weaver glared heatedly at Franklin, his blank expression clearly a dam holding back a flood of rage.“Let me get this straight,” Weaver started, his voice rough and gray as stone, “You think I’m making my decisions because of Jimmy? That I’m not necessarily being justified, that I’m just simply choosing Jimmy’s side.”“Everyone in the 2nd Mass knows you have a soft-spot for the kid,” Franklin murmured.Jimmy’s eyes shot to the captain at that but the old man’s face was a wall. “Is that right?” Weaver patronized.“Yes, it is,” Franklin continued, “Hell, Jimmy could kill a man in cold blood you’d probably say it was the right thing to do, pat him on the back, maybe even give him a fucking medal.”There was a strange hush in the room, the kind of calm that typically preceded a storm. Everyone stood with breath bated. Finally, Weaver smirked and shook his head. “Right,” he said, “I guess if you believe that then it’s only fair of you not to trust my judgment on the matter. And I’d like to be fair with you, young man,” Weaver continued, spitting out the ‘young man’ as though it were thorns on his tongue. He paced a few times and gestured to Samson, “Tell me, Samson, you got an emotional connection to any of the boys in this room?”Samson straightened, cleared his throat, “No more than would be considered typical human compassion, I suppose. Can’t say I know any of them well enough.”“Then how about Samson make the call, Frank, would that be ‘fair’ to you,” Weaver questioned, looking at Franklin with dark eyes. Franklin shifted his weight, glanced between the two older men. He nodded shortly.“Yes, sir, I believe it would,” Franklin answered readily.“Alright, Sam,” Weaver said, turning his back to the group, hands folded behind him, “Tell me, honestly, what do you think of this situation?”Jimmy swallowed hard, his own body frozen in turmoil. He didn’t know Samson, didn’t know where the older man stood on the debate of formerly-harnessed children. He could hear Ben beside him breathing and focused on that to still his rapidly beating heart.“Forgive me, sir, but I think Franklin is right,” Samson started. Weaver spun round to face the other man, eyes widened slightly in barely contained stun. Jimmy felt the room grow darker, and several tens of degrees colder. His stomach churned in knots. Franklin smirked devilishly from where he stood and it cut through Jimmy like a knife, he suddenly found himself wanting to slug the bastard all over again.“He’s right in his assertion that there’s a slight here you would be remiss in leaving unpunished,” Samson continued, he shook his head, as though astonished that he had to explain this at all, “Though I think tossing the boy from camp would be a bit harsh, I would say something along the lines of three weeks waste management duty might be sufficient.”Jimmy made a face, glancing sidelong back at Ben. The other boy had his face dipped low, his expression shadowed and unreadable. Waste management duty. There were hundreds amongst the 2nd Mass, and no working toilets, someone had to gather the days’ excrements and dispose of it far away from camp. Typically, the job was given to some less-than-fortunate civilians, it was the least they could do considering all the shit fighters had to see in battle, but on occasion it made for an apt punishment when fighters stepped outside the lines.“You mind telling me why you feel that way,” Weaver questioned. His disappointment in Samson’s decision wasn’t readily evident but Jimmy could see it in the way the captain held himself, eyes downcast and shoulders slightly slackened. Samson cleared his throat again, tipped his head respectfully and readjusted his stance, widening it.“Because Franklin’s actions should be made an example of,” he said.Every eye in the room darted to the sandy-haired man, some mouths hung agape, some were pursed tightly closed.“Franklin?” Weaver choked out, “You think Franklin should be punished?”“What?” Franklin cried, aghast.“Yes, sir,” Samson verified easily then went on to elucidate, “He instigated an argument with a fellow soldier. No, not just a fellow soldier, but an injured fellow soldier. I believe that’s what we refer to as ‘kicking a man when he’s down’. While I do believe that Jimmy may have been rash in turning so quickly to violence, I think given both his emotional and physical state at that point in time, it was a perfectly understandable reaction in those circumstances. Franklin conducted himself poorly, and he needs to be punished, so as to demonstrate to the rest of the fighters, hell, to all of 2nd Mass, that such behavior cannot – will not – be tolerated. We should be holding each other up when we fall, not shoving each other back to the dirt. Once again, forgive me, sir.”“It’s quite alright, Sam. Forgive my lack of foresight on the matter,” Weaver replied, leering at Franklin now from across his desk. Weaver wasn’t the type to hold a win over another man’s head, and Jimmy respected the captain immensely for it, because he desperately wanted to rub Franklin’s nose in Samson’s unbiased decision at that moment.“One last thing, sir,” Samson spoke up, and all eyes were on him once more, “I do think that Ben and Jimmy should be commended. They demonstrated great loyalty to one another, some of the other fighters could learn a thing or two from them.”Jimmy couldn’t bring himself to look at anyone in that moment, his face burning hot. He kept his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes locked on the floor. He could feel Ben next to him, the most prominent presence in the room, and it scorched him from the inside out.“Thank you, Sam,” Weaver humbly told the other man, then back to Franklin, “Well, you heard the man, Frank. You’ll report to waste management duty at fifteen-hundred today, I’ll inform Cheryl, she’ll be happy of the extra hands.”“But that’s not fair,” Franklin sputtered, “You said-““And you didn’t approve of what I said,” Weaver reminded the young boy, “You agreed that Samson’s decision would be the more ‘fair’, less ‘biased’ of the two and that he should be the one to make the call. Well he’s made his call and you’ll heed to it, or else I’ll make another far less fair and a lot more biased call. Are we clear?”“Yes, sir,” Franklin muttered.“I can’t hear you, soldier. I said, are we clear?”“Yes, sir,” Franklin said a bit louder and more firm.“Good. Fifteen-hundred. Don’t be late. Now all of you get out,” Weaver snapped.The boys shuffled one by one from the room and once outside, Franklin grabbed hold of Jimmy’s arm to halt him.“I guess you’ve chosen your side,” Franklin hissed low in Jimmy’s ear, “And when that razorback turns on you, don’t look for my help, because I’m done watching your back, kid. Here on out, you’re on your own.”Then Franklin pushed by, stalking across the campgrounds with his friends following a few paces behind. Jimmy watched a moment, his feet frozen to the damp ground. He could feel Ben’s gaze on him and after a few heartbeats, brought his eyes to meet the pained expression glistening behind soft brown. Jimmy knew the thoughts roiling in Ben’s head and he hated every one of them. He walked towards Ben, letting a small smile crease his features.“Let’s go get something to eat,” he suggested, pretending he wasn’t absolutely sick and about to spew empty stomach acid, as he commented, “I’m starved.”And the way Ben’s face lit at that simple invitation was too perfect for words.
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There were three days left to departure and a solemn unease had settled over the camp. People were busily packing up belongings and the cabins were starting to adopt that strange emptiness that occurs during any move, when the place being left behind transforms slowly from a home to a house. Fighters were encouraged not to help as much, they had to watch the boundaries of camp as the civilians packed up, and they would have to be the most alert during the move. They mostly took care of artilleries, though some of the more restless fighters helped the civilians with other packing as well.In the early afternoon, the Mason brothers, Maggie, Dai, a handful of other fighters and Jimmy lazed about behind one of the artillery trucks. Ben and Matt sat playing a game of chess with a small board that had been brought from the school they’d camped at couple months prior. Ben would wait patiently whenever Matt made a move, a process that generally took several minutes. Sometimes Matt would touch a piece uncertainly and look up imploringly at his brother. Ben would shake his head and Matt would stare thoughtfully down at the board again, select another piece and glance up at his brother once more. Then Ben would give a small nod and Matt would confidently slide the piece across the tiny checkered squares. Every now and then Ben’s eyes would stray to where Jimmy stood and Jimmy could feel those eyes every time.Jimmy was with Dai several paces away as the older boy demonstrated a hand-to-hand combat technique with a knife. He motioned Jimmy forward to attack with the blade, blocked the attack at Jimmy’s forearm, slid his hand up to catch Jimmy’s wrist, twisted Jimmy round, then pressed the blade, still in Jimmy’s hand, his own enclosed around the younger boy’s fingers, to Jimmy’s throat. He let Jimmy go, took the knife and gave Jimmy a try.Nearby, Hal and Maggie did an inventory of armaments, pausing every so often to watch Jimmy and Dai curiously. Hal made snarky comments, and Maggie offered Jimmy footing advice.Eventually, Matt peered up at Ben and uncertainly declared, “Check…mate?”Ben smirked, knocking his king over. A broad grin spread over Matt’s face and he shrieked excitement.“I beat Ben,” he yelled to the eldest Mason, jumping to his feet and racing over to his oldest brother, “Hal, I beat Ben!”Ben shook his head, smiling to himself and putting the board away. Hal ruffled Matt’s hair, giving him words of praise. Maggie smiled and called her congratulations. Dai sheathed his knife, heading towards the artillery truck to start securing the explosives. Jimmy watched Ben a moment, heart thundering in his chest, and Ben paused, glancing up to meet Jimmy’s eyes. They held one another’s gaze for only a second, then Jimmy looked away and wandered towards Dai.“Hey,” Jimmy whispered low, eying Hal and Maggie as they fawned over Matt, “Dai, you think you could get me some of those mech piercing bullets for my patrol tonight?”Dai quirked a brow at Jimmy, “Why?”Jimmy shrugged, picking chipped paint off the frame of the artillery truck bed.“No real reason. Ben thought he heard a mech the other night. Just want to be prepared,” he mumbled explanation. Dai stared long and hard at Jimmy and Jimmy fought the urge to squirm under that intensely penetrating glare. Jimmy firmly believed that there were some people you just didn’t lie to in the 2nd Mass, because they could see into the very depths of your soul and beyond, and Dai was certainly one of them.“You hear a mech, you go the other direction,” Dai informed Jimmy.“Well, yeah, I know,” Jimmy stammered, “I just…” He shrugged, ran a hand over the back of his neck, “What if I can’t?”Dai looked skeptical. Jimmy winced and shrugged; meeting the older boy’s eyes with an expression he hoped exuded innocence and honesty.“I’m not gonna do anything stupid, Dai, I swear. I just want to be prepared. Just in case,” Jimmy pressed. Dai said nothing a long time, busily counting C4 packs and rearranging them in their cases, making sure they were snug as a bug and wouldn’t go BOOM on their trip to the new locale. He closed the box, shouldered his rifle and jumped out of the truck bed, starting away“Come see me before you go on patrol,” Dai muttered in passing. Jimmy nodded, quickly erasing the smile that wanted to spread across his entire face, when Dai paused and turned back to him.“Jimmy. There’s a metal plate on the left underbelly of the optical lens of a mech,” Dai called back. Jimmy furrowed his brow, not fully understanding. “It’s a blind spot. Don’t forget.” Then Dai disappeared into the bustle of camp.Jimmy walked to Ben and grinned down at the other boy peering quizzically up at him.“I told you I could get them,” Jimmy gloated quietly. Ben smiled, clicking the chess board closed. He set it aside and stood up, calling to Hal.“Me and Jimmy are taking off.”They didn’t wait for a response from the older boy, making their way through camp, darting into the woods and hiking the short distance up towards the ranger station.Jimmy placed Ben’s hands on his shoulders. Frowned, thought about it, and shook his head, then guided Ben’s hands to his neck. Again, he frowned, and quickly decided against it. He held Ben’s hands loosely in his own a moment, pondering, considering.“You’re putting way too much thought into this,” Ben noted.“Shut up,” Jimmy muttered, trying the feel of Ben’s hands on his upper arms and rolling his eyes, definitely not. “This is your fault. If you knew what you were doing…”“Oh, like you’re the expert-“ Ben’s mouth slammed shut when Jimmy placed the other boy’s hands gently on either side of his lower waist. The feel was nice, sent his head and heart spinning in a not-unpleasant way. Jimmy took a step forward, bringing his mouth to Ben’s and stopping a hairsbreadth short, Ben paralyzed in front of him and the heat swarming his body, too overwhelming. Nope, nope, nope. Jimmy pushed Ben’s hands off and stumbled back, grunting in disgust.“This isn’t working!” he complained, plopping exasperatedly onto the overturned crate. Ben sighed, and after a moment, went to join Jimmy.“Maybe we could ask for someone’s advice,” he suggested.“Like who?” Jimmy demanded. Ben shrugged.“I don’t know. Maybe Hal…”“Oh right. And what are you going to say? ‘Hey, bro, when making out with someone, where should I put my hands exactly’…and then that would bring up the inevitable question of ‘who the hell are you making out with’ and then what? Or are you just going to take the blunt approach, ‘so when I’m kissing Jimmy…’.”Ben lightly slapped the back of Jimmy’s head, and Jimmy clutched the spot, making a noise of indignation.“Hey, at least I’m trying,” Ben snapped.“I’m trying,” Jimmy protested, flailing a hand to the spot where they had only seconds before been standing, “That was me trying!”“This would’ve been so much easier before when we could have just googled this…or gone to the bookstore or something,” Ben grumbled.“The bookstore? You and your fucking books,” Jimmy griped, “What would you have picked up? Huh? Making Out for Dummies?”“For your information,” Ben replied haughtily, “Books are a great resource on a variety of topics including, topics of a sexual nature. And, as a matter of fact, yes, Making Out for Dummies would have been at the top of my shopping list.”“You are such a dork,” Jimmy muttered, though his tone was soft and affectionate.They fell silent a moment, deep in their own thoughts. Then Ben stirred, gently slapping Jimmy’s shoulder to gain his attention and glancing at the other boy.“There is one thing,” he said carefully, hopping to his feet, “Come on. Follow me.”Inside of the Masons’ cabin, Jimmy stood stiffly in the entryway, leaning back against the front door and watching as Ben dug through his older brother’s belongings. Jimmy realized he’d never been in that cabin in the entire time the 2nd Mass had been stopped at that campground. It was nice, a little less musty than the one Jimmy had shared with the Hayes. It felt like a place shared by family, a strong and close knit family. There was a warmth to it and a lingering scent like Ben’s permeating every corner of the room, citrus and pine.Finally, Ben found what he was looking for in the side pocket of Hal’s duffle, tugging out a flimsy magazine and tossing it to Jimmy.“Ben,” Jimmy deadpanned, turning the magazine over in his hands, staring blankly at it, “This is porn.”“Yeah,” Ben confirmed, sitting on the floor with his knees propped up and tilting his head to the side to stare up at Jimmy, wide-eyed and innocent, at a complete loss as to what the problem was.“Is this Hal’s?” Jimmy wondered.“Yeah…” Ben mumbled.“How did you-?”“You don’t want to know.”Jimmy shook away the images that popped unbidden into his mind and took a seat on the ground next to Ben. He lifted the magazine between them and opened it up to the first page. For a few seconds, they both stared at the image there, uncertain what to make of it. Jimmy flipped to the next page. In unison, their heads tipped to the left side. Again, Jimmy turned the page. Both boys pulled a face. On the next page, they flinched back, grimacing and making varied noises of disgust, quickly turning to the next page. Jimmy raised a brow and Ben made a startled, “Hn…?” noise.“How do you think…?” Ben started.“Don’t…don’t…don’t…” Jimmy pleaded, shaking his head emphatically and flipping to the next page.“Well that one’s not so bad,” Ben commented. Jimmy partially nodded, not agreeing, not disagreeing. He turned the page.“Augh,” they both groaned, and Jimmy tossed the magazine across the room, burying his face in his hand, “Goddammit, Ben…”“It’s not my fault! It’s Hal’s magazine,” Ben argued.“There is something wrong with your brother,” Jimmy decided, rubbing his eyes furiously. He leaned back on his palms and glared at the ceiling, “This is stupid.”Ben sighed haggardly. He lifted himself up a bit and crawled round the floor to kneel in front of Jimmy. Jimmy’s brow drew together as he straightened and started to pull away.“Don’t move,” Ben commanded.“What are you-?”“And just…shut up,” Ben muttered.Jimmy stayed put, quietly, curiously, staring at Ben. Ben sat up on his knees, eyes roving over Jimmy, studying, exploring, evaluating. Jimmy fidgeted a bit under that scrutinizing stare, felt a little naked, vulnerable, but kept generally still. Ben rubbed his hands together, ran them over his face, and then wiped them off on his jean-clad thighs.“Okay,” Ben announced shakily, “Now, for once, Jimmy, don’t fight with me.”Jimmy perked a brow and said nothing.Ben scooted a bit closer, his eyes focused on his own hands. He placed one tentatively on Jimmy’s knee, pushed the leg down flat across the ground so that it was no longer blocking his path. Jimmy shifted uncomfortably but didn’t struggle. Ben placed his palm on the floor beside Jimmy’s hip, leaning over Jimmy. Jimmy fell back on his elbows and Ben froze, his eyes trailing over the boy suddenly lying prone beneath him, trying to decide his next move. Their breath came in sharp, unsteady.Ben brought his other hand up, resting it on Jimmy’s shoulder and gently guiding Jimmy to lie back fully on the floor, leaning over him. His breath caught, his eyes darted up meekly to meet Jimmy’s. Jimmy’s mouth parted, then pressed closed. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and swallowed hard. He was finding it hard to concentrate on any one thing. The feel of Ben atop him was heavy and hot, it was stirring something inside of him, something he wasn’t altogether sure he liked, something he wasn’t altogether sure he didn’t like.After a heartbeat, Ben settled downward and Jimmy grimaced, something sharp and metal pinching into his waist.“Ow,” he grunted. Ben pushed up and away a bit.“Sorry,” he stammered, fumbling to undo his belt and toss away the pistol strapped there. He began to settle again, then almost instantly pulled away, his turn to wince in pain. Jimmy rolled his eyes, unclipping the knife at his hip and sliding it across the floor. Again, Ben made the attempt to rest his full weight, and Jimmy cried out as pain jolted through him.“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ben chanted, not entirely certain what he had done this time but very distraught over it. “Just shut up, forget it,” Jimmy groaned, shaking his head, and squirming to readjust himself under the other boy. The movement brought a blush to both their cheeks. Ben now comfortably positioned, his weight settled over Jimmy, he traced a thumb along Jimmy’s jawline. His other hand rest, curled, beside Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy sighed, his eyes slid shut, his own hands slipped up to curl into the shirt fabric along Ben’s sides. Ben dropped a kiss to Jimmy’s collarbone, ghosting a trail up his neck and across his cheek. A small, sensual noise escaped Jimmy’s throat, and both boys abruptly halted all movement. They took a few, deep breaths, to gather themselves, and then Ben brought his mouth crashing down into Jimmy’s.There was no way for Jimmy to fully comprehend every emotion surging through his young body. He recognized some, desire, yearning, pleasantness, joy, and then a few he couldn’t place, the warm tingling sensation in his lower abdomen, the ache stretching across his chest, the dull spin of his head, and then there was the irrational pulsing thought that, although they were pressed so close together, there was still far too much space between them; these thin layers of cloth, what a burden, so binding and constricting. Jimmy struggled a moment to pull off his vest, hot, he was burning up, Ben all too eagerly helped but still managed to get in the way in his reluctance to let go of Jimmy’s mouth. Subconsciously, Jimmy slipped his hand up beneath the fabric of Ben’s t-shirt and both boys shuddered at the touch, Jimmy reveling in the feel of bare skin, and tautly stretched muscles. Moving towards the center of Ben’s back, Jimmy’s fingers brushed against something cool, smooth, metallic, and automatically Ben grabbed hold of Jimmy’s hand, jerking it back to the side of his waist, never breaking their kiss and making it easy for Jimmy to ignore the sting of that action.Their lips parted, and their tongues took turns exploring one another’s mouths. Ben’s was raw and passionate, prodding deep into every crevice it could find. Jimmy’s was tentative and caressing, taking its time to draw out every erotic sensation.They were too consumed by one another to register the shuffling of footsteps approaching the cabin, but when the scrape of the front door opening roared in their ears, they tore their mouths hastily apart, gasping for breath. Ben turned his face to the open doorway, still trying to swallow up oxygen, his eyes wide and features drawn. Jimmy could see Hal out the corner of his eye, and a cold, heavy stone dropped into the pit of his stomach.The older boy stood there a moment, staring blankly at the two boys on the floor, as though he couldn’t quite process the image before him. Then he blinked once, turned away, and wordlessly left, closing the door silently behind him.“Shit,” Ben breathed, resting his forehead against Jimmy’s collar.Jimmy turned his head aside, eyes unfocused and blurred, on the nothingness in front of him. His hands lay lost and forlorn on the ground.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jimmy and Ben said nothing as they straightened themselves up. They exited the cabin, Ben first, Jimmy trailing behind, sliding the door shut and leaning against it. Outside, Hal waited. He didn’t look at either boy, his eyes focused on something in the distance. Tentatively, Ben approached him, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes uncertain, mouth awkwardly poised, hanging half open with a thousand and one excuses racing to get out.“Hal…I…” Ben started carefully.“We’ll talk about it later,” Hal cut in, his voice harsh and unreadable; “Weaver wants to see you.”Then, without another word, Hal strode away towards the main office. Ben glanced once back to Jimmy, a sad and heart-wrenching expression on his face, then he fell in step several paces behind his brother. Alone, Jimmy closed his eyes, rubbed the keel of his hand into them and tried to squeeze them dry. If the Skitters descended on their camp then and there, he would welcome it; anything to escape the dark foreboding swelling in his chest.There wasn’t much for Jimmy to do around camp during the moving process. At the moment, most of the packing comprised of families gathering their things up, emptying their shared cabins. Jimmy had a small bag of things, a couple different articles of clothing mainly, but little else. He was always ready to leave wherever the 2nd Mass settled, never had anything to lay down and claim whatever space he occupied as, even if it was only a temporary, home.So Jimmy took a seat near the main cabin, not sure if he was waiting for Ben to finish up with Weaver, or just sitting there. He watched Uncle Scott entertain the younger children not too far away. Matt was amongst them, at some point before heading to the cabin, Hal must have dropped the youngest Mason off.Matt was a good mix of his brothers in appearance. His eyes were the same brown of all the Mason men, that soft, doe color. His jaw was cut in the same sharp way as Hal’s, but curved boyishly the way that Ben’s did to give him a stern, youthful expression. His demeanor was similar to his older brothers also, and although Ben seemed certain he and Hal were different, at the base level, all their personalities were near identical. Jimmy could see the mannerisms they learned from their father, and guess at the ones they picked up from their deceased mother. Precocious in their own ways, unintentionally yet unabashedly arrogant, unendingly ambitious, they carried the world on their shoulders and never once indicated that it might be too heavy. It would be all too easy to mistake one or all of them as being invincible.Unstoppable.Jimmy smirked inwardly. Ben was the real unstoppable one; he was just lending that trait to Jimmy for the time being, casting it over Jimmy like the protective shadow of an umbrella.Professor Mason needed to return to his sons soon. If anyone could win this war, Jimmy felt certain; it was that man and the three of them. Jimmy laid his head on his knee and suddenly let every emotion he’d felt those last few days bombard him at once and it made such a befuddled mess he couldn’t even figure out if he should cry hysterically or laugh like a madman.If there was one thing Jimmy wasn’t, it was unstoppable. Though, there were so many things Jimmy could not stop, most forceful of which being the raging tempest that was Ben Mason. How had it come to this? He tried desperately to retrace the path he’d taken to get to this point, where he desperately yearned for every heartbreakingly beautiful second he had with that other boy but he kept getting turned around, lost, confused. He couldn’t understand how he’d gotten so far from the beginning, hell; he couldn’t even remember where the beginning had been. Was it in the woods; was it at the ranger station? In a town a hundred miles away? In a cabin where he’d lost himself, or in the other cabin where he’d been found? Or was it in a city forever away, in a time scored from memory, where a woman lounged by the pool, martini in hand, and innards splattered across the ground?Hal appeared in Jimmy’s mind, expression blank, face washed clean of all emotion. You’re a good kid, Jimmy.Hal held something, clasped it tight in the palm of his hand. It could be anything, Jimmy’s heart and soul, or just the world on a silver chain. He could crush it in his grasp, squeeze it until there was nothing left but a pile of dust scattered across the ground. It would be too much to ask of him, to expect him, to understand something that Jimmy and Ben didn’t understand themselves. To ask him to protect it, to keep it safe, when the smarter thing to do would be destroy it and toss it aside, before it had a chance to grow into something truly terrible and destructive, dust in the wind. Who the fuck knew what was good anymore, anyhow? And who was Jimmy to ask anyone to keep him safe? As if he had any right. As if he had any place. As if he deserved it. As if he deserved to feel a part of anything again, as if he could or should be allowed to belong to someone, the way he once belonged to his family, as if he was capable of dreaming pleasant dreams anymore, as if he had a future to even look forward to. And fuck it, like he really cared, really desperately cared in the deepest, darkest, parts of his heart for a boy with alien spikes protruding from his body.Then the tears burst forth and cascaded freely down Jimmy’s cheeks, because he knew, he just knew that he wouldn’t – that he couldn’t – there was no way in hell he would survive this being taken from him. He needed it; he needed it more than he needed air to breath. It was the thing that kept him grounded, the thing that lined up his shots and put the bullets in the back of the Skitters’ heads, and like he gave a fuck what anyone thought, so long as that cocky grin stayed firmly in place on that boy’s perfect face, than nothing else – nothing else – mattered.Jimmy flinched at the touch of a hand to the crook of his neck. He looked up into Maggie’s concerned face. She dropped into the seat next to him and silently put an arm over his shoulders, cradling him next to her. Jimmy hid his face in the palm of his hand; it was too late now to stop the tears.“You’re too young,” she commented, “To be so heartbroken. And to be honest, I’d be really worried, if I didn’t know you were strong enough to handle it.”“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confessed, his voice so small it was hard for even him to hear.“No one really ever does,” Maggie whispered reply, “For what it’s worth, I’m rooting for you, kid.”Maggie held Jimmy tightly for the next several minutes as he let the tears flow. She brushed his hair from his hot forehead, rested her chin on his shoulder and whispered soothing, nothing phrases in his ear. When the sobs finally stopped, and the heat drained from his cheeks, Maggie let Jimmy go and gave him back a bit of his space. He wiped his face with his t-shirt collar, kept his eyes low to the ground.“Thanks,” he murmured. He glanced at her sheepishly, her eyes watching the children in the distance, a sad, pretty smile on her face. He’d never felt more connected to a person than he did in that moment and he found himself suddenly wanting to reach out and take her hand. “Why are you helping me?” he asked.Maggie shrugged.“Even before the aliens invaded, people rarely got to have beautiful things in this world, least of all, those who probably deserved it most,” she explained, her voice crisp and sultry, an ageless lullaby, “I think it’s beautiful, what you have with Ben.” She met Jimmy’s eyes, a determination churned in her features, like the calm, pacifying tide of the ocean, “And I think no one left in this world is more deserving than you.”Maggie put her arm around Jimmy again and he set his head against her shoulder. For several tens of minutes, they sat like that, side-by-side in a comfortable silence. Then the door to the main office opened and Hal exited, followed by Ben. Jimmy straightened, watching anxiously as the two brothers strode away from the main office and bee-lined for their cabin. Hal had his eyes fixed forward, Ben studied the ground. Then they disappeared from out of sight behind a hastily closed door.Maggie kept her hand in the center of Jimmy’s back, strong and supportive; it was nice for Jimmy, a reminder that he wasn’t alone. She was rooting for him. It made the vice on his heart a little less painful. She kept it there as he stared at the Mason’s cabin, furiously chewing his inner cheek. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the door, and the minutes stretched on for what seemed hours, his heart pounding in his chest. He needed to know what was going on in there; he needed to know what was being said. The things he could imagine, the conversations he could conjure up, were each more horrible than the next, until he reached a point where he was absolutely certain that the only conversation Ben and Hal could have together at that moment was something horrible.Then the cabin door opened again. Hal came out first, his eyes found Jimmy in the distance, his expression was indecipherable. Jimmy’s heart cinched and he was unable to clasp onto a single optimistic thought. The older boy gave up nothing, lowered his eyes, and turned to head towards the cluster of children and Uncle Scott. Then Ben appeared out of the cabin, shutting the door carefully behind him. He crossed the campground and came to stop in front of Jimmy, hands in his pockets and eyes downcast. Maggie gave Jimmy’s shoulder a squeeze, and then she stood and left the boys to each other.“Let’s go,” Ben murmured.“Go where?” Jimmy returned.“Just come on,” Ben grumbled.Ben led the way across the campground towards the woods, Jimmy trailing behind. A few seconds in and he couldn’t take it anymore, he felt he would burst with anticipation, with worry, with fear.“What’d he say?” Jimmy demanded. Ben shook his head and didn’t reply. “Ben, what happened?”“Nothing,” Ben answered quietly. “Ben…” Jimmy growled. He halted, balling his hands in fists and feeling his anger boiling over. They were close to the ranger station, it was just a few paces more, but he couldn’t wait that long, he needed to know now. Ben turned and smirked playfully at Jimmy.“You’re not the only one who gets to keep things to yourself,” Ben teased. He closed the distance between them, put his hands on either side of Jimmy’s arms, and pressed a firm, chaste kiss to the stubborn boy’s lips, “Now stop worrying and follow me.”
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They had never been inside the ranger station, but it had served as a congressional point for their secret meetings for so long, it only seemed appropriate that they save it for their farewell to those campgrounds; save the best for last. It wasn’t the way Jimmy had always imagined. There was a layer of dust over everything, but it wasn’t dank or rundown inside. The wood appeared polished by the elements, a golden white color. Through cracks in the roof, splintered rays of sunlight cascaded across the interior, and weeds and flowers poked through its floorboards. A long lost tribute to a time when humanity was overrun by Mother Nature and nothing else.“I do have to tell you something,” Ben confessed, “And I don’t think you’re going to like it.”Jimmy leaned against the far wall of the ranger station, folding his arms across his chest and glaring down his nose at Ben, who stood tentatively in the doorframe.“You’re not going to make me share my feelings, are you?” Jimmy asked, half-serious. Ben made a face.“God, no. That would hurt me way more than you, and I mean physically, when you punch me in the face,” he replied, half-joking, then donning a more serious tone, he whispered, “It’s about what Weaver wanted to talk to me about. He’s going to go over things with all the fighters in the morning, but I guess some scout groups brought back intel that’s going to mess with our move. Weaver’s got a plan around it but…”Jimmy straightened, his eyes intent on the other boy.“It involves me doing something by myself. Something really dangerous,” Ben explained, “Hal’s against it but he says it’s my decision.”“I’m against it too,” Jimmy said without hesitance.“I’m not asking for your permission,” Ben steadily informed him.“Then why are you telling me?” Jimmy demanded.“Just because. I don’t know. I wanted to be the one to tell you,” Ben shrugged, taking a few steps forward with hands in his pockets, eyes searching the floor, “I didn’t want you to be surprised tomorrow.”“Well, fuck, Ben, what difference does it make? I’m surprised now.”“I’m the only one that can do this and the 2nd Mass has to make it through, it doesn’t stand a chance if I don’t,” Ben argued.“Why are you the only one?”“You know why!”Jimmy bit his inner cheek and glared petulantly at the ground. He hated the Skitters more in that moment than he ever thought possible. Why did it have to be Ben? Why did they have to harness him of all the children in the world and make him special? Why couldn’t he have just come to the 2nd Mass as the Ben before, the shy bookworm who tore his father’s favorite book to shreds because he couldn’t play lacrosse? Instead he had to be this Ben, the Ben that was the only one who could save the 2nd Mass, the Ben that Jimmy couldn’t lose. It wasn’t fair.Ben put a hand on Jimmy’s arm and gently touched their foreheads together.“I just wanted you to know,” he whispered, “I’m not just doing this for the 2nd Mass, I’m not just doing it for my brothers,” he bent forward to look up into Jimmy’s eyes, “I’m doing it for you.”Jimmy rolled his eyes and muttered sarcastically, “My hero.”Ben smirked, catching Jimmy’s mouth in a soft kiss that led to another and another and another. He leaned Jimmy against the wall, melding their bodies together, and plunged into a breath-taking kiss that lasted for a few heartbeats and lingered for a lifetime.“I think this is how I like you most,” Ben admitted, gasping for air against Jimmy’s mouth.“You would, you perv,” Jimmy teased, blushing from his roots all the way to his toes.“Exactly like this, fighting with me every step of the way,” Ben insisted, pressing his mouth hot against Jimmy’s again.It was amazing to think how far the boys had come in the span of only a few short weeks, from those tentative, clumsy first kisses, to an explicit knowledge of the other boy’s mouth. Their lips worked with one another synchronously, merging as one, parting as one. Jimmy welcomed the warm tongue that dipped into his mouth, delving deep inside and tempting a low whimper from the back of his throat. Ben laid one hand flat against the wall beside Jimmy, using it to hold himself up as the rest of his weight leaned into Jimmy. His other hand twined with Jimmy’s bandaged one, their fingers lacing together. Jimmy worried about his free hand, hanging at his side, concerned about where it would go and what it would do there; he wasn’t entirely certain he had full control of his actions at that moment. He desperately wanted to touch that bare flesh under Ben’s t-shirt again, to feel it ripple beneath his fingertips and his hand twitched subconsciously that direction.It was Ben that made that move first this time, though, sliding his hand up under Jimmy’s shirt, tickling the skin across his stomach, touching the twisted flesh where Maggie’s fiery hot blade had sealed the skin, and darting back out as though it too were burned. He pulled away slightly from Jimmy, his eyes searching the other boy’s expression, but for what, Jimmy wasn’t sure. Then Ben brought Jimmy’s bandaged hand up and dropped it gently to his own shoulder, and he peeled back the fabric of Jimmy’s shirt to reveal the crisp line of his collar bone. Ben’s eyes lingered a moment on Jimmy’s own, then he dropped his mouth to the exposed flesh, a delicate brush of his lips. He dotted kisses along the collarbone, feeling out the other boy’s reaction. When his tongue tip peeked out, took a brief taste of that delicate, pale flesh, Jimmy gasped, surpised, his fingers curling around Ben’s neck. Ben paused. He glanced at Jimmy, almost as though asking permission, and Jimmy tentatively bit his inner cheek and nodded shortly, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to but he would agree to anything that boy asked, knowing he would trust Ben with his entire body. Ben curled forward and captured Jimmy’s collar roughly in his mouth, tracing his tongue along the bone, and suckling the skin there raw. Jimmy’s breath seemed intent on racing his heartbeat, which seemed intent on hammering a hole out of his chest. He squeezed his eyes closed, grasped Ben’s shoulders for support, feeling his legs losing strength, but Ben too was losing his footing and eventually they slipped to the ground. Ben found Jimmy’s lips with his own again and it was Jimmy’s turn to explore the inside of Ben’s mouth. Jimmy traced the top of Ben’s bottom lip first then massaged every contour of Ben’s gum walls until a sumptuous groan erupted from deep inside of Ben, and he shuddered and rest his full weight across Jimmy, burying his face in Jimmy’s neck.“I hate when you do that,” Ben said in a tone that suggested the complete opposite was far closer to the truth. He lifted his head to flutter a few kisses across Jimmy’s cheeks and brow, then connected their mouths once more. They repositioned, Jimmy lying back on the dusty floorboards, Ben resting atop him, guns and knives aside.“I can’t talk you out of doing what Weaver asked of you?” Jimmy whimpered as Ben dragged his tongue along Jimmy’s jawline.“Nope,” Ben answered, locking their lips once more.“Even if I begged?” Jimmy pressed, and Ben paused. The phrase carried an interesting affect when it came from a flushed Jimmy, panting desperately for air, and writhing pleasantly beneath the other boy.“Especially if you begged,” Ben responded, planting a kiss on Jimmy’s forehead, then to his temple, to his cheek, to the very tip of his nose, “But then again…we’ll never know for certain unless you try.”Jimmy jabbed Ben in the side, and Ben grimaced, moaning painfully between laughs.“You’re such an ass,” Jimmy muttered, happily accepting the kiss that fell to his lips.“You said it,” Ben reminded Jimmy between heavenly nips at his mouth, “And it’s really not my fault the things that come out of your mouth.”Jimmy slid his hands up along Ben's clothed back, rising and falling over every taut muscle, and then he drew the other boy down by the shoulders.“It really kind of is,” Jimmy replied, decidedly ending their conversation with the kind of kiss that ached within.Jimmy opened his eyes a few hours later. He wasn’t entirely sure when he’d passed out, somewhere between the comfort of Ben’s arms around him and the soft caress of Ben’s mouth on his neck. Jimmy lay alone in the ranger station, his field vest curled beneath his head. He hadn’t put it there but he didn’t have to think hard about who had. He lifted himself up and groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He felt all at once completely drained and entirely refreshed.It wasn’t too late in the evening, the sun was still out but its rays didn’t cut as drastically across the room as they did when he and Ben had first arrived. He flinched at the crack of gunfire outside and shivered, the air was beginning to grow chilly, and night would fall soon.Jimmy pulled himself off the ground and stumbled towards the ranger station doorway. He found Ben outside, lining up tin cans in his rifle sight. Jimmy leaned against the wall, mainly for support, as he gazed appreciatively at the other boy. Ben fired, his shot grazing the can-target, knocking it to the ground but not quite hitting its mark.“Don’t forget the wind,” Jimmy called out advice. Ben glanced at him, and then lined up his shot for the next tin can. He fired, again the can fell, but the bullet was still off. Jimmy sighed, “Here.”He crossed over to where Ben stood and gestured for Ben to raise the gun, which he did.Then Jimmy helped maneuver Ben’s body, explaining in a low whisper, his lips brushing against Ben’s ear, “You have to factor in the wind. Right now it’s pushing about five kilometers south by southeast…”Lined up by Jimmy’s expert hands, Ben fired and the bullet hit the next tin can dead center. He slipped the rifle over his shoulder and turned, drawing Jimmy forward into a fierce kiss that blazed through Jimmy from his very core.“You ready for patrol tonight?” Ben questioned, leaning their foreheads together.Jimmy scowled, glaring up at Ben. Reluctantly, he grumbled, “Sure. Let’s go hunt some aliens.”
