Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction which will include t/t and m/m relationships, and probably some sex too. If it is illegal in your area to read this, or if you are not old enough to read this (you know who you are), stop here. Otherwise, please enjoy.
The Devil's Gambit, Chapter 1
"The Boy in the Shadows"
Tom Corman stepped onto his porch, and felt cooling autumn air rush over his body as a gentle breeze picked up. Next door, a slightly annoying wind chime was rattling out a discordant tune. The setting sun at his back, he stared down the street. He'd been out every evening around this time with a feeling that something was wrong, terribly wrong. Always, he looked east up the street, expecting ... what? There was evil in the air and he could feel it on his skin, like an oily film. Today, the feeling was so strong that he stepped off his porch and started walking in that direction. Just in the distance, a dark figure rested in the shadows of a big shade tree. As he drew closer, his feelings of apprehension increased. Definitely here. But as he came closer, he became perplexed. The young man who sat at the base of the tree, leaning back and cradling his head in his hands couldn't be....
He stepped on a twig and the young man -- well, perhaps that was a stretch -- looked over at him, his head snapping up with painful speed. His eyes were a pale grey, and he could barely keep them open, and they stared blankly from beneath honey blond hair. He had the body of a runner and looked as if he might stand 5'6" -- maybe weighing in at 120, wet. If he was 17, Tom would have been surprised. The blank look was getting to him, and he finally came close enough to realize that the young man was not resting, he was bleeding to death. Tom was at his side in an instant, pulling a phone from his pocket.
"911..."
"Yes, a boy's been stabbed...."
"Thank you for holding, all of our operators are currently busy...."
"Fuck! Fucking shit," he declared as he put the phone on speaker and sat it next to the boy. There was a stab wound in his chest that was bubbling air -- looked as if it had penetrated the lung. Tom took off his sweatshirt and pressed it into the wound, trying to slow the blood flow. The young man just moaned and his head lolled.
"Stay with me," Tom pleaded.
"911 Call Center, Mary speaking, what is your emergency?"
"I found a teenager stabbed down the street from my house...." Tom rattled off a rough address. "He was stabbed in the chest, I think he has a perforated lung...."
"Police and medics are en route, sir.... Please stay on the line until they arrive...." But a siren was already blaring in the distance. Soon a police car pulled up on the curb and the officers rushed to help, but there was nothing to be done until the medics arrived, which they did two minutes later, just as the boy lost consciousness.
"Sir! Sir! Thank you.... Let us take over...." The medic grabbed his arm and moved him away, letting his partner get to work. In around a minute, they were putting him in the back and getting ready to drive off.
In a daze, Tom snapped back to reality. "Where are you taking him?"
"Saint John's," the man said, as he hopped in the passenger side.
One of the cops suggested Tom follow them to the hospital and they'd get his statement there, so he ran down to his car and followed the police to the hospital. They got there fast because they rode with sirens. The two cops led Tom into the ER, and gave them a statement describing how he found the boy and all that he knew, which wasn't much. The older cop, the gruff but kindly sort, went to enter his statement into the system and check in with crews on the scene, while the younger cop would remain at the hospital, in case someone tried to finish the job.
He was handsome in his uniform, looking like a rookie of about twenty-five but he was no rookie, Tom could see, as he had a few bars pinned to his uniform. His black hair was carefully maintained, and his green eyes sparkled with energy. And even in his state, Tom couldn't help but notice how the uniform tightly molded to his athletic frame. Perhaps Tom let his eyes wander too extensively, because the cop put a hand on his shoulder and smiled.
"You alright, Mr. Corman?"
"It's Dr. Corman, but you can call me Tom, please.... No, no I'm not alright.... I...." Suddenly the young cop looked concerned and helped the man into his seat.
"I'm sorry, I ... doctor? You look a little young...."
"I am.... I'm twenty-six, but I got my Ph.D. two years ago," Tom said, smiling in a far-off way.
"That's damn impressive," the man said, and his face said he meant it.
"Well, you don't seem to be doing so bad yourself.... You can't be twenty-five, and you seem to have a few commendations...."
"Call me Aiden, if Officer Reynolds isn't around.... I am twenty-five.... Yeah, I went to the University of Tennessee Knoxville and studied sociology -- criminology -- and joined the force immediately.... I had a string of lucky breaks, got partnered with a few good cops.... Plus, I'm doing some graduate work part time at Peterson -- profiling, advanced criminological techniques, that sort of thing...."
