Darkness Dwindles

By Richard Garcia

Published on Jul 19, 2012

Gay

DARKNESS DWINDLES Chapter Two

Daniel stayed in bed for two days following the attack. Joey drove him to see the wound care specialist the third morning. The doctor gave Daniel a shot in his good shoulder and changed the bandages, chatting amiably as he worked. He sent them home with prescriptions for more pain medications, an additional course of antibiotics, and instructions to be back in four days.

Over the next few days Daniel received a parade of well-wishers eager to hear the story of his adventure in the night. Daniel's circle of friends was eclectic. It ranged from artist hippies in tie-dies and stained painter's pants to karate jocks in black t-shirts with dobok pants, to slick-haired financial types in monogrammed button-downs. Every woman he had dated over the past year showed up, all bringing food.

Daniel greeted them propped up by half a dozen pillows on his California king-sized bed. Over the bandages he wore his red tiger silk bathrobe and joked that he was holding a royal levee. He certainly looked the part.

On the fifth day after the attack Daniel's mother made her appearance. "Hello, Joey," she murmured, sweeping by him on a waft of expensive perfume when he opened the front door. She paused in the living room, a well-manicured finger to her chin as she slowly pivoted, taking in the wall of westward facing windows, the low craftsman-style furniture, the artwork on the walls.

She turned to Joey. "I said hello, dear."

"Hello, Ms. Rolston."

"You're looking well. Pretty as ever, I see. Haven't grown much in the last two years though, have you? I thought you'd be taller."

She turned back to the room, clearly not expecting an answer. "You know, this is the first time I've been here." She nodded toward the windows. "The view is marvelous. Is that the Oak Springs Preserve? Daniel told me the house backs up on it."

"Yes, Ms. Rolston."

"My grandfather donated that land for the preserve. Did you know that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And these paintings, how many of them are Daniel's?"

"All of them, Ms. Rolston."

She gave him a sidelong look. "You didn't used to be dense, dear. I meant how many of them did he paint?"

"Oh. None of them. He keeps his own stuff downstairs in his studio. Some of these were painted by friends of his, though."

"How nice. Will you take me to him now?"

Joey led her down the hall to the master bedroom. In the doorway Daniel's mother hesitated. Joey heard a catch in her breath, like a small gasp. Then she was gliding forward again.

"Hello, Darling," she leaned down to kiss Daniel on his unbruised cheek.

Daniel winced as if the kiss hurt anyway. "Hello, Mother."

"You look like shit."

"Do I? My friends keep telling me that I've never looked better."

"Your friends are liars and opportunists. That's why they're your friends. In the match of Daniel versus the lion I'm afraid it's lion one, Daniel zero."

"Daniel didn't fight the lion."

"Very wise of him. Look at the outcome."

"I don't think I did that badly. You could go ask the lion."

"You took a hatchet to it?"

"Yep."

"My goodness. How did you happen to have a hatchet?"

"I use it for chopping wood. Who told you?"

"Robyn. Why did you stop seeing her? You know how she adores you."

"No, Mother, it's you she adores. Me she just lusts after."

"Don't be crude. Have you had enough of this romantic artist-in-nature thing yet? Nature doesn't seem to be overly fond of artists."

"Actually, I think it was an art critic that attacked me."

"Ha hah. Really, Darling, you know that whenever you get tired of all this, there is an office waiting for you at the firm. Twenty-eighth floor and they never let art critics wander unattended through the building."

"Thank you, Mother. Whenever I need a cozy blanket I know I can count on you to throw one my direction."

"But you know, Darling, it isn't nepotism. They've all seen what you've done with the trust portfolio. There are brokers at the firm who are building their careers out of aping your investment decisions. You're a hero to them."

"It's all just math. I think I'll take my chances with the lions for a bit longer, if you don't mind."

"Or even if I do? You're very much like him, you know."

"I thought I was very much like you."

"That too. Do me a favor, please. Next time you go camping, take a gun."

"I will not take a gun. But I will continue to take my hatchet."

Daniel's mother sighed. "Darling, is there anything you need?"

"No, Mother, I'm fine. Joey is taking excellent care of me."

"Good. I suppose it is your turn. Come out for lunch as soon as you're up and about." She bent down to kiss him again, then turned and swept out of the room.

In the living room she turned back to Joey. "Nice to see you again, Joey."

"Yes, Ms. Rolston."

"Let me know if he needs anything."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Joseph," her pale blue eyes sharpened on him. "I am not kidding. If there is a problem, call me."