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XXX.Dr. Glass gently peeled off the bandages from Jimmy’s shoulder and clucked her tongue as she inspected the stitches there. He didn’t feel like explaining why they were ripped this time, nor how he’d accumulated a few more scrapes and bruises since last he’d been in her medical van. She probably wouldn’t believe him if he told her the truth anyhow, that last night on patrol he and Ben dropped a mech and four Skitters, you know, for the hell of it.Not to mention, Jimmy was sure Dr. Glass worried about the Mason boys enough without knowing about Ben’s new favorite hobby.“I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you,” Dr. Glass murmured, “I mean, you’ve been stabbed, impaled, burned, sliced, diced…I’m sure you’ll be happy to leave this place behind, you’ve had the worst luck at this camp.”Jimmy smirked. He could think of at least one thing that proved that statement false.“I don’t suppose I could convince you to take it easy for a while? Get some rest?” Dr. Glass prodded. She started re-stitching his wound; Jimmy winced slightly at the feel of the needle but otherwise, it barely registered. He was getting far too accustomed to the feel of thread tugging through his loose skin.“They need me for the move,” he pointed out.Dr. Glass sighed and nodded, “I suspected as much.” She tied off the stitches and snipped the thread, dropping the needle in a cup of fizzing liquid to clean it off. She discarded the remaining thread.“Captain Weaver wants me to do a full check up on you, or as full as I can manage with the equipment we have, before we head out,” Dr. Glass said, as she smoothed new bandages over the fresh stitch work.“Right now?” Jimmy groaned.“Yes, right now,” Dr. Glass teasingly confirmed with a light smile. She removed the gloves she’d been wearing while repairing Jimmy’s injuries, and discarded of them as well. Dr. Glass crossed the medical van to retrieve a clipboard and pen, then sat beside Jimmy and took his wrist between her thumb, index and pointer fingers, keeping time with the watch on her wrist as she counted the beats beneath his skin. She jotted down the numbers. Jimmy thought of his mother as Dr. Glass worked, and the last time he went to the doctor’s. His family pediatrician had been Dr. Sweeten, a sour faced man with a thick, bushy mustache. His clinic was decorated with fake plants, pastel wallpaper, and framed water color styled prints of Teddy Bears at picnics or amusement parks. Jimmy had sat on the crinkling paper on the patient chair-bed-thing as the doctor listened to his heart. Dr. Sweeten’s hands were always like ice, his voice a gruff bark. Dr. Glass put her stethoscope into her ears. She breathed on the bell to warm it, and then set it in the center of Jimmy’s bare chest, listening intently. She slipped round to listen at his back.“Deep breath,” she told him gently. He followed her instructions. She slid the bell over to the other side of his lower back, “Another one.”His mother had stood beside Jimmy, her shadow falling over the doctor, her arms folded across her chest and a stack of paper print-outs from WebMD clutched tight in her hands: He had a cough the other day; I think it might be bronchitis. His blood sugar is always erratic, he fainted on a road trip once; I want him tested for diabetes. And he’s too thin, and he’s always tired, I want you to do full blood work, have his thyroid checked, and, if we have to, a full body MRI. Insurance will cover it. I’m worried it might be cancer; he’s always got these strange bruises, can we just do a biopsy…I’ll sign whatever paperwork.“Any pains I should know about?” Dr. Glass questioned, scribbling more notes on her clipboard.“No more than the usual,” Jimmy answered earnestly. Dr. Glass nodded, feeling along Jimmy’s neck to check his lymph nodes. She hummed a low note of interest, “No sore throats?”“A little,” Jimmy shrugged, and then explained, “I fell asleep outside yesterday.”Dr. Glass nodded again. She picked up a little flashlight and used it to peek inside each of his ears.“Headaches? Nausea? Any vertigo? Dizziness?”“No,” Jimmy partially-lied. He had figured out a little while ago that Ben’s presence seemed to play a major role in just about all his recent bouts of nausea and dizzy spells, so he didn’t think it was really worth mentioning.“You’ve been eating regularly?”“No,” Jimmy muttered, “But who in the 2nd Mass does?”Dr. Glass smirked, wrote a few more things down. She came back to sit in front of Jimmy and flashed the light in his eyes, watching his retinal reaction.“Have you been sexually active?” she asked casually.Jimmy froze, the blood draining out of every vein in his body and leaving him cold and paralyzed. He blinked, tried to remember how to breathe for a few seconds, and then forced his lungs to start drawing air in again.“No,” he stammered, flustering and folding his arms across his stomach self-consciously, “What would make you…why would you…?”“Just a routine question,” Dr. Glass mumbled quietly, making a show of scanning the notes on her clipboard. Jimmy stared at her long and hard, his eyes narrowed. His stomach twisted around itself. Dr. Glass fidgeted with her pen, pushed her loose, long, dark hair behind her ear and wet her lips sheepishly.“Hal told you,” Jimmy realized, feeling the air crushing him from all around, tears starting to form in the corner of his eyes. Dr. Glass pursed her lips, her expression thoughtful, and then she nodded stiffly. “Who else did he tell? Who else knows? Does everyone know?” Jimmy rambled off demands, trembling uncontrollably, his hands balling into fists.“Relax,” Dr. Glass soothed, finally meeting his eyes with a kind expression, “He didn’t post a memo, and he hasn’t made any camp-wide announcements. As far as I know, I’m the only one he’s mentioned it to and he only told me because he was concerned for the health of his brother.” She sighed, lay a hand over Jimmy’s to stop his quaking, and peered intently into his eyes, “He was concerned about you too.”“Shit,” Jimmy murmured. He drew in a few painful, shaky breaths and buried his face in the palms of his hands. He felt like a man who had managed to cheat death twice. “How could he tell you…? He had no right…” Jimmy quietly raged.Dr. Glass stood and walked to one of the cabinets that lined the back of her van, placing the clipboard down. She turned to Jimmy, leaning back and folding her arms over her chest.“You’re right, Jimmy. You are absolutely right. It wasn’t Hal’s place to say anything, and it wasn’t being fair to either you or Ben. But his intentions were good, you have to know that, and maybe forgive him because of it. He just wanted to be sure that you two were safe. That you knew what you were doing,” she explained, “And we are in a unique situation. There are no rulebooks for any of this. You and Ben are without any parental guidance, you’re expected to perform adult responsibilities, it’s easy to forget you aren’t adults. And you aren’t, not yet. There are still some things that I’m sure confuse you. Things I’m sure you don’t understand about yourself, about how your body works.”Jimmy rolled his eyes and made a face. Dr. Glass walked back towards him, placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her at the touch“Hal just wanted to make sure that you knew you had someone you could talk to about it. About any of it,” she smiled gently, “And you can…talk to me, you know? I do have experience in that area.” Jimmy perked a brow at that and Dr. Glass blushed, taking her hand back to fold in her arm.“What I mean is I have experience talking to teenagers about sex. Before, you know, when I was just a plain old pediatrician, my patient roster did include young adults as old as eighteen years of age, and many, if not most of them in that age range of thirteen and up were sexually active. I’m sure you understand, there are some things kids can’t talk about with their parents, so they talked to me.”Jimmy lowered his eyes to study the ground. This conversation was just too embarrassing. How was he supposed to tell Dr. Glass about things that occurred between him and Ben? The thought of it made him want to throw up.“I’m not going to report whatever you tell me back to Hal. I’m not going to report to Weaver,” Dr. Glass continued. Jimmy’s eyes shot up at that and before he could ask the question, does Weaver know, Dr. Glass put a hand up and shook her head, “I don’t know. I doubt it. What I’m trying to say, Jimmy, is that anything you say to me is covered by patient-doctor confidentiality. I won’t even mention it to Ben. I can give you my unbiased clinical opinion when you need it, friendly advice, or just be someone you can vent your emotions to without fear of judgment, whatever you need me to be. “Now, I will say this, and this is the same advice I give to every 2nd Mass teenager, well, I’ve given it to just about every teenager, that is exploring a romantic relationship with someone else and that is simply this, when it comes to sex, I highly recommend that you just don’t do it. Entering a sexual relationship with someone creates some very strong emotions, and given current circumstances, I do not think it is psychologically healthy for most of our youngest members to be adding those emotions to everything else they have to deal with. Of course, I know, nine times out of ten that advice isn’t followed, but I feel it’s important to give it anyway. But my opinion on the matter will not color any advice you ask for, and I will not withhold any information from you that you ask for.”Dr. Glass clapped her hands together and pushed the hair from her face.“So…did you have any questions?”Jimmy picked at the bandages on his shoulder and chewed his inner cheek. He shrugged dispassionately, his gaze still fixed on the ground.“We haven’t really done anything,” he admitted quietly, then as heat flooded his cheeks, “Just kissed. A lot.”“I see,” Dr. Glass said, “Well, that’s interesting. Ben had so many questions…”“What?” Jimmy eyes shot up to hers, panic-stricken, “That bastard! What kind of questions? What did he say?”“I’m teasing you, Jimmy,” Dr. Glass laughed, covering her smile.Jimmy settled, his anger shuddering through him. He smiled slightly, and then let it fade away as Dr. Glass’s laughter died down. She turned to straighten a few things around the van. She’d been packing things lately, prepping for the move.“Well, I just wanted you to know that…I’m here, if you need me,” Dr. Glass reiterated, looking over her notes on Jimmy’s check-up, “And, also, it looks like you’re in perfect health, aside from, you know, being stabbed, impaled, burned…”
I’ll order the tests, but from what I can tell, Mrs. Boland, your son is perfectly healthy…
“Yeah, yeah…” Jimmy grumbled. He stood, slipped his shirt back on, careful of his new bandages. He paused, stared at the chair where he’d been sitting, and the blood stained bandages on the tiny table nearby.“Dr. Glass?” he started, his voice low and faraway.“Yeah, Jimmy?”Jimmy closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. “I just…before, you know, before-before…I didn’t really think about…other boys were fascinated by all these things, about sex and girls, their bodies and…and…I was interested but…I didn’t know if I was interested because I was supposed to be or because…I never really thought about how I felt about it. I didn’t really feel anything about any of it. I kind of thought I was broken or something.”He turned slightly, peered up through loose strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes.“Me and Ben, it’s not normal. I know that,” Jimmy swallowed hard, blinked away uncertain tears, “But…I like…when he touches me…I like it. I like kissing him and…” He took another deep breath, it shook all the way into his diaphragm, “He makes me feel…feel things I never did before. Things I never thought…never thought I would ever feel. And even when we just talk, when he’s just near me…I feel…I don’t know. I like it. I wanted to know, Dr. Glass…I was just wondering…what does that mean? I mean, what does it make me?”
Healthy? He isn’t healthy! Look at him, can’t you see? He’s sick! He’s very sick. What kind of doctor are you that you can’t see how sick he is?
Dr. Glass stared at Jimmy for a long time, her expression unreadable, her eyes swirling with dark and distant emotions. Finally, she drew her breath in and answered in a steady voice.“Human. It makes you human.”
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There weren’t many fighters left. It was almost disheartening to see them all gathered together, the visual reminder of how low their numbers really were. It was evident in Captain Weaver’s features as he stood at the front of the group that their dwindling size was at the forefront of his mind. He put his hands on his hips, stared out at them with a surveyor’s eyes, the craft of cunning glinting in those weathered wrinkles.“A few days ago, one of our scout groups reported that the enemy is heading south,” Weaver announced, and the fighters all stirred somewhat interestedly, “Why, is not our concern right now. Our concern is getting these civilians to the next location, their next hope of survival. Problem is the aliens have been moving their troops across our path. Now, from what surveillance has been able to figure, deployment has been pretty light. They don’t appear to be in any hurry. From what we’ve found, they’ve mainly been deploying from one set location, an old warehouse roughly ten kilometers northwest of our crossing point, to another location, a tower roughly 15 kilometers south of our cross point.”Jimmy sat in the back corner of the room with Hal, Maggie, Dai, and Ben. His arm was carelessly set against Ben’s, the feel of it a comfort. One glance around the room, the small group of remaining fighters in the 2nd Mass all seemed to be a tight unit, but on closer inspection, there was an obvious breakdown into smaller clusters of fighters within the group, people who typically hung around one another sat together, chatted low amongst one another. Jimmy had never considered himself a part of one of those clusters, those cliques, until now. He darted a look to Ben, it was because of this boy that he felt a belonging again, and he didn’t know how to interpret that knowledge. Ben kept his focus forward on Weaver.“I won’t lie to any of you; we don’t have a whole lot of options right now. As most of you know, because you were out there doing the grunt work, we’ve checked every direction we could possibly go, and this is the most viable. We’ve been tossing around ideas, and we think we have a plan but it’ll be dangerous. It’ll take a lot of bravery on the part of a handful of you and…and a lot of luck.”Weaver paced back and forth a few times, let his words sink in to the troops. A few fighters shifted uncomfortably but most showed little to no signs of perturb. Danger was nothing new, nor was the necessity of bravery, and it seemed all they were operating on those days was luck.“We think if we can synchronize an attack on both locations, the deployment point and the destination point, that we can split their troops and clear a path for the civilians to get by with, hopefully, little to no problems,” Weaver explained, “We’ll be using a bit of guerrilla warfare on this, no direct fighting, if it can be helped. My goal is to utilize as few fighters in this op as possible. Now, the southern point is the easier of the two. There are fewer troops down there. I’ve already sorted out how that will work. I’ve spoken to Ben Mason.”Jimmy shot a look to Ben, his heart skipping. It involves me doing something by myself. Jimmy didn’t think he liked where this story was going. Ben kept his gaze set forward, though there was a minute twitch beneath his eye, the only sign he was aware of Jimmy’s bewildered staring. “And now, some of you may or may not know Ben’s a little different than your average fighter. The Skitters did something to him, they gave him some ‘special abilities’, and whatever your feelings are about that, you’re going to have to put them aside, because right now, he’s our best hope. Ben’s going to be using those abilities to slip down to the south point. He can get in and out of there faster than any other fighter, and he can do it without being noticed. He’s going to set some charges around the tower, detonate them at the same time the warehouse is detonated.“The warehouse, however, is going to be a little trickier. It’s a lot hotter up there; Skitter troops are everywhere, and there are a lot of mechs. We’re going to send three small groups of four, my bomb squads, up there, each loaded with explosives, and then one large attack unit of eight. The attack unit will provide distraction – they aren’t there to do real damage, just to pull those enemy troops off that warehouse, as the bomb squads search out a weak point in the troops and try to punch through to lay their explosives. We only need one squad to get through.”Weaver ran a hand over his mouth, stroked his chin. He walked with his head down a moment. Some of the fighters whispered to each other. Samson, the acting second, stood with his arms folded staring openly out at the group, eyes roving over each individual.“We have to time things perfectly in order to pull this off,” Weaver went on, “If the warehouse goes down before the tower, we could lose a lot of fighters…fighters we don’t have. If the tower goes down before the warehouse, we could lose Ben and possibly all the civilians. Unfortunately, we don’t have the time or resources to wait on a better opportunity, chances are, we let things go too long, and the number of Skitters and Mech in the area will increase to a point where we stand no chance.”Weaver paused, left it open for a debate that never came. He cleared his throat, looked out at his fighters with a steely gaze.“Sam will be taking in Pope and his boys; they’ll make up one bomb squad. Dai is going to lead in Hal, Maggie, and Buck, and the last one will be Riley, with Ulrich, Fortune, and Minus. Anthony is going to head the attack unit; he’s made his selection of fighters, he wants Oleander, Tuck, Valerie, Mary, Jimmy, Kenny and Frank. The rest of you will be traveling with the civilians, hustling them to the first checkpoint, about forty-three kilometers past town, where we’ll rendezvous with our guerilla units. We don’t expect the enemy to hit the civilians, but we need to play it safe. “Now, guerrillas are off with Dai for a demo on the explosives, regardless of whether you’re in the bomb squads or not, and I do not care if you have used these explosives before, go see Dai. I want everyone on the field familiar with what you’re working with out there, let’s not blow anyone up. After, you’ll split with your team leader for a rundown of moving day tactics. Civilian guard, stay put, I’ll be discussing your line-up in a bit.”Dai led the guerrillas outside towards the artillery truck. He gave them a rundown of the explosive bundles they were using, the detonation setup, and the most effective placement of the bombs in the warehouse to bring the building down. Jimmy stood in the back of the group, hands in his pockets, and only half-listening to the lecture. He’d spent enough time with Dai, learning everything he could from the young man, that he knew it all by heart. He could take the detonators apart and put them back together in under a minute, his best time was 47 seconds.Next to Jimmy, of course, stood Ben and while they were close enough to touch, they felt miles apart.“Stop it,” Ben muttered under his breath, eyes locked on Dai.“Stop what?” Jimmy replied just as quietly.“Looking at me like that,” Ben explained, turning slightly to glance at Jimmy out the corner of his eye, but notably still not looking directly at him, “I know you’re mad but…”“But nothing. It’s bullshit,” Jimmy grumbled, “You’re going in there without any backup.”“I already explained to you…”“You didn’t exactly give me the specifics,” Jimmy pointed out, he shuddered though it wasn’t very cool outside, lowered his eyes, “And I told you I was against it. Why are you surprised that now that I know exactly what you’ll be doing I’m still against it?”“You heard Weaver, the ones going north will be in a lot more danger,” Ben replied, eyes back on Dai, “I’ll be in and out. No problem.”“Unless of course, the ones going north never get through,” Jimmy muttered, “Then you’re dead.”“Then everyone is dead and it doesn’t matter.”Jimmy closed his eyes and balled his hands into fists in his pockets. It did matter, he was sure of it; he just didn’t know how to argue that point.“Jimmy, I’m sorry,” Ben murmured, his eyes now on the ground, “But I need to do this. Please, understand that.”Jimmy narrowed his eyes, studying Ben, and chewing his inner cheek. In the bright afternoon light, he could easily see the way the fabric of Ben’s t-shirt jutted out over the rods that lined his spine. Jimmy turned away, glaring at the far off trees that stood sentry around their campgrounds.“Whatever,” he muttered.Dai wrapped up his demonstration and the gathered group split up, everyone finding their unit leader. After tactical discussions wrapped up, the bomb squads would meet again with Dai for hands-on experience with the explosives. Ben, not actually having a unit, took a seat near the attack unit, far enough away that it didn’t look like he was eavesdropping, his head resting back against the side of a truck, his eyes closed as though napping, but Jimmy knew that he was listening.Anthony had a mock-up of the area where the warehouse was located formed from rocks and sticks laid out across the mud. “It’s an industrial complex few miles outside the city we’ll be crossing through,” he explained, “A lot of big, old buildings. We’re going to break up into fours, set up here and here,” Anthony gestured to two different rocks, “These buildings are the tallest in the area, gives us the best range. We’ll set off an explosion in the center of the street, here, hopefully take out a few mechs with it, and that should draw attention to us, start bringing aliens flooding this direction. We want to create a choke point here, use it to start knocking off Skitters and mechs. Minimal effort, maximum results.“Each group of four is going to have two shooters packing a rifle loaded with mech piercing bullets on top of their regular rifles; they’re going to be the mech killers. Our best shooters are the mech killers; we don’t have a lot of those bullets to waste on bad shots, and they have to be able to switch guns on the fly fast. Mech killers are Ollie, Val, Jimmy, and me. Rest of you are purely on Skitter detail. Any questions?”Anthony individually eyed the seven faces staring down at him. Franklin slightly raised his hand.“Since when am I a bad shot?” Franklin half-jokingly asked. Anthony rolled his eyes.“Come on, Frankie, everyone knows you’re lucky if you can hit the broad side of a barn,” he answered half-teasing. He shook his head then candidly explained, “I chose each of you because I know you are all the best shooters in the 2nd Mass, the mech killers are just the best of the best. So here’s the breakdown, Ollie, Tuck, Mary, you’re with me on this building. Val, Kenny, Frankie, Jimmy, you’re together on this building, Kenny will have a two-way radio, constant communication with me, and he’ll be calling point.”Jimmy darted his eyes to Franklin and the older boy shot him back a quick, dark look. It suddenly got a little hard to breathe. He glanced at Ben, who was now watching him intently, and the same heated thought passed between them: did Jimmy really have to be on a building with that asshole.
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The last day before moving, Jimmy and Ben barely saw one another. There was too much prepping to be done, and far too much at stake for them to be wasting their energy on each other. Anthony insisted his unit get a lot of shooting practice in, so Jimmy spent most of his time on the range. Oleander and Kenny were several years older than Jimmy, roughly around Anthony’s age. They spent most of their time around Anthony, talking with him about the upcoming mission.Mary and Valerie were apparently good friends, each respectively sixteen and fifteen. They spent a lot of time hanging around near where Jimmy set up his targets, giggling and chattering about who-the-hell-knew-what. Franklin and Tucker were also good friends, and they both seemed as equally intent on getting Mary and Valerie’s attentions as they were at annoying Jimmy.“Hey, Jimmy,” Franklin called, and Jimmy glanced momentarily at him. The older boy had his gun pointed towards camp and Jimmy followed its direction, to where Ben stood in the distance talking to Hal, Matt sitting nearby with a chessboard, “You know, from here, I could take out that Skitter-hybrid, one bullet to the back of its head, and it would never know what hit it.”Jimmy rolled his eyes, turned his attention back to his targets. He knew Franklin had already emptied his clip moments before; the older boy was just talking shit. Jimmy let out his breath calmly then took out his line of targets with ease.“Hey, Jimmy,” Valerie said, standing close to Jimmy’s shoulder. He flinched away from her and gave her a look of reproach.“Yeah, what?” he snapped. Didn’t anyone ever teach her not to sneak up on a guy with a gun?“You and Ben are pretty close, right?” she questioned, rocking on her heels so that her twin braids swayed with the motion. Her lips were glossy, she’d put something on them. Most of the teenaged girls picked up make-up here and there when the 2nd Mass moved through commercial areas, something about clinging to meaningless old rituals to comfort themselves in those highly stressful times, Professor Mason had once explained.“Right,” Jimmy muttered, disinterestedly.“Me and him were on patrols together for a while…when you were sick,” Valerie went on.Jimmy reloaded his gun.“Yeah, I know.”“Oh, he mentioned me?” Valerie chirped, trying – failing – to subdue her excitement, fidgeting with her braid and perking slightly. Jimmy eyed her, irritated. She had a pretty, heart-shaped face with little freckles dotted charmingly across her nose and chin. Her figure was a cute hourglass. Her hair was straw colored, her eyes a hazy gray. There was a little dimple in her right cheek when she smiled. She looked like the type of girl that would collect stuffed rabbits.“Yeah. He said you never stopped talking,” Jimmy grumbled. Valerie’s face fell slightly.“Oh,” she mumbled, “Well…I just…was wondering…how he is? I mean, he always seemed so, sad. And he told me that he felt lonely a lot so-““He told you that?” Jimmy demanded, sounding more hurt and surprised than he intended. Valerie startled, her eyes widening slightly at the outburst and Jimmy flustered, returning his attentions to his gun.“Well…um…I’m sure that now you and he are such good friends, he’s not so lonely anymore,” Valerie stammered nervously, twirling her braid absently around her finger, “I was just curious is all. How he was doing. I never really see him around camp much…”“Val, sweetheart, you’re wasting your time with him,” Tucker called obnoxiously, “He’s only interested if you’ve got alien barbs out your backside.”Valerie stuck up her middle finger at the boy and Jimmy smirked, checking his rifle sight. She returned her attention to Jimmy.“Ben, it’s kind of sweet of him, isn’t it? What he’s doing for the 2nd Mass,” Valerie continued in a low mumble, she dropped her eyes to her shoes, “Would you tell him I said that? That I think it’s sweet.”I’m doing it for you.“I guess,” Jimmy relented. “And also…that it would be nice…after we’re all moved…if I did see him around camp more,” Valerie added, she cleared her throat, kept her eyes locked on the ground and knotted her hair round her fingers, “Will you tell him I said that too?”Jimmy let off a few shots, the bullets ripped one by one through the bark of a tree about fifty yards away. The gun report rang clear in his ears, drowning out the sound of his pathetically thundering heart.“Whatever.”Valerie nodded, murmured something like ‘thanks’ and hurried back towards Mary. They huddled together and exchanged a few excited whispers, and then burst into high-pitched squeals and giggles. Jimmy swallowed down the sickness rising in his throat.None of the fighters slept much the night before, and moving day started early in the gray haze of dusk. The guerillas would be heading out first. Unit leaders stood around discussing last minute details of their upcoming missions. Individual fighters were saying their good-byes to any loved ones they might have. Jimmy sat on the open tail-gate of the truck the attack unit would be using to get to town watching the touching exchanges solemnly. He could see the Mason brothers leaving Matt to Dr. Glass and talking to one another briefly, before splitting separate ways, Hal heading towards his ‘bomb squad’ and Ben stalking towards Jimmy. Jimmy slipped off the tailgate, leaning against the bed, when Ben approached.“I’ll be getting a ride with Prudence halfway to the tower,” Ben started. Prudence was an older woman, about mid-forties, tough-as-nails and she drove like a bat out of hell, “And she’ll pick me up after it goes down, drive me to the first checkpoint.”Jimmy nodded stiffly, his eyes searching out anything that wasn’t Ben at the moment. He held himself tense, pulled away from Ben, arms folded over his chest. It had to be obvious from his stance that he wasn’t interested in chatting. Ben ran a hand over his neck, eyes downcast.“Could you not be a jerk right now? I’m trying to tell you something,” he murmured.Jimmy said nothing. He fidgeted with the edge of his shirt, chewed his inner cheek ragged.“Fine. Whatever. Just, listen, be careful, alright,” Ben pressed on, “Watch out for yourself, and keep an eye on that Frank guy.”“Just worry about yourself,” Jimmy grumbled haughtily. Ben rolled his eyes. He scanned around camp than grabbed hold of Jimmy’s arm, dragging the other boy out of sight behind one of the larger trucks. He pushed Jimmy up against the vehicle’s side and leaned forward, his palm on the side of Jimmy’s head, his eyes boring into Jimmy’s own.“I’m serious,” Ben hissed, “I don’t trust him.”“He would say the same about you.”“Jimmy,” Ben groaned.“He’s not going to do anything in the middle of battle. He’s an asshole, he’s not an idiot,” Jimmy muttered, rubbing a hand over his face, then he spat out, “And will you cut the overprotective crap, it’s annoying. I don’t need anyone to tell me how to take care of myself, least of all, you.”Ben narrowed his eyes, his expression contorted with pained confusion, as he searched Jimmy for some clue. “Why are you being like this?”Jimmy turned his face away. Ben sighed, resigned, decided it wasn’t worth it to argue. He started to leave but Jimmy’s hand shot up almost instinctively, grabbing hold of the side of Ben’s shirt and shakily keeping him in place. Ben glanced curiously, agitatedly, at Jimmy. Jimmy gazed into the distance. His chest hurt, his vision was blurred, his head felt feverish.“Be careful too,” Jimmy finally whispered, so soft he feared Ben hadn’t heard him. He drew his eyes meekly up to meet Ben’s, an uncertain emotion shimmering within their blue depths. Ben’s features relaxed. He placed a hand on Jimmy’s forehead to push the hair away, and to brush his thumb against the delicate skin there, smooth out the worry lines, then he leaned forward and pressed a melancholy kiss to Jimmy’s mouth. Jimmy’s eyes slipped shut at the touch as he savored that bittersweet taste.A heartbeat, two, later, Ben pulled away and when Jimmy opened his eyes again, Ben was gone.
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There was a point in battle when the adrenaline took over, guided every action, like auto-pilot on steroids. Some people couldn’t handle it, it became overwhelming, and they crumpled to their knees and took the inevitable bullet to the head. And some people thrived on it.Initially, Jimmy had never been one of those who could handle the onrush of adrenaline. He would collapse on the ground with the rest of them, but at some point over the past couple months, things had changed. He had moved past thinking, and just did. His heart pounded in his ears, sweat dripped from his brow. He barely registered the repeated kick of his rifle against his shoulder, he didn’t think about the swap, as he threw one gun aside, picked up the other, and punched a hole through a mech, back to the rifle and down went three Skitters.A part of him noted that Franklin was racking up a nice kill count of his own, that Kenny was ducked behind the roof banister shouting into his radio, asking for an update, and that Valerie was fumbling between her weapons and struggling to aim through uncontrolled tears in her eyes, and though she managed never to miss a mech, her aim was shoddy at best when it came to the Skitters.“It’s too hot,” Jimmy breathed realization, another mech down, and he reached for his rifle. From their position on the roof, towering over that industrial district of half-broken buildings, Jimmy could see it all, the flood of Skitters, the ominous mechs, and how they all flowed around the warehouse and through every little street outlet leading away from it. He darted his eyes to Kenny, and the older man met his gaze, his wizened expression swarming with a dismay that ached through Jimmy. “It’s too hot,” Jimmy shouted frustration, burying another five Skitters in a frenzy of bullets. The tower would go down in less than twenty minutes and they were nowhere close to the warehouse.“Sam’s group is under fire, they’ve got to retreat,” Kenny yelled, his voice sounded like a harsh whisper across the roof echoing with gunfire, “Dai’s group is looking for another route. Riley might have a way in; Anthony wants to increase their chances. Jimmy, Frank, hit ground. Take the back alley, east up Broadbent, shoot north on Capital, rendezvous with Riley at the Wax. Move.”Jimmy shouldered his mech gun, clutched his rifle at the ready. He took out another cluster of Skitters than raced for the roof access, not even bothering to check if Franklin was behind him. There were four stories to the building they were on, Jimmy sprinted down each spiraling staircase between floors in a matter of seconds, the fire in his lungs and the painful stitch in his side not even a thought in his mind, though he did vaguely note the irony that once-upon-a-time Phys-Ed was one of his worst subjects.Out on the street, Jimmy broke towards one direction, but a jerk at his collar brought him choking to a halt. He shot Franklin a dark, questioning look, rubbing his sore neck.“East, idiot,” Franklin gasped, pointing the opposite direction, between hacking coughs. Phys-Ed probably wasn’t a good subject for him either. Jimmy rolled his eyes and burst into another run the indicated route, hearing Franklin reluctantly fall in step behind him.The Wax was apparently an old factory of some kind so called because all that remained of its sign were the letters W-A-X. Jimmy and Franklin reached it in a handful of minutes, taking out the few Skitters that were bogging down Riley and his men.“Hard to believe some of their troops are still in that warehouse,” Riley griped when the squad mustered and joined the two snipers, “Why in the fuck are you boys here?”“No time,” Jimmy told Riley sharply. Seriously, what the fuck was with the small chat? They had a building to blow up.“Always straight to business with you,” Riley remarked. He smirked and led the way up the street. All the fighters fell in line with him, guns at ready, senses on full alert.“We’re down to the wire and no one’s made it through yet,” Jimmy muttered, somewhat apologetically.“Anthony sent us. Said you might have a way in,” Franklin spoke up, still wheezing in attempt to catch his breath.Jimmy made a note of Ulrich favoring his right leg, probably sprained. Minus and Fortune were carrying the explosives. Minus looked to be bleeding from on open wound in his arm.“Yeah, right now the enemy is keeping a tight perimeter but it looks like enemy troops are light on the southeast corner of the warehouse. If we could break through there, we can lay our explosives, high tail it the fuck out of here, and detonate on schedule,” Riley explained, “Minus and Ulrich can’t move far, we took some heavy fire, were forced to split one of the bundles and drop an explosive, got hit with some of the shrapnel.”A Skitter burst round the corner and Franklin dropped it before it could react to their group.“I’m thinking if we can break through the southeast end, I’ll take Minus and Ulrich, lay the bombs there. Jimmy and Frank, you boys take Fortune round to the other side,” Riley went on, “Pull out when all your explosives are laid, we’ll leave the switch with Fortune, that way if we three don’t make it out, you still detonate on the mark.”Jimmy glanced at the two injured fighters, their faces stony with grim resolve. They’d already had this talk, probably made the suggestion themselves, the original plan most likely saw Riley accompanying Fortune to the other side, and now that there were two who could take his place, the team leader was volunteering to go down with his men. God, Jimmy hoped those three made it out alive; the 2nd Mass needed fighters like them.The southeast corner was as Riley promised, not quite so heavy with troops as the other sides. Jimmy took out the mech sentry – it left him with one mech piercing bullet, and the other fighters laid down the swarm of Skitters. There was no time for good-byes, whether long or short, they broke into their groups of three and split into separate directions. Riley, Minus and Ulrich moved to start laying their explosives, slipping inside the warehouse through a service entrance. Jimmy and Franklin followed Fortune round the warehouse back wall, sprinting to and ducking behind whatever debris was large enough to provide any degree of coverage along the way. Squatting behind half a truck, a few paces from their targeted entrance, Franklin fumbled to replace his rifle clip with a fully stocked one. His breath came in sharp and stunted, he wiped furiously at his brow.“You okay?” Jimmy questioned in a low whisper, his eyes scanning their surroundings and darting over once to check on Fortune. She had a Desert Eagle, .357 Magnum, in one hand, her other hand was fidgeting with the pack full of explosives strapped to her back, gently readjusting them.“Yeah, fine,” Franklin snapped back. It occurred to Jimmy in that moment that Franklin was a typical sniper. He’d never really been this close to the action before, in fact, the closest he’d probably ever come to a Skitter in combat was in that diner bathroom and that experience had to be a tad traumatizing.“Just stay focused. I’ve got your back,” Jimmy told Franklin, sympathetically, his own first real brush with a Skitter in combat rushing back to him. Franklin shot the younger boy a dark look, “I said I’m fine.”Jimmy led the way into the warehouse, his rifle barrel preceding his entry. Fortune followed not far behind and Franklin brought up the rear. They’d entered a storage area, it was still half full. They strained to hear for enemies.“I’ll hold this point,” Franklin suggested, “You two start laying the explosives.”Jimmy scowled, nodded. He understood the necessity of someone guarding their exit and the rationale of it being the most psychologically shaken at the moment, even if that person being Franklin was somewhat annoying. Jimmy took a couple bundles from Fortune.“There and there,” Fortune instructed, her voice lightly accented, “Those are support beams. We knock ‘em down, the whole building will collapse. I’m going to head a little farther in, see if I can focus on a bit of the structure’s center.”Jimmy nodded, heading to the first point Fortune had mentioned. He set the bomb in place; it took him a few minutes, and then froze at the familiar mechanical crunch of a mech’s footsteps. He swallowed hard, darting instinctively behind a pillar and searching out his fellow fighters. Fortune was out of sight, Jimmy hoped that meant she was also out of sight of the enemy, and Franklin squatted half outside the door, gun at ready and peering frantically into the warehouse.Jimmy took a deep breath, and peeked around the pillar. His heart sank as he saw the mech step into sight. He slipped back into hiding, clutched the bomb to his body and glanced Franklin. Franklin lifted a finger, he thought it was just the one, and Jimmy nodded understanding. He checked the clip of his mech-gun, and frowned. He had to make that last bullet count.The sound of gunfire ripped through the warehouse and the mech screeched as it whirled round and ran off back further into the warehouse where the gun had gone off.“Shit,” Jimmy grunted, shouldering his own gun. He left the bomb on the ground, and took off after the mech. By the time he reached it and blew a hole through its metal hide, Fortune was on the ground clutching her stomach, blood pooling through her fingers and spilling out her mouth. Jimmy swallowed down his sudden sickness. He tossed aside his empty gun, dead weight now, stepped around the Skitter bodies that Fortune had riddled with bullets and helped her up, draping her arm over her shoulder and dragging her back towards the exit.Barely halfway there, and Franklin in sight waiting, Fortune managed to gurgle out, “The detonator…my pack…”Jimmy halted, turning to glance over his shoulder back to where the pack lay. The siren cry of a mech sung through the air and Jimmy caught sight of two of the monstrosities through stacks of crates thundering around the storage area, Skitters sure to be following. Jimmy winced as he hastily jostled Fortune towards the nearest coverage, a stack of crates against the far wall.“I’m dead. Leave me,” she murmured, her eyes darkening as she spoke, “Go…”“No,” Jimmy hissed back, there was no way he could abandon her, not while she still drew breath.“Go,” she commanded firmly, using the last of her strength to rip herself from his grasp and shove him away, collapsing in a heap to the ground without him to hold her up. Jimmy fell behind the crates, just as a mech burst out from the right, near where Fortune went down. He furiously wiped the tears falling hotly along his cheeks away then glanced at Franklin, still hiding at the doorway. The older boy had his eyes fixed on Fortune’s limp and blood soaked body. Jimmy looked to his watch, bit his inner cheek hard, a tiny chunk of flesh detaching and flooding his mouth with a familiar harsh, metallic taste. Three minutes, twenty-nine seconds to detonation.Jimmy darted his eyes to the pack, roughly twenty paces away. The mech was blocking his path. He trailed his eyes back to Franklin, the older boy now staring wide-eyed at him. Franklin had a straight shot to the pack, to the detonator. Jimmy took a deep, trembling breath. Franklin could get to it, if only there was something…or someone…to distract the aliens.Jimmy locked his eyes with Franklin, tried to relay his plan in wild expressions and short hand gestures: I’ll draw their fire, you get the switch. Franklin licked his lips, dry and cracked from the heat, hugged his gun tightly to his body, flattening himself against the doorframe and rolling his eyes to the sky. He looked to the pack, he looked to the mech, he looked back to Jimmy. He wasn’t going to do it.Jimmy furrowed his brow, lips parting slightly, gulping the air, pleading: Please.Franklin looked again to the mech, to Fortune lost forever, to Jimmy. Apology written in his expression. Fear overwhelming his eyes.Jimmy shook his head, dread sprouting in his heart, blossoming throughout his chest, he mouthed, “Please don’t leave…”Franklin darted out of sight and the door clicked shut, a sound that reverberated in Jimmy’s ears. A single, deafening note that mingled with the death screams of the surrounding mechs.
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“Fuck,” Jimmy pressed his back into the crates that were currently concealing him from the enemy. He held his remaining rifle, its bullets useless against the mech slowly closing in on him, against his forehead and silently chanted, “Fuck. Fuck.”Somewhere, twenty-five kilometers south of Jimmy’s location, Ben would be detonating a tower and sealing the fate of the entire 2nd Mass. Sealing his own fate. Jimmy closed his eyes, let a few tears fall soundlessly to the floor. He peeked through a gap in the crates, watched the mech as it noisily approached his hiding spot. He shuddered, swallowed down the fear and bile climbing his throat.Dai’s voice, of all people, came rushing into Jimmy’s mind: There’s a metal plate on the left underbelly of the optical lens of a mech.Jimmy furrowed his brow, ran his hand over his face, smudging the blood, tears, sweat and grime there. He fidgeted with his gun, strained to hear the enemy. The mech was close, towering just behind the crates, its gears squeaking with its every move. He could hear the shuffle of Skitter legs scrambling around the rest of the storage area. The pack was only twenty fucking paces away. He eyed the mech through the crates, if he could just get around it.It’s a blind spot. Don’t forget.Jimmy took a deep breath, sucked it in through his teeth and let it out slow, silent. It was a stupid plan, he knew, walk right out in front of a mech and hope it doesn’t shoot, but it was the only plan he had. Jimmy pulled himself to his feet, held his gun up across his chest, and leaned against the edge of the crates, peering out at the giant silver-blue beast poking around nearby.“Wait for it,” he whispered to himself under breath, mainly to keep himself calm despite the suicidal action he was about to make. The mech took a step forward, another step, another. Jimmy could see the plate that Dai had mentioned, on the left under side, positioned beside the butt of the laser, maybe as some form of protection against heat off the weapon. He closed his eyes, mouthed self-instruction, “Now.”Every muscle taut, every hair on his body standing on end, breath bated, Jimmy stepped out from behind the crate and waited for the bullets to riddle through his flesh. The mech paused, its optical lens rolling curiously around in its gargantuan head. It took another step forward, stupidly searching for the boy that was right in front of it.Jimmy released his breath. Tentatively, he inched forward, eyes never leaving the mech, careful to stay within its blind spot. Slowly, he edged his way around until he was fully behind it, then he took a few steps backwards, sucked in a deep breath, braced himself for whatever came next, spun on heel and broke into a no-holds-barred sprint towards the pack.Out from behind another stack of crates, a Skitter appeared, spotted him, and let rip a bloodcurdling shriek. Jimmy dove for the pack, his hand finding its knapped fabric and curling tightly around it. He rolled out of the way just as a slew of mech bullets shattered the floor. He could feel the shots breeze by him, could feel the sting of one in his arm, one swipe his leg. Tumbling to his feet, he sprinted into a labyrinth of crate stacks, rounded a corner and slammed head first into a Skitter. He reacted before he had time to think about it, driving his rifle through the Skitter’s throat as it reached out a claw for him with a strength born from pure adrenaline alone. The Skitter collapsed to the ground, dead or unconscious, Jimmy couldn’t be sure and didn’t stick around to figure it out, scrambling to push his back up against a pillar and, for split second maybe, out of sight. His heart quivered erratic in his chest, he couldn’t remember how to breathe, and he could hear the enemy all around him. He had a few heartbeats of safety that he used to search the pack. The detonator was in there, a tiny silver remote with a single black button in its center and a little switch on top to initiate; there was also another explosive pack. He gathered his bearings, checked his watch: Forty-five seconds…forty-four…forty-three...Jimmy wet his lips and closed his eyes a moment. He needed to get out of the building. The exit was too far behind him, and the enemy was in the way. There was a door up ahead, it led further into the warehouse, but there might be an exit beyond. He thought of Ben, alone, in that tower twenty-five kilometers away, and the image ached through him. I’m doing it for you.Jimmy had to try. He slung the pack over his shoulder, and tightened his grip on his rifle, tentatively fingering the trigger.As soon as Jimmy moved, the Skitters were on him, he could hear them shrieking at his back but he didn’t pause in his run or turn to look back. The mech wasn’t far behind; knocking over crates in its way with a crunching noise that Jimmy imagined was not unlike the sound bones made when crushed. Jimmy wove through the crates, punched the silver door handlebar, it swung open, and he burst through to the other side, swinging his gun up and at the ready.Jimmy’s mouth fell open.“What the hell…?” he gasped.There were no appropriate words to describe the obstruction before Jimmy, jutting out of the center of the warehouse floor. It started in the basement and stretched to the very top of the building, wide enough to fill almost the entire room. A crystalline mass of swirling pastel colors, inside there was a mess of images, flickering by too fast to identify. Skitters crawled all over it, though it didn’t appear as though it should be capable of supporting any weight. The closest Skitters paused when Jimmy entered, turning their shimmering, opal eyes on him.…you know what I realized?One heartbeat thrummed by, Jimmy lifted his gun and opened fire. The nearest Skitters fell with ease but the ones beyond were more prepared, some dodging the bullets, some only taking them to the body, brushing them off like ant bites, and continuing to advance. Jimmy could hear the mech at the door behind him. He scrambled several steps forward, the door splintering, shots firing through it. Out of bullets, Jimmy tossed his gun to the ground, swung the pack around and dug out the bomb and detonator. Checked his watch: Seventeen…sixteen…fifteen...I like you, Jimmy.The Skitters were closing in. Jimmy flipped the initiation switch on the detonator. The bomb pack in his hand whirred to life, its harness lit up. He tossed it as hard and as far as he could towards the oncoming rush of Skitters, towards the inexplicable mass in the center of the warehouse. It clattered through a hole in the floorboards and out of sight.You just sounded like someone I could’ve been friends with.The door flew off its hinges. Jimmy spun round. Ten…nine…eight…The mech filled the space where the door used to be, rolled its guns around and took aim.Jimmy drew in one last, deep breath. Four…three…two…Closed his eyes.You know, before.And pressed the button.