"Sounds like you have some ambition," Tom said with a smile. The man shrugged and smiled, embarrassed.
"You must have had a little yourself...."
"Not really.... Sad to say, I just had too much time on my hands.... I was a scared, lonely little boy who threw himself into school, finished high school at fifteen, college at nineteen, and grad school at twenty-three...." His smile as he said it was sad and a little weary, and the officer's face looked empathetic. "But things got better, I got a life, so to speak, and got ... less afraid of the world. Thanks to someone ... special. But then.... And today.... today brings all that back...."
"What happened?"
"Well, we met after I moved here, and it was wonderful. I'd never trusted anyone completely before and, well, I really came out of my shell, you know? But one day ... we went on a long weekend to Memphis, just for fun, you know.... There was a mugging, and I don't know why they decided to stab," Tom had started crying already, but here a sob ripped through his throat. Aiden put his hand on Tom's forearm and squeezed. "I've got a scar here," Tom finally added, indicating a long scar in his abdomen through his shirt. "I almost didn't make it; Jamie didn't.... It's been nine months and this morning was the first time I left my porch, except to go to campus and teach, or to get groceries.... And I find a boy with a...."
At that point a doctor came out of the emergency room and walked up to the officer. "Are you here about the John Doe with a stab wound?" They both nodded. "Are you family," the doctor asked Tom.
"No, I found him and called the police...."
"I'm sorry, but I can only talk to the officer, unless you're family...." Aiden looked sadly at Tom, who walked away. When the doctor was gone, Aiden walked over to him and said, "There's nothing they can do, he says, except wait. They've done what they can...." Tom grimaced and punched the wall, and Aiden put a hand on his shoulder, a bit too familiarly.
Tom closed his eyes and cried through the lids. Then he looked at Aiden desperately. "Can you get me in to see him? I only need ... a few minutes...."
Aiden looked at the ceiling and sighed. "Five minutes, and I can't let you alone with him...."
Nervously, Tom nodded, and Aiden led the way past the nurse's station, waving off protests. The boy was clearly in bad shape, and his vital signs were weak. Tom put his hand on the boy's chest without any pressure and closed his eyes, dredging the words up from deep memory. He had found them in a medieval Hebrew text of an ancient prayer. Slowly, he began to recite the Hebrew melodically, almost like a song: "Oh Lord of mercy, if it pleases your will, send forth your healing power from the endless font of life. The powers of the air tremble at a single word, the earth shrinks before you. This mortal of flesh and blood awaits your decision. Let your Hesed, your loving mercies, shine forth upon this innocent boy...." If his eyes had been open, he would have seen the fear and awe on Aiden's face, as his voice unnaturally magnified in the room, and a glowing light between his hands and the boy's body. But he did hear the other voice, the screeching angry voice, cry out, "THE BOY IS NOT INNOCENT!" But Tom persisted, "this innocent boy created in the image of the ALMIGHTY, whose light still shines within his breast. Oh Lord, overlook the sins of thy servant. You desire repentance, not death.... Oh Lord, show mercy, oh Lord, show mercy, oh Lord, show mercy...." The light intensified, and the room felt heavy, but slowly, as the light faded, the boy's heartbeat and pulse, as well as his respiratory numbers, increased. At last, Tom opened his eyes and retracted his hands. Slowly, gently, he leaned over and kissed the boy's forehead.
He turned to Aiden to find the young officer standing slack jawed, looking at him with an expression mixing awe and terror. As Tom stepped toward him, Aiden took a step back and held out a hand. "What ... what did you do?"
Sadly, Tom took a step away. He had liked the young man, who was now terrified of him. "I'm sorry you had to see that.... I did what I had to do...."
The doctor arrived and asked, "What are you two doing in here?"
"I ... came to see how he was and give him a prayer, a kind of last rights.... It seems he has turned a corner, doctor," Tom said, "if you'd like to take a look...."
"So you're clergy," the doctor stated as much as asked, as he checked the boy's vitals. "That makes a difference.... Amazing...."
"I can wait outside for updates...."
"No, no, its fine," the doctor mumbled. Aiden stood silently by as the doctor examined the patient, who, miraculously, seemed to be surfacing. He moaned and groaned, but his eyes flickered open. Looking around the room, he lifted an arm toward Tom, but it quickly fell. Tom closed the distance and took the boy's hand and felt a weak squeeze. The boy smiled ever so weakly, before whispering, "... not innocent...." Tom shivered a little and Aiden, who was clueless, took a step forward. He'd heard the angry voice as well, and he knew the boy must have.