"I will, Ms. Rolston."

"Good. You're a good boy, Joey. I haven't been very nice to you and I won't apologize for it. But you're a good boy. I hope you appreciate how much your brother loves you. Goodbye."

Joey closed the front door and went back to the bedroom. Daniel eyed him as he sat down. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Was she polite?"

"Yeah."

"Thank God. We'd be safer with a bear-wolf. Do me a favor, will you? Get me another painkiller."

The next morning they drove in Joey's Civic to the Baxter County sheriff's station to pick up Daniel's van. Daniel was still under doctor's orders to not drive; his friend Steve went with them to bring back the van.

The deputy at the front desk, an older woman with short-cropped hair, looked them over as they approached. Her gaze flitted from Steve's beard and matted dreadlocks to Daniel's shoulder sling and the bruises fading from his face.

When Daniel introduced himself she cracked a thin grin.

"Hey, Tom!" she turned and called out, "the hatchet guy's here!"

Sheriff Wentworth emerged from the back room. He came forward to shake their hands.

"You're lookin' better today," he said to Daniel. He wasn't joking.

"Thanks, I feel it."

"Come on back."

"I saw the notice posted outside," Daniel said as they seated themselves in his office. "Still no sign of it?"

The sheriff scowled. "Fraid not. It was smarter than I expected. We tracked it a couple miles to the Coltoro River. It took to the water and we don't know where it came out. I've had to reassign my men. Sorry `bout that, Mr. Miltzer. Too bad about the shots."

"Shots?" asked Steve. "What shots?"

"Rabies," Daniel answered. "If they can't find the animal to check it for rabies, I have to get shots."

"Bummer. I hear those needles are seriously wicked."

Daniel shrugged. "They're not so bad these days. I've had the first two already. Three more to go."

"You pick up the macho act in your karate classes?" Steve's tone was mild. "Shrugging at rabies shots and fighting off animals with an ax is definitely on the high end of the testosterone curve."

Daniel shot his friend the finger.

Sheriff Wentworth cleared his throat. "You take karate, Mr. Miltzer?"

"Tae kwon do. Been at it for a dozen years."

"You must be pretty good."

"He's a double black belt," said Steve.

"Second dan," Daniel corrected.

"Uh huh. Just what were you doing, spending the night in a non-designated camping area in one of my parks?"

"Waiting to take pictures of the sunrise. Are you going to give me a ticket for illegal camping?"

"Since you didn't light a fire, no. Noticed all the painting supplies in your van. You a professional artist?"

Steve snorted. The sheriff looked at him questioningly.

"It's an old debate, Sheriff," Daniel explained. "What's the difference between an amateur and a professional artist?"

"Don't know. What?"

"Poverty," said Steve glumly.

Daniel grinned. "Where did you reassign your men, Sheriff?"

The sheriff scratched his jaw. "Actually, they're rounding up all the kids that are out beating the bush for your beast. You've got quite a following among the local boys, Mr. Miltzer. They're hunting it with axes. Think they're frontiersmen or something. The odds of them finding it are shit, but the odds that someone's gonna lose a finger look pretty good."

Daniel shook his head. "I hope no one gets hurt on my account."

"Oh, it ain't on your account. They'd be up to something else equally stupid if it weren't for this." The sheriff stood. "Go over the report with Judy before you leave, Mr. Miltzer. I'll let you know if we find anything, but my guess is it's gone north back into the national forest. I doubt we'll see hide nor hair of it again."

Outside of the station Daniel tossed the van keys to Steve. "Should be a little over half a tank in it. That's enough to get you back to the house."

"Hey," Steve jingled the keys, "you think ol' Sheriff Mayberry back there checked your van for drugs while he was looking at your art supplies?"

"Probably. Good thing it wasn't your car."

"No shit. One more reason I'm glad to be a city boy. I guess if the beastie's really gone you won't have to come back out here, huh?"

"Nope," Daniel drawled, "I reckon they'll not see hide nor hair of me again."

"It's not gone, Daniel," Joey spoke up. "You've got it inside you now."

The grin slid from Steve's face. He shuffled his feet awkwardly.

Daniel sighed. "Right, little bro." He looked at Joey. "Think you're up to driving me home?"

"Sure, Daniel."

"Okay then, let's go."

==============================================================================

Hey again.

Hope you're enjoying the story so far. It may be a little slow getting started, but I've got some big plans for Joey and Daniel. Stay tuned!

InvertedBeast@yahoo.com

Next: Chapter 3


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