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There were only seconds left, no time to even set the explosives in place if they ever reached the warehouse, but Dai was determined to push forward, to find another route in and Hal could kiss the other man for his single-mindedness. Though, as Hal glanced at his watch, and tapped his rifle’s trigger anxiously, he was beginning to worry that in the end it wouldn’t matter. Maggie was just as anxious; it ebbed through every fiber of her being. She didn’t need a watch to know they were getting close to crunch time, she could tell by the way Hal hastened his finger’s absent tapping, by the way Dai kept pausing, tipping his head one way, shaking it, and pushing on, by the way the older Buck lingered in his steps and kept falling farther and farther behind, disheartened.They rounded a corner and spotted a small cluster of Skitters ahead, once more blocking their path, and that seemed to be the last stone dropping in the water, when a sound like thunder rumbled through the area, and through each of the four sturdy fighters’ chests. The Skitters scattered away towards the center of their perimeter and Hal let out a ‘whoop’ of excitement, releasing all the fears and frustrations he’d been building up their entire futile trek in that one almighty shout.“They brought it down,” he cried, “Someone brought it down.”Dai gave a short, acknowledging nod, and instructed them all to, “Pull back. We need to get to the first checkpoint.”Most of the enemy was descending on its downed base, so getting out was easy. They’d left their vehicle on the outskirts of the industrial city. The drive to the first checkpoint was mostly filled with excited chatter, Dai the only one who remained silent behind the wheel, as the three other fighters debated about which bomb squad made it through and how many kills each of them made in their own attempts to get into the warehouse.A few hours later, they found the 2nd Mass safe and sound at the first check point, the civilians already working at getting things settled down for the night. When they entered the campgrounds, a cheer broke out, and they stoically received it, weaving through towards the captain’s tent. They learned they were the second squad to check in; Sam’s had been first, arriving in time to help hustle the 2nd Mass civilians the rest of the way to the first checkpoint.Prudence had already reported in via shortwave radio transmission. She’d picked up Ben, a bit banged up but still in one piece, and they would be at the checkpoint in twenty more minutes. The entire 2nd Mass seemed abuzz with a tingling excitement. They were victorious that day, they had won, and they’re tentative existence would continue.Then the last units arrived and the excitement quickly dissipated.From Riley’s bomb squad, all that remained was Minus, as he described with tear-filled eyes Ulrich falling behind in their escape from the warehouse and Riley turning back to retrieve him and gunned down for his effort, and wailing that he too would have died in a vain attempt at saving his comrades, and been happier of it, if the attack unit hadn’t arrived.Which Anthony confirmed, “It took me and Ollie to drag his sorry ass out of there.”The attack unit was noticeably short a member, too, and few in the room felt the weight of that absence more heavily than Hal, Maggie, and, of course, the captain.“Where’s Jimmy?” Weaver asked, the tremor in his tone easy to miss if a person wasn’t listening for it.Shoulders slumped, heads fell and sullen eyes turned back to a single figure huddling, hiding, in the back. Franklin studied the floor, his eyes wrapped tight around his body as he chewed his thumbnail down to the bed. Hesitantly, he stepped forward, eyes clearly haunted by the terrible memories tumbling through his mind.“There was nothing I could do,” he whimpered pathetically, “Fortune was dead and Jimmy…” he shook his head firmly, insisted once more, “There was nothing I could do. Two mechs were on him and…and...”“What the hell was Jimmy even doing down there?” Weaver roared. Anthony, Kenny, Franklin, and Minus fumbled through explanations.Then Ben arrived. He burst into the tent, took one look at all of its occupants, and before anyone could react, swiftly moved forward, and punched Franklin across the jaw. Hal rushed to grab his younger brother, pulling Ben back as Ben struggled against him and shouted, “What did you do to him, bastard? Where is he? What did you do to him?”“Get your brother out of here, Hal,” Weaver barked command.“You should be asking your Skitter friends that question, razorback,” Franklin spat out indignantly, clutching his jaw and glaring at the ground.Hal doubled back, grabbing Franklin by the shirt and tugging him up so that their eyes were locked.“It comes out that you did anything, anything, that makes you at all responsible for Jimmy not being here right now, I swear to God, I’ll be the one that puts the bullet in the back of your head,” Hal vowed darkly. He released Franklin, and shoved Ben from the tent.Weaver put aside his own heartache at the loss, listening to the reports as they came in. The tower had been completely destroyed, and most of the enemy troops located there went with it. The warehouse was only partially downed, but the Skitters seemed to be pulling back from it, retreating northward. The area would be cleared of enemy troops within the next few hours. It was a relief; they could possibly push on to the next location without too much hassle. When Franklin finished his account of what happened in the warehouse; Fortune’s untimely death, Jimmy pinned between two mechs and a small army of Skitters with not a chance in the world, and his own dare-deviled escape, Weaver finally asked, “So who did bring that warehouse down?”Looks were exchanged amongst the ragtag assembly of fighters.“You know we couldn’t get through,” Sam supplied bitterly, “It was too hot on our end, and when Pope decided to attempt abandoning us, we had no choice but to retreat.” “We were going around the long way, still searching for a way through to the warehouse when it fell,” Dai explained.Minus shook his head, tears still falling down his cheeks and shaking off his chin, “Fortune had our detonator…so maybe…?”The attention was on Franklin again, as he vehemently denied the possibility.“We were cut off from the detonator where Fortune dropped it, mechs and Skitters blocked the path.”But Weaver was wandering a few steps away from his fighters, listening to their musings, stroking his chin, lost in a strange, hopeful thought as a faraway smile warmed his features.“Good man, Jimmy,” he said in a low mutter, then turned back to the group and stated firmly, “Hell of a fighter, that kid.”“There’s no way,” Franklin argued, suddenly hot in the face, “It couldn’t have been him. He never could’ve gotten to that detonator switch.”“Someone brought that building down,” Weaver bellowed reply, “Now I got a room full of fighters who say it wasn’t them, and one fighter unaccounted for that you’re saying it couldn’t have been, what am I to believe? That God himself reached out and knocked that building down when he hasn’t done a damned thing to help us in this war yet?”“He was trapped,” Franklin petulantly persisted, “One move and he was dead.”“But he wasn’t dead last you saw him,” Weaver reasoned, then grinning somewhat maniacally, proclaimed, “And we can’t rule him out as dead yet. Sam, we need to start organizing search parties for the morning. Those Skitters pulling back gave us time, we can-”“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do that,” Samson interjected. Weaver reeled on the other man, his brow quirked, his mouth agape.“What was that?” he demanded. Samson cleared his throat and lowered his head.“Going back, spending time, just to search for one lost fighter that is in all likelihood dead puts the entire 2nd Mass at risk,” Samson explained.“Our numbers are low, Sam, unless you’ve forgotten. Losing one fighter, for us, is the equivalent of ten,” Weaver bit out.“Regardless, sir, I don’t think you should be the one making this decision,” Samson persisted. He gave Weaver a meaningful look. A silence fell like a blanket over the tent. Weaver took a few, calming breaths, then dropped his eyes.“Fine,” he muttered, and announced, “Gather all of the 2nd Mass. We’ll let them decide.”It took a bit of time gathering everyone together, sitting them all outside. Weaver stood in the center of the crowd, and while there were many of them, when he spoke his voice carried through the group.“Congratulations, 2nd Mass, we are alive. Our half-cocked plan was a success, and tonight we can walk away with a small but certain victory. Of course, as with all victories, this one came with a price.”Ben sat beside Hal, scowling at the muddy ground, arms wrapped around himself and numb of all emotion. He listened to Weaver speak, but didn’t really hear.“We lost a few very good fighters today. Riley was a good leader, made solid choices and never believed in leaving a man behind. He encouraged the men that walked beside him to fight with honor, valor, courage and he will never be forgotten as I know you will all continue to uphold those values he held most dear. “Fortune was a spitfire of a woman. She never backed down from a fight; never let anyone tell her she couldn’t do it, that she was too weak, or too vulnerable. She would cry in front of you than dare you to call her on it. Strong, I didn’t know strength until I met Fortune. God rest her soul and God forgive us for sending her to him so soon, I can only imagine the grief that woman is giving him.“Ulrich was young, yet to fully prove himself, but eager. He always followed orders without question and with the brightest smile on his face, you’d have forgotten we were in the middle of a war to hear the jokes he told. He was a sweet kid and a good man and he will be missed.”Weaver put his hands on his hips, lowered his head as he said the next name, “Jimmy…”Ben felt a squeeze on his heart, his throat clenched. He couldn’t listen to this. Hal put a hand on his shoulder; it rested heavy there, more a burden than the comfort it was meant to be.“Today we lost Jimmy as well. But…but he might not be lost to us forever.”Ben eyes darted up to Weaver, surprised at the smirk on the old man’s face.“There is a hope…a possibility so slim it could almost be missed, that he is out there somewhere.”Ben was sure his heart would burst then and there. Hal was squeezing his shoulder so tight, partly from his own shock, partly to hold his younger brother in place, that it was almost painful the way his fingers bit into flesh.“Jimmy is the one that brought down that warehouse. There seems to be some contention about this, but in my mind there is no doubt that it was him. He was the only one there, the only one in the right place, the right time, that knew what needed to be done, and that could have done it. And if he brought down that warehouse, well, he had to be alive to do it.”Weaver hooked his thumbs through his trouser belt loops and tilted his head back to gaze at the sky.“I believe that if Jimmy found the chance to take down that warehouse, then there’s a possibility he found the chance to survive it altogether, and that even now as we speak he may still be alive.”Ben drew in a deep, shuddering breath. He closed his eyes, tried to still his rapidly beating heart. It hurt too much to even let himself think it, that there might be a chance. Weaver cleared his throat, and ducked his head down.“Now, it’s been brought to my attention on a number of occasions by a number of different people that I might have a bias when it comes to this particular fighter. I won’t lie,” Weaver brought his gaze up to look out at all the faces of the 2nd Mass, “It’s true. I like the kid. I see a bit of myself in him. Same as I see a bit of all of you in him. He is worn, and rundown, he’s been dragged through the mud, been kicked, been beaten. He has been hit with just about everything this universe has had the cruel wherewithal to throw at him. Yet, he gets back up, he dusts himself off, he keeps on fighting. He is persistent. He is one tough kid and I will be damned if that is not a person I cannot help but like.”Weaver sighed.“I think there’s a chance he’s out there and I want to look for him. But it ain’t up to me; it cannot be up to me, because like I said, I have a bit of a bias in this, and that ain’t fair to all of you good folks. So here is the situation, the Skitters have pulled back for now, which gives us a small window of opportunity to find Jimmy and confirm his status once and for all. However, staying and searching instead of heading out tomorrow morning to the next checkpoint as planned puts us all at risk. It increases the likelihood that the Skitters will find us and come down on us in full force.“The decision is yours, 2nd Mass. I am asking for a couple days of searching, maybe three at most but that is pushing it. Maybe we won’t have to search long, or maybe not at all, maybe tonight he’ll find his way back to us…I don’t know. I understand if all of you are against waiting, against searching, hell, it’s the more reasonable choice, his is just one life weighed against the lives of many. But now is your chance to let your opinion be heard. If you are against it, if you think we should leave as planned tomorrow morning, then please stay seated. And if you are for staying, if you are for waiting, if you think that the risk is not too high for one, small fighter, then please, I ask of you, stand up now.”Ben moved automatically to stand, Hal starting up beside him but they both hesitated momentarily, stunned, as one by one, people around them rose to their feet until there was not a single person sitting in that crowd of people. Weaver nodded to himself, smiling at the center, and trying to contain his tears of pride. He glanced at Samson on the edge of the group, having been one of the first to stand, and Samson nodded respectfully to Weaver.“Alright, 2nd Mass, let’s call it a night. Tomorrow, we’ll sort out the search parties and, by God’s good grace, bring Jimmy home.”
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Ryan always got the best pot. It was his older sister’s connection, her boyfriend, and he always got it for dirt cheap. It was this deep green color, still looked a bit moist, and its smell was rank. He sat on the ground layering the tiny leaf bits into a sheet of cigarette paper, absently pushing the pale blond strands out of his face as he worked.Somewhere near the backside of the front bleachers, rotund Gary on watch called out, “We got incoming.” He crawled back towards the small group of four boys variously sitting and standing and announced gleefully, “Looks like Jamie Hassler and Laurel Chin.”“Nice,” Kevin smirked, readjusting his silver-rimmed glasses over his long nose and putting a cigarette to his lips. He paced a few times back and forth, deep in consideration, then he plucked the cigarette up between two fingers and stated thoughtfully, “I’m thinking pink. A nice soft pink on Jamie. And something…black on Laurel.”“No way, dude,” Lenny said from his place on the ground beside Ryan, “Something lacey…and red on Jamie, floral on Laurel.”The boys all snickered at the rhyme.“Laurel is yellow polka dots, Jamie is definitely black,” Gary decided.“Nothing on both,” Ryan piped up, still concentrated on packing the joint.“You always say nothing,” Kevin noted, sounding almost put out about it.“And one of these days, I’m going to be right,” Ryan reasoned, nonchalant, “And what a beautiful day that’ll be, right boys?” He expertly lifted the paper filled to its brim with green leaves and carefully ran his tongue along its outer edge to dampen it just slightly, asking,” What about you, James?”James looked up from where he sat on the ground absently twirling a cigarette in his fingers, knees pulled up and arms propped across them.“I’m gonna say flowers on Laurel too,” he replied quietly, pondered a moment then said, “And for Jamie…I’ll go with white.”The bleachers creaked overhead as the two girls ascended, unaware of the danger that lurked below. Ryan sealed the joint and passed it to eager Lenny beside him along with an orange zippo lighter. Gary grinned.“My turn to verify,” he declared eagerly.“According to you it’s always your turn,” Kevin muttered, lighting his cigarette, “I’m coming with you this time. Anyone else want to join?”The three other boys gave some negative response or another and Kevin shrugged nonplussed.“Well, suit yourselves, fags,” he teased, donning a decent vocal imitation of Curly Howard. He and Gary hastily maneuvered through the bleachers towards where the girls were standing, as the other three boys rolled their eyes and shook their heads unimpressed at his comment.Lenny lit the joint and took a long drawl, then passed it back to Ryan who took a hit of his own, and finally handed it off to James, who relit the joint, took a hit, two, passed the joint back and used the lighter to ignite his cigarette, then handed that over as well. “Oh my God, who the hell is down there?” one of the girls squealed, from the sounds of it Laurel.“You little pervs,” the other girl screeched, and there was a rumble overhead as the girls took off running. Gary and Kevin returned in a rush, laughing uproariously and gasping for breath. “Results, boys?” Ryan pressed, lighting up the joint for another toke and eying them over the flame. “Laurel had little stars,” Gary exclaimed between heaving breaths, “No points for her. And Jamie was…drumroll please…cotton white.” He pointed at James, who lifted his free hand up to accept a congratulatory slap from Kevin’s palm as the other boy walked past. “Jesus Christ, man, what does that put you at? Like five this week?” Lenny teased, “You’re like the panty whisperer.”“Fuck you,” James muttered, scowling, and taking a drag of his cigarette, leaving it to rest on his lip as he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a crisply folded piece of paper, his name written across its front in delicate, curly-cue lettering. He inspected it, turning it over a few times, and pulled the cigarette from his mouth.“Panty whisperer,” Gary repeated, his eyes glazed over, a strange smile on his face, “How awesome would that be if you could really whisper to panties…could you guys just imagine?”“What the hell, dude? Would you sniff ‘em, too?” Lenny jeered and Kevin burst into giggles at the thought.“What is that?” Ryan asked, interestedly eyeing the paper in James’s hand. “I don’t know. It was in my locker this morning,” James shrugged, answering around a billow of smoke rising from his mouth. Kevin snuck round then and suddenly snatched the paper from James’s hands and James jumped to his feet immediately, nearly dropping his cigarette in the action, and lunged towards Kevin in attempt to get the paper back. A game of keep away ensued.“Oh shit, James got a love letter,” Kevin teased, the other boys peeking interestedly and chuckling at the exchange.“Give it back, man, I haven’t even looked at it yet,” James growled, Kevin held him back with a hand on his chest, his other hand stretching the paper far away while working at unfurling it. Ryan moved to help hold James and Kevin waggled the paper to fully spread it open, his eyes scanning the neatly written cursive letters inside.“Holy shit, listen to this you guys…” Kevin snickered, reading in a dramatic, high-pitched tone, “Dear James…you have the most beautiful blue eyes.”Gary took the joint from Lenny and lit it, grinning as his eyes darted back and forth amongst the three boys standing overhead, fighting over a piece of paper.“Kevin, seriously, that’s not funny,” James snapped, fighting against Ryan to get to the other boy.“James, seriously, that’s what it says,” Kevin replied, “Oh, and it gets better…’when you smile it melts my heart’…oh, shit, someone’s got an admirer.”The other boys made cooing noises and a hot blush crept into the edges of James’s face. “Cut it out, man,” James seethed, “Just give it back.”But Kevin kept reading, “I think you’re the sweetest boy in all of school. Do you want to be my boyfriend, circle yes or no.”“Circle yes or no? Who the fuck uses that in the real world?” Lenny complained, snatching the joint back from Gary.“It’s signed,” Kevin interrupted authoritatively, “X-O-X-O…”“…Peter Wagner,” Ryan put in teasingly.“Oh, go fuck yourself,” James scoffed, smacking the other boy hard on the shoulder, as their friends all snickered at the thought of the scrawny, effeminate boy they shared biology class with. Kevin’s face fell when he scanned the last line and he darted a look to Lenny on the ground.“It’s signed Amber Szinsky,” Kevin said, straight-faced. All the boys fell silent and James stopped fighting for the note. Lenny’s eyes darted up, brows perked, mouth hung open slightly.“No way,” he challenged, jumping to his feet and snatching the paper out of Kevin’s hands, skimming it quickly. James took a small step back, studying the tall, slender, dark featured boy closely for his reaction. Lenny had been obsessed with Amber since the fourth grade. Lenny turned his head suddenly to gape at James. “Dude, you have to circle yes.”“What?” James replied, stunned, brow furrowing together. “You have to,” Lenny persisted, “It’s Amber Szinsky. She’s the captain of the cheer squad and I heard she went to third base with Paul Townie. I got some of the details from Rudy Goldman, she blew Paul’s mind, dude. I’m not even joking. James, you got to climb that mountain and tell me what it’s like on top.”James shrugged nonchalant again. He moved forward to take the note from the other boy, as he took another drawl from his cigarette, letting the smoke out in small rings.“I don’t know, man, I have to think about it,” James answered, sitting on the ground again beside Gary and taking the joint from him for a quick toke.“What are you retarded?” Lenny demanded, “What the hell is there to think about? You take a pen, you circle yes, you drop the note in her locker. Say hello to third base. It’s that easy.”“Man, Amber Szinsky is fucking stacked,” Kevin noted, taking the joint from James and relighting it again, pulling the smoke hard into his lungs, “Her tits are almost as perky as her.”“And she wears lace panties,” Gary added, “Lace…in every glorious color of the rainbow.”“You’re a sick man, Gary,” Ryan remarked.“So what’s it gonna be, James?” Lenny demanded arms folded over his chest, glaring down his nose at James on the ground. All of the other boys had their eyes intent on James, the pressure swirled around him and pressed him to the ground. After a few seconds ticked by, James rolled his eyes and smirked. “Fine. Give me a pen,” he muttered, and the other boys made excited noises of approval. Kevin handed James the requested item and James messily circled the ‘yes’, refolding the paper and shoving it in his pocket as Ryan took a hit off the joint and Lenny waited impatiently for it. Gary went to check for more unsuspecting girls to look up the skirts of, but wasn’t gone long, returning pale and shaken.“Keegan…” he choked out, gasping for air. The boys all exchanged panicked looks. They scrambled to put out their cigarettes, and clear the air. Ryan shoved his stash in his backpack along with the stubbed out joint, then retrieved a can of aerosol spray and spritzed it thickly over the boys just as old Miss Keegan’s footsteps stopped on the edge of the bleachers.“Who’s back there? Come out, right now. Do not make me come in there.”All five boys shuffled out; heads hung low. They lined up outside the bleachers. “Mister Blakely, Mister Heinz, Mister Gunther, Mister Boland, and Mister Durnt,” she ticked them each off as they appeared out of the bleachers, then demanded of them all, “Shouldn’t you boys be in class?”They remained silent, studying the ground and attempting to appear otherwise innocent of any misdeeds beyond ditching their fifth period. Miss Keegan looked them over with her hands on her hips; her chapped, red stained lips pressed thinly together, her wrinkled eyes cascaded into themselves, forming a deeply creviced scowl.“Why am I not surprised?” she sighed, then barked, “Mister Heinz, that hat is out of dress code. And Mister Boland, you are not in full uniform. Where is your tie?”Kevin tugged his beanie off, mussing his thick black curls underneath and James pulled the aforementioned garment out of his pocket and begrudgingly slipped it around his neck, fumbling to wind it into the traditional Windsor knot.“Tell me, what do you boys hope to do with your lives? What kind of future do you see for yourselves?”The five shifted uncomfortably, a few looked amongst themselves, but no one said a word. Miss Keegan always let them off with a warning so long as they just remained quiet and appeared adequately ashamed of themselves. Miss Keegan tapped her foot and folded her arms over her chest.“Or were you all just hoping to leech off your parents for the rest of your lives?” Miss Keegan sighed, shook her head and dropped her eyes from them, “There will come a time when each of you boys will be expected to prove your worth in this world and, I am sorry to say, that at this rate I do not expect any of you to amount to much of anything. I want you all to think on that, and to think hard about where exactly you want to be in the next five…ten years and whether or not the choices you’re making now are really, truly, going to get you there. Now go to class, boys.”The boys turned to shuffle away, careful to keep their heads low and their faces solemn.“One of these days, you’ll miss something important skipping lessons, something you may need later in life…” Miss Keegan kept calling at their backs and then suddenly she shouted, “All of you stop right there.”They all abruptly halted, slowly turning to look curiously back at the old woman, and their stomachs dropped to the floor. She was staring at the bleachers; a small stream of smoke flitting up from below. The boys exchanged quizzical glares, ‘who the hell forgot to put out their cigarette?’“You all stay right there,” Miss Keegan commanded. She disappeared beneath the bleachers then returned with the ‘smoking gun’ held daintily between her index finger and thumb, keeping it far from her body. She glared at them all, an expression that exemplified all her spoken of disappointments in each of them, “Headmaster’s office, right now.” She narrowed her eyes on Ryan, now fidgeting noticeably with his backpack, and informed them all, “And yes, we will be doing searches of all your persons.”An hour and a half later, James hurried after his father, hands in his pockets and head hung low. His father stormed from the school building, and across the parking lot, ranting the entire way.“You are unbelievable. I don’t understand your desperate need to be this worthless scumbag, I really don’t, but of course you choose the week your mother is at nana’s to pull a stunt like this,” James’s father snarled, “So, of course, I have to come down here and talk to the school about my idiot son and his inevitable screw-ups. I was in a meeting with three of the bank’s top investors, do you have any idea how it makes me look when I get a call saying I need to come pick up my son, he’s been caught with marijuana? Marijuana? For Christ’s sake!”James muttered under his breath and his father stopped, wheeling round to pin him with a dangerous look.“What was that?”James swallowed hard, glancing around his surroundings. There were a couple older women walking across the street, they lingered, their eyes watching curiously the scene unfold in the school parking lot. Emboldened by their presence, James peeked up into his father’s eyes and cleared his throat.“I said…it doesn’t…by any chance…make you look like an asshole, does it?” James said smartly, darting looks at his father up through his lashes. Something hot and white flashed over the old man’s eyes.“You little…” he seethed, his hand coming up for the strike. James instinctively flinched away, his eyes squeezing shut, but it never came. His father caught sight of the women across the street. He reeled in his rage, and instead, jerked James forward by the bicep, a bolt of pain shocking through the young boy’s arm by the action, and he hissed in his son’s ear, warm breath berating the delicate skin there, “Get in the car,” then he pushed James, stumbling, towards their black BMW.Jimmy peeled his eyes open. He attempted to draw in air, his lungs stinging from the effort, but ended up with a mouthful of dust and debris, and his body convulsed painfully with hacking coughs. Everything hurt and there was a loud ringing in his ears, it drowned out any other possible sounds. He grimaced, pulling himself up to sitting as best he could, still wracked with coughs whilst wheezing and gasping for air. He tried to remember where he was and what he was doing there, and things came back to him in slow, fuzzy images.Moving took effort and a lot more thought than Jimmy seemed capable of that moment. Everything hurt. His vision came back to him in parts. First light, blinding and sharp. Then color, contrasting, casting glaring starbursts across his eyes, and then the colors and lights took form and suddenly he could see the sky, it was late afternoon if the sunlight were any indication, and he could see the layers of debris that lay all around and blanketed him.Eventually, Jimmy managed to sit up, knocking off chunks of wood and mortar. He inspected himself, but through the clinging white dust and thick, matted blood coating his body, it was difficult to assess his condition. His left arm throbbed at the shoulder; there was a knot at the base of his neck. His right leg had a gash across the thigh, it was bleeding profusely, and when he tested weight on it, a feeling electric shot through him. He hissed at the pain. His head felt heavy and he was dizzy. His throat and mouth were dry. His entire backside felt like one giant bruise, and he was certain if he could take a look at it, there would be discoloration to match.Alive, Jimmy decided. He was definitely alive. Hell wouldn’t even be this painful.Jimmy pulled himself to his feet, keeping his weight carefully leaned to the left. He took in his surroundings: the warehouse basement, what little was left of the warehouse draped overhead. Dead and broken things lay scattered all around him. He turned and his heart jumped into his throat, a Skitter stood several paces away and he reacted on instinct, shuffling hastily behind the nearest coverage, leaning back against the chunk of cement he’d chosen and swallowing dry air. After a moment, his heart jackhammering away in his chest, he took a peek.The Skitter didn’t move. Catching his breath and smudging the dust across his face, Jimmy stepped back out and tentatively approached the Skitter, then nearly collapsed in relief. The thing was dead, like all the others that were in pieces strewn all about. It was impaled up through its underside with a stretch of rebar.“Fuck…” Jimmy ran his hand over his face and through his hair, ready to burst into tears from the sensory overload.“James.”Jimmy spun round slowly; his focus was taking its time readjusting to sudden movements. He met those large blue eyes, clear as the summer sky, and she smiled cutely up at him, her hands folded neatly behind her back. She looked the same as last he remembered her, except she hadn’t worn that paisley dress since she was five, and she had stopped wearing her hair in those curled pigtails, pink ribbon laced through them, when Jimmy had told her they made her look like a baby.“Cass…?”“You’ve really made a mess this time, James,” she steadily informed him, “Everyone is going to be so mad.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It wasn’t easy climbing out of the warehouse. While the staircase was still mostly intact, getting to it involved clambering over dead Skitter bodies, mech parts, shifting and unstable debris, and with injuries added to that maze of macabre, Jimmy ended up spending a good hour maneuvering through it all. By the time he finally made it to the staircase, he wasn’t sure he had the energy to climb it. Regardless, he caught his breath and started staggering up.At the top, Jimmy collapsed to his knees. The warehouse was little more than a skeletal frame now, its wall and roof dangling from pillars and rafters, scattered out in the streets, and piled at the bottom of the basement. The obstruction inside the warehouse that Jimmy had seen was completely gone. So were all the Skitters.The silence of the industrial area enclosed on Jimmy, darkening every corner of his mind and heart.There were no signs of the 2nd Mass units in the area. There wouldn’t be. Hours had passed since the warehouse went down, and they would all be long gone to the first checkpoint.“They left without you,” Cass said certainly, standing over Jimmy. She put a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t feel its weight, just the cool breeze of the settling evening air. “They’re all gone now. They’re never coming back. You’re all alone.”Jimmy shook his head, tears that had started to form in his eyes as he’d made his way out of the warehouse basement, now flowed freely down his cheeks and he buried his face in his hands.“This is exactly the way it should be. You know that,” Cass assured Jimmy, “You were just weighing them down, a burden on their shoulders. You were never meant to be a fighter, taking care of others. You couldn’t take care of anyone. You couldn’t take care of yourself. You never had it in you.”Jimmy peeked up at her, his expression haunted. Cass smiled cheerily in return.“You couldn’t even take care of me.”James furiously scribbled out the words he’d just written on his loose-leaf lined paper. He leaned across his elbow and scowled. He tapped his pen on the desktop, staring at his clock, the red digital letters read: 7:57. His phone went off nearby, Rise Against ringtone screaming ‘help is on the way’ and James reached for it, briefly glanced at the name that lit the screen, Ryan Blakely, then hit ‘answer’.“Hey,” James greeted glumly, “Have you started this stupid essay for Perkin’s yet?”“We have an essay?” came the earnestly puzzled reply. “Yeah, on Frankenstein, remember?” James smirked, drawing a spiral on his paper. There was a cough on the other end of the line and then, “What’d your parents say?”“Say? Nothing,” James answered, “My dad did yell a lot, though.”Muffled laughter.“Mostly the typical stuff. I’m the world’s biggest fuck up…what was I thinking…how could I be so stupid…’this is your brain, this is your brain on drugs’ crap,” James continued, scribbling out the spiral, and then starting a quick doodle of a bird, “Yours?”“They’ll deal with it when they get back from Moscow. Which means, they’ll forget about it by the time they get back from Moscow and we’ll all go out for ice cream. So essentially, I will be rewarded for getting high.”“You’re so lucky,” James muttered, “I’m grounded for two months and I have to help my mom with that stupid church rummage sell.”“Hey, man, charity is its own reward.”“Fuck you.”“Two months is harsh though,” Ryan admitted, a strange schiffing noise came over the line as he jostled his phone, probably to sit down, “Captain Custard-butt was royally pissed I take it.”James drew an arrow through the bird complete with blood gushing out.“Yeah,” James confirmed, “He brought up the ‘M’ word again.”“Ah…menstrual cycle,” Ryan said, mock-knowingly.“Military school, you jackass,” James grumbled, biting back a chuckle.“Oh yeah. That…that would make more sense. Though I really couldn’t be sure. I mean, your dad does always seem like he’s PMSing.” James laughed at that one and Ryan snickered in return.“So…what’d he decide? Are you shipping off?” Ryan questioned when their mirth died down. There was a genuine hint of concern in his tone. James started another doodle of an embossed star.“Nah…the tuition still costs more than dealing with my bullshit,” he answered, coloring the sides of the star in dark enough to tear through the paper. “Ah…good, economical...glad to hear it,” Ryan murmured.“Yeah.”“Well, two months isn’t so bad then. I mean, bright side, at least you’re not Kevin. His parents are making him go to synagogue every day for the next five weeks. Can you imagine having to wear that stupid little hat and listen to people hock loogies all night?”“Is that really worse than watching little biddies with blue hair bitch and moan about how expensive twenty-five cents is for a used floral blouse that hasn’t seen the light of day since 1985?” James challenged.“I’ve never been to synagogue so I can’t say for certain, and Kev generally does make it sound really horrible, but I’m gonna go with ‘no’, mostly because you sound like you want me to go with ‘no’.”“They pinch my cheeks, Ryan, and not always the ones on my face,” James deadpanned.“Well, that’s just because you have a nice butt and your face kind of resembles tapioca pudding. Face it, your geriatric bait, man.”“How exactly does a face resemble tapioca pudding?”“I don’t know, look in the mirror, ask yourself that question. All I know is that, much like tapioca pudding, you have the kind of face that is good to eat when you have no teeth.”“Are you high right now?”“Possibly. I ate a brownie a little while ago and, you know, nine times out of ten in my house that means you’re going to get high but it was a risk I was willing to take for that ooey-gooey, chocolate-y goodness.”James rolled his eyes and Ryan fell quiet. The sound of James’s pen scribbling back and forth punctuated the other boy’s silence. The red numbers on the clock’s digital readout incremented with a flicker of light.“You never got to put that note in Amber Szinsky’s locker,” Ryan mentioned casually.James tentatively bit his inner cheek and glanced at the folded paper on the corner of his desk where he’d placed it after getting home from school. He tapped his pen on the desktop and scowled. Part of him had wanted to forget about it, he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to go to third base with a girl yet.“No, I didn’t,” James softly confirmed, then wondered aloud, “What do you think she talks about? Amber…I mean…”“Pom-poms and the color pink.”“I’m serious, man.”“So am I.”James started another doodle of a stick figure, shifting his phone to his other ear and propping it up with his shoulder.“I don’t know. Amber seems cool, I guess,” Ryan decided after a moment. James pursed his lips and drew another stick figure with a samurai sword attacking the first.“What makes you say that?” he questioned. There was a sound at his bedroom door and he furrowed his brow, glancing curiously to it, securely closed several feet away.“Well…first of all, she chose you over Lenny,” Ryan mumbled distractedly, most likely watching television now, “So you know she has good taste, right?”James set his pen down and rose from his chair, slowly and quietly creeping towards his door.“But then, I guess that’s not really saying much. A girl has to be a complete idiot to choose Lenny over…you know…anyone else,” Ryan continued.James put his hand on the knob, gave it a twist and quickly jerked the door open. A tiny form tumbled into the room, chestnut hair sprawling across the carpeted floor, wide blue eyes staring up into James’s own, tiny hands grasping tightly a stuffed teddy bear.“Oh, hell,” the tiny form squeaked, then barked out in a high-pitched imitation of military command speak, “Mayday, mayday, mission HQ, our position’s been compromised. Come on, Private Fluff, we got to retreat, retreat, retreat!” Then she rolled onto her feet, still holding her teddy bear close to her chest, and sprinted back through the hall, rounded the corner, and thundered down the staircase.James frowned, folding an arm over his chest and glaring the direction the tiny form and her teddy bear had run.“I’m going to have to call you back,” he grumbled.“What’s up?” Ryan questioned, interestedly.“Oh nothing. I just have to go kill an enemy insurgent,” James muttered explanation, then hung up the phone, tossed it onto his bed, and took off running down the hall, shouting, “Get back here, Cass, you are so dead! How many times do I have to tell you not to listen at my door, you little brat!”“I was gathering intel,” Cass argued, dodging a swipe from James and rushing around the kitchen table, expertly keeping it between herself and her brother, “You never know who’s a spy in this house, you never know! We have to win this war, though, we just gotta beat those damn Nazis. They killed all my brothers, every last one except you,” she gripped her hand in a fist no larger than a plum and fixed James with a wild look, “So, tell me now and tell me the damn truth, are you with me, Jimmy? Or are you with them murdering bastards!”James narrowed his eyes on her, slamming his hands angrily on the dining room table, causing it to rattle noisily.“You watched Saving Private Ryan again, didn’t you? Dammit, Cass, you know you’re not allowed to watch that movie, and now mom and dad are going to think I let you!” he growled.“No, you’re wrong! They won’t even know,” Cass whimpered, clutching her bear under her chin and shaking her head emphatically, “I’ll never tell, they can torture me all they want. Name, rank, serial number, that’s all they’ll get from me! I swear.”“They’ll know when you have nightmares because of it,” James pointed out, attempting to leap around the table and make a snatch at her, but she moved too swiftly from reach.“I don’t have nightmares,” Cass snapped, stamping her foot and pointing accusatorially at James, “You have nightmares!”“How did you even get the movie?” James demanded, then groaning loudly, “Did you climb to that top shelf again? You stupid brat! I’m gonna skin you alive!” He made another attempt at her, which she swiftly moved away from, so he dove under the table and grabbed hold of her ankle. She tripped to her knees then spun round, plopping on her bottom, and began to beat him over the head with her teddy bear.“Let me go, let me go, curse you Third Reich,” she screamed, then curled forward and sank her teeth into the side of his palm. James pulled back, surprised and hissing in pain, “Son of a – I can’t believe you just bit me, you little…”Free of his grasp, Cass jumped to her feet, ran a few paces, and spun around screeching, “Never give up! Never surrender! Death to all Nazis! Death to Hitler!” Then Cass sprinted up the stairs, James scrambling to his feet and racing after, wiggling his hand to ease the sting her teeth had left behind. She darted into her bedroom, and slammed the door shut in James’s face, clicking the lock in place. He jiggled the knob futilely, and then banged frustrated fists against her door.“God dammit, Cass, I hate you,” he shouted, pounding the door one last time for emphasis.