"Doctor, I'd like to make sure he has what he needs, can I give you my number for someone to call me if he asks for, or if he needs, something special?" The man nodded and took his number, and put it on the chart.
Officer Reynolds returned and Aiden shakily reported on the boy's improved status. "Wonderful, wonderful.... We found a knife nearby, so hopefully we'll find prints.... Are you okay sitting on the room, Officer O'Connel?"
He looked at Tom warily, and Tom was surprised at how much it hurt. He really liked the young man, but who was he kidding? There wasn't anything there.... The man was cute and probably straight.... But even if he wasn't, he was scared shitless. At last, Aiden replied, "Yeah, yeah I'm fine...."
Soon, the three -- patient, policeman, and the witness -- were left alone, Tom sitting beside the bed and Aiden carefully avoiding his gaze in the corner. "I'll leave if it'll make you more comfortable.... I'll leave, Officer O'Connel, if you'll call me if there's any change...." Aiden looked at him and visibly flinched at the way Tom said O'Connel with a little bitterness. Maybe the man did care.... When Aiden didn't answer, Tom stood and walked past the curtain and down the hall. He knew the man couldn't, and wouldn't, follow him beyond the doors as he exited the hospital into the dark night. He was on duty.
Tom got home and took off his t-shirt and pants; discovering blood on both, he put a stain remover on them and tossed them in with a load of laundry. It was now nearly nine and he was desperately hungry. He thought of cooking but he was tired, both emotionally and physically. Channeling divine energy will do that to you....
Picking up a stack of menus, he called his favorite Chinese place and ordered enough food to guarantee leftovers, then went to the bedroom and pulled on some sweatpants and a white undershirt. Tom looked down at himself. Ever since he had met Jamie, he had learned to appreciate himself. He had started working out as a teenager in college. He thought he would look less out of place among the older students if he bulked up a little, so he started running and lifting. Now he was nearly six feet tall and had the body of a gymnast. But he never thought he looked good until Jamie. Jamie appreciating him helped him appreciate himself. He was a tall, strong, handsome man, his light brown hair and blue eyes accenting a perfect face. His abs were flat, and showed a six pack after he exercised, and his pecs were, well, impressive.
He tossed himself on the couch and turned the television on to wait. The news was on, but he couldn't bear it -- too depressing, so he turned to some comedy in progress and went to pour himself a glass of wine. The doorbell rang, and he opened the door to find a young delivery man, a cute 20 year old hunky blond guy who looked vaguely familiar. Tom could feel the boy's eyes raking over his body and felt a little boost.
"Uhm, uh," the boy said, cutely, as he got caught gawking, "here's your order, Dr. Corman...." Tom smiled and took the food.
"Come on in, let me get my wallet...." Hesitantly, the boy did follow him inside, not afraid, but just very nervous. "I'm embarrassed, I know I know you, but I'm blanking...."
"Billy Thompson.... I was in your introduction to philosophy class your first semester -- mine too."
Of course, Billy -- he'd always thought the kid was cute. Cuter now, he said, smiling to himself as he fished through his wallet. He caught the boy surreptitiously checking him out and smiled even more brightly. "I remember...."
"I really enjoyed it," the boy added with a shy smile.
Tom walked up close to him and put a twenty in his hands, letting his fingers linger on the boy's soft skin. "Thank you for saying.... Keep the change....'
"Thank you, sir," he said, walking to the door.
As Tom stood at the door him, he called, "See you around!" The boy smiled and waved and Tom closed the door. What are you doing flirting with a twenty-year-old, he asked himself, smiling. But then he reminded himself that he was only twenty-six and not exactly a dirty old man. Billy was cute and in another context.... Hell, maybe in this context.... But his mind wandered back to the raven-haired O'Connel. When the man smiled, he was soooo damn hot....
Tom ate his dinner and sat down to watch the television, but soon, the wine and tiredness lulled him to sleep. He was awakened after eleven by a knock at the door. Strange. Maybe Billy's come back, he thought to himself with a laugh. But he opened the door and his breath caught in his throat....
More to come soon. If you enjoyed this story, you might consider my other on-going stories at Nifty, Fantasy/SciFi, Things that Go Bump and A Light in the Darkness.
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