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Jimmy limped from the warehouse remains and down the street, holding his left arm and panting from the effort of moving. He kept waiting for a Skitter to be around the next corner, or worse, a mech, too weary to care that it would mean certain death for him but expecting it nonetheless. Part of him kept hoping he would find a member of the 2nd Mass, someone who stayed behind to report on Skitter activity. But the longer he wandered, and the more corners he passed that were completely devoid of life, the more aware he became of his solitude. He really was completely alone.Beside him Cass walked, holding his hand, a phantom touch he never truly felt. She was humming a lullaby, the one about the horse carriage.“Where are we going, James?” she finally asked.“I have to get back to the 2nd Mass,” he mumbled reply, mainly because talking, even if it was with a hallucination, somehow made him feel a little better, “The first checkpoint was southwest of here. If I can find the highway, I can follow it there and maybe keep going to meet up with them at the second checkpoint.”“It’s not gonna work,” she told him.“It has to,” he whispered, “I don’t have any other choice.”“It’s too far away. You’ll never make it,” she argued. She grinned up at him, her eyes lighting ecstatic, “Just stay here with me. We’ll play a game!”“I can’t, Cass,” Jimmy moaned, “I have to get back. The 2nd Mass needs me.”“No, they don’t,” Cass retorted, stamping her foot and whining, “They left you behind, James. Why would they leave you behind if they needed you? That’s just stupid!”Jimmy, slowed to a stop, shut his eyes and gasped for air, fighting back the fresh tears.“That’s not true…” he started, but his words faltered, weak with his dampened spirits.“Isn’t it, though? You left me behind because you didn’t need me,” Cass pointed out, then grinning cheerfully and swinging their joined hands back and forth, she proclaimed, “Worthless things get left behind. Things that are useless. Things that are broken. Things that make a mess and cause trouble. Like I was to you. Like you are to them. Worthless, useless, broken. Nobody needs you, James, nobody wants you. You know that.” Gary and Kevin leaned over the bridge, attempting to see who could spit the farthest into the river below. Ryan leaned against the bridge railing, punching buttons on his cell phone, his brow furrowed. He glanced up at the sound of approaching footsteps, and grinned at James, then looked puzzled at the little girl clutching his hand. Gary and Kevin paused to look as well. “My mom had errands to run,” James muttered explanation, gesturing to his sister, “I have to watch her for the next few hours.” “Nice. Real nice. What do we look like? The fucking Babysitters’ Club?” Kevin griped. “Hey, man, watch your mouth,” Gary complained, smacking Kevin’s shoulder lightly, then nodded to the gaping Cass, “You shouldn’t say those kinds of words in front of little kids. It’s okay with me that you had to bring her, James, I’m great with kids. They love me. I baby-sit my younger cousins all the time, they’re four and five. We watch Sesame Street and eat ice cream all day.” “Holy Stinky Gym Socks, fatman, no wonder you’ve got these jelly rolls,” Kevin teased, pinching Gary’s side, and the other boy pulled away, slapping at his hands, “And on top of that, you’re passing your flatulent ways on to the next generation? Honestly, why would anyone with half-a-brain leave their progeny in your care?” “Hey, shut up! I’m not fat; I’m just big-boned…” Ryan approached James and held out a palm at eye level to the little girl, “Hey shorty, give me some skin.” “Very big-boned.” Eagerly, Cass smacked the outstretched hand with her own, grinning toothily up at James, as Ryan ruffled her hair. “Where’s Lenny?” James questioned, ignoring all comments from the Peanut Gallery and skimming the area for their missing friend. Ryan shrugged. “Last minute family bonding trip. His mom woke up with the sudden desire to see her folks, so they’re en route to Salem as we speak. He said he was literally packing his overnight bag as they shoved him out the door,” Ryan explained. “Typical,” James muttered, “That’s the third time this month. Do his parents even know the word ‘plan’?” “They have five kids and one on the way, so that’s an obvious ‘no’,” Ryan replied, with a self-satisfied smirk. “Hey, Ry-ry-ry-ry-ry,” Cass cried desperately, tugging the boy’s shirt in time to her chant. Ryan leaned forward to look at the girl and replied in kind, “Hey, what-what-what-what-what?” “Me and Jimmy rode the bus to get here,” Cass excitedly announced. “Is that right, Jimmy?” Ryan questioned her brother. “Don’t call me that,” James mutter, rolling his eyes.Cass’s eyes went wide and her voice became an exaggerated whisper, as though she were spilling a great secret, “We sat in the back and there was this man in the seat in front of us and he was like as big as like five people! And he smelled like cabbage!” “That is fascinating,” Ryan told Cass, “Did you ask him if he had any friends who smelled of corned beef?” Cass dropped her mouth in surprise, then it formed a delighted smile. “No,” she giggled, “Why would I ask him that?” “Well, then they’d be Corned Beef and Cabbage,” Ryan explained, “Like a team of superheroes or like those Veggie Tales characters. Corned Beef, Cabbage, and then you would need Potatoes, maybe some carrots…Barley and Hops, of course…and now you’ve got an Irish feast.” Cass didn’t look convinced. She peeked up curiously at James. He rolled his eyes. “Why would you tell her that, man?” James asked Ryan, peevishly. “Chill out, Jimmy, she doesn’t get it, and she thinks it’s funny,” Ryan answered easily, hands in his pockets, and grinning cheerfully down at Cass. “I said don’t call me that. You know I hate it,” James muttered. “You are funny, Ry-ry,” Cass informed Ryan earnestly. “See? It’s been decided. I’m funny,” Ryan arched a brow at James. James rolled his eyes. “Are we gonna get going anytime soon, ladies?” Kevin piped up, “I smell circus peanuts, and you know how much I love circus peanuts.” “Why did he say ‘ladies’, Jimmy? Ladies are girls and you’re all boys,” Cass questioned. “I’m more of a cotton candy man, myself,” Gary commented. “Just ignore and never repeat anything that guy says, ever, Cass,” James replied. “Are you sure you’re not both?” Kevin chirped to Gary, “’Cause you’re big enough to be both.” The boys started to trek towards downtown, where the annual circus had set up. Kevin and Gary took the lead, falling into a conversation about some cartoon they’d watched the night before. James and Ryan brought up the rear with Cass between them still clutching her brother’s hand. “Looks like little Casablanca here is our substitute Lenny for the day,” Ryan noted wistfully, patting the girl’s head and she glanced curiously up at him, her mouth pursed together, her brow quirked. “What’s a Casablanca?” she wondered. “It’s a city,” James answered distractedly, “This is so lame. My mom knew I had plans today. I can’t believe she’s making me drag my baby sister around with me.” “I’m not a baby!” “It’s not so bad,” Ryan retorted, “I mean we don’t care that she’s here. Even Kevin. He’s just being his usual obnoxious self; he doesn’t really mind her. And I love hanging out with Cass. She’s a cool kid.” “Hey, Ry-ry, my daddy said you’re a ‘degenerative punk’, what does that mean?” “It means I’m awesome,” Ryan said, then to James, “Don’t stress it, man.” “He also said that you’re a ‘bad influence’ on Jimmy, what does that mean?” “Cass, shut up,” James snapped. He turned her around and leaned down to look meaningfully into her eyes, promising her, “If you annoy me too much today, I will give you to the circus.” Cass swallowed hard, her eyes shimmering wide. The other boys averted their gazes and shuffled uncomfortably. Then James straightened and they continued. For an hour and a half, things at the circus went well. They rode the rides, ate the circus food – Gary eating more than double what the other boys ate, saw a few of the sideshow acts and then they came up to the Whirl-A-Majig, a ride that comprised of swings spinning outward from a spinning top that rose high into the air. The boys eagerly ran to the line, except Gary who clutched his stomach, staring greenly up at the spinning top, and Cass who dug her heels into the ground and brought her brother to a sharp halt by his hand. James looked back at Cass questioning and agitated. She shook her head furiously, staring fearful up at the ride spinning overhead. James turned exasperated to Gary. “Will you watch her for a minute?” he pleaded. Gary shrugged, “Sure.”James left Cass on a nearby bench, Gary sitting next to her. With Kevin and Ryan, he got in line for the ride. Two minutes in the air later, James and the other two boys stumbled back to the bench, laughing and coming down from their adrenaline high, then James looked to the bench and his stomach dropped to the floor. It was empty. He found Gary returning from a nearby vendor with a large soda in one hand and a bag of cotton candy in the other.“What the hell, man? Where’s my sister?” James demanded. Gary glanced confused to the bench, stuttering around a mouthful of pink sugary fluff, “She was right there…” James’s face contorted from confusion to anger to dread. He took off running around the area shouting his sister’s name. Ryan shook his head at Gary before following after and Kevin grabbed some of the cotton candy from Gary’s bag, shoving it in his mouth, and muttered, “You idiot.” “I asked if she wanted popcorn!” Gary called after. Another hour passed as the boys ran around the park searching for the missing girl but to no avail. They wandered back towards the bench, James in full blown panic mode and the others attempting to calm him. “My mom is gonna kill me. I was gone for two fucking minutes, and now I’m dead,” James ranted, running his hands through his hair. “It’s okay, man. We’ll alert security,” Ryan said, a hand on James’s shoulder, “They’ll know what to do.” “Yeah, it’s not like a clown just came and walked off with her or anything,” Kevin put in. He received dark looks from all the other boys and shrugged sheepishly, “Okay, maybe it could be just like that…” “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ryan hissed at Kevin, then back to James, “It’s gonna be okay, we’ll find her.” They all came to a dead stop when the bench was in sight. A small crowd had gathered and there sitting on the bench was Cass, sobbing uncontrollably, a circus worker attempting desperately to console her. “Sweetheart, it’ll be okay, we’ll find your family, okay. Just tell me your name, sweetie, and we can announce it over the PA,” the worker was saying. “He…he…he left me,” Cass wailed, “It doesn’t matter! My brother…he…he left. He said he would…I tried so hard…so hard to be good and to…to…” She sniffled loudly, her face twisted with tears and sorrow, “But he left me and he’s never coming back! He left me…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I tried…” “Way to go, brother-dearest,” Kevin murmured to James. Ryan punched Kevin’s arm, hissing, “Shut the fuck up man.”James closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face, the guilt weighing in his stomach and overshadowing his relief.“Cass,” he called, and she raised her tear-filled eyes to look at him. A heartbeat passed as she stared disbelieving, then she jumped up and sprinted from the bench, tossing herself at him and burying her face in his stomach.“I’m so sorry, Jimmy, I’ll be good from now on, I promise, please don’t ever leave me again, please, I’m sorry,” she sobbed. James rest a hand on Cass’s head, and in that moment wondered if there could be a worse feeling in the world.Twenty, maybe thirty minutes of staggered walking later, Jimmy slowed to a stop, spitting a clot of blood from his mouth. The sky overhead had blistered a creamy orange color. He would be out of daylight in another couple hours. In the middle of the street there was a truck not upended and aside from a large chunk missing off its rear, in otherwise good condition. He eyed it wretchedly. It was almost too much to hope.Well, Jimmy sighed; he was the fucking ‘Ghost of Dorchester’, wasn’t he? All he had was hope.
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James didn’t need to see to know his mother was leaned against the kitchen counter, toying with the charm at the end of her necklace, holding it between her teeth, a nervous habit. She held the cordless to her ear, listening intently, her brow furrowed, her mouth pressed into a tight frown. She had been putting away the food when the call came and now the leftovers were abandoned, fruit and veggie trays growing warm. James stood against the wall outside the kitchen, listening to the one sided conversation his mother was having, as the party carried on outside.“…no, I understand,” she murmured, weary and defeated, the agitation in her tone barely detectable, “No, I get it, John. Something came up with the Faulkner account, it only makes sense that you be the one to stay and sort it out, it is your baby, after all.”She paused, sighed, tapped her foot a couple times.“I’m not arguing with you, I wasn’t getting snippy, I’m just saying…no, no, it’s only his birthday; he’ll have another one in a year.”James folded his arms over his chest, scowled down the hall towards the living room. He could hear some people shuffling into the house from the backyard, children laughing and someone running into the guest bathroom. There was no one there that James really knew, all people his parents invited, friends of the family and their children, and a handful of kids from school that he never really talked to but they were ‘parent-approved’, so they made the guest list.“…yes, the balloons came. No, they were nice…they were the wrong number, John,” his mother mumbled, she shuffled across the floor and there was a sound of the refrigerator opening, “He’s thirteen today, not eleven.”The refrigerator door shut with a bit more force than necessary and James flinched at the sound.“No, I am not trying to start an argument,” she whispered, low and insistent, “No, I’m not angry. I understand you need to work, I understand that, John. No, I am not. Yes, I gave him the present...”James scowled, thought of the large box wrapped in colorful Transformers gift-paper, it had ‘From Dad’ written in calligraphy on a label attached to the abundance of curled metallic colored ribbons on top, though it was more likely ‘From Dad’s Secretary’. He hadn’t opened it yet. Didn’t plan on it. Ever.“Yeah…he loved it. It was his favorite,” his mother lied. She held a phone away from her mouth and muttered something, then took a deep breath and said, “Yes. I’ll tell him. Alright…I love you too.”James wandered into the living room, passed a huddle of children he couldn’t remember the names of sitting on the couch playing a video game, and slipped outside. Sitting around the patio table were all the adults, sipping beers or margaritas, chatting and laughing uproariously. Most of the children were in the pool, splashing and, also, laughing uproariously. Everyone was laughing, like it was all just one big joke. He ducked into the old wooden playhouse at the far edge of the backyard and found Cass there, lying on her belly across the ground, papers scattered in front of her, and crayons strewn all around. As soon as Cass saw James, she threw herself over the mess and screamed, “No! You can’t be here. Get out, get out! Go away!”James stumbled back out in surprise and scoffed angrily. “God dammit,” he cursed, kicking at the ground. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked away. What the hell was the point of little sisters? He couldn’t even hide from his own party without her getting in the way.The truck was open, and Jimmy would’ve blamed sheer dumb luck were he not certain it had more to do with the previous driver having abandoned the vehicle in the spur of a moment during the invasion. Jimmy climbed into the front seat and used his knife to pry open the console under the dashboard. He tugged out the wires underneath, wetting his cracking lips and getting a strong taste of blood, sweat, and dirt. He began sorting out the wires. He used his blade to cut a couple in half and to peel back the rubber casings.Cass sat on the ground Indian style, watching him, her face cupped in her hands.“James, why are you trying so hard to get back?” she wondered.“I’m busy right now,” Jimmy responded, rubbing his brow furiously, as he tried to concentrate, tried to remember Dai’s instructions on jumpstarting a car. It was getting colder as night crept ever closer, but Jimmy felt like he was on fire, his whole body coated in a thin layer of sweat, a couple beads dribbling down his forehead.“I mean, you know it’s better this way, that they be able to move on without you. You just held them back, held them down. You were always in the way, James, and now…now you have the chance to do the right thing, the thing you were always too afraid to do. To leave and let them be free of you,” Cass continued, “No one cares about you, not really anyway. You’re just forced on them, and they’re forced to care for you. It’s not a fair relationship, you’re this heavy burden on their shoulders that you know they resent and eventually, will just come to hate, if they haven’t already.” Jimmy brought two of the wires together, just barely touching the active ends to one another. There was a spark but nothing. He tried it again. A kick. A sputter. Nothing.“Come on,” Jimmy begged silently, “Come on…” Again, he pressed the wires together. Again, the engine shuddered and died. “Fuck,” Jimmy cried, tossing the wires down. He took a deep breath, angrily ripped off his vest – why was it so fucking hot? – and tossed it into the passenger seat, then picked the wires up again and once more touched them together. Nothing, no juice. His heart took a nose dive.“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he yelled, pounding his fists against the steering wheel. He collapsed against it, his arms wrapped over its top, his forehead balanced against its middle bar, “Fuck.”“Do the right thing, James. It’s better for them this way. It’s better for him. Now he doesn’t ever have to care about you.”Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut, a few tears sliding down and getting caught in the grit of his cheeks on their way down.“He was getting really close, too. And that would’ve been really bad. You know how much it would’ve hurt.”“Go away, Cass,” Jimmy croaked.“But now this way, he doesn’t ever have to care…”“Go away…please, just go away…”“And you won’t ever have to face him hating you.”“I said, go away,” Jimmy snarled, spinning round to face the ghostly apparition only to find he was yelling at an empty street. He buried his face against the steering wheel and let the tears flow.Lenny handed James the beer and James took a long draught, as Ryan popped the cap off another bottle for Kevin. Gary licked the froth coming out of his own beer and asked, “Was there cake?”“Yeah,” James confirmed, leaning back, and staring up into the sky. They sat in the back of the convenience store where Ryan’s sister’s boyfriend worked. He’d snuck them the six-pack for a cool twenty. Their bikes were all lined up by the dumpster, its stink of rotted food wafting through the area.“Did it taste good?” Gary pressed.“I don’t know. I left before they cut it,” James shrugged. Gary stared at him blank-faced and wide-eyed, flabbergasted at the admission. Ryan lit a cigarette, took a hit, and handed it off to James. Lenny opened his own beer and took a sip, wrinkling his nose.“This stuff is shit,” he griped, “You couldn’t at least get us like regular or something? Instead, we got to drink Coors Lite, like we’re college frat girls. It’s James’s birthday for fucking Christ’s sake.”“It’s all they had,” Ryan shrugged, “You got a problem with it, then why don’t you bring the beer next time.”“You left before the cake?” Gary demanded, clutching at his heart as though about to drop of coronary failure right then and there.James rolled his eyes, “I didn’t care about the cake.”“I think it’s fantastic,” Kevin commented, mock serious, talking about the beer, not the cake, “It’s got to be the best lager I’ve ever had.”“You’re both douchebags, and you know, you don’t have to drink my beer if you don’t want to,” Ryan steadily informed Lenny and Kevin. He kicked a stone on the ground and grumbled, “I got it for James anyhow, he can drink the whole case if he wants.” “Well, what kind of cake was it?” Gary asked.“I don’t want to drink the whole case,” James muttered, sipping at his beer, and apologetically informing Ryan, “This stuff really is kind of shit.”“James! What kind of cake was it?” Gary persisted.“Strawberry,” James told him, giving him a ‘what do you want from me’ look. He took a drag of the cigarette, knocked the ashes off its end, then handed it back to Ryan, “My mom made it.”“Oh dude, your mom makes the best cake,” Lenny interjected, “I always get at least three of whatever she brings to the school bake sale. Your mom can make my birthday cake anytime she wants. I would never leave before that thing got cut.”“And you guys all say I’m the fat one,” Gary commented off-handedly.“You are the fat one,” the other four boys absently said in semi-unison.“I’m just big-boned,” Gary stammered at the ground, pouting into his beer. Kevin put an arm over Gary’s shoulders and informed him in a kind voice, “No. You’re just fat.”“So, what the fuck then, dude, you’re dad never even showed up?” Lenny asked conversationally, turning the attention back on James.“No,” James mumbled, eyes downcast and biting on the edge of his bottle’s mouth. He shrugged, “Not that I care.”“Probably for the best,” Kevin said, “It kind of seems like your dad could kill a party just by looking at it. No offense.”“None taken.”“Man, your dad’s got to be the world’s biggest tool, though,” Lenny added, “I mean, who the fuck ditches their own son’s birthday for work? And not just work he has to do but, like, work he volunteered to do.”“Kind of like, ‘I’m sorry son, I would come celebrate the day you were born with you but it just doesn’t sound as much fun as crunching these numbers’,” Kevin said in a Ward Cleaver imitation, then he snagged a hit off Ryan’s cigarette.“I hate math,” Gary said, “I would never choose math over your birthday, James. Not that I was invited, of course. Why wasn’t I invited? I thought we were friends.” “Seriously, James, if you think about it, your dad must really hate you,” Lenny declared unabashedly, “I bet it’s one of those things, where he wishes you were never born because you screwed with all his hopes and dreams, or that you were a girl or something…because, he’s got a Lolita complex or whatever, because you know, he never misses your sister’s birthday, right?”“Shut up, you guys,” Ryan solemnly whispered as James began wandering away without direction, sipping listlessly at his beer. They all watched their friend retreat for a moment, then Ryan took his cigarette back and hastily caught up to James, falling in step beside him. The other three hung back, talking amongst themselves. Ryan took a drawl from the cigarette, held it out for James. James stared at it a moment, then accepted, putting it in his mouth and just leaving it there. He removed it without taking a hit, and drank some more of his beer thoughtfully.“I didn’t even want a party,” James admitted, “I told my mom I didn’t.”Ryan was silent, nodded, took the cigarette back and drank his own beer. James bit lightly on his inner cheek, then tossed his head back, drained the last of his beer, and threw the empty bottle across the lot. It shattered against the back wall of the convenience store, not too far from the other three boys.“Oh shit,” Kevin squeaked, running a few steps away from the sprinkle of glass.“Watch where you chuck things, fucker,” Lenny shouted. They all started laughing at that, joking, shoving each other, ignoring the melancholy atmosphere hanging over the other two boys.James leaned against the cement wall lining the lot and taking the cigarette back from Ryan. He put his free hand in his pocket, staring up distantly at the sky and blowing smoke rings to the heavens.“He got me balloons. Happy eleventh, son. Asshole,” James said. He smirked sardonically, “I don’t even like balloons. You know, I personally knew like three guests at that party, and that’s including my little sister. Someone got me a coloring book. A fucking coloring book, they didn’t even know whose birthday it was. “He shook his head, sniffled loudly, and took another slow drag from the cigarette, let the smoke flit out daintily between his lips.“Sometimes I think if I put a gun to my head, and threatened to pull the trigger, no one would even turn to look. My dad would say ‘okay, son, just don’t make too much noise, I’m working here’, and my mom would just stand-by with the mop, ready to clean it up as if it never happened. And you know, I’d do it, I’d pull that fucking trigger, if I just had the gun.”“Don’t say things like that, man,” Ryan mumbled, disquieted, “I mean, it’s not that bad. At least you got a party. My parents were in Tibet for my birthday. They came home and gave me an elephant statue. I thought it was a birthday present…nope, just a souvenir. They didn’t even remember, they still don’t remember, I never told them.”James sucked on the cigarette, pulling smoke in one corner of his mouth and then letting it out the other, and glared at the shattered glass across the lot.“You got to at least laugh at it all,” Ryan told James, “Your dad thinks you’re eleven. Imagine when you’re twenty and your dad thinks you’re still fifteen; you’ll never have to go to college. Hell, you can live at home until you’re fifty before he thinks you’re too old and kicks you out.”“I’m not living there that long,” James vowed, “First chance I get, I’m out of here and I’m never looking back.”“Never?”“Never. There’s nothing for me here,” James said, “Nothing worth staying for, nothing I want.”Ryan put his hands in his pockets, staring forlorn at the ground, kicking a few stones. James took a drag from the cigarette. The other boys watched them from a far, sipping their beers and waiting for them to return.Jimmy slipped out of the truck and re-sheathed his knife. It was his only weapon, though it would be completely useless if he were attacked by mechs or Skitters. He studied the land, looking in all directions, then took a deep breath and started along the street he thought to be in the southwesterly direction. There was no time to waste on self-pity, the 2nd Mass would be leaving in the morning.James stumbled into the house, the sun had set hours ago and the party guests had all left. He found his mom in the kitchen drinking a glass of red wine.“Where the hell have you been?” she demanded, in an instant boring down on him the full weight of her anger, hands on her hips and mouth set into a grave scowl.“Out,” he muttered reply, keeping his head low, his hands in his pockets. She eyed him suspiciously, walking towards him to sniff the air tentatively, and narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits.“Were you drinking, young man?”“No,” James quickly answered, then fumbling for a lie, stammered, “I was walking and there was a guy with a brown bag…he tripped and spilled some on me.”His mother didn’t look entirely convinced, but she didn’t press it any further, shaking her head and mumbling, “Just go upstairs to bed.”James dragged his feet up the stairs and walked to his bedroom. He opened the door and flipped on the light. His eyes widened and mouth dropped.“What the hell…?”There were pictures, colorful crayon drawings plastered to every wall in his room. Little cutouts of brightly colored shapes and strange fantastical animals dangled from his ceiling and littered his floor and desk. After a moment to recover from the initial stun, James carefully maneuvered inside around the various, diligently created paperworks.Across his back wall were hung crayon letters that spelled out “Happy Birthday”, and on his bed was a handmade card, he picked it up and read: Dear Jimmy, You are my favoritest brother in the whole world, and I am so happy that it’s your birthday because that means it has been one more year that you’ve been my brother. I love you, lots and lots, forever and ever. Cass.James smiled despite himself, burying his face in his hand, shaking with light chuckles. He put the card on his desk and crept into his sister’s room, kneeling beside her bed and giving her a gentle shake.“Hey, Cass, wake up,” he prodded, still slightly buzzed from the beer earlier and a bit groggy. Cass stirred, peeled her eyes open, and then shut them again.“Hi Jimmy,” she mumbled, her words slurring together, as she complained, “It’s not time to wake up yet…”“I know, Cass. I just wanted to tell you that I love you. Okay?” James whispered.“Okay. I love you, too, Jimmy.”“Now go back to sleep,” James said, leaning over his already-returned-to-slumbering sister and pressing a sloppy kiss to her forehead.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The next morning, as the assigned search parties prepared to head out, Ben burst unannounced into Weaver’s tent.“What the hell, captain?” he demanded hotly, “Why am I not in a search party? I should be out there! I can cover more ground than any of those assholes-”Weaver turned to look at Ben, his features drawn and unimpressed by the vehement display. He sat at a foldout table, an open bottle of whiskey on top of it, and he had a glass of the amber liquid in his hand.“Take a seat, Ben,” he lightheartedly instructed.“Like Hell! I’m going out to search for Jimmy, whether you put me with a group or not,” Ben spat, turning to do just that.“Ben, you stop right there or I will have you locked up for your own good,” Weaver called, and Ben slowed to a halt, hands balled in fists and body trembling. Weaver took a sip from his glass, “You aren’t out there searching for just about the same reasons I’m not, just about the same reasons quite a few of my fighters aren’t. You’re too close to it.”“That’s bullshit…” Ben spun round angrily, setting on the captain a look of pure hatred.“Is it?” Captain Weaver challenged, staring steadily at Ben from over his glass. He sighed, set his glass back down on the table. “I want to believe that Jimmy is out there. That he is alive, safe, and all in one piece. But to be completely honest, I don’t know. I don’t know what is out there, if anything, to be found, but I do know this…and think what you want, hate me all you want, Ben, whatever is out there, you should not be the one to find it.”Ben dropped his eyes, his muscles relaxed, and his hands unfurled. He was unable to stop the shake in his body.“I can’t wait here and do nothing,” Ben whispered, all his fury suddenly leaving him at once.“Then sit down, and keep an old man company,” Weaver haggardly replied refilling his glass from the bottle and taking another sip, “We’ll twiddle our thumbs and go out of our minds together.”Ben took a deep breath and reluctantly dropped in to one of the chairs across from Weaver.“I’d offer you something to drink, but I don’t think your father would approve,” Weaver commented. Ben shrugged, “Not thirsty.”For several moments, they sat like that, Ben staring blankly off into space, Weaver drinking his whiskey. Then Weaver spoke again.“I wouldn’t worry too much about him. If there’s one thing Jimmy does exceptionally well it’s survive. He handles himself better than men twice, hell, even three times his age.”“Like in Dorchester,” Ben murmured. Weaver quirked a brow.“Jimmy told you about Dorchester?” he questioned, taken aback.“No,” Ben admitted, “Another fighter mentioned it.” He shook his head, heated frustrations at the missing boy suddenly and inexplicably returning, “I promised I’d never ask him about it.”Weaver nodded, took another sip of his drink, “Sounds about right. Jimmy’s never really been one to chat about himself, not that I’ve ever had much cause to ask. I don’t think there’s a person in the 2nd Mass knows much, if anything, about his life before he joined up with the resistance.”Ben nodded, remained silent. Weaver refilled his glass a third time, but left it sitting on the table. Another few moments passed by.“Your dad ever tell you about his time in Dorchester?”Ben shrugged, shook his head, “I didn’t know he’d ever been there.”“It was during the early days of the resistance,” Weaver continued, “He had just been assigned to the 2nd Mass, this was about…two months I’d say, after those first attacks. We got ourselves pinned down in the lower Boston area searching for munitions and other survivors. We were sending out patrols every day, every which direction, poking around for a way back to base camp and on one of those days, your father went out with a small group into Dorchester.”Ben shifted, perked slightly with interest but didn’t take his eyes from the empty corner of the tent.“Now, I don’t know if you knew this, but Dorchester got hit pretty hard in those first attacks. There were barely any survivors and whatever kids hadn’t been killed were assumed harnessed. It was a scary place, scarier than most, a lot worse than your dad expected when he and those men trekked into it. Skitters, mech, everywhere. They ended up getting stuck. They’d barricaded themselves in between a couple wrecked buildings, were holding off an army of Skitters, but they could hear the mechs on the way. They all thought it was over for them, hell, your dad was in the back writing his last farewells to you boys.” Ben turned his head a bit to glance at the captain out of the corner of his eyes. Weaver picked up his glass, put it back down without taking a drink, turned it round once and wet his lips with an errant tongue. “And then, suddenly, this kid just appears out of nowhere. Scrawny thing, more dirt than meat on his bones, according to your dad. He motioned for the fighters to follow. We knew a bit about harnessed kids by then, that they were being controlled by the aliens, so of course the fighters were a little reluctant. Your dad was the voice of reason at that moment. Hell, isn’t he always? He said they had two choices, one was certain death, but one was a fifty-fifty chance. So they followed the kid.” Ben had his full attention on Weaver now, but the older man was gazing off as though he were viewing the memories on a movie screen in the back of his mind. “To hear your dad describe what happened next…well…you’d think he was following the white rabbit to wonderland. The kid took ‘em on a crazy journey down into the underbelly of the city, into the sewers, led them through a labyrinth of winding corridors. Some of them were sure they’d get lost, spend the rest of eternity down there searching for a way back. The kid always stayed just far enough away from the fighters they couldn’t get a good look at him, but he always hung back long enough that they could follow. Then they rounded a corner and he was gone, vanished into thin air, and there was a ladder to the surface. They took it up; found themselves a street over from where the rest of the 2nd Mass was battened down waiting for their return.” Weaver took a drink of his whiskey and cleared his throat. “Back at camp, they weren’t entirely sure anyone would believe what happened to them, but they got to talking with other fighters, turned out they weren’t the first ones to encounter this kid. He’d appeared on a few occasions when fighters had their backs to the walls, led them to safety, then disappeared. Always in Dorchester. They even had a name for him…called him the Ghost of Dorchester. Some were even convinced he really was a ghost, spirit of all the children that died there coming to aid those that needed it against the Skitters. But your dad wasn’t convinced. It wasn’t a ghost that saved him, it was a real, live kid. “I think that’s about when your dad got the idea. Before that, none of us had ever considered using the sewer systems, we didn’t have any maps of the underground, you take a wrong turn you could end up lost for days, but your dad thought ‘why don’t we get the kid to help us’. It was a plan sounded so crazy it just might work. The kid favored the sewers, we knew that much about him, and he knew the underground well enough to keep himself alive and out of the Skitters’ grasp. So we set out to find him, trap him.” Weaver shook his head and smirked inwardly, taking another draught of his whiskey, and chuckling to himself. “I’ll tell you, that kid was something else. Three times he slipped out of our hands, we were just about to give up, try something else. But your dad refused. Looking back, I think your dad was so obsessed with this kid because maybe he saw you in him, and maybe a small part of him hoped, or even somewhat believed that it was you. Doesn’t matter now, I guess.” Ben shifted in his chair and Weaver readjusted, folding his arms over his chest. “I still remember the day we brought that kid in. He was everything your father promised and more, skin and bones, wild-eyed, he fought his captors tooth and claw, they ended up having to knock him out and carry him back. We had taken up camp in a handful of houses; we locked him in a top bedroom of one of the two storied houses, he tried climbing out the window when he came to, so we had to throw him in the bathroom instead. “For two full days he wouldn’t say a word. Didn’t surprise us, to be honest. Adults in this world, as…sadly…you well know, aren’t always kind to one another. You can imagine how they can be towards someone much more vulnerable like a young teenaged boy. We figured he’d had bad run-ins with adults, we were prepared for this, but we weren’t prepared for him, I’ll tell you what. He wouldn’t let us through the door those first couple of days, so one of the first times we were able to give him food, well, we made the mistake of giving him utensils to eat it with. He palmed the fork and used it to stab the guard that did hourly checks on him. One of his numerous escape attempts. It was the first time I encountered him. He’d just stabbed his guard in the hand, was making a run for it, ran smack-dab into me, and I bopped him non-to-kindly on the head, and tossed him back into the bathroom.” Weaver grinned and rubbed his chin at the memory. “Damned kid still had the nerve to look me in the eye and call me every name in the book.” Ben smiled distantly, sniffled, and ran a hand over his face, struggling to press back the pain aching through his chest. “Your dad thought we just needed to talk to him, so we sat the kid down and talked at him for a little while, we tried making conversation, asked questions…but it was pretty one-sided, tried begging and pleading with him, tried yelling and threatening. When he wasn’t giving us sass, or cussing us out, well, he clamped down on his mouth hard and told us where to go and how to get there with his eyes. I got to admit, Ben, I was giving up on the kid. I started to think at that point that we ought to just toss him back out on the streets and search for another way. “Then we got our first break. Little girl we’d picked up a week or two before with her father and brother, caught a glimpse of the kid and recognized him. She went to school with him a while back, elementary school, up until her family moved somewhere else; they were in the same grade but hadn’t been in the same class. She knew his name though, I think it was because she had a mite crush on him back then, seemed a hell of a thing to remember about an otherwise complete stranger in any other case. She said his name was James.” Ben turned his face from Weaver, lowered his eyes and swallowed back the tears threatening to spill. He’d known where the story was going but it still hurt to hear it aloud. He tried to picture that Jimmy, the ‘Ghost of Dorchester’ Jimmy, but all he could see was the Jimmy from moments before they headed out on that last mission, giving Ben a hard time for who-the-hell-knew-what, and still having the audacity to look so vulnerable and lost that Ben had to fight with every fiber of his being the urge to hold Jimmy to him and never let go, knowing Jimmy would have only smacked him and given him all the more hell for it. From Weaver’s story it was starting to sound like that was Jimmy’s true specialty, being the world’s most stubborn pain in the ass. “To see the look on his face the first time we called him that…’James’…you’d’ve laughed, Ben, I think we all did. I don’t think anyone had called him by his name in weeks, he probably almost forgot what it sounded like. It lightened him up a bit towards us; there was a noticeable dip in the number of insults he threw our way, but it still wasn’t enough. We weren’t making enough progress and the enemy was gathering, prepping to attack and wipe us all out. Then we had our next break.” Weaver capped his whisky bottle and turned over his glass, leaning on an elbow against the table and looking up to the sky in a swirl of not-too-long ago memories. “We had just picked up one Anne Glass, and we learned from her aunt and uncle that she was a doctor, pediatrician. She was still pretty torn up about her own lost family. At that point we’d been keeping it pretty under wraps from the civilians what we were doing with that kid, they didn’t even know we kept him locked in the upstairs bathroom…wouldn’t of looked right, you know? We approached Dr. Glass, told her about him, said he seemed in bad shape, asked if she’d take a look. She refused at first, she was still distraught you know, didn’t think she could handle it. It was your dad convinced her, worked his magic…I still don’t know exactly what it was he told her… “Up to this point, the only ones ever been near the kid, talked to him, were men…we were nervous about what he would do towards a woman, given what we’d seen of his behavior…he could be vicious. You know, he even bit me once. I clocked him hard for that one, I almost feel bad about it now, but it didn’t soften him up even a little. But I tell you when Dr. Glass met him, me and your father standing guard nearby, it was like day and night. He didn’t fight with her, listened to everything she said and followed her instructions without any lip or too much hesitance, and when she was done, she did this thing…reached out and, kind of, lightly touched the hair on his forehead like this,” Weaver demonstrated the motion half-heartedly with his hand, “Damn near blew us away, he didn’t pull from her…he looked her right in the eye and said ‘thanks’. Your dad and I looked at one another, same gleeful expressions, ‘cause we both knew in that moment, we knew, we had the little bastard.” Weaver straightened, cleared his throat, and stroked his grizzled chin. Ben turned to look at the older man again, his expression somber. “We got Dr. Glass to spend some time with the kid, talk to him, get him to open up a bit. She understandably didn’t want to at first, but your dad promised to be there the whole time, the kid didn’t seem to have as strong a hate for your dad as the rest of us, probably because he’d never used force on the kid and had a bit of experience with young boys because of you and your brothers. Between the both of them, Dr. Glass and your dad, they managed to make headway.“Kid didn’t talk about before the invasion, where he lived, where he went to school…none of that, said he didn’t have a family, didn’t give us any details so we all just assumed they died in the invasion or sometime after, and he said he was alone…far as he knew, there was no one else left in Dorchester. Hell, looking back on it, he asked a lot of questions, but never really said much about himself. He only let Dr. Glass near him, his behavior changed drastically if your dad ever left the room…he talked more, he was nicer, polite even…your dad had all these Freudian theories about it, I figured it was something as simple as Dr. Glass was the only one didn’t have a gun. Day and a half it took to warm him up to us, that was close to four we had the kid, and we needed to get the hell out of there soon. “We had your dad explain our plans, we needed out of the area, there was a larger resistance back in Central Boston that we were a part of – kid found that fascinating, I think that’s what ultimately made him help. Your dad asked the kid can we get out through the sewers of Dorchester, kid said, sure, hell, he could get us to Dudley Square if we really wanted, but we were on our own beyond that. Obviously, I wouldn’t be here telling you this story if, in the end, it hadn’t worked out. After, Jimmy joined the 2nd Mass and the rest, as they say, is history.” Weaver sat back and let the story sink in. Ben smiled distantly, lost in his thoughts of the missing boy. Ben still couldn’t understand how or why Jimmy did most of the things he did, but it fascinated Ben nonetheless. The more he learned about Jimmy the more questions he had and the less his desires were squelched. “Jimmy really is something else,” Ben acknowledged in a low voice. He wrapped his arms around himself, leaned forward on his knees, and choked out, “I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s gone…” “Keep fighting. It’s all you can do. It’s what he’d want,” Weaver sighed and then muttered, “But I will say this, Jimmy wasn’t a ghost then, and I refuse to believe that he is one now.” Ben wiped a hand across his dry face and glared at the ground. Jimmy had better not be a ghost, not when there were still so many walls in his heart left for Ben to break down.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jimmy startled awake and checked his wristwatch. About thirty minutes, he sighed, it was the longest he’d slept that night, managing five and ten minute spurts here and there. Dawn was finally starting to break, so that was good news. He’d taken shelter for the night in the wooded area just outside the industrial city where the warehouse had stood, having reached its edge an hour or so after the sun had gone down the night before. Pulling himself upright and rubbing the soreness from his joints, Jimmy took up his trek towards what he hoped was the 2nd Mass once more. He needed water, he needed food, he knew he couldn’t go much longer without finding either. He felt ready to collapse, his legs threatening to buckle under him, his whole body numb from its various aches and pains. But still, he kept moving. Behind Jimmy, Cass followed closely, humming and skipping along in his footsteps. “Hey, James?” Cass called. Jimmy didn’t respond. If he ignored her, maybe, he hoped she would go away again.“Why are you so desperate to get back to the 2nd Mass?” she prodded, “It’s not like there’s really that much for you with them, is there?”Still, he remained stoically silent, shuffling onward into that glowing horizon.“Is it really only because of Ben?” she asked knowingly.Jimmy halted at the name, his heart slamming into his chest, and tears springing to his eyes. He had been trying so hard not to think about the other boy. He couldn’t, not at this time, not when he needed to focus on surviving. He balled his hands into fists and shook the emotions away, and started walking again.“That’s really the only reason, isn’t it?” Cass accused, stamping her foot, “That’s so stupid! Why do you care about him? He went off without you and he always wants to see you cry. What makes him so special? He’s just like everyone else…no he’s worse than everyone else. He keeps making you forget things…yourself…the things you did, the things you have to do…your promise to me!”“I just have to make sure he’s okay is all,” Jimmy whispered, his voice harsh from lack of moisture in his throat, “I have to know he got back safe.”“Why?” Cass cried, “Forget about him. He hurt you, James, he keeps hurting you and he’ll only keep hurting you. He doesn’t understand. He’ll never understand. He can’t understand, you know that. Just forget him!”“He doesn’t have to understand. It doesn’t matter. I can’t leave him. Not right now,” Jimmy murmured, rubbing his face wearily, and insisting, “I just need to know he’s okay.”Cass was quiet a long time then suddenly she rushed to catch up and capture Jimmy’s hand. She wondered quietly, “Why do you need him so much? You never needed anyone before, remember? You can’t need anyone, because you know how easy it is for them to just throw you away.”“I don’t know why, Cass,” Jimmy answered distantly, “I just do.”A gray haze had settled over the Charles River, a touch of white glistening over every flat surface beneath the Boston University Bridge. James shuddered, leaning against the railing of the wooden boardwalk beneath the bridge, his thin t-shirt providing little warmth against the harsh winter winds. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his arms held rigidly at his sides, pacing back and forth. He paused when he spotted Ryan pulling up on a bike.When he was close enough, Ryan hopped off his bike, letting it drop to the ground and jogged over to where James stood. His eyes widened.“Jesus Christ, James,” he swore, his brow furrowed in concern as he instinctively reached out for the side of James’s face where James assumed a dark brown-purple blob was starting to spread out beneath the throbbing skin. James drew away instantly, pushing aside his friend’s hand. He walked a few paces down the boardwalk, hands in his pockets and shivering uncontrollably.“Don’t,” he muttered, “It’s not that big a deal.”“Not that big a deal,” Ryan repeated, incredulous, “James, this is a big fucking deal. Your dad crossed a line…”“Really? And how’s that, Ryan?” James challenged, spinning on his friend in a slow burning rage, “Tell me, where exactly is the line? Is it a smack upside the head is fine but the face is off limits? Is it a bruise or only the bruises that can be seen? Is it a dislocated shoulder? A sprained wrist? Is it even if it happens only occasionally, small taps that barely stings, or is it when he’s home long enough that I can piss him off enough to actually do damage? Could you please explain to me where the fucking line is, Ryan, because…” he faltered, shook his head and turned his head to gaze out at the crystalline river, “Because either way, I just don’t see what difference it makes.”Ryan tipped his head down, fumbled for a cigarette and lit it with shaky hands. “What was it about this time?” he asked. It sounded like he was talking around a mouthful of cotton. He walked over to stand in front of James, offered up the cigarette. James accepted, took a quick drag, hastily blew out the smoke. “He found out I didn’t make the baseball team,” James mumbled explanation. Ryan’s brow shot up, his eyes widening again. “Oh shit. Did he find out you ditched try-outs?” “No,” James answered quietly, absently knocking the ash off the cigarette’s end, “I don’t know how he found out. Probably talking to Webber’s dad at work or something…” “Nick Webber is such a douche. He would tell his dad you aren’t on the team this year. Why does he have it out for you?” Ryan griped. James took another hit off the cigarette, shuddering, and remaining silent. He could feel Ryan staring at him, those concerned eyes tracing their worry over his battered features. He shifted uncomfortably, flustering slightly and wishing the other boy would look away.“So your dad did that all because you aren’t on the team?” Ryan questioned, his voice quaked just a tiny bit.“No,” James murmured, taking another hit, and fidgeting with the cigarette between his fingers and thumb, “It’s just what we got in an argument about. And I told him…I told him I didn’t want to play baseball. That I fucking hate playing baseball and that…that he only makes me play because he wants me to be like him and I…I don’t want to be like him.”“Shit,” Ryan breathed out, “I can’t believe you told him that. What did he say?”James shrugged, sucked down more smoke, let it burn him from the inside out, then he flicked the cigarette away and expelled the warmth from his lungs, invited the chilly winter air in, icicles that prickled the entire way down.“I don’t know. I don’t really remember. He just lost his shit, started yelling things…I don’t know…that I was worthless, that I would never amount to the man he was, that I didn’t have it in me, that I would never be a real man…that I wasn’t his son,” James shoved his hands in his pockets, bobbing on his heels in an effort to warm himself, and sniffling noisily. He coughed and shook his head, “So I threw his baseball at him, the one he keeps on that bookshelf, the signed one. I missed…I wasn’t trying to hit him…I just threw it but…but I broke my great-aunt Cecile’s urn…there were ashes everywhere…”Ryan snorted humorously at that but his expression remained appropriately melancholy.“That’s when he…” James shrugged his shoulder towards his face as indication and then said, “He told me to go to my room. I told him to go to hell. Left the house, came here…called you from that Starbucks down the street. They were looking at me like I was crazy or something when I came in and asked to use the phone.”“What were you thinking?” Ryan wondered. James shook his head.“Fuck it,” James answered, nonchalant, “I was thinking ‘fuck it’. I’m done. I’m out of here. I figured I’d leave, just go, just start walking and see how far I could get.”“Run away?” Ryan suggested. “Yeah,” James confirmed, “Run away,” he smirked darkly and teased, “Want to come?”Ryan rolled his eyes, scowled at the ground. James sneezed and Ryan sighed, turning his gaze back towards the other boy, who was now trembling violently from the chill.“Here, give me your hand,” Ryan instructed.“Why?” James questioned, curious.“Just give it,” Ryan said. James held out his right hand and Ryan took it in his own, rubbing it between his palms and breathing on it, a hot blast of warm air. When he was satisfied it wasn’t going to fall off from frostbite, he shoved it in his sweater pocket, then motioned for the other one. Reluctantly, James held out his left hand, watching his friend warily from the corner of his eye. His heart pounded against his chest, his cheeks blistered with a strange heat. He’d never noticed before the gray haze of Ryan’s eyes, that they were flawless like the winter sunset, or how delicate the dust of freckles over his nose was, or the way his thin blond hair sometimes fell so carelessly into his face. James shook away the foreign sensation spreading through his chest, glaring once more out at the river.Shoving the other hand into his other pocket, Ryan pulled his sleeves over his hands and rubbed them up and down the full length of James’s arms, from shoulder to wrist.“Look at you,” Ryan remarked, “You would be so screwed if you ever had to be alone in the world. You know that, right?”“I’d do fine,” James protested.“It’s five below outside and you don’t even have the common sense to grab a sweater before you storm angrily out of the house,” Ryan pointed out bemusedly, “Face it, James, you wouldn’t survive a week on your own. Remember when we took that field trip to the Public Gardens and you got separated from the group? You were gone for two fucking hours and when they finally found you, you were wandering in circles around the same cluster of shrubs.”“It was not two hours,” James argued.“Right. It was almost two and a half hours,” Ryan replied sharply.“What did you do, time me?” James demanded. Ryan lowered his face, suddenly embarrassed, as blond strands of hair splayed across his face, obscuring his features. James smirked, “What the hell, man? Did you cry too?”Ryan winced and James grinned.“You cried-““I was nine and my best friend was missing,” Ryan snapped, “And you know, Mrs. Ruben wasn’t exactly making anyone feel better pacing back and forth the way she was, ranting about how she couldn’t believe she lost a student and that she was going to lose her job. And for your information, Kevin was crying a hell of a lot harder than me…he started hyperventilating…did not help Mrs. Ruben calm down at all.”“What a pussy,” James laughed, and Ryan smirked at him. They fell silent.“What about Amber?” Ryan quietly asked. James arched a brow.“What about her?”“Well, shouldn’t you be asking your girlfriend to run away with you?” Ryan pressed, he almost sounded bitter about it. James remained silent, shrugging. Ryan rested his hands on either side of James’s arms, glared at his feet, “Lenny said you and her were spotted sneaking into the second floor storage closet…the seventh heaven closet.”“Yeah,” James mumbled.Ryan flinched, rubbing James’s arms furiously again and questioning casually, “How was it?”James smirked, staring out at the water, “Stupid.”Ryan looked up at that, met James’s eyes, and they held one another’s gaze for a few thundering heartbeats. There was something passing between them, an emotion so strong, that James was sure it would shatter him from the inside out if he let too much in. So, of course, James was first to look away, and he could feel Ryan shifting uncomfortably, his hands losing their hold on James. James glanced back to Ryan, caught a pained expression briefly contorting the other boy’s fair complexion, and though it faded quickly away, it cut into James, the guilt of it lingering in his chest.“It gets easier, you know,” Ryan whispered, “Everything eventually gets easier, that’s what my sister always says. And honestly, you can’t just run away from it. Your family. They’re always going to be there. Because they’re inside of you, you know. So no matter how far or how fast you run, they’ll always be right there.”“I know,” James said earnestly. He sighed, “Maybe I’m not running away, Ryan, maybe…I don’t know…maybe I’m running towards. This isn’t all there is for me, I know that. This isn’t the world, this isn’t my entire life, this isn’t even scratching the surface of it. There’s something else out there. Something waiting for me. I feel it. Like this whole other piece of myself, and I want to find it. I want to find it so badly because I just know when I do...”“But there are things here too, you know,” Ryan suddenly cried out, “You don’t have to leave to find anything, because there are things waiting here.”For a moment, an odd tension hardened the air around James and Ryan. They fell silent, watching one another from the corner of their eyes, each unable to fully look at the other boy. Then James relaxed a bit, turning his attention as far away from Ryan as he could manage.“What are we even talking about?” he wondered. Ryan shrugged, dropped his eyes to the ground.“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.James sneezed again and broke into a hacking cough. Ryan furrowed his brow in worry, moving to pat his friend’s back as he gasped for air.“You’re going to catch a cold out here, man, if you haven’t already,” Ryan complained, “Look, just stay over at my place tonight, okay? My parents are in Fiji right now, you won’t have to deal with their twenty questions, and if we ask nice my sister might buy us a pizza.”“No, she won’t. Your sister doesn’t like me,” James remarked.“Yeah, but she’s not a cold-hearted bitch…at least, not all the time. We’ll just show her your face and she’ll probably feel guilty and cave in,” Ryan said.“Or she’ll laugh,” James added.“Or she’ll laugh,” Ryan conceded.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was shortly after noon when Jimmy found the stream. It was little more than a trickle of water between stones, but it meant the difference between dying of dehydration and being able to get that much closer towards the 2nd Mass. The source of water was so small that Jimmy couldn’t gather it in his cupped hands; he had to dip his fingers in and lick the droplets off. The taste was terrible.“James and Ben sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage,” Cass sang. She had been quiet for the past few hours and Jimmy had been concerned that it was a sign of his own diminishing health, the sound of her voice was almost a relief. Almost.Jimmy washed his hands and face best he could, then lapped some more of the water off his fingertips.“Hey, James?” Cass called, hopping across the stream and standing over him, her hands folded neatly behind her back.“What?” Jimmy demanded. He had given up on ignoring the apparition as he came to realize that, much like the real thing, it did nothing to shut her up. He wet his lips with the water and sprinkled a few drops on his neck.“How will you and Ben have a baby? You’re both boys.”Jimmy paused, staring at the water blankly, his heart pounding in his ears. He swallowed hard, and refocused on getting as much water into his system as he could before he had to continue onward.“We don’t,” he muttered peevishly, “We don’t have a baby is how.”“But that’s how it works,” Cass insisted, “You and Ben kissed already, which means you’re in love, so now you have to marry each other, and have a baby. If you don’t have a baby, then you’re doing everything wrong.”“That’s not always how it works,” Jimmy snapped, “You don’t have to be in love to kiss, you don’t have to love each other to get married, and you don’t have to be married to have a baby.”Cass’s face fell. She squatted on the ground and pouted at him. He scowled, closed his eyes and ran his damp hand across them.“So…” Cass murmured, the gears in her head slowly turning to interpret Jimmy’s meaning, “You…don’t love Ben?”Jimmy bit into his inner cheek. He shivered though he wasn’t cold and glared off at the horizon. A marching band parading through his chest as Cass stared intently at him, clear blue poised like knives aimed at his heart.“Or is it just that you know he’ll never love you?”The breadsticks were good, just the right amount of seasoning, soft and warm. James fidgeted his shirt collar, too tight around his neck. He was wearing the pinstriped pale yellow button-up that he hated with a passion. “But it brings out your eyes,” his mother had whined when she dressed him for the evening. Like he really gave a fuck about his eyes.Currently, his mother was making a phone call. She punched in the speed dial number, “2”, and strummed her fingers on the table as she listened to the other line ring.“Hey Jimmy,” Cass called from across the table. She was wearing a heavily starched white blouse with a long, crimson red skirt, kicking her legs restlessly under the table. Her hair fell in pretty ringlets along her neck and down her back.“What?” James muttered, picking apart his fifth breadstick.“Where do babies come from?” Cass questioned. James rolled his eyes, wondering briefly where she came up with this one. He took a drink of his water and darted a glance to their mother. She was clearly frustrated, again, that she was being sent to voice mail. She eyed her children exasperatedly as the mechanical voice on the other end of line instructed her to leave a message after the beep. James glanced at her and back to his breadstick.“They pop out of women’s vaginas,” he answered casually.Cass’s eyes went wide as saucers and her mouth dropped open. “James,” their mother chastised.“What? It’s true,” he laughed.“I don’t want you teaching your sister that word,” their mother argued, setting the phone back on the table and glaring dangerously at her son. “What word?” he asked innocently, then smirking at the bread in his hands, “Vagina?”His mother narrowed her eyes on him, “James Alexander Boland…”“It’s not a bad word, mom,” he retorted, bemused, “I mean, she’s going to learn it eventually. She has one, for crying out loud.”Cass watched the exchange interestedly, and her eyes widened again at her brother’s last statement.“I do?” she cried, incredulous.“Yes, you do,” James told his sister matter-of-factly, “And so does mom. All women have vaginas.”“Stop saying that word,” their mother hissed.“It’s not a bad word,” James insisted, “Do you want to teach her it’s a bad word, because you’re only teaching her…”“Do not argue with me, young man,” their mother pressed.“Vagina,” Cass proclaimed proudly, with a smile like she’d stolen candy from the store. Their mother rested her hand on her forehead and shook her head, annoyed.“Great, are you happy now? You’ve got her saying it,” she muttered.“Are you guys ready to order?” the waitress asked, stepping up to the table, a cheerful smile on her face, her order pad in hand. James returned to his breadstick and Cass leaned forward on the table.“Um…yes, I think we are,” their mother started.“Hey Jimmy,” Cass called across the table in a not-so-low whisper, and gesturing non-too-subtly at the waitress asked, “Does she have a vagina?”A hush fell over the table. James looked to his mother, her eyes wide and mouth taut, face flecked white. Not a word, her eyes warned. He glanced at the waitress, looking confused and slightly abashed around the table, and then he looked at his sister, her features drawn with expectance, a small smile tucked in the corner of her mouth.“Yes, she does,” James steadily informed Cass. Then flickering a mischievous smile to his mother, and fixing his attention back to his breadstick, added wistfully, “Unless, of course, she’s really a man. Then that would mean she actually has a penis.”Cass’s mouth dropped and she stared amazed at the waitress, as though expecting her to whip out a dick right then and there. Their mother slapped a hand to her forehead.“Oh good God,” she moaned.“I’ll come back later,” the waitress quietly excused herself.But not two minutes later, James rushed to follow his mother from the restaurant, as she hastened quickly across the street to the parking lot, dragging Cass by her hand.“Calm down, mom, it’s not that big a deal,” James reasoned, “The waitress didn’t even care. Cass is eight; no one cares what an eight year old says.”His mother didn’t respond, continuing in her rush towards the car.“Mom, can we just go back to the restaurant. I’m hungry,” James continued, “Cass is hungry. We were sitting there forever waiting on dad; it’s almost eight-thirty…”“No. We’re going home,” his mother raged.“Fine. I didn’t really want to eat there anyway,” James grumbled concession. SLAP.The sound of his mother’s hand across his cheek echoed through the parking lot, its feel stung intensely in the cold night air, and the skin started to quickly blister red. James stared dejected at a spot on the pavement, a blackened gob of chewed gum, his face remaining in the position where the force of the strike had left it, hair sprawled across his face like a veil to hide those tears that had sprung unbidden to his eyes. His hands were shoved deep in his trouser pockets, balled into tight fists, fingernails biting into flesh, to keep him from showing any emotion. His mother gazed the opposite direction of him, the hand she’d hit him with now covering her mouth. Her eyes were rimmed with tears. Her lips trembled, and she shook her head ever so slightly every now and then, as though weighing thoughts in her mind.Cass looked between the two, her own eyes shimmering in fear and disbelief, her body held tense and rigid.“I don’t understand…” his mother began, her voice sounded fragile, quivering in the chill breeze, “I do not understand…why you always…always…have to be like this.”Then she turned, grabbed hold of Cass again, and continued towards the car. A couple heartbeats thrummed fiercely by in James’s chest and then he let his bated breath out and silently followed.The sun was beginning to climb higher in the sky and Jimmy was glad of its warmth. The night had been freezing and he’d lost his vest, so he didn’t have that additional layer of clothing anymore. He shuddered involuntarily, paused to check his shoulder. He’d been able to wipe away some of the blood at the stream to get a look at the puncture wound, he was glad to see most of the stitches had held, but some had torn nonetheless, and it was still bleeding. Jimmy sighed, returned the cloth over the injury, and continued moving. His right thigh was in worse condition, the constant walking wasn’t giving it time to scab over – if that were even a possibility given the gape of the wound, he didn’t know – blood just continued to trickle down his leg and pool in his boot; it squished with every step, a disgusting reminder of the condition he was in. But he couldn’t let any of it stop him or slow him down; he didn’t have time to lick his wounds. He closed his eyes, drew his breath in haggardly. He never had time.Late in the night, James leaned against the hallway wall listening to his mother in the kitchen talking on the phone and pacing the tiled floor in her slippers. James had his arms folded over his chest, his gaze upward, studying the ceiling as he listened intently.“We waited there for two hours…” she whispered, “You’ve worked late every night for the past three days, John.”There was silence as a reply came through the phone.“I understand that work is important, but we planned this dinner a month ago. We had to have the reservations for almost that long just to get in…”She sighed, stopped her movement and made a small, gargled noise, far back in her throat.“I just…I don’t understand why you’re always like this,” she whispered raptly.James flinched involuntarily. He closed his eyes tightly and bit his inner cheek, dug his fingernails into his forearm to release the pain.“No…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that…” his mother whispered sullenly, took a deep breath, and mumbled, “Yes, we ate there…the kids? They loved it. I told you that they would…no...no…they had the pasta, they loved it.”James drew his breath in deep, let it out slow. Opened his eyes and swallowed hard, turning his head to the side, the direction of the kitchen door, staring at the low, iridescent blue light streaming out of it and becoming engulfed by the darkness of the hall.“It was fine. It was a beautiful dinner…everything went fine, the kids were good, well behaved, happy, we all had fun…I just wish you would’ve been there is all…” his mother continued, “Okay…alright…mhmm…I’ll see you in the morning then…yeah…I love you too.”There was a click of the phone hanging up and for a moment there was silence. The shuffle of footsteps. Then the sound of glass shattering caused James to jump in startle.“Shit,” his mother whimpered. Silence again, save the sounds of her gathering the glass shards along the floor.James settled his racing heart and caught his breath. He took a step into the kitchen.“Mom…?” he called. She looked up from where she was squatted on the floor cleaning up the mess of shattered glass, it looked like it may have been a bowl. She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks, but their paths had stained the pale white of her face, evidence that could never be erased. Her expression was fearful, the question plaguing her mind palpable in her eyes: did he hear…?“James, what are you doing up?” she demanded. James shrugged.“I was thirsty,” he whispered response. She nodded, continuing to gather the glass, tears running hot down her cheeks again.“You know I don’t like you drinking water late at night,” she told him, struggling to control her crying. He watched her a moment, leaning against the doorframe, hands pressed to his sides.“I’ll clean that,” he offered. She darted a look to him, shook her head fiercely.“No, I don’t want you to cut yourself,” she replied, just as a sharp edge bit into her own hand, she pulled back, hissing in pain, and instinctively put the cut beginning to bubble with blood in her mouth. She stood and glared at the mess, then wiped her face dry and muttered peevishly, “It can wait until morning.”She walked to the doorway, paused in front of James and gently pushed the hair from his forehead, placed a cold kiss to his temple.“I love you, sweetheart,” she told him, in that same mechanical tone she used with his father, and then she passed him by, her footsteps creaking on the stairs. Long after she left, James stared at the glass, sick to his stomach, the icy feel of his mother’s lips lingering on his head, the sting of her slap still hot on his cheek.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Amber blew a bubble with her gum, this great pink, fleshy looking thing, then popped it loudly. She smirked at James when he gave her an unimpressed look.“Does that bother you?” she asked, sheepishly.“A little, yeah,” he admitted.She nodded and took the gum from her mouth and folded it neatly in a piece of paper. Then she leaned over James, examining his homework, her body too close, her scent – Forever Angel body spray – invading his nose.“You’re very particular, aren’t you?” she noticed, her eyes studying his neatly made pencil markings across the paper. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t quite understand what she meant. She furrowed her brow, and pointed at the equation he’d been working on, “This stuff makes sense to you?”“Yeah. I guess,” James muttered, twirling his pencil absently between his fingers. He leaned back in his chair to get some fresh air and his eyes roved over the stacks of books lining the shelves around them. He hadn’t actually attended Study Hall since the semester started, so it was an almost foreign feeling being inside of the school at that hour.“You’re in Algebra, right?” she asked.“No,” he replied but didn’t offer up a correction, feeling uncomfortable about the topic, “You?”“Geometry,” she said, disinterested, “It’s stupid.”James nodded but said nothing. Amber seemed to think a lot of things were stupid.“I don’t really get why any of it would ever be useful to me,” she continued to elucidate, “You know, in like…real life.”“Well, there are plenty of real life uses for geometry…you know, for instance, if you ever want to make a garden, and you need to put a fence around it, then you’ll need to know how to figure out the perimeter of the garden to make the fence,” James told her, rubbing his arm absently as he spoke. “What? A garden…why would I…?” Amber gaped; she narrowed her eyes at him, gave him a puzzled look, as though she were trying to decipher one of her hated math problems. James leaned across the table and tapped the edge of her open math book.“Right here. It’s one of the questions,” he explained, with a boyish grin. Her expression lightened and she covered her embarrassed smile. “Oh.” She lowered her eyes, laughed a little, and then smirked prettily up at him through her lashes. Quietly, she confessed, “You are so cute.” James flustered. He folded his arms over his lap and nodded briefly, looking away. “Uh…thanks,” he mumbled, timidly. He really didn’t know what to say to that one. The bell rang overhead, and they both stood to gather their things. From around the other side of the shelves, Lenny and Ryan appeared, waiting on James to finish up, and looking very exasperated about it. Amber slung her bag over her shoulder and approached James, her hands clasped behind her back. “We’re still hanging out after school, right?” she asked, shooting a disgruntled look at the other two boys as they pretended to read the book titles around them. Her own friends were waiting for her at the library door. “Sure, if you want,” James agreed nonchalant, slinging his own backpack over his shoulder and gathering his textbooks under his arm. “Okay, I’ll be there,” Amber promised, smiling toothily, slipping by and wiggling her fingers ‘good-bye’ at James as she exited the library. James looked expectant to his friends. Lenny bit his fist and made a strangled noise, then excitedly declared, “You are so close to pussy, it almost kills me to watch, James. Is it driving you insane knowing how close you are?” A couple girls walking by gave the three boys strange looks. James blushed, and Ryan looked sheepish, but Lenny just waved them away. “I’m not talking about your pussies,” he assured them, then rolled his eyes at his friends, “You say pussy and I swear every girl thinks it’s about hers.” “Could you be quieter? We’re in the library,” James muttered. “Then let’s get out of the fucking library so I can be louder,” Lenny retorted. “This attending Study Hall thing, is it going to become a daily occurrence?” Ryan spoke up. He looked incredibly annoyed, glaring at the ground and shaking his head every so often as though he were debating with himself. “I don’t know,” James shrugged, heading towards the exit, the other two boys falling in line behind him. Study hall was boring, James knew that, and it kind of sucked that because it was the only period he shared with Amber, she wanted him to attend so they could see each other, but it wasn’t like he told his friends they needed to go also.They found Kevin and Gary waiting near their lockers. James’s locker was across the hall from Ryan’s, and Lenny’s was three lockers down, Gary’s was next to Ryan’s, despite the fact Kevin’s locker was in a different hall, theirs were all clustered in that area so it was a good meeting spot for the five friends between the classes that separated them.Gary already had his locker opened, and he was talking excitedly about his lunch. Apparently, his mother packed him two cupcakes that day. James worked at his combination, shaking his head at his plump friend, as Kevin and Lenny laid in with their inevitable ‘fat’ jokes.“Look, you guys are just jealous,” Gary argued, taking a few steps back from the boys and holding his lunch up, “Because you know you want a cupcake and I don’t plan on sharing with any of you.”“You know, greed is the root of all evil,” Kevin readily informed Gary.“I thought money was the root of all evil,” Ryan commented.James opened his locker, shoving his math book inside and digging around for his history notebook.“Love of money, actually,” Kevin corrected Ryan, “Hence, greed.”“You’re really going to scarf down both those cupcakes by yourself?” Lenny demanded of Gary, “I thought you were on a diet, dude.”“Is that right? Man, I knew I should’ve paid better attention in bible school,” Ryan commented.“You didn’t go to bible school. You come from a family of heathens, remember?” James remarked, smirking playfully at Ryan over his shoulder. Ryan rolled his eyes, glaring at the ground and, for some odd reason, appearing a little angrier than the comment should have made him.“It’s my cheat day,” Gary told Lenny, “I can eat whatever I want on my cheat day.”“So what are you trying to say, atheists can’t study the bible too?” Ryan replied heatedly.“Cheat day? What the fuck kind of diet gives you a cheat day?” Lenny cried, dubious.“No,” James answered Ryan smugly, choosing to ignore his friend’s peculiar mood that day. Ryan was most likely pissed off because his sister stole his stash, or maybe his parents came home the other night, or something equally stupid.“Absolutely not,” Kevin agreed with James.“Well, Women’s Day magazine says that you should always have a cheat day somewhere in the week when you’re dieting so you don’t deprive yourself and send your body into shock or something,” Gary explained to Lenny.“Are you hearing this, Gary? You and I are not allowed to look at or touch the bible because we’re heathens,” Ryan called peevishly.“That’s okay,” Gary replied cheerily, “I didn’t want to read the bible anyway. It’s a big book, with little, tiny print. It gives me a headache just thinking about it! I bet there’s all sorts of big words in it too.”“Wait a minute…why the fuck are you reading Women’s Day, Gary?” James called.“It’s my mom’s,” Gary answered matter-of-factly, as though that explained everything.“So this magazine is actually encouraging you to pig out on your diet? What the fuck, Gary? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of,” Lenny pressed.“Well, I don’t know. It’s the current diet craze, all the supermodels are doing it,” Gary cried, flinging his hands up and out and accidentally smacking a boy striding down the hall in the face. Gary spun quickly round to apologize, but the words died in his throat. His face blanched, and his expression dropped. His friends turned their attention to him at his sudden silence, and a hush fell through the hall.The three boys standing there were ninth graders, and all on the lacrosse team. They towered over Gary and were bulky with unnecessarily overdeveloped muscle. The one in the center, rubbing his eye where Gary’s hand had connected, was Trevor Weiss. He was aggressive, on both the lacrosse field and in the halls, and he wasn’t exactly known for being forgiving.“Trevor, hi,” Gary stammered, “H-how are you? I’m sorry that I…really sorry…” He held up his lunch and asked meekly, “Do you want a cupcake?”Trevor looked at Gary, then looked at the offered brown bag, then looked once more at Gary. He took a few menacing steps towards the cowering boy, glared at him for a few seconds, then snatched the lunch bag, dropped it on the floor, and smashed it under foot, smearing it into the tile.Trevor smirked at Gary, “No, thank you.”Gary pouted at the flattened bag. Kevin moved to put a hand on Gary’s shoulder, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. Lenny hung his head and shot daggers up at the three lacrosse players when they weren’t looking. James chewed his inner cheek and fought the words fighting to get out of his mouth. He looked to Ryan, the other boy stared hard at him. Years of friendship had taught Ryan to know that expression on James face, and he shook his head fiercely: don’t do it.Trevor and the other two lacrosse players turned to continue their strut down the hall.“Hey Weiss,” James called after them. The three boys froze, turned curiously back, narrowing dark looks onto James. James took a deep breath, tipping his chin to his collar and squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he said, “I just…was wondering…did it hurt?”Trevor and his friends looked amongst one another, slightly amused as Trevor bit out, “Did what hurt?”James swallowed hard and, hating himself immensely for every word pouring like a self-inflicted poison out his mouth, asked, “Having that dick surgically attached to your head?”“Oh shit,” Lenny murmured, lowering his face again. Ryan shook his head, turned away, unable to watch what would predictably follow. Gary gaped and Kevin ran a hand frantically through his hair. Trevor turned round, stalked back towards James, until they stood toe to toe. James pushed himself back against his locker, his head lowered and hands shoved into his pockets as he braced himself for the strike he knew was coming.Trevor leered down his nose at James a moment, and then, oddly, reached past the younger boy and plucked something from the open locker behind him. James peeked open his eyes and his heart stopped.“This is nice,” Trevor noted, holding up the calculator he’d found. It was nice; a high-end engineering calculator that had cost a hefty sum of money.“It’s my dad’s,” James mumbled, closing his eyes and sorting out how exactly he should plead for his life, “He’s letting me use it…for school…and if you do anything to it…you could legally be held accountable for my inevitable violent death.”“Oh, well then I should probably be careful with it,” Trevor jeered, and dropped the calculator. It clattered noisily on the floor. James grimaced. How exactly had he not seen that one coming?Trevor slammed his heel into the calculator, over and over until he heard the satisfying ‘crunch’ of the plastic cracking. He smirked, “Oops, how clumsy of me. But, I think the judge’ll understand that it was a complete accident. Tough luck on your death, Boland.” Then he patted James cheek roughly and strode away with his friends, all laughing obnoxiously in their departure.James slumped back against his locker, burying his face in his hand. Stupid, stupid…“Fuck,” he groaned. His four friends slowly gathered round. Ryan plucked the calculator off the ground.“Dude, that fucking mouth of yours, I swear,” Lenny chastised.“Seriously, man, you need to get a gag for that thing,” Kevin agreed.“How bad is it?” James whimpered, unable to bring himself to look.“The case is just cracked. It’s not even that noticeable,” Ryan mumbled.James leaned against the locker and slid to the ground, moaning the whole way down, he buried his face in his knees.“I’m so fucking dead,” he told his friends, “One scratch…my dad said…so much as one little scratch…”Ryan sat on the floor beside James, put an arm over his shoulders, “It’s gonna be okay, man. We’ll figure something out.”“I didn’t even want to use the damn thing,” James complained, “I told my dad I didn’t need it. He made me…said if I failed math this year…” He shook his head, looked at Ryan then up at the other three boys, “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing I can do. The thing is broken and my life is over.”“That sucks, man,” Kevin mumbled.“Yeah, I’d give you a cupcake, but…” Gary glanced meaningfully at his destroyed lunch.“That’s okay. Thanks anyways, Gary,” James muttered.“Well, you know,” Lenny spoke up wistfully, and the other boys looked at him curious, “If you’re already dead, no matter what…” he took the calculator out of Ryan’s hands and turned it over to examine the little crack in the case, “Why don’t you make it worth it? I mean, getting killed over something this small is just plain stupid.”“What are you talking about?” James asked, his brow furrowed.“I’m saying,” Lenny stressed, “If your dad’s gonna kill you anyways, why don’t we give him a real reason to kill you?”Minutes later, they snuck one of the hammers from woodshop and slipped under the bleachers outside. Gary picked through the remains of his lunch. Kevin lit up a cigarette. Lenny set the calculator on the ground and handed off the hammer to James as Ryan paced behind them.“This is stupid,” Ryan muttered, he’d made a few complaints since Lenny had shared his destructive idea with the boys, “James, are you really sure you want to do this? I mean, a little crack your dad might overlook but this…?” “Only difference it’ll make is how hard he’s going to hit me,” James replied darkly, tightening his hand on the hammer handle and glaring at the calculator, “And I don’t even think it’ll be that big a difference.”James knelt on the ground in front of the calculator, taking a deep breath and readying himself. Lenny grinned overhead, arms folded over his chest, watching as though with some sort of twisted fascination. Gary and Kevin stared from where they sat several paces away, whispering amongst themselves. Ryan shook his head and turned away.“This is stupid,” he repeated in a severe tone, he headed for the edge of the bleachers, “I can’t watch it.”James raised the hammer, hesitated.“Just break the damn thing, James,” Lenny encouraged, then began chanting, “Do it, do it.”“Do it, do it,” Kevin and Gary joined in.James brought the hammer down and it clattered against the plastic, doing little damage but causing the calculator to jump.“Put some muscle into it, you pussy,” Kevin cried.Again, James hit the calculator, and again nothing really happened. Lenny knelt beside James; put an arm over his shoulders.“Come on, James,” Lenny whispered, “Don’t think about this as a calculator; think about it as…as your dad. The world’s biggest douchebag. Think about all the birthdays he’s missed, all the school assemblies, the little league games that just didn’t interest him, all the times he’s canceled on you...”James smacked the calculator with the hammer at Lenny’s every word, again, and again, he brought the hammer down, but his strikes were losing strength, becoming smaller, weaker, until finally he just tossed the hammer aside and shook his head.“This is stupid,” he relented, standing and striding towards the bleacher’s edge, ignoring the confused stares at his back.“Well, if he’s not going to do it,” Lenny declared.James heard the loud CLACK of the hammer crunching through the calculator’s case. He exited out the bleachers, spotted Ryan leaning against the bleacher railing and absently chewing his nails. Their eyes met for a moment, a question in Ryan’s features that James just did not want to bother answering, as he swept aside the stray tear tumbling down his cheek and looked away first, striding back up towards the school.“Hey, James,” the apparition of Cass called, sitting on a rock on the top of a hill, casually watching Jimmy struggle up it. He didn’t recall the road being this uneven on the drive into the industrial area. At least the sky was overcast now and he didn’t have to battle the terrain in sweat-drenching heat.“What?” Jimmy grunted, pausing in his trek for the umpteenth time in an attempt to, once again, catch his breath and scrape the bottom of his ridiculously low energy reserves.“Are you sure you’re going the right way?” Cass questioned.“Yeah,” Jimmy answered grumpily, then looking around he pointed towards the sun and said, “That’s east,” then pointed over his shoulder, “So that over there is west, which makes that direction south and that direction north.” Cass perked a brow, propping her chin up in the palm of her hand. She didn’t look convinced. Jimmy scowled, hands on his hips and staring up the hillside. Thunder rumbled overhead in a thicket of ominous gray clouds.“At least, I think it is…” he mumbled, turning to look over his shoulder again, brow furrowed. He sighed, gingerly peeled the fabric from his shoulder and stole a glance at the half-stitched injury there. The skin around the wound was starting to look blackish. He drew his breath in sharply and set the fabric back in place, checked his thigh with a few ginger prods of his fingers, wincing at the pressure and the soggy feel of his torn pant leg.“You’re not going to make it,” Cass said whimsically, “It’s impossible. You don’t know where you’re going. You have no food, no water, and the Skitters could attack any minute.”“Shut up,” Jimmy muttered, her words jabbing like pitchforks into his skull.“And be honest, James, do you really even want to make it back? He has everything, doesn’t he? A family, a purpose, a future. What have you got? Nothing,” Cass went on, “And do you really think he wants a worthless, broken, little shit like you? And even if you do make it back, when he sees what a mess you’ve made, what a screw up you are, you know what will happen. It wasn’t going to last anyway, what difference does it make. At least you said good-bye this time. Isn’t that enough?”“Shut up,” Jimmy roared, shooting a spiteful look up to the rock, but Cass was gone. So, he clenched his hands into fists, set his jaw, and pushed forward. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t sure when it would be, but he knew it wasn’t yet.
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For hours, Jimmy pressed on with the growing dread that he really had no clue where he was going and that he may not be moving any closer to the 2nd Mass and was, in actuality, moving farther away. Farther away from safety, farther away from his friends, from the people he cared about…farther away from Ben. The rumbling threat of rain from the darkening sky did little to improve his sour mood.Then there was the apparition of Cass. She had disappeared hours ago and was yet to return. At first he’d found it something of a relief, her presence only seemed to exacerbate the severity of his situation, but now it seemed her absence was increasing his anguish. He was alone, truly alone now, and the knowledge of that burrowed into him, a fiendish parasite that devoured all his hope, and left nothing but despair at his inevitable, lingering death.Jimmy shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. He trembled at a sudden drop in temperature. He would need to look for shelter soon, the heavens were preparing to open and dump more sorrow on his head. He smirked sardonic. It seemed fitting that this be his end. He couldn’t even bother finding it in himself to be angry or frustrated at his situation.After all, for his crimes, this was exactly what he deserved.There was never anything good on television at six o’clock. James flipped through channels, his eyes half-closed, and his mouth forming a frumpy little frown. MTV was a reality show, FX was a reality show, Fox was a reality show, CW was a soap opera, Disney was a goofy children’s show, TNT was reruns, and Nickelodeon was another goofy children’s show but with green slime.James was strewn across the couch in the family den, his legs kicked over the chair arm. His dad was at work, of course, and his mom had gone grocery shopping. Cass was upstairs in her bedroom, and had been for the past couple hours doing God-knew-or-cared-what, which gave James a rare moment of tranquil solitude.It just wasn’t fair that he had to be bored senseless during it.Nonetheless, he continued flipping channels.Out of the corner of James’s eye, he caught a flash of movement and sighed, fighting back an almost satisfied smirk. He knew it was only a matter of time before Cass came downstairs to harass him. He changed the channel again, Oxygen, something about a wedding dress, lame. Channel change, ESPN, baseball, stupid.A mess of brown tangles and twin crystalline blue orbs peeked up from the edge of the couch, spied James, and then darted back out of sight.Next channel, more ESPN, bowling, even stupider. Next channel, even more ESPN, college football, even more stupid. Next channel, Jesus Christ, ESPN, and its tennis this time, who the hell watches tennis, it’s just back and forth, back and forth, not exciting at all and seriously, how many ESPN channels did they need?Cass shimmied along the front of the couch, pausing every now and then to glance paranoid all around. She stopped in front of James and lifted herself up slightly.“They’re coming to get us,” she whispered desperately, then ducked down and darted her head every which way, wide-eyed. Again, she hissed, “They know everything, comrade; they’re coming to get us. You have to escape.” Then she half-slithered-half-crawled the rest of the way across the front of the couch and disappeared out of sight.James rolled his eyes. He flipped to the next channel - finally, no more sports - Starz, some movie from the early nineties, Jesus Christ, look at that hair. Next channel, NBC, talk show, four women droning on about…God damn, who the fuck cares.Cass peered over the top of the couch’s other arm, and again whispered low and exasperated, “They’re almost here, Jimmy, we have to go. Now!” Then she hid away once more, squatting behind the side of the couch.James sighed; she really wasn’t going to let him alone with this.“Who is coming for us, Cass?” he demanded.Cass remained hidden, but her hand slid into sight, jerkily motioning for James to join her. He shook his head, rolling his eyes again, then stood up and strode around the couch, looking down at her with a raised brow and arms folded over his chest.“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding more annoyed by her antics than he actually felt. Cass glared up at him and gestured wildly for him to come closer, but when he didn’t do it, she grabbed his arm and tugged, chanting, “Get down, get down!”James knelt down, putting a great deal of effort into looking put out about it.“They’ve been taking the words away,” Cass explained, hushed, her gaze prodding every corner of the room for possible eavesdroppers, “Cutting them out, one by one, and burning them up. They watch us all the time, always listening in on everything we say. They want to control our minds. We have to be careful, quiet, can’t let them know that we’re on to them.”“Who are they?” James repeated, rubbing the burn from the television screen out of his eyes and trying to massage away his growing headache. Sometimes he would swear his little sister needed to be committed and soon.“They,” Cass insisted, then waved her hands wildly about and exclaimed, “They, Jimmy, they!”James sighed, that meant she didn’t know.“There’s a growing underground movement, though, Jimmy, a resistance to save the words. Take these,” Cass continued, she grabbed James’s hand and shoved little bits of crinkling papers, jaggedly chopped pieces of text, into his palm, “You have to keep them safe.”James looked at the scraps she’d given him blank faced then groaned, “Jeez, Cass, did you cut up a book? Mom’s gonna kill me!”“No, Jimmy, I rescued them. I rescued the words,” Cass explained, “And now I’m giving them to you, to keep them safe.”“Why are you giving them to me?” James demanded. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he was becoming a little curious about her indecipherable ramblings, if anything, they were slightly more amusing than anything that had been on the television.“Because we’re in love,” Cass told him matter-of-factly.“What?” James cried. Okay, to the psych ward with her.Cass placed her hand on James’s and looked up adoringly into his eyes, her expression semi-comical, and extravagantly dramatic.“Ever since I slipped you that note on the elevator, detailing the innermost secrets of my heart…up until then, you thought you hated me. How could you not? Me, wearing that red sash. But it was all a ruse, all so you wouldn’t know what I truly felt,” she detailed, then sighed genteelly, “When we first met, that scary moment in fear that one would betray the other, we saw into each other’s hearts and souls. It was meant to be, me and you, Jimmy.”James blinked hard, shook his head furiously. He wondered how much he could get if he sold his sister on the black market, then instantly dismissed that idea; he’d have to pay them to take her off his hands, and he didn’t think he had enough money.“If they knew about our love they would try to destroy it,” Cass continued, taking her hand away and sniffling sadly, “Try to turn us against one another. But we would never betray each other…because our love is true. We steal glances when we think no one will notice, pass notes in the halls when we pass by each other as we pretend we’ve never met in secret, pretend we’ve never been to that hotel in London where we made passionate love to one another.”“Jesus Christ, Cass,” James moaned, burying his face in his palm, “Where the hell are you getting this crap from?”Cass leapt away suddenly, sprawling across the floor to look around the couch, wide eyed and alert. Her entire body tense. She jerked her head back round to James, her expression fearful, panicked.“They’re here, Jimmy,” she cried, “You have to run. You have to get away. Save the words, Jimmy, save the words.” She hopped to her feet and raced towards the den exit, then paused, hands in front of her defensively, facing an invisible foe, “No! It can’t be you, it just can’t be! How could you betray us, O’Brien? You told us you were part of the resistance but it was all a trick, you were always on their side. No, no, no!”Cass made a noise like gunshots with her mouth, mimicking the bullets hitting her body. She fell to the ground, grasping at the air dramatically and crying out in over-the-top fake pain.“Go, Jimmy, save yourself,” Cass whimpered to her brother, “Save the words. I’ll always…” she coughed and wheezed, “…love you!”James looked at the scraps of paper in his hands, as he started putting together the pieces of Cass’s crazed ramblings: cutting out words, always watching, mind control, clandestine love, hotel in London, red sash, underground resistance, O’Brien’s betrayal. He scowled, lifted himself up and stalked over to his sister, still sprawled across the floor, her eyes closed, head turned to the side, mouth hanging open and tongue dangling out.“You little brat, you went in my room,” he realized. Cass’s eyes popped open and darted frantically back and forth.“Uh…I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m dead right now,” she said. James scowled.“Yeah, you’re dead,” he hissed threateningly, “You stole my book for English class! The teacher forced me to buy the school a new one. It came out of my allowance. It cost me ten bucks, you thieving little-”“Oh, look, Jimmy, the television,” Cass suddenly announced, sitting upright.“Don’t try to change the subject,” James growled. “No, look,” Cass insisted. James rolled his eyes, turning round and asking angrily, “And what exactly am I looking…” He faltered, narrowing his eyes at the television screen. He couldn’t remember what channel he had left it on, but it was now streaming a special news broadcast. “…sightings in major cities across the globe,” the news broadcaster was saying as a poor-quality video clip played of a creature on six legs shuffling across an unrecognizable street and scampering out of sight. Cass gasped. James picked up the remote off the couch and changed the channel; the new station was playing the same feed. He flipped through several channels, all playing the same video.“No fucking way,” James murmured.“No fucking way,” Cass parroted on the floor.James’s heart stopped a moment. He spun around and glared down at Cass, “Don’t ever repeat that word again.”“What word?” Cass questioned, staring up at him, the picture of innocence. James shook his head, agitated.“All of them,” he grumbled, and then he looked back to the television. He increased its volume, taking a few steps towards the screen. According to the broadcaster, the creatures were being spotted all over the globe, they didn’t appear to mean any harm, and they tended to disappear almost as soon as they were seen. The video footage being shown had been sent in by some teenager who’d been delivering pizzas and caught one walking across the street with his cell phone.Rise Against sang out ‘help is on the way…’ and Cass fumbled in her pocket, glancing at the screen of the cell phone she pulled out. She pressed answer and held it up to her ear.“Hi, Ry-ry,” she greeted cheerfully, James stared at her in bewilderment, “…yeah, it’s me. He’s right here; he’s busy now though…”“Why do you have my cell phone?” James seethed. Cass peered up at him blankly, blinking a few times before sweetly answering, “Because I was talking to Amber.”James eyes nearly popped from his sockets.“What?” he cried. Great, the last thing he needed to listen to Amber drone on about was the conversation she was forced to participate in with his younger sister. She probably thought it was stupid and for once she was probably right.“I don’t like her, Jimmy. She’s not very nice,” Cass steadily informed James, then into the phone she giggled and said, “You’re right, Ry-ry, you are way more fun to talk to!”“Give me that,” James groaned, ripping the phone from Cass’s hand and angrily shoving her backwards.“Ow, Jimmy, that hurt,” she screamed. “Are you hitting your sister again?” Ryan chastised as soon as James put the phone to his ear and grunted greeting. James rolled his eyes; he was too tired for this shit.“What are you, my mother?” he replied haughtily and asked, “Are you watching this thing on TV?”“Yeah, that’s why I called. What do you think about it? Media hoax?” Ryan answered. “It would have to be a pretty elaborate fucking media hoax, it’s on all the channels,” James responded, pacing as he spoke and darting his eyes to the television screen every so often.“So you think they’re real? I mean, like real fucking aliens from outer space? I’m talking Star Trek type crap here. Shit, James, what do you think it means?”“How should I know?” James replied starkly. He glanced at Cass, sitting cross-legged on the floor watching the television and snorted lightly, muttering under his breath, “But maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll abduct my family.”Jimmy startled awake. He wasn’t sure when he’d lost consciousness or how long he’d been out. He had taken shelter under a small enclave on the side of a steep hill, heavy rain dumping from the sky and ripping apart the earth outside, every so often a chain of lightening lit the world in a split second of pure white. It didn’t look as though it would be letting up anytime soon. It seemed all the forces of nature and the cosmos had finally conspired to punish him.“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine,” Cass sang nearby, in a low, haunting voice. Jimmy shuddered, wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face in them.“…I’m gonna let it shine…”“Stop singing, Cass, please stop singing,” he begged. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut; he didn’t even have the strength to form tears.“Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine…this little light of mine…”“Stop, please,” he whimpered, his voice breaking as he asked in a small, quivering croak, “Why won’t you go away? Why won’t you just leave me alone?”“Because, James,” Cass whispered, “Because you’re my brother.”Jimmy sniffed, rubbed his face across his sleeves then lifted his chin to rest atop his arms, staring at her with hollow eyes.“And I love you,” she continued.Jimmy tried to wet his dry lips; he could taste blood on them. His head was starting to feel light, every ache and pain in his body seemed amplified tenfold. He tried to focus, tried to remind himself what he was fighting for, but he couldn’t remember why he was even in that place at all, hiding under the ground from the pouring rain, so far from home, from his family.“Ben,” he mumbled to himself, the name thundering through him, an image of the other boy flickering faintly in his mind. He was doing this for Ben. He needed to get back to Ben. He had to hold on to that thought; it was the only thing that could keep him going.“And because, don’t you remember, James?” Cass pressed, sitting next to Jimmy and whispering delicately in his ear, “It’s your fault that I’m dead.”
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Seconds ticked into minutes ticked into hours and Ben was certain he was losing his mind. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d sat with Weaver for a long time but talking with the older man reminded him too much of what was at stake, and it was eating away at his heart. So he left, wandered their hastily-made camp and eventually took to running laps around their perimeter until he was ready to collapse, sitting on a chair and hanging his head, deep in troubled thoughts.That was how Dr. Glass found Ben, wallowing in his own despair, as children played around him oblivious to the one of their numbers missing. She handed him a cup of water and he accepted it but didn’t drink, staring at the clear liquid inside as though poison. Dr. Glass sat down in a chair nearby and watched him.“This part is never easy,” Dr. Glass whispered.“Which part?” Ben muttered.“The waiting,” Dr. Glass answered easily. She folded her legs, set back in her chair and watched Ben a moment, then noted, “He means a lot to you.”Ben said nothing, clenching the cup in his hand tight to hide the way his body trembled.“I think…I know, you mean a lot to him too,” Dr. Glass continued, “And I believe wherever he is, if he has the capability, then he’s doing everything he can to get back here…to get back to you.”Ben remained silent. A tear dribbled off his chin into his cup, causing the water to shiver. Dr. Glass folded her arms over her stomach, smiled distantly.“You know, lately I’d noticed a change in him,” she went on, “Since you two started growing close. He was always so hard, his features…cold, even. I remember when I first saw him, it bothered me, I didn’t think a child should look that way. His time in the 2nd Mass had relaxed him a little, but before you, there had always been this dark edge to him.”“You think it was Dorchester? That made him like that?” Ben mumbled, his voice sounded hoarse from letting it go so long without use. Dr. Glass perked a brow curiously and Ben explained, “Weaver told me you were the one that broke Jimmy in.”“It seems so long ago,” Dr. Glass mused, “Back then, we were all in so much unbearable pain. We’d all lost, and we were all struggling to hold on to what remained even if it was just our own lives. But I remember when they first brought me in to look at him thinking there was something disturbing about him, something unsettling – not in him, he was a sweet kid, but...around him, and I could never quite put my finger on it. I always felt such a sadness coming from him. Some of his scars ran deep, so deep I didn’t think anyone, anything, any amount of time could ever heal them.”“I feel it too,” Ben admitted, closing his eyes. He confessed, “And I want to make it go away.”Dr. Glass smiled, put her hand over Ben’s and gave it a squeeze.“You ease it, at least,” she assured him, “I see it in his face, in his eyes, when you two are together. For a moment, I think, he’s able to forget whatever it is that troubles him so much. You do that for him, Ben, the same way he does it for you.”Ben peeked up curiously at Dr. Glass and she gave him a knowing look.“You really thought I hadn’t noticed?” she teased light-heartedly, and then proclaimed, “He’s been holding you up almost as long, if not longer, than you’ve been holding him. You need him, Ben, we all know that.”Ben closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath, “I just hope he does.”They both fell quiet at the sound of approaching footsteps. Dr. Glass straightened and Ben wiped at his face, though no tears had fallen.“Hi, Ben…” a mousy, high-pitched voice greeted uncertainly. Ben glanced at the girl standing a foot or so away in front of him.“Hey, Val,” he glumly muttered greeting, glaring at the ground, and gritting his teeth to hold in the confusing surge of anger he suddenly felt. If there was anyone who could make Jimmy’s absence more prominent it was the girl who’d been his one-time stand-in. “I just wanted to tell you…I wanted to say…that I’m sorry,” Valerie stammered, rocking back and forth on her heels and clutching her hands tightly in front of herself, “About Jimmy. I know he was a really good friend to you and that you and him were really close…” “Why are you talking about him like he’s dead?” Ben interrupted, darting a harsh look up at her. Dr. Glass shifted in her seat, considering stepping in and directing the young girl away. Ben was distraught and there was no predicting his actions at that moment. “Oh, I am so sorry; I didn’t mean to sound like I thought…” Valerie started apologetically explaining. “We don’t know his status yet,” Ben insisted, “So until someone comes back with certain proof, don’t talk about him like he’s dead.” “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I mean, we all hope he’s okay,” Valerie continued, her voice becoming pitchy, “I really hope he’s okay. I was on that roof with him, he was…” she shook her head, a few tears strolling down her cheeks, “He was amazing.” “I know he was,” Ben mumbled somberly, glaring again at the ground, “I don’t need anyone to tell me that.” Valerie sniffled, chewing her thumbnail anxiously as she murmured shyly, “Well I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry and that I hope they find him and that…that…I don’t want you to think…that you’re alone. That you’re going to be alone. There are other people here who are on your side, you know, who are your friends. You won’t be alone, and I mean, I’ll work patrols with you and…” A sickness was welling in the pit of Ben’s stomach at Valerie’s every word and now he felt so overcome with it that it might spill from his mouth, everything inside him dark and rancid, splattered across the floor. “The last fucking thing on my mind right now is who I’m going to replace Jimmy with,” he spat out so fiercely Valerie fell back a few steps from its force. “Okay,” Dr. Glass announced warily, instantly on her feet and briefly placing a placating hand atop Ben’s head, before sweeping an arm around Valerie’s shoulders and directing her away from the vehement boy, “Valerie, sweetie, why don’t you come with me, okay? Let’s give Ben a little space…” “I really didn’t mean to…” Valerie whimpered, confused by the outburst, and tears flowing steadily down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetie, I know,” Dr. Glass soothed, “Ben is just very upset right now. He’s not mad at you; he knows you mean well, he’s just lashing out.” Ben buried his face in his palm and turned away to direct his heated gaze into the forested area surrounding their temporary camp. He wanted to feel guilty for yelling at Valerie, he really did, but he was too overcome by his grief. The search parties needed to return with news, and soon, or he was certain he would lose all control of his ever-increasing rage and viciously attack the next kind-hearted person stupid enough to express their sympathies to him. Luckily, no one else seemed to care enough about the ‘razorback’ to approach him. It was an hour or so later when Maggie called to Ben from across the camp, “The search parties are pulling in.” The wind had kicked up, and temperatures had dropped noticeably in the air. Threat of rain was imminent, and it shadowed the gathered crowd eager to hear whatever news the search parties brought back with an ominous atmosphere. Ben pushed his way through, Weaver stood at the center talking to Samson, Dai, Anthony, Hal, and a handful of others. Hal darted a hard look to his brother, a silent apology in his expression and Ben wasn’t sure how to interpret the look, but it hit him hard and sat like a stone in his stomach. The search party had recovered Riley and Ulrich’s bodies, preparations would be made for funerals tomorrow morning.“We found Fortune also, in the rubble of the warehouse,” Samson was saying, “She was buried pretty deep though, thought it best just to leave her there. Covered her back up a bit, said a few words.”“It was a good thought,” Weaver agreed, “We’ll give her proper rites in the morning with the other two. What else did you learn?”“Found the detonator,” Dai spoke up. Ben felt the statement like a punch in the gut. Here came the real news, the thing they had all gathered for: hope or the loss of it.“It was in the warehouse,” Anthony added, his brow lifted to illustrate his awe at the discovery, “And it was definitely the one that triggered the demolition. Its switch was initiated.”“In the warehouse,” Weaver repeated, his brow drawn tightly together, the worry wrinkles around his mouth and eyes more pronounced than Ben had ever before seen them.Samson nodded confirmation, then stepped forward and held something up as an almost sacrificial tithe, “We also found this.”It was Jimmy’s field vest, coated thickly in black crusted blood. And there it was, all hope gone. Ben couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear. Everything inside of him that felt akin to life just rushed away from him in that short second, leaving him as nothing but an empty husk. He turned to leave, he couldn’t listen to anymore but Maggie put her hand on his arm to stop him.“Wait,” she whispered.“Let me go,” he murmured harshly, his whole body was shaking. He didn’t think he could stand much longer. He needed to get away.“Just wait,” Maggie pressed softly, her eyes seeking his with a pacifying insistence swirling in their depth. Ben closed his eyes, and drew in his breath, held it in. Held it all in.“I see…” Weaver whispered, the old man sounded ready to collapse himself, and in an odd way, Ben found a strange comfort in knowing someone, to some extent, shared in his sorrow, “So then Jimmy was…”“We don’t know,” Dai spoke up, “Vest was found in a truck a couple streets over from the warehouse.”Ben spun around fast enough to give himself whiplash, his mouth dropping open. His heart and lungs kick started back to life, jack hammering away in his chest, as gloriously, beautiful, happy thoughts dropped into his mind like pennies in a well: that meant…it had to mean…it couldn’t mean anything else…“I’ll be damned,” Weaver breathed aloud the sentiment on everyone’s tongue.Maggie kept her hand at Ben’s shoulder, a small smile touching the hard drawn corners of her mouth. The calming effect of her touch was enough, though just barely, to keep Ben from bounding in to the center of that group and shaking every man there until they’d given him every last detail of the find.“Truck had been tampered with,” Samson took over explanations, “From the looks of it someone was trying to hotwire it.”“Jimmy was trying to hotwire it,” Hal corrected. The statement was a full-blown symphony blasting ‘Hallelujah’ in Ben’s ears; alive, alive, he’s alive, Ben’s heart chanted.“Tranny was blown though. There was no way to get it started,” Samson continued, “We think the kid decided to foot it from there. We scoured that whole industrial area, found no sign of him. We were going to push out into the surrounding forest but then it just started pouring buckets and we had to pull back.”As if on cue, fat rain drops started to tumble from out the clouds overhead. Thunder rumbled nearby, a flash of light split the sky.“Well, ain’t that just our luck,” Weaver cursed, kicking at the thickening mud, “This damn rain is going to wash away any tracks or useful evidence Jimmy left behind for us to find him. Goddammit.”“Also…there was a lot of blood, sir, enough to know the kid is in bad shape,” Samson added, in a voice so low it was clearly intended for only the captain’s ears, but Ben’s hearing was too heightened to keep secrets like that from him, “If he is still alive out there, he might not have very long.”“Then we better find him, and find him fast,” Weaver replied determinedly. To the gathered crowd he barked out, “We start the search again tomorrow at first light. Jimmy will try to get to this checkpoint, we’ll focus the search along the route here…”“Weaver,” Ben called, surprised at the strength in his own voice. All heads turned to him, the captain eying him curiously, “This is Jimmy we’re talking about.”A bemused smirk cracked the captain’s features, “Right. Scrap that. We’ll focus on a five mile radius around that industrial complex. If he’s in bad shape, he won’t have gotten far. Samson, I want you to take five people and re-search the complex again, check it thoroughly, leave no stone unturned. Jimmy is good at hiding; he could have tucked himself into a place you’d never think to look, so think to look there. Ben…”Weaver locked eyes with Ben, a firm understanding passed between them.“You’re with Hal, you two can leave in the morning whenever you’re ready,” he said, “Stop by Sam before you go and let him know where you intend to search so he can organize the parties around you. We got to be quick; we don’t have a whole hell of a lot of time. Now let’s all get out of this rain, we’ll need all available bodies searching tomorrow, can’t have anyone catching cold.”In the Mason boy’s shared tent, Ben watched out the entry flap at the heavy rain, heavy as his heart. Hal finished putting Matt to bed, then came to join Ben, sitting on the floor beside him.“Jimmy’s alive,” Hal said softly, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze, “Alive, Ben. He’s out there and we’re going to find him tomorrow, I promise you. The words twanged in Ben, an electric shock searing through his system. He smiled faintly, and then frowned at the severe weather.“Yeah, he’s alive. And he’s out there,” Ben repeated, shaking his head and wiping the back of a hand absently under his nose, “Out there in this. Alone. I hate knowing he’s alone. I don’t even want to think about what he’s going through right now…what he’s thinking, how afraid he’s got to be. You know, he would never admit it, not ever, but I think that it’s his worst fear, to be alone.”Ben wrapped his arms around himself, turned to study Hal watching the evening rain.“He was mad at me…for taking the mission to the tower. He thought I was the one that wouldn’t be coming back and now, even though I know it’s stupid, I am just so mad at him,” Ben confided, then snorted lightly and complained, “He wasn’t supposed to be in any danger. He was supposed to be on a roof, far out of the line of fire. Why the hell was he even in that warehouse?”“He was just doing his job. Watching your back, Ben,” Hal answered, smirked, “Tell you what, you can give him a hard time about it when we find him tomorrow morning.”“Oh I definitely will,” Ben vowed, looking back out the tent flap, he added silently, somberly, “If I ever stop kissing him.”Hal shifted awkwardly, quirking his brow and glancing away.“Sorry,” Ben grumbled, sounding anything but, “I know it’s weird…”“Actually, it’s kind of nice,” Hal interjected. He cleared his throat and further clarified, “Ever since you got that harness taken off, you haven’t been normal, Ben.”Ben flinched involuntarily at that confession. He knew it was true, he just didn’t like to hear it aloud, especially not from his brother.“I mean, every now and then you seem like yourself but most of the time…I don’t know,” Hal sighed and fixed a strange, faraway look on his younger brother, “You acting like a lovesick teenager is just nice. It feels normal.”“Even if it isn’t exactly…?” Ben murmured, fidgeting the wrinkles out of his shirt. Hal smirked fondly at that comment. He reached out and gently smacked the side of his brother’s head then ruffled Ben’s hair until Ben knocked him away.“Well, I don’t think I’ll be able to give you much relationship advice,” Hal admitted, “My solution to any problem you two have will probably be to just throw a few punches then share a beer.”“Somehow I think that would work for Jimmy,” Ben remarked, and Hal barked out a short laugh. They exchanged a melancholy smile and Ben returned his gaze out the tent. Hal stood to turn in for the night, patting Ben’s shoulder in passing.“He’s alive, Ben,” Hal repeated, “Just concentrate on that right now.”Ben nodded, and whispered to himself, “He’s alive.”But somehow the words didn’t carry much meaning if Jimmy wasn’t there in front of Ben to prove them true.
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Cold. It was too cold. A chill seeped in everywhere, icy tendrils creeping through every vein in Jimmy’s body. When light had burst into the enclave where Jimmy rested, shocking him to wakefulness, Jimmy had tried to stand, but his leg wouldn’t support the weight and his head felt light, swimming, clouded. He dropped to the ground and fell to his back, gripping his injured shoulder in one hand, his blood drenched thigh in the other, and choking down a sob.He needed to get up. He needed to move. But his muscles were too weak. His limbs wouldn’t obey his thoughts. He was paralyzed by his own weakness.Beside him, Cass lay; her shoulder was lined up against his own, a touch he couldn’t feel.“It’s okay to give up now, James,” she assured him, “You’ve fought so hard, for so long. Don’t you think it’s finally time to rest? No one will be mad if you just give up. Give up the pain. Give up the heartache. Give up your sorrows. It isn’t worth it. There’s nothing here for you. There never was. You know that.”“Ben is here,” Jimmy whimpered, curling his fingers in the dirt and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. It mattered, he was sure of it.“No. He’s not. No one is. They’re all gone. And you’re alone. So, give up. Okay, James? Just give up. The way you should have done a long time ago. I mean, what are you really holding on for? You know how it ends.”The last golden rays of sunlight dropped beneath the horizon as James dropped his bike on the grass; his mother hated when he did that but he didn’t feel like putting it in the garage yet, so he simply left it there and hiked up towards his house. He’d spent the day over at Ryan’s, and now he hoped the spray he’d used when leaving would adequately mask the lingering scent of weed in his clothes.Inside, James could hear his mother banging around in the kitchen. From the sounds of it, she was starting dinner. James had eaten stove-top mac n’ cheese at Ryan’s, so he wasn’t exactly hungry, but he couldn’t tell his mother that, she’d be furious he ate over at a friend’s without permission. He started up the stairs when his mother called out, “James? Is that you?”“Yeah, mom, it’s me,” he responded.“Get in here, young man,” she commanded. James sighed, lolling his head to the side exasperatedly and stalking back down the stairs towards the kitchen. He leaned against the doorframe, folded his arms over his chest and glared at her. What had he done or not done this time?His mother was dressed nicely in a long pencil skirt dress. She was wearing her diamond earrings, the one she’d inherited from her grandmother, that she only pulled out for special occasions, and the heart-shaped pendent necklace dad had given her their first Valentine’s Day as a married couple. James could sense an approaching dread at her appearance. She fixed him with a stern look, her hands on her hips and mouth tightly pursed.“And where, exactly, were you all day, young man?” she demanded.“Out,” James answered smartly. His mother tapped her foot, narrowing her eyes dangerously on him. He shrugged and amended, “At the Blakely’s.”“Of course,” his mother seethed, tossing her hands up and gasping in disgust. “You know how I feel about you spending time with the Blakely boy.”“He’s my best friend, mom,” James protested.“I didn’t ask you that,” his mother replied sharply, “I do not approve of his behavior, of the things that he does, he is a disgusting little child, and I do not like him. His parents may not care what he gets up to, and it is not my place to tell them how to raise their children, but you are my son, James, and I will decide how you are raised. I do not want you playing with Ryan Blakely, is that understood?”James rolled his eyes.“James Alexander Boland, I asked you if that…”“Yeah, I got it,” James snapped.“Good. Now, you owe your sister an apology,” his mother said. James raised a quizzical brow.“What? Why…?”“Her recital was today,” his mother muttered, turning back to the counter. Oh yeah, that, James rolled his eyes again and headed for the refrigerator. He opened the door, grabbed out the milk carton, popped it open and raised it to his mouth, pausing when his mother pinched his forearm hard and pulled the carton from his hands.“Ow! What?” James demanded.“I am serious, young man, you will go upstairs and apologize to your sister,” his mother persisted.“Because of her recital?” James pressed, taking the milk carton back from his mother and heading to the cabinet for a glass.“Because you missed her recital,” his mother hissed response, folding her arms over her chest. Her chin tipped down, and she leered up at him through her lashes. James filled the cup and set the carton on the counter next to it, turning to face his mother and leaning back against the counter edge.“Why do I have to apologize for that? She doesn’t even like ballet,” he challenged.“She loves ballet,” his mother protested.“She hates ballet,” James shot back, “You force her to take the classes. She throws a temper tantrum every day because of it. The girls pick on her in the class.”“She has made some good friends in that class,” his mother insisted.“They tease her because she wears grandpa’s old dog tags and doesn’t care to own the new Barbie dream house,” James returned, “And I’m not going to apologize to her for missing a stupid recital for a stupid class that she doesn’t even want to take.”“James Alexander-““Hell, mom, that would be like apologizing for missing her public execution!”James’s mouth slammed shut when his father’s form filled the kitchen doorframe. His eyes dropped instinctively to the tile floor. Subconsciously, he pushed himself as far back as he could to the counter and shrunk against it. His father’s dark eyes roved over him, surveying him.“Where the hell have you been?” his father asked, a clipped edge to his words. James chewed his inner cheek and forced air into his lungs.“Out,” he mumbled.“I’m handling this, John,” his mother murmured, a soft plea for him to leave.“Why are you even home? I thought you had work…” James stammered, daring a peek up at his father. The older man strode into the room, folded his arms across his chest.“I took the day off for your sister’s recital,” he answered easily. James flinched inwardly and looked away.“Of course you did,” he muttered.“Your sister was cast as the Sugar Plum Fairy. It was a big day for her,” his father continued to say, strolling slowly back and forth as he spoke, “But you were too busy dicking around with your delinquent friends to come see her, is that it, huh? What were you doing that was so much more important? I want to know. Tell me. I want to know what you were doing.”“Nothing,” James faltered, grimacing.“What was that? Nothing? You were doing nothing,” his father growled, “Doing nothing is what was so much more important than your sister?”“No,” James argued pathetically, fumbling for an explanation, “I just…she…I don’t…” He folded his arms over his stomach, tried to appear smaller, unassuming.“That is just typical,” his father clucked disapproving, “You are grounded. One month. No television, no computer, you come straight home after school and sit in your room thinking about what you’ve done. You are going to clean that garage this weekend. And you’re going to make this up to your sister. You are going to be responsible for taking her to ballet every day and bringing her home...”“This is so stupid…” James grumbled, and then shuddered at the chill of his father’s icy glare.“What was that?” his father demanded.James took a deep breath and flickered a glance up at his father, then looked pleadingly to his mother.“I just…I don’t get what the big deal is. Can’t I just watch it on the tape…you guys taped it, right?” he asked. His mother lowered her face and his father narrowed his eyes to thin, dangerous slits.“She didn’t perform,” his mother whispered, sounding like automaton, “She wouldn’t go on stage because...”James closed his eyes, darkness swarming his mind, and a sinking feeling in his gut as he sensed more than heard the next words.“Because her brother wasn’t there,” his mother finished.“Have you any idea how embarrassing it was for your mother and I to carry your sister out of that theater house bawling her eyes out?” his father hissed, “You couldn’t take two hours out of your fucking useless life...”“John, please,” his mother whimpered, “Let me handle this. Please.”“No, Charlotte, I am going to handle this. The boy never takes responsibility for a thing he does. He is a selfish, worthless, little shit, and I am sick and tired of his mouth and his attitude!”“You’re one to talk,” James muttered. He barely acknowledged the strike, his father’s open palm clapping the side of his head and knocking him off balance a moment. He stared hard at the ground, grimacing, and frustrated, hands balled into tight fists at his sides as tears rolled unbidden down his cheeks.“Jesus Christ, John,” his mother cried.“Oh, quit it, Charlotte, you are too fucking easy on the boy,” his father snapped, “That’s why he acts like this, because you let him get away with-““Don’t you dare,” his mother hissed warningly, and then shaking her head furious, instructed her son, “Go to your room, James.”James moved to leave, but his father grabbed his bicep hard, jerking him back into place and sending a shock of pain up his arm.“I am not done with him yet,” his father roared.“Goddammit, John, let him go. You let my son go, right now,” his mother screamed.“Stop, that hurts,” James whimpered, the pain in his shoulder white hot, the ringing in his ears making it so hard to focus that he couldn’t even understand what his parents were shouting at each other, his father’s grip on his arm tight enough to bruise.“…um…” They all froze, faltered, at the soft gasp from the kitchen door. Their attentions all turned there, finding Cass standing stiffly in its frame, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted open.“Why is everyone yelling?” she asked quietly, darting her shimmering, fear-filled blue orbs between each of her family members in the room. For several moments, there was a melancholy hush over the room, a sensation in the air, a feeling like being caught with a hand in the cookie jar. There they stood: a photograph of a family forever frozen in its worst moment.Their mother moved first, approaching Cass slowly, carefully, so as not to startle or scare her further.“It’s nothing, sweetie, let’s go back upstairs,” she cooed gently, but Cass quickly stumbled away from her grasp, edging quickly into the kitchen.“Princess, don’t worry, it doesn’t concern you. Mommy and daddy are just…” their father made the second attempt, releasing James and stepping towards the little girl but she deftly maneuvered out of his reach as well.Both parents stood paralyzed, hurt, frustrated, confused, watching their daughter’s actions uncertainly as she pressed away from them and gawked wide-eyed between them, drawing her breath in sharply, a rabbit caught in a trap. After a moment, when it seemed neither would make another attempt for her, Cass tiptoed passed them both, their gazes following her, as she eyed each warily the entire time, alert to any sudden movements, until finally she had crossed the kitchen and was close enough to toss her small arms around James’s waist and bury herself in his stomach. Meekly, hesitantly, James peeked up at his parents. They stared equally speechless at their children; a foreign kind of heartache written across their faces. Then, tentatively, James placed his hand on Cass’s head, stroking her hair back until she looked up at him.“I’m sorry I missed your recital,” he mumbled quietly, his words stilted.“That’s okay, Jimmy. I don’t care. Is that why everyone is so mad?” she whispered response, rubbing her face in his t-shirt front and settling her cheek against his stomach, tightening her hold on him, and quietly confessing, “I don’t even like ballet. You know that.”
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Jimmy would never be able to explain how he was able to pull himself off the ground and crawl out of that enclave, but he’d managed to do it, and now the only thing he could do, the only thought he could think, was to keep moving. To put one foot in front of the other.All the while, Cass trailed behind him, perturbingly silent, but ever-present.In the morning, the low pink light glistened vibrantly across the winter snow. James left the Blakely’s house early, didn’t bother waking Ryan or his sister for the ride home she promised the night before. He walked along the empty, vacant streets wrapped in a borrowed sweater, gasping and heaving, as his forehead blistered with swirling heat. There was something strangely comforting about the lack of people, as though he were the only one that remained. The last boy on earth. When he reached home, he entered his house quietly, and wondered vaguely if anyone was awake.“…no, I know it has not been forty-eight hours, goddammit, I realize that…”James flinched at the sound of his father’s voice, shuddering involuntarily, and freezing, paralyzed in the open doorframe. He’d inspected the bruise on his face that morning, along the left side of his cheek and curling up around his eye. It throbbed painlessly, a pressing reminder of his foolish mouth and the things he could never stop from falling out of it.“…you need to realize that he is a thirteen year old boy that never came home last night and no I do not want to wait forty-eight fucking hours to find out if my son is okay!”James let the door click shut behind him, shuffled in a few paces and looked into the living room where his dad had risen from the couch. The old man was disheveled in appearance and holding the phone at his shoulder away from his ear. For a moment, their eyes met and a strange coldness settled in the air. There were only a few feet, maybe ten or twelve at most, between the father and son, but the distance spanned too great to close.Without a word, James turned away and climbed the stairs to his room. Behind him he heard his father hang up the phone and stride towards the kitchen.James shut his bedroom door and collapsed on his bed, sinking deep into a fever induced sleep that lasted for who-knew-how-long.At some time, maybe in the night, but what night he wasn’t sure, he woke to his father’s voice outside his room.“…I don’t know what to do, Charlotte, that’s why I called you. You need to come home…temperature? I don’t know…hot…very hot. He’s been sleeping all day….he needs someone here and I have to work…no, I can’t take a fucking day off…”James slipped back into darkness and only startled awake again at a cold touch to his forehead. His mother sat over him, her gaze narrowed on something in her hand, the child thermometer. She shook her head, muttering under her breath, not noticing that James had awoken, if only for that moment.“…can’t take care of his own son for two goddamned days…no, I have to be responsible for everything, as if I don’t have anything else important going on…” Again, James plunged back into darkness. Again, time passed without his knowledge, and, again he stirred to waking in an unfamiliar day.“No! Oh no…jump, dammit, jump!”James peeled his eyes open, stared blearily at the ceiling a moment, then squeezed his eyes shut again and rolled on his side.“Jesus Christ, why won’t you…ugh! No way, again?! You stupid…!”He opened his eyes a small slit and let his gaze focus on the bouncing crown of light brown locks, and sighed, reaching out a hand to touch that silken head. Cass startled forward, and spun round, her wide eyes locking on James’s half-lidded ones. She had her lime green Nintendo DS in her hand and from the looks of the screen was in the middle of a Zelda game.“Oh no, I woke you up,” she realized horrified, “Mom is going to be so mad at me. She said not to wake you…”“Why are you in my room?” James murmured, his voice sounded scratched and unused. He shifted, repositioning his pillow under his head, to get a bit more comfortable. He was groggy, feeling the way that one did after sleeping for far too long. His mouth was dry and his cheeks felt flushed and light. Cass pulled herself up on her knees and folded her arms on the edge of James’s bed, resting her chin atop them to peer at him interestedly.“You slept for two days,” she commented softly, “Mom was going to call the ambulance but dad said it was too much money and mom wanted to take you to the hospital and dad said no because he said mom was fussing too much over you and that you’d be fine if you just slept and took some medicine,” she dropped her voice very low and whispered conspiratorially, “I think he just didn’t want to have to carry you to the car. Isn’t that silly? He’s so lazy.”James blinked, attempted to swallow, but his mouth was dry and he darted the tip of his tongue out to wet his chapped lips a bit.“Okay. But...why are you in my room?” he repeated. Cass pursed her lips and her eyes dropped, shooting nervously back and forth as she considered the question.“I’m watching you,” Cass quietly, hastily explained, “Mom said you were really sick and needed to be watched very closely so that you would get better. But she wasn’t watching you; she was doing laundry, so I had to do it,” she looked up at James then and asked, “Do you feel better now?”James rolled onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling, smirking inwardly.“No,” he muttered. He eyed Cass pouting at him and added mischievously, “Maybe because you were playing that video game and weren’t watching me closely enough.”Cass baulked and flustered, “But I…I watched really closely for a really long time, Jimmy! I promise. And I didn’t play the game a lot, just for a little…just a break from watching, only like for two minutes, I swear.”“Really?” James pressed, quirking a brow at Cass. She faltered, sighing and burying her head in her arms, her tiny curls splaying over James’s crimson red wool blanket.“No,” she whimpered, “I was playing for longer than two minutes. I’m so sorry, Jimmy, I tried really hard to watch you closely but it was just so boring,” she peeked up at him and noted flatly, “You snore.”“I do not,” James scoffed indignantly.“Yes. You do. You snore really loudly,” Cass insisted, “Like this.” She made a humorous attempt at mimicking her brother, creating exaggerated nasal noises and gargling loudly in the back of her throat. “Cass,” James groaned, trying to fight the smile as he swiped angrily at her, “Stop that.”Cass fell silent, staring thoughtfully at James and blinking owlishly, “Hey, Jimmy, you are going to get better, right?”James settled deeper under his blankets and shrugged.“Yeah. Why?”“Because I don’t want you to die,” Cass whispered softly. James startled slightly, blinking several times and trying to understand the peculiar aching pang in his chest.“I’m not going to die. Why would you say something like that, Cass?” he demanded, furious suddenly and not certain why.“Last time we went to visit nana, she looked really white, like you, and her eyes were darkish around them, and she kept making these noises like…” Cass wheezed noisily, gasping like a goldfish flung out of water, then stopped and set an intent look on James, “Mom kept saying that she thought nana would die soon and Aunt Gene kept saying ‘no’ over and over again and crying a lot.”“That was a year ago, Cass,” James muttered, rubbing his face with the keel of his hand, “And nana didn’t die.”“No. Not then. She died yesterday,” Cass said matter-of-factly. James flinched, his eyes widening as he turned to gape at his little sister. She was looking at her Nintendo game again, and she mumbled disinterestedly, “You looked like nana did…when we saw her last time.”“Nana died?” he whispered, trembling.“Yes. Aunt Gene called this morning. Mom keeps cleaning stuff,” Cass explained, “She’s been cleaning since she got off the phone.”James looked to the ceiling, and tried to catch his breath, tried to ease the pain swelling in his chest. They hadn’t visited nana much since she went to live in the home three years prior, but he remembered spending summers on her trawler out in Nantucket. She had taught him to fish when he was seven, how to properly gut a fish, how to build a fire – she had a pit in her backyard, and she used it to show him how to grill the fish over the open flame. Nana would tell James stories about the Korean War, she’d been a nurse stationed overseas at the time, didn’t see much action but she did see a lot of shrapnel wounds, which she described in excruciating detail. She’d let him sip some bourbon at nine, and his mother had thrown a fit when she found him stumbling around drunk in the living room, swaying to the old bandstand records nana had put on.Nana had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s when James was ten. Visiting her got harder every time, she remembered him infrequently at first, then eventually not at all. Some days she thought he was a perfect stranger, but the weird days were when she referred to him by her husband, his grandfather’s name, Earnest. His grandfather had died fifteen years before he had even been born. Last time James saw nana, he’d sat with her for a time, attempting to play a game of checkers but she wouldn’t cooperate. Out of nowhere, she had grabbed his hand, looked him dead in the eye, and told him, accused him angrily, that he would go first. It was in his blood, the men in his family always went before their loves. They were cowards like that, couldn’t face the heartache but could easily give it. It had shaken him so much, he’d told his mom he didn’t want to ever go back to see nana and she’d scolded him for saying something so heartless. But now, it seemed, he would never have to.James startled at the cold touch to his forehead and glanced to Cass, making a show of checking his temperature. She had her tongue out; its tip pressed to her top lip, her brow was wrinkled in concentration. He blinked away unshed tears and stared curiously at his sister.“I think you’re right,” Cass determined, plopping her arms and chin back down to the bed and smiling broadly at her brother, “You might not die. Not right now, anyway.”“Were you really that concerned?” James wondered teasingly, and then faltered when he caught his sister’s solemn expression. He shifted under the covers, cleared his throat and asked, “What were you yelling about on the game?”Cass straightened, lifting her DS to glare at the screen, and then flinging it out so that he could inspect it, “This stupid part in this stupid temple. I can’t get passed it!”“Oh,” James rolled his eyes, recognizing the level. He pulled himself up a bit, making room on the bed and motioning for Cass to join him, “Here, I’ll help you.”Cass scrambled onto the mattress and settled next to her brother, positioning herself so that he could see the screen as she played to the parts she was struggling with. He whispered instructions to her and she attempted to follow them, and he grimaced every time she failed, as she groaned frustrated.“Can’t you just do it for me?” she whimpered pleadingly. He laughed and shook his head, laying back on his pillow and putting his arm around her and she leaned comfortably back against him, “Hey, Jimmy?”“Yeah. What?”“I don’t understand. Why does Link do all of this for Zelda?” Cass wondered, “It seems like a lot of trouble for someone he doesn’t even know.”“He has to save her. She’s the princess,” James explained quietly. Cass scrunched her brow and looked dubiously at James, putting her game on pause.“Does he love her?”“I don’t know. Probably,” James shrugged, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning as he spoke, “It’s like with Mario and Princess Peach. She’s the princess, he’s supposed to save her, and then they live happily ever after.”“But why is he supposed to save her?” Cass persisted. “Because Cass,” James muttered peevishly, “Because…just because he’s the prince, I guess. He has to save her. It’s his job.”Jimmy gasped for air, but he couldn’t get any down his throat. He cried dry tears from the pain. He kept moving. That was the important thing, to keep moving. He wasn’t sure why. He knew he just needed to keep moving…moving towards…towards that thing…that most important thing. He just couldn’t remember what it was. His feet were leaden, his movement dragged, every step was a long, drawn out war, a war he was losing, and all the while a white noise rang in his ears.“James,” Cass whispered solemn and severe, “You can’t go on like this forever. Eventually, you’ll have to give in. They’ll be fine without you. He’ll be fine without you. It’s not like you were ever going to be able to save him, you know. You just weren’t good enough. He deserves better…”Jimmy’s body had moved beyond pain, it was now numb of all feeling. His heart thumped against his chest, he could sense it pushing his ribs, out then in, and it seemed more a pathetic pattering than the drumming beat it was meant to be.“…and you never deserved a happily ever after.”
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“A-B-C-D-E-F-G…H-I-J-K…”James glared across the breakfast table at Cass; the little girl was singing obliviously, kicking her legs under the table and studying the back of a cereal box.“Cass, will you shut the hell up?” James hissed and she looked at him hurt and slightly confused. He shook his head, shoveling milky cereal into his mouth and muttering, “Jesus Christ you’re annoying.”Their mother entered the kitchen, sliding an earring into place.“James, don’t forget that you’re grounded. You come straight home after school, alright? No excuses,” she commanded.“The world is ending and I’m still grounded?” James complained.“You were caught smoking marijuana, young man, I don’t care if an alien marches right up to the front door and tells me I need to let you off, you are still grounded,” his mother replied hotly, then grumbled, “And the world is not ending. A few odd reports come in about strange sightings-““It was on the news, mom,” James protested, “They had a video clip.”“It was a phony video clip,” a deep voice bellowed from the hallway, preceding the entrance of James’s father. The dark featured, bulky man swept James’s mother up in his thick arms and pressed a demanding kiss to her mouth. James immediately fell silent, lifting his bowl, half-empty of cereal, off the table and dumping it in the sink.“Oh, John,” his mother scolded jokingly, giggling, and smacking the stern-faced man lightly on the arm. He laughed response and James rolled his eyes, making a face of disgust.“I’m heading to school now,” James announced to no one in particular, snatching up his backpack from where it was slung across the staircase railing.“Take the trash out on your way, son,” his father shouted at his back, but James ignored the command, being certain to slam the door shut noisily behind him.James rode his bike to Ryan’s house, where he changed out of his uniform into the street clothes he’d stored in his backpack. Together, the boys took the bus downtown, where they met up with Lenny, Kevin, and Gary.They had an hour before the movie started, so the boys wandered into different shops around the theater, eventually entering a convenience store with the intent of stocking up on snack foods for the movie. They wandered the aisles, talking obnoxiously and laughing, ignoring the dark looks from the sales clerk and the few customers in the store.Eventually they turned down the magazine aisle, deciding to browse, and all faltered a moment at what they saw there. On the ground, pushed against one of the shelves as far out of the way as it could go, was a long board decorated on top with a grassy landscape, soldiers toting guns, canons, horses, rolling hills, and tiny tents, a perfect miniature replica of some old battle scene.“What the fuck is this…?” Lenny proclaimed giddily, the other boys staring in various degrees of awe and interest. “Holy shit…someone invented a shrink ray,” Kevin remarked, in mock-awe.Ryan knelt down, reaching out to examine one of the soldiers, and Gary stood attentively at his shoulder, eating a dark chocolate bar.“Uh…please…don’t touch that,” a pitchy voice called, pleadingly. They all turned their attention down the aisle to where a boy started to lift himself to his feet. He’d been scanning magazines on the bottom shelf, titles like Times, Discover, Scientific American, Smithsonian, when the five other boys arrived. He looked about their age, slender, casually dressed in dark jeans, a light-colored t-shirt and twill jacket. His golden hair was neatly slicked to one side. His wide eyes shimmered with a powerful mix of fear and annoyance as he swept his gaze over the newcomers. For a moment those strange boy’s brown eyes lingered on James’s blue, staggering his heartbeat, and then hastily moved on to assess the next boy.“What the hell is this thing?” Lenny demanded, moving towards the strange boy.“It’s a replica of the Battle of Lexington,” the boy answered peevishly, kneeling down by his odd possession to fuss over it, making sure everything was still in its place. He swatted Ryan’s hands away, but Ryan remained kneeling, resting his hands on his knees as he stared over the masterpiece.“You made this?” Ryan asked, clearly impressed.“Yes,” the boy sheepishly replied.“Someone’s got way too much time on their hands,” Lenny jeered and the boy blushed noticeably.“Well…I…” he stammered, and then fell silent, focusing all his attentions on the soldiers, and decided not to even bother explaining himself. Clearly, he was used to that kind of commentary about his person.“You know what I do when I have too much time on my hands?” Kevin began, as he started to wander down the magazine aisle towards the ‘adult’ section. Lenny trailed after him.“Well, wait…are we talking about your right or your left hand?” James responded teasingly, moving towards the nearby shelf with the gaming magazines.“Oh, what, you mean this hand…” Kevin replied sharply, holding up his right middle finger, “Or this hand,” up went the left. James smirked, turned his attention back to the magazines.“Is it…like…for school or something?” Ryan asked the strange boy.“Yeah,” the boy mumbled, looking increasingly uncomfortable with the persistent attention. He was probably expecting them to beat him up soon, give him a wedgie, stomp on his work, or some other after-school-special type shit.“What school do you go to?” Ryan asked, mouth slightly agape. The boy murmured an answer that James didn’t hear and Ryan arched his brow, “You go to public school? And you made this? So then…what are you like a genius or something?”“More like an overachiever,” James muttered, earning a briefly hurt look from the strange boy. He shrugged nonchalant, feeling an inexplicable pang of guilt. Seriously, though, the boy had to know he was a nerd. Nobody could build something like that and not realize it made him a complete and total nerd.“Dude, check out her tits, they’re fucking huge,” Lenny exclaimed, a magazine sprawled out in his hands. Kevin hustled over to take a gander.“Holy shit, it’s like Mount Everest, what a beaut,” Kevin agreed.“Hey, James, you touch Amber’s boob yet?” Lenny called. Ryan darted a dark look to Lenny, and the strange boy glanced up curiously at James, did a round of the boys, and then dropped his eyes back to his board at a sudden movement from Ryan. James flipped through one of the magazines, stopping on a page filled with cheat codes.“Yeah, sure,” James muttered reply to Lenny, rolling his eyes, then called over his shoulder, “Hey, Ryan, give me your pen.”Ryan fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a pen and cigarette, tossing the pen to James, who caught it easily, and sliding the cigarette behind his ear. “You know what would be awesome,” Gary told the strange boy, lightly slapping his shoulder with a chocolaty hand to get his attention. “Well, James,” Lenny persisted, “Aren’t you going to share with the class?” “Share what?” James demanded, irritated. He bit off the cap of the pen and, gripping the magazine open against the shelf, began copying some of the codes printed therein on his inner forearm. “What?” the strange boy asked Gary uncertainly, glancing disgustedly at his shoulder where Gary had touched him and wisely examining the sleeve for any chocolate residue. “Amber’s boob. What was it like?” Lenny said. James narrowed his eyes and growled low in the back of his throat. He shrugged, furrowed his brow, and answered, his words muffled by the pen between his teeth, “Squishy.” “If these guys here had machine guns,” Gary said gleefully, pointing to a cluster of soldiers on the edge of the board in red jackets, “It would be so awesome. They could be in like mafia clothes, holding machine guns…say hello to my little friend, you know?” All the boys in the aisle fell silent, stopping in whatever they were doing to stare blank and incredulous at Gary. “What?” he cried, genuinely confused, “It would be awesome.” Slowly, James recapped the pen, his eyes boring into his friend. “It’s from the Revolutionary War,” he steadily informed Gary. Gary perked a brow and shrugged, shaking his head, clearly not comprehending. James could feel the strange boy looking at him again; it warmed his cheeks a bit and put him a little on edge. He was starting to wonder if maybe he should punch the boy, maybe that would stop his staring, but quickly dispelled that thought. The last thing he needed was to be brought home by the cops. “They didn’t have machine guns,” James pointed out, disinterestedly, returning to the magazine. His other friends laughed and muttered insults to Gary about his intelligence. Gary bristled and shrugged, “So? Like a public school teacher would really care about historical accuracy.”Kevin and Lenny went back to their skin mag, and James, finished copying the codes he wanted, set the gaming magazine back on the shelf and fingered through a few others, absently fidgeting with the pen. Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of the unfamiliar boy knelt not too far from him.Ryan stood to join James at the shelf, still staring at the battle replica and the boy sitting protectively beside it. The boy was trying to appear interested in the magazines again and darting confused, paranoid looks at the five boys standing around him. James handed Ryan his pen back.“You going to break up with Amber soon?” Ryan whispered in a low voice. James shrugged, grabbing another magazine, this one about paintball guns, and flipping through it.“Nah, I’ll wait for her to do it,” James answered casually and then wondered, “Why do you care?”“You know the last time I did a project for school,” Gary continued conversing with the strange boy, “We had to color in this poster of an Indian and a nun.”“I care because you’re my friend,” Ryan answered, mock-serious, and then muttered, “And I don’t know, it’s kind of lame you’re always hanging out with her.”“So, I put the Indian in like this…” Gary started laughing as he spoke, “This cowboy hat with a bullet hole…and…and…I put a hatchet in his hand…and…put blood stains on his clothes. And then the nun…” “Oh man, that has got to be my favorite sweater ever,” Kevin was saying down at the end of the aisle, whimpering, “Look how tight it is…”“I don’t always hang out with her,” James muttered, “Just at school.”“Yeah, and it’s lame,” Ryan insisted.“The nun I made look like a hippie,” Gary gasped, chuckling as he described his artwork to the wide-eyed befuddled boy on the ground, “I put this…this giant peace sign on her shirt and I made it…I made it all…” he broke into laughter, “Rainbow colored. Oh man, it was awesome.”James and Ryan paused, turning to look at Gary, overcome with a fit of giggles. The strange boy stared blank at Gary a moment, and then shot a questioning look back to James and Ryan in hopes one of them could explain or maybe just simply do something about their friend.“Are you talking about that Thanksgiving picture they made us color in the third grade?” James inquired, stunned.Gary’s laughter died down and he looked dumbly at the three boys gaping at him from across the aisle. That was a yes. James rubbed his face with the keel of his palm and sighed, exasperated.“That wasn’t a nun, numb nuts,” Ryan chuckled, “That was a pilgrim.”“Well…no…” Gary protested, “Archibald told me she was supposed to be wearing all black when I turned it in, so that means she had to be a nun.”“It wasn’t a woman, either! It was a pilgrim, a man pilgrim!” Ryan argued.“No…wait…’cause nuns are all…"“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” James cut in, “You’re telling us you haven’t done a project for school since the third grade? Jesus Christ, Gary, no wonder you’re in all remedial classes!”“Hey, man, we can’t all be in the genius classes like you, James,” Kevin called haughtily from down the aisle.The strange boy gazed steadily at James, suddenly curious, and James shifted uncomfortably under that scrutinizing stare.“What the fuck are you talking about, Kev, we share half our classes,” James shot back.“Yeah, but he’s right. You’re in, like, that tricha…tricha…uh…trichadectomy,” Gary stammered, attempting to make a point but struggling to get to it.“Hysterectomy?” Ryan jokingly suggested.“Trigonometry, jackasses,” James grumbled, “It’s just math, shit, not exactly a genius class.”“And then there’s the other one…the science one,” Gary insisted.“Applied Physics,” James grunted, turning back to the magazine shelves, chewing his inner cheek, “And it’s not like they count. I’m failing both.”“Yeah, but that’s just because you don’t turn in your homework and you ditch half the time,” Ryan noted, “You ace all the tests and you don’t even use a calculator, man, I’ve seen you.”“Oh yeah, that’s right; James is fucking Rain Man,” Lenny mused from down the aisle, and James winced, shaking his head, why couldn’t they just shut up, “Shouldn’t you be wearing a bow-tie and counting toothpicks? Oh, shit, now that I think about it, you could be a superhero. Ultra-Nerd. Calculates mathematical equations at the speed of light. Seriously, though, you couldn’t have a useful superpower?”“Fuck you, Lenny,” James hissed. “Dude, Gary, they’ve got the lingerie addition of Cosmo out,” Lenny abruptly changed the subject, whistling appreciatively and Gary about sprinted down the hall, ripping the magazine from the shelf.“Oh man, demis are back in style!” Gary squealed, and then pondered aloud, “Would it be possible to send every girl in our class a copy of this magazine?” Ryan shrugged apologetically at James, strolling down the hall to join the other boys. James pulled a cigarette from his pocket, twirling it absently in his fingers, trying to settle the anger flooding his veins. Like it was his fucking fault he understood math.“You shouldn’t smoke,” the strange boy piped up on the ground and James darted a confused glance to him, flustering when he met those deep brown eyes, staring up at him attentively. What was with this boy, did he not know how to dial the intensity down a notch? James bit his inner cheek hard.“Why? Is it bad for my health?” he sneered. The strange boy dropped his eyes, fidgeting with a few of the magazines on the bottom shelf. James assumed it was not out of interest but so as to have something to do with his hands – unless home decorating was really his thing.“You know, I think it’s cool,” the boy confessed quietly, “That you can do advanced math in your head like that. I can’t…math is my worst subject. I have to stay up really late studying to pass my tests.”James’s heart skipped a beat, and he glared, confusedly, cheeks blistering with heat, at the magazines, tapping the cigarette against his leg and chewing his gum wall ragged. Why should he care what a perfect stranger thought of him?“Also, your friends are wrong. It is useful,” the boy went on to say, “Math. You can do just about anything with it…”“Look, I don’t need a pep talk from a guy who carries mini-soldiers around,” James snapped harshly, and the boy faltered, his eyes scouring the ground, and there was the inexplicable guilt once more pounding into James’s chest.“Sorry…” the boy murmured, flustered and fervently straightening the magazines on the shelf, “I was only trying to…”An older man turned the corner into the aisle suddenly. He had a neatly trimmed beard and his hair was slicked back in the same fashion as the strange boy. He was dressed in a tweed suit. “There you are, Ben, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I thought you said you were only going to be a minute,” the man said to the boy on the ground. He glanced over the other five boys, who were staring silently, surprised at his entrance. James palmed his cigarette and averted the older man’s gaze.“Hey, dad, I’m so sorry, I was just…” the boy on the ground faltered, he couldn’t seem to figure out exactly what it was that he was ‘just’.“It’s alright, son, but we have to get going. If we don’t hurry I’ll be late for my lecture,” the man replied.“Okay. I’m coming,” the boy fumbled with his project saying, “Hey, dad, Time magazine has a special edition dedicated to…um… Colonel Custard’s Last Stand.”The man furrowed his brow thoughtfully a moment then smiled fondly at his son and conceded, “Alright, son. Grab a copy; we’ll look at it at home. But we really have to go.”The boy bounded eagerly down the aisle, carefully reaching around Ryan, muttering a timid apology, and snatching up a Time magazine. He rushed back towards his father.“Hey, Ben, did something happen to your history project?” the man questioned, hands on his hips as he stared confusedly down at the battle scene on the floor. The boy scrunched his brow.“No. Why?” the boy questioned.“Because I don’t recall the British ever firing their cannons quite like that,” his father replied, with a light chuckle, and the boy peered at the battlefield, scowling. All of the cannons had been turned to point skyward, the soldiers positioned as though straddling them. The boy sent a dark look down the hall where Ryan, who had repositioned the soldiers while the boy was distracted by Gary’s idiotic babblings, snickered with the other three boys. James smirked, rolling his eyes at his friend’s antics.The boy knelt to rearrange the scene but his father told him, “You can fix it at school; we really need to get going. Do you want me to help you carry this?”“No, I got it, dad,” the boy insisted, struggling to lift the project off the ground. His father shook his head, grinning amusedly at him. “This thing does look amazing, son. I’m going to take it to work with me after you get the grade, my grad students will really get a kick out of it,” the older man exalted, as he and the boy strode together towards the registers. James watched, a strange ache spreading through his chest, as the two departed. The father ruffled the son’s hair and then rested his hand tenderly around the back of his neck, guiding him towards the check out and praising him the whole way. James closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn’t quite sure why it hurt so much. Why did it always have to hurt so much?Jimmy collapsed to his knees and then fell forward to the damp ground with a soft PLOP. He struggled to keep his eyes open. Struggled to bring air into his lungs. Struggled…Cass lay on the ground beside him on her belly, arms folded and chin resting atop, staring intently into his half-lidded eyes. Blue cascading into blue.“Is this it, then?” she wondered, “Is this the end?”
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Is this really how the world ends? In a hailstorm of fire and brimstone, laser beams like the last epic battle of Star Wars. All that man has created crumbling to the ground before his very eyes. Dust, dust, dust, dust in the wind.When the aliens attacked, security tried to contain the people in the movie theater, tried to usher them to safety, but there were so many and everyone was just as panicked as the next, and where the fuck was safety anyway, did security even know. There was no organization, no one keeping track of anyone, who the hell really mattered to anyone in that situation, so one small boy slipping out easily escaped their notice or their care, whichever, didn’t matter.“James, wait, come back!” his friends called, but he couldn’t hear them, or chose to ignore, fuck them all, as they were swept away with the wave of people searching for their own salvation.How far, how long he ran, he couldn’t know. Was he even going the right direction? His lungs were ready to burst before anything became familiar.“…Jimmy…answer me…”Into that house, the one that still haunts his dreams, he burst through the front door and raced up the stairs, screaming, begging, and pleading. Sweat became his second skin; breath didn’t linger in his lungs.“…we’ve got him over here! Radio camp, we’ve got him!”No one answered his cries. Down the stairs again, through the family room, the den, into the kitchen. Anyone, anyone, please, someone be here. Into the backyard he ran, the pool glistened, pieces of the roof floated atop its sapphire surface, the children’s playhouse was smashed to smithereens, no more crayon animals secretly born there to remind him he was loved. In the clear blue vastness overhead, the skies were falling. Massive crafts of silver and gray, and balls of fire burst through the atmosphere and tumbled to earth. She was sitting on the veranda, a half-empty martini beside her chair.“…mm…mom…”He touched her shoulder, her head, or what was left of it, lolled to the side. Ichor and entrails splattered across the ground. He turned away, lost everything inside him, expelled violently from his stomach mixing on the porch with the blood and guts. Tears and sobs overwhelmed, he staggered away.“Jimmy, can you hear me? Jimmy…wake up…” Again, he stumbled from the house, ran from it, ran from that place, that perverse illusion of home, never to be seen again. Down the street, several blocks away, he sprinted, putting aside the need for breath. He couldn’t draw it in fast enough, it was just a burden. Cars were overturned throughout every road. Some were still moving, driving chaotically to whatever destination its driver thought might be a sanctuary…there are no sanctuaries. People ran every which direction, ran for their lives, and passed him by without notice or care, no one stopped to turn him around, they couldn’t if they wanted. Who the hell knew what was safe anymore? Outside of the schoolhouse, he found the black BMW, splintered in half and sizzling. He opened the door, charred remains; barely recognizable tumbled out atop him. He struggled to push it away, fell to the ground and shuffled backwards. The smell of burning flesh invaded his senses; stuck to his body, to his clothes, it became him.“…dad…”“He’s in real bad shape but he’s breathing…I think he’s saying something…Jimmy, are you alright, can you hear me...no, no, never mind…it’s nothing...just nonsense.”Into the schoolhouse, he ran down the halls, screaming her name. Please, God, please, don’t let it be this way. Every room was empty. “The truck is here…”“Jimmy, we’re going to move you now, okay?”Every corridor was empty. “…nn…Cass…”Everything was silent. “Lift him carefully…brace his head…and his neck, goddammit.”He listened for her voice. Listened for any sounds of life in those empty hallways at all. Anything that would indicate that there was hope.Where is your sister, James?“…Cass…”Hold her hand. Don’t lose her.“Cass…”“I think he’s calling for someone. Who’s Cass?”“I don’t know, don’t know anyone by that name. He’s delirious. Let’s get him back to camp.”Where is your sister?…Hal forced Ben back to camp sometime after noon. They’d been searching for seven hours straight, they’d covered their entire search zone and pushed beyond it, there were other people searching now, and they had to eat at some point. Ben hadn’t eaten in days, not since Jimmy went missing.“We’ve spotted Skitters…mech…heading back this way,” a scout was telling Weaver when the Mason boys pulled in. Hal couldn’t have heard, not from their distance from the two men speaking in low voices, not over the roar of the engine, but Ben could hear the conversation clearly, as if he stood right next to them. He dismounted quickly, before the bike had even completely stopped and strode towards them.“Dammit...” Weaver muttered, “That means we have no choice but to pull out tomorrow and if we haven’t found Jimmy by then…”“I’m staying behind,” Ben announced. Weaver and the scout startled, looking at him in stun, they hadn’t heard his approach.“What are you talking about, Ben?” Weaver demanded.“If we don’t find Jimmy tonight, I’m staying behind until I do find him,” Ben clarified, “And there’s nothing you can do to stop me. Threaten to lock me up, to drag me out of here, I don’t care…I’m not going.”“Ben…” Hal began protest, coming to stand beside his brother, place a hand on his shoulder. Ben pulled back violently.“No, don’t,” he hissed at his brother, “You’re not dad, you cannot tell me what to do.”“Nothing is for certain, Ben, the day isn’t over yet,” Weaver attempted reminding the boy, but Ben could hear the doubt in his tone. He didn’t think they would find Jimmy in time, he was already giving up.“No matter what happens, I am not leaving without him,” Ben insisted.“We have to think rationally, now, Ben, you need to think about your brothers, how they might feel with you making those kinds of ultimatums,” Weaver said in a placating tone.“You cannot tell me that Jimmy is alive out there and expect me to just walk away from him,” Ben argued.“No one is asking you…” Weaver pressed.“I won’t leave him alone!” Ben roared.The radio crackled on the nearby table, a static-y voice declared, “We’ve got him. I repeat, we’ve got the kid. Bringing him back to camp now. Over.”Ben squeezed his eyes shut, gasped for breath, ready to collapse as all the energy, all the adrenaline, that had been rushing through him since the discovery of Jimmy’s vest in the truck dissipated almost instantaneously. He hung his head in his hands, trembling and Hal came to put an arm around his shoulders.Waiting for the search parties to return with Jimmy was an excruciating form of torture. When the truck pulled in, Ben was one of the first to reach it. The muddled mass in the truck bed barely resembled the Jimmy he knew, features obscured by scars, bruising, clinging dirt, mud, debris, and blood…a lot of blood. Ben had to fight the urge to reach out and caress the injured, unconscious boy’s face, to pull him into a never-ending embrace. He helped carry Jimmy to the medic van but ended up kicked out with the rest of them.“I’m sorry, Ben,” Dr. Glass told him earnestly, “I’ll let you know as soon as he’s stable, but you’ll only be in the way right now.”So Ben sat outside the van, waiting and wondering somberly, was this always to be the way of it, him always shut out from Jimmy’s life?
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It felt like the ocean, rocking gently back and forth, the easy sway of the tide careening Jimmy out to sea. A large wave crashed into him and jostled him violently. His eyes fluttered open, light exploded across his vision and he groaned, closed his eyes again.“Careful, Lourdes, take it easy on those bumps,” a sweet, familiar voice spoke, and then a soft, smooth hand touched Jimmy’s forehead. He experimented at opening his eyes again, focused momentarily on the dark featured face peering intently down at him, and then slipped his eyes shut once more.“Well, look who’s back...” Dr. Glass cooed, “How you feeling, Jimmy?”“…nm…” he murmured, it hurt just to attempt talking, and when he finally found the strength to form words, his voice was rasped and barely above a whisper, “…like someone blew me up.”“That would have been you, sweetie,” Dr. Glass told him, with a note of mild-humor, “Can you sit up a little? I’ve got water here.”Jimmy nodded, sort of, then attempted moving, grunting at the effort. Dr. Glass did most of the work, slipping her arm under his shoulders and lifting him up. She touched a glass to his bottom lip and he opened his mouth instinctively, gratefully accepting the water within.“Small sips,” Dr. Glass softly advised. A couple wonderful mouths-full later, Dr. Glass took away the water and eased Jimmy back down. He made another attempt at opening his eyes, only wincing slightly at the sting of light, and slowly his surroundings came into focus. He was in the back of the medic van, laying securely on one of the beds, and they seemed to be moving. Dr. Glass was starting to check his vitals. He rolled his head to the side to get better bearings, and a lump caught in his throat, his heart swelling to a point where he feared it might explode.In a seat not too far away, Ben sat sleeping, arms folded over his chest, features pulled into a hard frown.“He hasn’t left your side since they brought you in,” Dr. Glass explained quietly, fingers on Jimmy’s wrist, counting the pulses there, “I’ve tried kicking him out, but you know he can be almost as stubborn as you sometimes. You’ve been unconscious for a few days…which is probably the most rest you’ve ever given your body…and he hasn’t eaten in almost that long. I brought him something this morning; he nibbled at it a bit. He wanted to be here when you woke up, but the poor thing passed out, I don’t know how long he’s been going without sleep…I swear, he thinks he’s invincible sometimes. I can wake him if you want…”“No,” Jimmy whispered like the susurration of dried leaves on a breezy autumn day, “Leave him.” He gazed for a few seconds at Ben sitting there, slumbering peacefully, and let the warmth and comfort of that long desired presence swell through him, “Right now, this is enough.” His eyes closed, darkness overcoming him once more, as he mumbled, “It’s enough.”When Jimmy awoke again, the medic van had stopped moving and the light was low, he assumed it was late in the evening and the 2nd Mass was setting up camp. Nearby he could hear Dr. Glass and Ben speaking in low voices, they were having a light-hearted discussion about Ben’s father from the sounds of it. It was a nice change, Jimmy thought, most of the time those two were in deep concern for the missing professor. Maybe enough time had passed now that the loss stung less.Jimmy wondered if he had remained lost how long it would have been before Ben talked so lightly about him. He scowled, dismissed the thought. He struggled his way up to a sitting position and tugged out the IV attached to his arm. He found his clothes on the counter nearby, someone had cleaned them, patched them up best they could. He dressed hastily, pulling his shirt on over his head as he exited the medic van. Jimmy limped through camp, after a few minutes he brought a hand up to clutch his stinging shoulder. A few people stopped what they were doing as he passed, eying him in stun, surprise, some even called out to him, but he ignored them, striding determinedly as far away from that van and from those people, from their warmth, their happiness, their kindness, their familiarity, as far as he could get until he finally slipped to his knees behind one of the trucks and leaned back against its side panel, tears streaming unstoppable down his cheeks.There, in the dark, alone, he sobbed wretchedly, clutching himself tight and shuddering from the force of his sorrow. He couldn’t even recall why he was crying. Was it from the days of unbearable pain that he’d miraculously managed to persevere through, or the pain that still remained ripping his body apart from the inside out? Was it the relief of being back at camp, or the heart-wrenching realization that it didn’t matter that he was back…that otherwise he would have just been another face gone in the 2nd Mass, another casualty of war? Maybe it was everything that went as far back as that little boy he couldn’t save. Or maybe it was because that little boy was just another name on the long list of people he could not save.Or maybe it was simply that, although he was alive, he still felt like he should be dead.Eventually the tears dried up and Jimmy knew he couldn’t sit there wallowing forever. He picked himself up and made his way back through camp, running into Hal halfway towards the medic van.“What the hell, Jimmy?” Hal demanded haughtily, “It isn’t enough you worry everyone sick for days thinking you’re either dead, dying, or just never going to be found, as soon as you wake up you got to disappear and send everyone into another panic?”Jimmy tilted his head down, shrugged slightly but said nothing, his expression remaining apathetic, as the older boy followed him back to the medic van. Dr. Glass met them there, putting a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and guiding him inside, sitting him down on the bed.“I’ll go find Ben,” Hal volunteered, then to Jimmy grumbled, “I swear, the stress you’ve been causing him these past few days…I ought to smack you…”“Can I just request that you wait until he’s fully healed before you do anything like that?” Dr. Glass half-teased, waving Hal out of the van and turning her stern look on Jimmy, “I know it’s cramped in here, and Lourdes isn’t always the best of drivers, but you could’ve mentioned to me that you wanted to stretch your legs a bit before taking off like that.”Jimmy’s gaze trailed the van floor absently. He chewed his inner cheek, his palms pressed into the side of the bed, his shoulders slumped. Dr. Glass sighed, she walked towards him, delicately brushed the hair from his face. He flinched involuntarily at the touch, said nothing.“I don’t mean to scold. Everyone was worried is all,” she told him kindly, “It took us two days to find you so the thought of losing you again…”“Sorry,” Jimmy croaked out, though it barely sounded like a word, air knocked from his lungs by her comment. They had searched for him for two days. He didn’t know how to feel. It was foolish. It was stupid. It put everyone at risk, staying in one less than ideal camp for more than a night, and all to recover what exactly? If something had happened, if the Skitters had swarmed the 2nd Mass while they sat vulnerable, trying to find him – little, worthless him – it would have been his fault. Jimmy closed his eyes, drew his breath in slow, let it out easy. He was such a fuck up.Dr. Glass began to check Jimmy’s bandages and vitals, smiling faintly at his apology. His shoulder was re-stitched. He kind of wondered how long that would last. From the feel of it, she’d stitched up his thigh as well. His body didn’t feel as acutely sore as it had while trekking through the forest, and his muscles were all lax, so he assumed she had him on a painkiller of some kind, it certainly explained why he had slept so much when he typically couldn’t manage two straight hours in a night. The amount of bandages she had him wrapped in, he looked like a mummy.“You’re something of a hero to everyone in the 2nd Mass right now,” Dr. Glass confided. Jimmy grimaced. He ducked his head down to hide the contortion of pain.“I’m not one,” he choked out, when he had control of his emotions again, “Farthest thing…”Dr. Glass didn’t reply, moving around the bed. She instructed him to lift his shirt and he did so, the motion not exactly easy given the tenderness and fatigue of his muscles. She ran her finger tips gingerly across his shoulder blades, examining the bruising and swelling, clucking her tongue reprovingly.“What about Ben?” Jimmy whispered suddenly, a vice on his heart as soon as the name fell from his tongue and touched his ears.“He’s fine,” Dr. Glass said, misunderstanding the question, “He didn’t have as much trouble as you getting those explosives in the tower, came back with a few scratches, but nothing big. I think the worst thing for him has been the stress and heartache. He was really worried about you.”“He a hero too?” Jimmy clarified. Dr. Glass paused in her inspection, her fingers lingering along one particularly colorful bruise.“Everyone is grateful of what he’s done for the 2nd Mass,” she carefully answered. Which meant ‘no’. Dr. Glass indicated with a ginger touch to Jimmy’s hands that he could put his shirt back down and he did so, steadying himself through the pain of that motion with a deep breath. He closed his eyes tightly.“Dr. Glass,” he began, trying to strengthen his next words with purpose.“Yes, Jimmy?”“Do you think…” Jimmy faltered, bit his inner cheek, clenched the edge of the bed tight enough to turn his knuckles white, “Do you think if it had been Ben out there…do you think…that they would have searched for him…that they would have…would have waited…for two days?”Dr. Glass hesitated too long, and before she could find the right answer, the door to the medic van opened and Ben stepped in, his eyes locking on Jimmy. Instantly, Jimmy dropped his gaze to the floor, too many emotions slamming into him at once at the sight of the other boy. Moments passed in silence. Dr. Glass cleared her throat, walked towards the cabinets, opened one and took stock of the medicine inside. Ben walked further into the van, letting the door drop shut behind him. He hovered a few feet from Jimmy, arms folded over his chest, as though he was afraid to come any closer. His eyes scoured the floor, perhaps, searching for guidance written there. “You woke up,” Ben noted, quietly, pained, added, “And took off.”Jimmy nodded, said nothing.“So…what happened?” Ben questioned.Jimmy shrugged.Ben shook his head, made a noise like a low growl in the back of his throat, and shifted his stance, agitation evident in his quick, choppy movements.“You know, this is exactly why I told you not to trust that Franklin guy,” he started heatedly.“Ben,” Jimmy whispered warning, he glanced up, finally meeting those intense brown eyes with his own cold blue. Ben shot a quick look at Dr. Glass and, noticing the glance, she made a show of busying herself in the far cabinet. Ben stepped forward, caught Jimmy’s wrists lightly in his fingertips and drew the other boy into a tentative kiss that refused to let go. It fluttered through Jimmy, entered his chest, a sharpened stake that split his heart in twain. The emotions were too much, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. There were so many things he wanted – needed – to say but he couldn’t form the words. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what they sounded like and the pain of it was too much. He feared he would break. He rose a hand, curled it in the front of Ben’s t-shirt, gingerly pushed Ben away, ducking his head down to avoid seeing the expression he knew would be on Ben’s face, an expression he didn’t have the strength to soothe away at that moment, too boggled down with his own head rush of darkness.“I should report to Weaver,” Jimmy mumbled softly, he tilted his head to the side, glanced at the doctor sidelong, she was now peeking at the boys curiously, “Dr. Glass, can I go?”“I suppose,” Dr. Glass answered judiciously, “For a short time. I want you to spend the night here for a few more days. Take it easy on that leg and don’t push yourself too hard, Jimmy. Oh, and stop by the food stores, get a juice. You’re a little low on nutrients and now that you’re awake, I can take you off the IV and put some real food in you.”Jimmy exited the van again, Ben trailing after, the door shut noisily behind them.“I’ll come with you to see Weaver,” Ben volunteered.“No,” Jimmy said and he didn’t need to see Ben to know how the other boy winced at the sharp edge of that reply, but he pushed away the ache in his own heart, drawing himself up, striding across camp with as much determination in his movements as he could muster.
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When Jimmy appeared just outside the entrance to the captain’s tent, Weaver was talking in low voices with a few other fighters. Jimmy waited quietly until he was called in. It happened almost as soon as he was noticed. Weaver dismissed the other fighters in the tent, grabbing Samson in his passing to whisper a short command, and then gesturing to Jimmy to take a seat at one of the chairs he had set up around a foldout table.“How you feeling, Jimmy?” Weaver asked right off. Jimmy shrugged, humorlessly, rigidly remarking, “Kind of like…if one more person asks me that question I might punch them.”Weaver smirked, and Jimmy remembered himself.“Sorry, sir,” he mumbled.“No, you’re entitled to that,” Weaver conceded. He cleared his throat and continued to say, “Gave us all quite a scare.”“Wasn’t my intention, sir,” Jimmy responded.“I know. You were just doing your job,” Weaver agreed, he walked a couple times back and forth behind the table, hands behind his back and gaze angled downward, brow roughly furrowed, “I was just thinking, you’ve come a long way from that runt kid we picked up more than half a year ago in Dorchester.”Jimmy bit his inner cheek, balled his hands into fists, resting on his lap.“You remember what you said to me, when you first asked to become a fighter?” Weaver queried and Jimmy half-shrugged.“Sort of.”“Well, I remember it clear as if it happened yesterday,” Weaver promised, continuing to expound, “You had just marched up, announced to me and all the other high ups in the militia your intentions…I remember laughing, all of us laughing, and you…you didn’t even flinch. I asked, what’s a kid like you think he’s gonna do out there? Liability is all you’d be. You really think when it came down to it that you could pull that trigger? And, Jimmy, you’re telling me you don’t remember what you said after that?”Jimmy closed his eyes, tried to recall the conversation. He shook his head, no, he didn’t remember, and swallowed down hard the emotions rising like bile in his throat.“You said, give me a gun and we’ll find out,” Weaver answered. He smiled, rubbed his stubble-coated chin, “Well I guess we really found out the other day what you’re capable of. You know,” Weaver’s voice dropped a few decibels, “I know it ain’t my place to say, hell, I don’t know anything about who your parents were but I am sure, wherever they are, they’re proud of you.”Jimmy grimaced, trembled slightly, unnoticeably, blinked his eyes open and peered up at Weaver, the old man locking him in a meaningful stare.“Regardless, well, I’m proud enough of you for the both of them,” Weaver said firmly, and then he straightened, his brow raised up slightly, attention suddenly on the tent entrance. Jimmy turned round to see what Weaver was looking at and felt a fire in his belly, a churning sickness. Samson stood there, holding the sleeve of a less-than-enthused Franklin. For a moment, the boys held one another’s gaze, their last encounter playing vividly in both their minds. Jimmy dropped his eyes once more to the ground and scowled.“Have a seat, Frank,” Weaver declared, it was more of a command than an invitation. Franklin did as told, shuffling towards the table to take the seat next to Jimmy, careful to keep a distance. The tension between them was too heavy not to notice and with Weaver standing over them, pacing behind the table, Jimmy couldn’t help but feel like he was back at school waiting for punishment in the principal’s office.“Frank here’s been telling us about what went down in the warehouse before he left,” Weaver started, he sounded almost sarcastic, “I just wanted to verify the details with you, Jimmy, if that’s alright? I know it’s a little soon, but I’d like to get things cleared up and put behind us as soon as possible.”Jimmy could feel Franklin’s frightened glare on him and he bit his inner cheek thoughtfully, murmuring, “Sure.”“Okay. Now, according to Franklin, you two and Fortune got into the warehouse on the south eastern side, just like Riley ordered and it was agreed by everyone that you and Fortune would go inside, set the bombs, while Frank stayed at the door to hold your exit, are we good so far?” Weaver rattled off the story anxiously, as though eager to get to the good parts.Jimmy nodded and Weaver continued.“Franklin says you and Fortune were pretty far into the warehouse when the enemy showed up. They attacked Fortune first and when you went to investigate, that was when the mechs arrived.”Jimmy shrugged, nodded, squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He could still feel Fortune beside him, dead weight across his shoulders, her blood seeping warm through his t-shirt. “From there, Frank says you were forced to leave Fortune, take cover, but that you were cut off from the exit. He said the mechs were almost on you, and they were blocking his path to the detonator, there was no way he could get to it, too far away…he couldn’t even see it, couldn’t see you, and that if he stayed where he was much longer, they’d find him too. There was no other choice, he says; he was forced to leave, thought if he could find another group that they could reset their detonators to tune with the explosives from Riley’s unit, says he thought you’d said something about it.”Jimmy furrowed his brow, tried to follow the details, the emotions stirring in him dark and disparaging. It wasn’t easy to remember everything from that moment in the warehouse. Things were too hot, too overwhelming, too intense. “I want you to be honest with me, Jimmy, does that all sound about right to you? Or is there, maybe, a detail Franklin is leaving out or maybe just ain’t remembering right?” Weaver questioned. Franklin could see Jimmy, that Jimmy knew, but maybe Franklin couldn’t see the detonator and maybe Franklin misunderstood Jimmy’s gestured attempts at explaining his plan. But Jimmy never, ever, said that another team’s detonator could be reset to a different team’s explosives frequency, that was idiotic. Re-tuning another detonator to the correct frequency would be damn near impossible and there simply would not have been enough time. Jimmy knew that, and Weaver knew that Jimmy knew that.“No, sir,” Jimmy mumbled, ducking his head further, arms wrapping around himself, “That’s how it happened.”Franklin let out the air in his lungs, a great whoosh. Weaver shifted, his clothes rustling noisily, as he walked a few paces away from the table and the boys. He seemed, in a way, disappointed, and Jimmy was sure Weaver sensed he was lying.“Okay,” Weaver announced, and said, “You can go now, Frank.” He paused, sighed and added distantly, “Good work out there.”Franklin left without a word or second glance and Weaver waited a few minutes after Franklin had gone before speaking again.“A thing has been bothering me for a time now, and I know this is hard, but I got to ask, Jimmy. You were pinned down by mechs, cut off from the detonator, and when we dug through the warehouse remains looking for you, we found that detonator in the mess. How’d you get away from those mechs and why was that detonator still in there, buried under the wreckage, if you got out to blow it up?”Jimmy leaned forward on his knees and wet his lips. He took a deep breath, sorted out the wording in his mind. Weaver turned back to Jimmy, waiting patiently. When Jimmy finally spoke again, his tone was flat and weary.“How did I get away from the mechs…well, I walked right past them, sir,” he answered and turning his gaze up to the captain, the old man watching him quietly, bemused, and speechless, “And…I never said I got out.” He jerked a thumb towards himself and smirked enigmatically, “Ghost of Dorchester.”Weaver burst into loud, booming laughter at that. Jimmy lowered his eyes again, clasped his hands together and glared at the ground.“Another thing that’s been bothering me,” Weaver started up again after his laughter had died down, though the mirth was still evident in his tone, “When we found you, you had wandered quite a distance from that industrial complex. Where exactly were you going?”Jimmy looked up at the captain, puzzled.“Back to the 2nd Mass,” he explained, he thought that would be obvious. Again, the captain burst into laughter, though it wasn’t as loud this time and faded a lot faster. “Did you plan on walking round the whole globe to do it?” Weaver chuckled.Jimmy made a face, then groaned and buried his head in his hands. So, he was going the wrong way the whole time. Of-fucking-course. Weaver pulled something wrapped in a dark blue cloth out of his pocket and set it on the table in front of Jimmy, startling the younger boy upright again. Jimmy stared at the wrapped object, bewildered a moment. He turned his attention back to the captain. “Go ahead, open it,” Weaver encouraged, somber again. He walked a few paces away, back turned as Jimmy followed his instructions. Inside, he found a heavy, black, metal object, with a piece that flipped out, and a little compass rose in the center of it under a glass dome with a silver pointer. “Sir?” Jimmy wondered, looking confused at the captain. “It’s a compass,” Weaver explained the obvious, then further elucidated, “It’s important to me, been in my family a time. I always planned on passing it down to one of my daughters…” he faltered, shook his head and turned around to settle an easy expression on Jimmy, “But that doesn’t matter, I suppose. If this experience has taught us anything, it’s that you may need it more than me right now. Go ahead, take it. Use it.” “Sir…I couldn’t…” Jimmy began, overwhelmed by the strangely sentimental gesture. “It’s an order, Jimmy,” Weaver interjected, “You got shit navigational skills. We could have found you a lot sooner if you’d known where the hell you were going. Take the compass. You can give it back when you learn north from south, or whenever you have the chance to get your own.” Jimmy nodded, gingerly plucking the compass off the table and clutching it to himself. “Thank you, sir. I’ll take good care of it,” he promised. “Hopefully, better care than you take of yourself,” Weaver suggested humorously. Jimmy smirked and nodded. “Now, get out of here, son, get some rest.” Jimmy nodded again, standing from the chair and starting towards the tent exit. “Oh, one more thing, Jimmy,” Weaver called, and Jimmy paused at the tent flap, turning his attention once more to his captain, “You and Ben got the next two weeks off. I figured you boys both deserved it, with all you’ve been through these past few days, and what with saving the day and all.” Weaver dropped his eyes and kicked a stone across the ground. “He’s pretty attached to you, you know? That Ben Mason. Take care of yourself, huh? For him,” Weaver said. “Yes, sir,” Jimmy whispered and slipped from the tent. Franklin was waiting outside, and Jimmy hesitated a moment at seeing the other boy, but recovered hastily and strode purposeful across the campground. Franklin trailed behind. “I had you all wrong, Jimmy,” Franklin rambled quickly, quietly, “You could’ve sold me out in there, could’ve told Weaver I abandoned you, but you didn’t. You’re a solid guy. I’m sorry for treating you like a traitor…I thought…I thought because of that razorback, all that time you were spending with it, but I’m…” Jimmy didn’t spin round very fast, but the action caught Franklin off guard well enough that he was able to pull off the hit. There wasn’t much strength behind it, and he only really just clipped the side of the older boy’s jaw, tipping himself off balance and nearly tumbling to the ground in the process but Franklin stood there, head hung to the side, stunned, and dejected all the same. Jimmy, recovering his footing, grabbed Franklin’s collar, and jerked him forward as roughly as he could, which wasn’t very much but the intention was clear. “I want you to know something,” Jimmy hissed, eyes pricked with jagged ice, then his tone steadied and became a firm growl, low enough that only Franklin could hear as a crowd of 2nd Mass fighters and civilians began to gather, interested in the commotion and ready to step in if need be, “I want you to know something…if it had been Ben…if Ben had been there with me…and not you…he never…never…would have left me.” Jimmy let Franklin go and stumbled a few paces back. His eyes remained locked on the boy as he announced clearly for everyone to hear, “So you can call him whatever you want…whatever you think will remind him the most of the hell the Skitters put him through, but know that there is one thing you can never call him, never, and I want you to think about that whenever you look in the fucking mirror… that there is, at least, one thing he isn’t.”Jimmy took a few more steps backward and pulled himself up tall and strong, jaw tense and gaze a biting tundra wind.“He isn’t a coward,” Jimmy spat out, and spun round, folded his arms over his knotted stomach and marched away. The crowd parted to let Jimmy through, a few fighters that had gathered there; Anthony, Hal, Maggie, clapped his shoulders, ruffled his hair in passing. He didn’t take another look back to see how his words had affected Franklin; he’d seen enough carnage that past week.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The 2nd Mass had reached its new base camp in half-a-days’ time. Jimmy didn’t put much effort into making himself useful settling in, his few attempts only got him shooed hastily away and chastised for his self-negligence, and he wasn’t all that interested in being around people as it was, too much praising he didn’t feel he deserved, too much attention directed his way.They were taking shelter in a community center, beds would be set up in the huge gym, but there were also separate classrooms and storage rooms that could serve useful purposes for the militia.Jimmy found a roof access and made himself comfortable. He sat at the roof edge with his knees propped up, arms strewn across them, as he gazed out across the surrounding suburban skyline, which, by all appearances seemed peaceful and normal, if not for the random charred or collapsed rooftop. At Jimmy’s back, the door clicked open, but he didn’t bother looking. Whoever it was would announce themselves or leave at seeing him. There was a crunch of footsteps, and he barely glanced the other boy that took a seat nearby, maintaining a careful distance. Though the space between them stung, Jimmy could understand why it was there. He hadn’t seen or spoken to Ben since that rapt ‘no’ outside of the medic van days prior.“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Ben started softly, then shook his head and abruptly abandoned that approach, stating with only a hint of frustration and a great deal of bitter resent, “You’re avoiding me.”Jimmy said nothing, barely hearing the words that Ben spoke, only reveling in that presence. So overwhelming, perfectly, wonderfully warm, but his silence was a kind of unintended confirmation to Ben.“I don’t know what happened out there, I don’t know what happened to you, and maybe I’ll never know, you’ll never tell me…you never really tell me anything,” Ben ranted, his voice became like a desperate plea, “Maybe you thought about things out there, cleared your head, made a decision, changed your mind…” his voice broke a little, “About this…us. I don’t know. That’s fine…it hurts, but it’s fine…I can deal with that…I just can’t deal with…I can’t deal with…just please…please don’t shut me out, don’t push me away, Jimmy.”“I did think a lot out there,” Jimmy spoke up suddenly, in a calm, soft yet rasped whisper.Ben sagged forward, bringing his knees up, arms braced across them, his forehead touching them, awash with fear and sorrow.“I could’ve died,” Jimmy continued, “I should’ve died. I thought I would die. And I realized something.”Ben peeked up at Jimmy, the expression in those eyes so dark and tormented that Jimmy hated the feel of them on his own trembling form, wanting to wipe them clean and put their beautiful light back in them.“I don’t want to never know what it’s like. I don’t want to die and never know…never have it,” Jimmy pressed. He closed his eyes a moment, gathered his strength, and firmly stated, “I want to have sex.”The stretch of time it took for Ben to process that sentence could have fit an entire lifetime. He drew his breath in sharply, hid his face away, clearly unable to look at the other boy as he asked his next question.“With…uh…with someone…particular or just…with any-”“Yeah,” Jimmy cut in, a harsh breath. He tilted his head slightly to finally look fully at Ben, to finally let himself see the other boy, let the feelings Ben brought to him rush into his heart and swell in his chest, and press throughout every part of his body, a rush of fire, “You.”Another stretch of silence, Ben sitting unmoved, maybe embarrassed by the somewhat question, maybe too shocked to acknowledge it, maybe searching for the right way to say ‘no’. Jimmy shifted uncertainly, his eyes back to the skyline, a hardness setting in his chest.“If you don’t want to…”“Okay,” Ben interrupted, lifting to meet Jimmy’s curious, almost timid look, “Okay. Let’s do it.”They shut themselves up in a storage room filled with sports equipment, balls of every shape and size, folded up blue floor mats, jumping ropes, hula hoops, shelves stocked with buckets of chalk, paint, and various odds and ends. They stared at one another from across the room, sheepish, neither one wanting to make the first move.“So…uh…how do we…what do we do first?” Ben mumbled.“Well, undress, I guess…” Jimmy answered, shrugging. From what he remembered in the movies, and from Franklin and Teresa, there were never any clothes.Ben fidgeted with the edge of his shirt a moment, thoughtful, face creasing as though remembering something he’d tried so hard to forget, then he ran his hand through his hair and walked away a few paces. Jimmy smirked inwardly, heartache churning in his stomach, Ben was changing his mind rapidly about this and it wasn’t too difficult to figure out why. It hurt in a strange way, to think that Ben still wouldn’t trust him with this.“Are you really sure…that you really want…” Ben stammered nervously, “I just don’t know if...”“I want to see them,” Jimmy announced, quiet but firm. Ben turned round, his brow furrowed, eyes shimmering with an emotion Jimmy didn’t recognize in the other boy, didn’t ever want to see in that soft brown, but one he’d felt himself so many times and it hurt too much the idea that Ben could think that way. Jimmy smiled faintly and slowly moved towards Ben.“Let me,” he suggested, stopping only inches from Ben and resting their foreheads together. Their breathing was the only sound between them, a hushed promise that couldn’t be understood in words. Ben’s eyes were full of uncertainty, Jimmy’s unwavering.Jimmy fixed his attentions on the edge of Ben’s shirt, as he concentrated on keeping his breathing steady and his head cool, he slid his hands up, catching the fabric on both sides of Ben’s hips and moving it upward. His fingers brushed against bare flesh, bringing a blush to his cheeks and a heat to his body. When he’d reached a certain point, Ben reluctantly took over and pulled the shirt off completely, bunching it in his hands. Then Jimmy moved slowly round Ben, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes trailing over the other boy’s exposed chest, trying not to show too many outward signs of piqued interest at the image. Ben kept his gaze downward, his features drawn, his body held tense, bracing himself for a torrential storm, as Jimmy stepped round to get a good view of Ben’s back.Though a few nubs could always be seen poking out on Ben’s neck, they were nothing when faced with the ones that ran along his spine, like the rigid crest of a prehistoric creature. Jimmy’s breath hitched at the sight, and he noticed Ben flinch from his initial reaction.“They’re not that bad,” Jimmy attempted.“Liar,” Ben replied bitterly. Jimmy sighed, seeing no reason to argue about it. He reached out a hand tentatively to touch one of the spikes, and Ben seized from the contact.“Jimmy…” he protested but Jimmy ignored him, letting his fingertips linger across several of the spike tips, before pulling back, finishing circling round the other boy and meandering away a few paces, eyes trailing distantly over the storage racks in the small space. He could hear the shudder in Ben’s tone, as Ben wondered in painfully forced light-heartedness, “You still want to do this then? With a half-Skitter freak like me?”“No,” Jimmy whispered. He turned around; Ben’s expression a little lost, not surprised, but evidently pained by that answer, when Jimmy quietly concluded, “You’re not that.”Ben raised his eyes, confused; to meet Jimmy’s clear blue. A heartbeat pounded between them. Then slowly, considerately, Jimmy removed his own shirt revealing his own damaged and heavily bandaged body, grimacing at the pain of the movement, and letting the shirt slip through his fingers to the floor. He put his hands in his pockets, attempted to look at Ben again as he spoke, despite the flood of heat in his face and the swirl of his head.“What are you waiting for? Get over here,” he muttered, putting effort into sounding put out that he even had to give this instruction, “Kiss me.”Ben hesitated for only a micro-second, the amount of time it took for him to recover from his understandable anxieties, but it didn’t take him long to close the distance between himself and Jimmy when he had recovered. He dragged Jimmy forward by the shoulders, crushing a hard, rough kiss to the other boy’s mouth, trying to pour every emotion he’d felt over the course of Jimmy’s absence into that one intimate embrace, and Jimmy felt he might break from the sheer force of it.Jimmy whimpered, an involuntary reaction to the exacerbated pain of his injuries, and Ben pulled back, resting their foreheads together and folding his arms around Jimmy’s shoulders.“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, delicately dotting kisses around Jimmy’s mouth and along his cheeks.“S’okay,” Jimmy murmured, he gingerly trailed his hand across the top of Ben’s trouser waistband, tickling the skin of Ben’s navel, making it quiver delightfully, and he pointed out, “Um…I guess these should…also…probably…”“Yeah,” Ben agreed, quietly. They broke apart and each fidgeted with the buttons of their own pants, reluctant to remove them, as Ben glanced around the room then asked, “Where should we…?”Jimmy peeked over at him and followed his gaze around the storage room as well. His eyes landed on the blue mats, and he started dutifully towards them, calling to Ben for help. The boys wrestled a few of the mats to the ground, layering them on top of one another, until they were stacked about a foot high. The boys exchanged a brief look, blushing, turned away and made a strained effort to focus entirely on themselves as they each proceeded to remove their shoes, trousers, and undergarments. Trying not to appear too eager, but unable to paint themselves dispassionate, they removed their clothing articles in synch with one another, so as neither would be done first or last.Completely naked, they sheepishly took in one another’s appearances, trying to seem nonchalant about it, their eyes darting interestedly to particular areas then quickly away as though fearful they’d be caught and called on it by the other boy. Jimmy had his arms folded over his belly, and Ben absently rubbed the back of his head, his other hand was positioned as though wanting to cover his exposed body.“Well…” Jimmy mumbled, motioning timidly towards their makeshift bed. They each took a seat on its edge, their shoulders brushing once, but they pulled away from one another, flustering at the contact, both incredibly red in the face.“So…how…exactly…does this work?” Ben questioned.Jimmy shrugged, demanded haughtily, “How should I know?”His heart was beating too rapidly in his chest. All the blood in his body seemed intent on racing to one particular place and he wasn’t entirely sure he liked the way it was gathering there, heating in his abdomen, hardening skin and muscle.“This was your idea,” Ben replied, starting to sound a little irritated.“Doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing,” Jimmy returned, becoming very annoyed himself, “I’ve got just about the same amount of experience with this as you. Which would be none. Remember?”“You’re the one who’s had Sex Ed, remember?” Ben shot back; his breathless tone and the way he held his body suggested he might be having the same problems as Jimmy at the moment.“They didn’t exactly cover this in health class,” Jimmy snapped, then jeered, “And…aren’t you the one that got an ‘A’ on your birds and bees test because you did the reading?”Ben gaped, made a strangled noise as he searched for a comeback.“Hey…or maybe we should just ask somebody,” Jimmy continued brazenly, “Like Hal…hey, Hal, so me and Jimmy are moving on to the next stage in our relationship and could really use some pointers…”Ben growled low and frustrated in the back of his throat. He stood abruptly, pushed Jimmy back roughly on the mats, and leaned over the other boy with an intensely furious look that fell suddenly upon the realization of their compromising position, and exactly what part of their bodies – hot and noticeably hard – were brushed against the other. Both boys wore similar expressions, flustered, embarrassed. Ben seemed to be searching for something, anything that was not Jimmy to be looking at; his face turned slightly upward and away. Jimmy had his own face tilted to the side, glancing at Ben askance, before closing his eyes.“Didn’t…um…really…think that move through…huh?” Jimmy questioned, teasingly. It was getting so hard to breathe.Ben fluttered his eyes and rolled them. He pressed his mouth together, a thin line and tipped his head back and forth a moment, thinking on something, or mustering the ability to think on something. Jimmy couldn’t form a real coherent thought if he wanted at that moment, all that came to mind was snark and sarcasm better left unsaid given their current situation.“Move,” Ben commanded.“Uh…you’re the one on top of me, asshole,” Jimmy responded harshly.“No…” Ben winced, sighed, and stammered out clarification of what it was he wanted of the other boy, “Move up…more…on the mats.”Jimmy faltered, his heart kicking violently against his ribcage. They were really going to do this. He drew in his breath haggard, it pinpricked in his lungs, and he nodded. Ben shifted to give Jimmy more room to maneuver, they both grimaced at the way their movement effected their already pronounced arousals. Jimmy shimmied up further towards the center of their ‘bed’, relaxing back on his elbows and watching as Ben crawled forward to hover over him. Ben’s eyes trailed along the multiplicity of injuries, scars, bandages that covered Jimmy at the moment. He traced his fingers along the mangled scar tissue on Jimmy’s low belly, where that gaping wound that seemed forever ago had been cauterized, a peculiar token of the kiss that couldn’t be turned back from, then his fingers moved up to ripple over bandages, each covering the remainder of something that bound them irrevocably together – the knife that cut the distance between them, the shrapnel of an explosion that nearly tore them apart forever – and Ben ghosted across delicate, lightly colored skin, up Jimmy’s sternum, across his collar and along his neck. It sent a tingling shiver racing the length of Jimmy’s spine and fluttered through his chest, an emotion that almost made him want to cry.Jimmy sighed, settling back on the mats, his eyes raised to the ceiling overhead, until Ben moved over him, face filling his vision. He smiled faintly, and then bit his inner cheek, eyes squeezing shut as the other boy settled over him, heat flowing, throbbing, to his low abdomen and flooding into his erection. They both made sounds as their bodies’ constricted together, unbidden but sensuous sounds, only serving to stir greater arousal in each other.Ben placed his mouth on Jimmy’s, and they rest there a moment, considering one another, weighing their feelings about their bare bodies pressed so close. It wasn’t about pleasantness, because it was definitely pleasant, it was about comfort, and for Jimmy there was a strange comfort in this connection, a strange feeling of belonging…this was where he belonged. Jimmy brought his hands up to examine the muscles in Ben’s back, trailing up along those broad ligaments wrapped taught over his hips, across the sharply angled shoulder blades, then down again along the spine, fingering between and around the spikes protruding there. Ben relaxed into their kiss, parting their lips, and diving his tongue in, garnering a quick taste, before pulling back and capturing Jimmy’s neck and collar, sucking the skin there raw.When a noise, an unfamiliar erotic moan, escaped Jimmy’s throat, it didn’t paralyze either of them in the way it would have in the past, only seeming to increase the urgency of their movements. Jimmy cupped Ben’s face in his hands, dragged the boy up to lock their mouths once more, his tongue seizing the opportunity to explore, to taste, to tease. Ever the brave one, Ben slipped his hand down, curling loose, almost instinctively around Jimmy’s erection, and Jimmy flinched at the way his body reacted instantly to that feel, biting accidentally into Ben’s bottom lip. Ben whimpered at the sharp nip, and pressed more firmly into their kiss, almost as if to soothe the other boy’s anxieties, then he work to alleviate the pressure swelling in Jimmy the way he might himself in a lonely night, but his motion was clumsy, fumbling, his fingers weren’t situated right. Without thought Jimmy brought his own hand to cover Ben’s, repositioning that awkward hand unfamiliar with his body and guiding its movements.As Jimmy quickly climbed to his edge, it occurred to him he might do the same for Ben, and his hand left the other boy to finish the work there, as he sought out Ben’s own erection and tentatively clutched it, sliding his hand over it, slow, steady, careful to make every movement, every rippling touch count. He could feel the way Ben trembled from the contact.It surprised Jimmy a little; the sounds they made were nothing like those repulsive grunts and groans he’d heard in the bathroom of that diner weeks ago as he would’ve expected. Their breath was hasty and soft, flighty, every so often broken by a whimper or moan that only served to drive him further over. Jimmy climaxed first, after only a minute or so, wrenching his eyes tightly shut, biting slightly, subconsciously, into Ben’s flesh to hold in whatever noises he might make, arm wrapped across Ben’s shoulders and neck, clutching to Ben for support as the orgasm flowed through him and his seed spilled.Ben wasn’t far behind, reaching up to peel Jimmy’s hand off his shoulders and twining their fingers, palms flat against one another and pressed hard into the mat over Jimmy’s head, his face buried in Jimmy’s neck, hot breath burning into the tender flesh there; he made a quiet, strangled, almost animalistic noise low in his throat that reverberated pleasantly against Jimmy’s skin as Jimmy finished him off.For a prolonged moment after, they just lay there, breathing one another in. Ben’s scent of citrus and pine fantastically overwhelming Jimmy’s senses, as they let their flustered bodies cool. Eventually, Ben lifted his face up, his hand coming to brush the hair, slightly matted with a thin layer of sweat, away from Jimmy’s forehead, as soft, intense brown eyes searched calm, pacified blue. They kissed. A different kind of kiss than they had ever shared before. It was this gentle, extraordinarily knowing thing and through it surged every confession their hearts yearned to speak to one another but their minds just didn’t yet have the words or courage to say.When they finally parted, relinquishing that kiss to bittersweet memory, Jimmy’s eyes slipped shut, a thirteen-year-old fatigue finally gaining victory over him, and he fell into a blissful dark serenity, as Ben absently ghosted dainty, caressing kisses along his jawline and collarbone.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It is a perfect day for a picnic. The sky overhead stretches into eternity, a clear blue. They’re at the Public Gardens, but they’re the only ones there, such a rarity. Mom has their basket on one of the picnic tables; she’s emptying its contents: her famous potato salad, submarine sandwiches packed with Italian meats and cheeses, a bowl of grapes, and chocolate cupcakes, James’s favorite…a feast.Dad slips an arm around mom’s waist, praises her for the food, and presses a loving kiss to her lips. No work, she wonders, and he smiles surreptitiously, ‘forgot’ my cell phone at home. She returns his kiss then, but hers is long and sumptuous, the kind they used to share often when they were younger and only had one child and dad hadn’t yet gotten his promotion at the bank.Maggie chastises them from where she sits at the table, gross, mom; no one needs to see that. She’s wearing a pretty sun dress, white with yellow flowers on it. Her hair falls in a loose braid down her back and her eyes are lit with the warmth of summer. Mom and dad break apart, laughing, and mom plops a kiss atop Maggie’s blonde head, then finishes removing lunch from the basket.Then the Masons arrive. Professor Mason shakes hands with dad; they exchange pleasantries, enter a conversation about their children, Hal’s lacrosse team might go all-state this year, Cass was voted MVP of her little league team. Rebekah Mason brings a Jell-O mold and tossed salad to the feast, she and mom kiss one another’s cheeks, how are you, it’s been so long! Rebekah is beautiful, she has the same sloping nose as Hal, her smile is all Ben yet, somehow, she vaguely resembles a dark featured woman from some other time, some other place.The Mason boys politely greet Maggie at the table, Hal compliments her dress, and she blushes slightly, thanks him, then Matt tugs her off to see some shrubs in the gardens, and Hal trails after. Ben sets himself up on the table. He’s brought a thick book to the picnic. Typical Ben. He pulls his reading glasses out of his pocket and anxiously, self-consciously slips them up on his nose. They do make him look like a dork. The most adorable dork in the world.Jimmy watches the scene unfold from a distance, a quiet observer. He sits on the thick, cool grass on a small knoll, his knees propped up and arms rest across them. He smiles. Everything is perfect. Cass climbs the hill towards him, her hair falls wild and free around her face. Her blue eyes glisten bright and spirited. She wears her favorite t-shirt, the camouflage patterned one, and a long, billowing skirt. Grandpa’s old dog-tags bounce noisily around her neck. She plops on the grass beside Jimmy, crosses her legs and looks on the same scene he’s watching.“It’s never going to work, you know,” she tells him matter-of-factly, “They’re all too different.”Jimmy smiles faintly, “No. But it’s a nice dream.”They sit there in silence for a time. Clouds gather overhead, white, fluffy things that look like space crafts, six legged creatures, and bipedal death machines. At the table, Ben swats away a gnat hovering around his face, Professor Mason prods his son, go see the gardens with your brothers. I can’t dad, Ben argues. Why can’t you just be normal for once? Because I’m not.“What do you think of him?” Jimmy wonders, glances to Cass. She perks her brow and purses her lips, thoughtful a moment. “You really love him, huh?” she returns, catching Jimmy off guard. He lowers his face, hides the color swarming there, smiles broadly despite himself. He need not answer, it’s written all over him, and she already knew without asking anyhow. “More than me?” Cass challenges, a jest in her words. Jimmy looks to her, considering, sad smile creasing his features. “No, Cass,” he whispers, almost teasingly, “Never more than you.” She smirks, self-satisfied, and straightens herself, self-importantly. “Good,” she announces, “Then I love him too.” She eyes Jimmy sidelong and presses, “And because you love him, you’re always going to take care of him, right?” “I’ll try,” Jimmy replies. “That’s not good enough,” Cass remarks sharply, “You’re the prince, remember, Jimmy? You have to save him and live happily ever after. Promise me you and Ben will live happily ever after, Jimmy! Promise me that you’ll save him.” “I don’t know if I can,” Jimmy admits quietly, morosely. Cass pouts, and whimpers. “Yes, you can,” she cries desperately. She jumps upright, coming to stand in front of Jimmy, and stamping her foot petulantly, “I know you can! Because you’re my brother, and my brother is the best, the most amazing, the strongest person in the whole entire world, and he can do anything.” “Cass…” Jimmy starts protest, but she silences him with one stern look. “You have to save him, Jimmy,” she tells him softly, “You have to save him and then you both can live happily ever after. Please, live happily ever after. Please? For me?” “Okay, Cass,” Jimmy agrees stiffly, smiling distant and somber, “For you.” Satisfied, Cass puts her hands on Jimmy’s shoulders, he lowers his head, he can’t look her in the eyes, “I love you, Jimmy,” she tells him. “Lots and lots?” he wonders. Cass smiles fondly down at Jimmy and leans forward to press a kiss to his forehead. It’s a delicate touch that is earnest and tender and reminds him of a time when the world seemed endless of possibility, a time he feels himself suddenly hoping may come again. Forever and ever. Jimmy’s eyelids parted slightly, and he focused on the storage room ceiling. The light streaming through one tiny window was low. He wondered how late in the afternoon it had become. He glanced to his side, to Ben lying on his belly, cheek resting on folded arms, soft brown eyes studying Jimmy’s formerly slumbering form. It felt as though someone, no real mystery who, had cleaned Jimmy up a bit, and there was a cut of heavy linen cloth spread over both boys. Jimmy closed his eyes again, sighed. “Why are you staring at me?” he asked, voice a rasped croak, “It’s kind of creepy.” He heard Ben shuffling, repositioning, and glanced to him. Ben had his chin resting on his arms now, staring embarrassedly into empty air ahead of him. “Sorry…I just…well…” he stammered excuse, buried his red face in his arms and, voice muffled, explained, “When you were gone, I just…I never thought I’d see you again…and I…I knew there was this…this scar behind one of your ears and…I couldn’t remember which one and…it kept bothering me…so…” “My left,” Jimmy smirked, “Took a cleat to the head when I was nine trying to tag a player sliding home. Little league. Coach always told me to keep that stupid mask on...but it itched, you know, and I couldn’t ever see anything.” “Oh,” Ben murmured. A hush fell over the two boys. Jimmy shifted under the cloth. He brought his hand up to rub his shoulder, checking that his stitches were all still intact, having to explain how they had been ripped this time to Dr. Glass would be way too humiliating. His entire body felt far sorer than it had that morning and he seemed to recall Dr. Glass saying something about ‘taking it easy’ and not doing anything ‘strenuous’. He was starting to think that what he and Ben just did may have gone against both of those recommendations.“You said that name again…when you were asleep,” Ben noticed, and Jimmy looked at him curiously, “Cass.”Jimmy furrowed his brow and turned back to the ceiling. It was odd, to hear her name on Ben’s tongue, so nonchalant. It caused this odd pang in his chest, but it didn’t so much hurt as just ache, like an old injury that never quite healed right. Ben shifted, turned to lay his cheek once more against his arms, so he could gaze at Jimmy again.“Sorry…I know that you don’t want to talk about it…I won’t ask,” he quickly amended.“Cass…” Jimmy mused, repeating the name at first just to see how it felt on his tongue, then smiling vaguely and slipping his eyes closed, he whispered, “Cassidy…she’s my…my little sister…about Matt’s age…eight.”Ben was silent a long time, too stunned to speak. He swallowed hard and stammered apologetically, “You never mentioned…I didn’t know…”“You would’ve liked her,” Jimmy said certainly, looking at Ben with a soft smile, “She loved to read. She would steal my books all the time, sneak in my room and just take them, the brat…my schoolbooks, too; you know…I would get in so much trouble with my teachers for losing them. I think she read my homework more than I did. I know she did.”He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Ben slid his hand beneath their shared ‘blanket’, took Jimmy’s hand and gave it a squeeze. The feel of it eased his soul in ways he couldn’t explain and didn’t care to question.“She just really liked stories, even if she didn’t understand them entirely. She would make up the craziest things in her head and she would force me to play these games with her,” Jimmy paused, shook his head and smiled at a faraway memory, “I would swear she was insane. This one time...my mom forced us to go to this church event…it was this formal dance for all the kids. I had to wear this ugly suit and Cass had on these wool stockings and she kept scratching. She decided we were being held captive by aliens in some zoo, and that we needed to escape but the aliens could travel through time and then…she kept bringing up Germans…and animal carcasses.”“Oh...” Ben scrunched his brow in recognition, humorously noting, “Slaughterhouse Five.”Jimmy glanced at Ben puzzled and Ben shrugged sheepishly.“It’s a book,” he explained.Jimmy groaned, “Is that what it was? See? You would’ve understood what she was talking about all the time. I never did. Well, she decided at the church thing that we needed to make a break for it and attack…by throwing food. Long story short, a food fight breaks out, I get blamed for it, and my family gets kicked out of the church gathering. I was grounded for two weeks.”Ben repositioned himself, settling in closer to Jimmy, resting his mouth against the other boy’s shoulder, pressing a kiss there. He tangled their fingers beneath the covers, closing his eyes and listening as the other boy spoke.“She always wanted to go everywhere I went. She harassed me about it, asking over and over again, ‘can I come’ until I’d just get so mad and yell at her to get lost. She never cried in front of me, not if she could help it, but when she did it always hurt so much, I wouldn’t know how to make it stop. When our parents got in fights, she’d come in my room and take my hand and tell me it was going to be okay,” Jimmy smirked, absently wiped away a stray tear, and shakily wondered, “Who was the older sibling, right?“I missed her eighth birthday. I thought she wouldn’t care, mom had this whole party planned for her, and I didn’t want to hang out with a bunch of screaming little brats, so I went out with friends…snuck some beers, watched a movie at one of their houses. When I got home, it turned out Cass spent the day crying because I wasn’t there. I was grounded for three weeks; she wouldn’t talk to me for almost that long, and I still don’t know which one was supposed to be my real punishment.”It was hot under the linen cover but despite that Jimmy shivered. He tightened his hold on Ben’s hand, a reminder of the other boy’s presence, as if he could forget, with the way that boy’s hot breath scalded his skin, demanding attention.“She was taken. Harnessed,” Jimmy said. He felt more than saw Ben’s reaction to that statement. Ben tensed his muscles, suddenly jolted into alertness as he pulled his mouth away from Jimmy and lifted himself up a bit. Jimmy continued unabated, “I found her a few weeks after…after the aliens came…she was with a group of them. Harnessed kids. I didn’t think…when the opportunity came, I just…I ran in there, grabbed her, bolted.” Ben relaxed somewhat, though not entirely, his eyes remained intent on Jimmy’s face. Jimmy’s expression was almost apathetic as he recalled those events from seemingly ages ago; buried so deeply in his mind they almost seemed like a dream. “I took her to a place I hoped was safe, some building basement…I tried to take the harness off…but I wasn’t strong enough. So, I tried to wake her up, talked to her, tried to remind her who she was. She sat there just staring blankly and…I begged her to snap out of it. She was her but she wasn’t…her eyes were so…” Jimmy shook his head, closed his own eyes, “Then I guess…her Skitter master gave the command…got close enough to…”Jimmy was trembling now; he couldn’t hold his body still. His voice quaked, his heart screamed at him to stop, it just hurt too much, but the dam was broken, there was no controlling the flood now.“She attacked me. I didn’t know what to do, I fought with her, I yelled her name, I tried to get her to remember me, I pleaded with her, I begged her, I…” he trailed off, took a deep breath and when he spoke again, he sounded tired and bored, as he explained, “She had her hands on my throat. I couldn’t get her off. She was trying to…I was feeling dizzy…I couldn’t think…I panicked. I grabbed the nearest thing…and I just hit her with it…again, again, again…until she just stopped moving.”Tears blurred Jimmy’s vision, falling steadily, silently down his cheeks. He took a weary breath and closed his eyes.“She was my sister. I was supposed to protect her,” he stated, almost in awe at that realization, his voice broke with a strangled sob, “I killed her.”Jimmy lost himself to his swarming emotions, covering his face and tear-ravaged features with his palm. His confession burned into him, a branding by his own white-hot tongue. In an action Jimmy hadn’t expected, couldn’t understand, Ben lifted himself up without hesitance, frantically pushing the hair off Jimmy’s hot forehead and dropping desperate kisses all over his face, an attempt, perhaps, to calm the boy, remind him it was over, and he was safe. When Jimmy was able to contain himself again, he spoke once more with a dark conviction.“I made myself a promise the day I joined the resistance. I told myself that I am going to kill as many aliens as I can, until they either take me down or there are no more left. And if, by some miracle, we win and I make it to the end of this war, I am going to take one last bullet and put it in my head.”Ben flinched away at that statement, his tone drenched in pain as he pleaded, “Don’t say that.”“It’s true. And when that day comes, there will be nothing that can stop me from pulling that fucking trigger,” Jimmy promised. Ben lifted himself up, peering down into Jimmy’s face, intense brown seeking turbulent blue, but Jimmy just wouldn’t look at him. He rested his hand on Jimmy’s forehead, smoothed his thumb across the delicate skin there, and pressed a kiss to Jimmy’s mouth, chaste and sweet. Then he propped himself up again and fixed Jimmy with a hard look.“We are going to win this war,” Ben vowed, his words steadfast and unwavering, “We are going to win it. We are going to wipe out every last one of those aliens. And we are going to make it to the end, you and I. And when we do, I will stop you from pulling that trigger.” Jimmy smiled faintly, all breath taken from his lungs, as he stared in wonder up at that determined face, that cocky grin perfectly in place, only slightly marred by the solemnity swimming in dark eyes. If anyone could do it, if anyone could see this war to its end, and stay Jimmy’s finger on that gun, it would be this boy, unstoppable Ben Mason. Jimmy brought his hands up almost subconsciously and led Ben down by the ears into another kiss, his fingers sliding up to trace around the cold, jarring spikes protruding out the back of that warm, soft neck.In that brief moment, the feel of Ben across him, mouth hot against his own, for the first time in longer than he could remember, Jimmy found himself hoping for a life, for a future.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was overcast, a few droplets of rain trickling from the gray flurry of clouds, but here and there, beams of bright light cascaded down on the 2nd Mass. Dai and Maggie were talking nearby about arrangements for an upcoming scouting mission. Hal was sorting through armaments in the nearby weapons store. Ben and Jimmy sat on the downed tailgate of a pick-up truck, Jimmy talking Ben through how to properly reassemble a Smith&Wesson tactical rifle as he cleaned his own hand gun. They would be returning to patrol in a couple days.Ben had recently started asking questions about a lot of the different guns and armaments, more than usual, and he’d also increased his practice time on the make-shift shooting range not far outside of base camp. While he claimed he only wanted to be better prepared, Jimmy had a hunch the other boy had grander schemes forming in his head, he just couldn’t bring himself to ask about them yet.“Okay…so this part slides in here…?” Ben murmured, trying to force the piece into place and Jimmy winced, smirking.“No. Here, let me show you…again,” he muttered, putting his hand over Ben’s to help gently guide the metal cylinder into place, whispering instruction close to Ben’s ear, “It should just glide easy until…you…hear a…click.”It locked into place with the telltale sound, Jimmy’s hand lingering on Ben’s, their cheeks warm with the heat growing between them.“Got that?” Jimmy stammered question. Ben tilted his head, their faces close, and he grinned crookedly, “I’m not sure…maybe you ought to show me again.”Hal sighed, loud and exasperated. He’d been surreptitiously watching the two boys for a few minutes and now it seemed he couldn’t take anymore. He marched over to them, hands folded over his chest and shaking his head in annoyance. Maggie and Dai paused in their conversation to glance curiously at the other three.“Would you two mind flirting somewhere else? Some of us actually have valid work to do around here,” Hal demanded. Jimmy hastily ripped his hand back from Ben’s, returning abashedly to cleaning his gun, but Ben had the audacity to look aghast at the accusation.“For your information, Hal,” Ben sneered in return, his tone mock-serious, “Jimmy is just trying to teach me some very valuable things about the mechanics of this weapon. It’s not our fault if you can’t help but sexualize every interaction between us.”Hal’s brow perked at that. Maggie covered a broad smile and Dai folded his arms over his chest, looking rather amused at that turn of conversation. Jimmy just buried his face in his hand and contemplated smacking Ben. After a moment, Hal shook his head and decided to let it drop, walking up alongside the truck bed as though to join Maggie and Dai. Ben returned to the rifle, not realizing when Hal had moved behind him until the older boy swatted a hand across the back of his head. Ben automatically tossed his rifle aside and tackled Hal, the two ending up on the ground wrestling. The teens watching laughed at the rambunctious display. It was obvious Ben was holding back, but not enough to let his older brother gain any upper hand against him. Maggie came to lean against the truck bed next to Jimmy, unraveling a packet of jerky from her pocket and pulling out a piece to chew on. Dai stood on the other side of the truck, smiling thinly and evidently assuming the role of referee, ready to step in if it seemed the play fight became more real.“You’re not going to help your boyfriend?” Maggie teasingly questioned Jimmy. His heart skipped several times from the comment at first then he smirked and shrugged.“He’s the idiot that opened his mouth,” Jimmy remarked, and noted, “Besides, kind of seems like a brother thing, right?”Maggie nodded with a soft smile, offering over the packet of jerky. Jimmy selected a small piece, popped it in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully a moment.“Mmm…that’s good,” he noted, glancing at the label on the packet. “Yeah, I found it in a convenience store up the interstate,” she agreed, offering him another piece before rolling the packet up again and shoving it back in her pocket. She went to rejoin Dai in their conversation when the brothers seemed to lose interest in their fight, spotting the youngest Mason, Matt walking towards them. Ben started back towards the rifle he’d been working on, and Hal greeted his youngest brother. But Matt didn’t utter a response, pulling himself up on the truck tailgate and looking perturbed. Jimmy continued meticulously cleaning his handgun, glancing once at Matt, and smiling acknowledgement.“What’s wrong, Matt?” Ben asked, noticing his brother’s long face but only earning a disgruntled glare for his concerns. Ben and Hal exchanged a look. Matt had been having troubles with the other children of the 2nd Mass recently, mimicking their parents’ opinions on his older brother and his father, and taking it out on him.“What happened, Matt?” Hal pressed, “You get in another fight with the other kids?”Matt sighed, shrugged. He propped his chin up in his hands, resting his elbows on his lap.“It’s okay for friends to kiss sometimes, right?” Matt asked. Ben arched a brow quizzically at Hal and Hal shrugged response, no clue where the odd question came from. Who knew where the conversations of children sprung.“Yeah, it’s okay,” Hal assured Matt.“Well, that’s what I told Lincoln and Roger, but they didn’t believe me. They said it’s not allowed, that friends don’t kiss, that it’s gross and wrong,” Matt ranted, “And I told them that was wrong because my dad and mom kissed their friends all the time!”“Yeah, on the cheeks,” Hal agreed.“Yeah! And Ben and Jimmy kiss on the mouth, and that’s what I told them and they still wouldn’t believe me that it was okay,” Matt went on, and the blood drained from Jimmy’s head at that announcement. He froze in cleaning his gun, and darted a brief glance at Hal and Ben, their expressions similar to his own.“How…how do you know that Ben and Jimmy kiss on the mouth?” Hal stammered question, attempting to sound nonchalant. He folded his arms over his chest and every so often sent a look of daggers Ben’s direction.“I saw them,” Matt explained, as though that were obvious, “In the storage room.”Ben shot an alarmed look to Jimmy. Kissing was never all they did in that storage room, not in the few times they’d visited it in those past two weeks.“Is that…uh…was that all you saw?” Ben asked, rubbing the back of his head nervously and attempting to sound innocent. Hal gave Ben a look of bewilderment, one that Ben valiantly ignored, though his head did tip forward sheepishly. Jimmy set his gun down and, pulling his knee up on the tailgate, buried his red hot face in his hands: why didn’t Ben just go ahead and write his brother daily reports on the progress of their relationship? Matt looked uncertainly between them all, suddenly very confused.“What else was there to see?” Matt wondered. Hal and Ben’s eyes went wide. Jimmy groaned silently. From bad to worse, bravo, Ben.“Nothing,” Ben snapped and Matt baulked at the sharp force of his tone.Hal shook his head and massaged the bridge of his nose as he wondered, “Matt, did you tell other people about seeing Ben and Jimmy kiss?”“No,” Matt murmured, starting to grow ever more frightened. His brothers’ behaviors were baffling and it was clear he couldn’t figure out why they seemed so upset at him.“Well, don’t tell anybody. Ever,” Ben commanded, “And stay out of the storage closet.” Jimmy sighed, rolled his eyes, and tried to fight down the blush still brightly coloring his cheeks.“You stay out of the storage closet,” Hal hissed at Ben, and Ben scowled at him.“Why? Did you…and Jimmy…do something bad?” Matt asked, his timbre quaking and pitchy.“No, it’s not bad,” Ben cried.“It’s just that…people shouldn’t know that Ben and Jimmy…uh…kissed…” Hal fumbled for an explanation, but he faltered and shook his head, shifting his weight back and forth and glaring at a distant spot on the horizon, obviously discomforted by this entire conversation.“But aren’t they friends? You said it was okay for friends to kiss,” Matt exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.“It is…it’s just…” Hal stammered, furrowing his brow and shaking his head again, “You just can’t tell people…about them…”“Don’t tell people,” Ben growled.“Doesn’t that mean it’s bad?” Matt complained.Jimmy grunted from where he sat, he couldn’t listen to this anymore. He climbed to his feet and gave both Hal and Ben exasperated looks, “You’re both going to screw him up for life, you know that, right?” He came to stand in front of Matt, leaning his palms on the tailgate and lowering himself to eye level with the younger boy, “Hey, Matt, you know there are different kinds of kisses right?”“Yeah, I guess,” Matt shrugged, still shaken from the verbal whiplash his older brothers had inexorably given him.“Jimmy, I don’t think you…” Hal started protest, and Jimmy waved him away.“Just trust me,” Jimmy muttered and returning to Matt, “You know…different kisses for different people,” he insisted, “Like…how your dad kisses you or your brothers is different from how he kisses his friends, right?”Matt considered Jimmy’s question and thoughtfully nodded agreement, “I suppose.”Jimmy took a deep breath and tried to ignore the heat gathering in his cheeks.“And you know, how your mom and dad would kiss, that that’s different too?”“Yeah,” Matt conceded.“Well,” Jimmy fidgeted a moment and grimaced as he awkwardly explained, “In that closet, the type of kiss me and Ben gave each other…it wasn’t the kind between friends…it was the kind like your mom and dad gave each other.”All three boys waited on bated breath as Matt processed that admission. His brow was furrowed and he sucked on his bottom lip, thinking it through, the gears in his head twisting and turning.“So…” Matt murmured, and met Jimmy’s eyes uncertainly, “Does that mean…you and Ben…love each other?”Jimmy startled back a bit, blinking and catching his breath. He bit his inner cheek and looked to Ben, the other boy’s gaze intent on him. His heart beat a drum solo against his chest. For a moment, he was certain he’d forgotten how to breathe. That was not a conversation Jimmy felt ready to have yet, especially not in front of Ben’s brothers. Jimmy dropped his eyes and returned his attention to the younger boy.“ Uh…how does that…would that…bother you?”Matt thought on it a moment, looking curiously between Ben and Hal, as though searching them for the appropriate response. He shrugged and tipped his head to the side.“I guess it would be fine. You’re nice to me, and you’re really cool, and Ben’s always happy when you’re around, so it’s okay with me,” Matt decided.“Good,” Jimmy told him with a satisfied smirk, frowned again and explained, “But you see, Matt, if you told people about it, not everyone would feel that way.”“Why?” Matt quipped. Why. Jimmy hated that question. He could think of a hundred reasons why, and each one hurt more than the next, and not a single one would ever fully answer that question, not to the satisfaction of a curious little boy.“Because…because…” Jimmy mumbled.“Because I’m different, Matt,” Ben spoke up, “You know that. People don’t like it, and they would give Jimmy a hard time because of it.”Well, there was that reason. Jimmy slumped a moment, frowning and struggling against the onslaught of harsh emotions churning inside of himself. He had known Ben felt that way, but to hear it said aloud really hurt, it felt as though he were losing some battle he’d started fighting weeks ago with the other boy and he had no chance of ever winning. “I couldn’t defend your brother,” Jimmy whispered rigidly, expanding on Ben’s painful admission, “No one would listen to me. They would think I was just taking his side because of…my feelings for him.”“And people wouldn’t want to rely on them,” Hal stepped in, adding a different side to the argument that neither Ben nor Jimmy had really considered, but hearing it aloud, knew it to be true, “They wouldn’t want to trust them, they’d always question they’re choices and why they’re making them. Always wonder if their heads are really on the battlefield. It would make it hard for them to do their job, Matt, protect the 2nd Mass, which is what’s important, right?”“Right,” Matt determined, he looked at the three older boys and announced, “Okay. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” Then he raised a brow and demanded haughtily, “Can I go now?”Jimmy snorted lightly, smirking, Ben and Hal chuckling at his back. He moved, letting Matt hop off the tailgate and meander away, and turned to face the remaining Mason brothers, relieved by that dodged bullet, only to be met by Hal’s dark glare. The older boy had his eyes narrowed dangerously on Ben and Jimmy. “So…what else was there to see in that storage closet?” Hal growled question. Jimmy dropped his face to hide the deep blush that hit his cheeks hard but Ben just gave his brother an incredulous look.“You really want to know that?” Ben demanded, nonplussed.Hal’s face scrunched in disgust, he shook his head violently back and forth, crying out, “Never mind,” as he staggered away.A few hours later, Jimmy lay beside Ben on their makeshift bed in the storage closet. They had made certain to securely lock the door in place that day. Their bodies were slick with sweat and though they still gasped for breath, their hearts were finally slowing in their breakneck paces.After a moment, Ben lifted himself to sit on the edge of the mats, reaching for his pants and Jimmy watched him, smiling distantly and brushing his hand along Ben’s bare back, then he sat up too, placing a kiss on Ben’s shoulder blade. His head felt light suddenly and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Ben’s shoulder.“You okay?” Ben questioned, worry evident in his quivering voice. “Just feeling a little dizzy,” Jimmy explained, frowning slightly.“Oh. So…you’re saying I make you swoon?” Ben teased. Jimmy rolled his eyes and didn’t bother dignifying that one with an answer. He straightened and reached for his own clothes, standing to pull his pants on.“You sure you’ll be ready to go back on patrols?” Ben wondered, watching Jimmy dress a moment. The other boy looked a little paler than normal, and, though the bruising and swelling had gone down, many of his injuries were still prevalent.“You saying you don’t want me out there with you?” Jimmy challenged and Ben instantly snatched his wrist and pulled him crashing down into a rough kiss.“You’re the only one I want out there with me,” Ben promised, then dropped his voice low and confessed quietly against Jimmy’s mouth, “Ever since that first patrol.”I like you, Jimmy.Jimmy smirked, returned the kiss with a soft, timid one of his own. “Yeah,” he whispered reply, “Me too.”