Copyright 2021 -- Daemon D. Hart
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Prison Island
Francesco hated to admit it, but Mouse's admission that what Karl was saying about other people being present on the island was scaring him. Who were those people? Were they natives? They couldn't take kindly to having their place invaded by delinquents. But the alternative was equally bad if not worse. If there were other prisoners living there, who knew what they had been sentenced for? They could be older, a more ruthless bunch, and no one could say what they would do to them if they found them.
Karl was maybe talking out of his ass about gangbangs and whatnot. Fucking wasn't something any of them wasn't accustomed to, but he could bet that no one thought of that as being the biggest problem. His dreams were now plagued by faceless monsters trying to get him and tear him apart.
He hadn't shared any of them with Mouse. He didn't want his boyfriend to think he was weak. But every day now, he was training after making a sling of a small branch and a sturdy vine he had found in his searches. It wasn't much, but when he managed to hit a bird and saw it drop to the ground, he had to say that he was a bit relieved. A weak weapon was still better than no weapon at all.
At the same time, he had taken at helping Karl with the perimeter defenses with renewed strength. Leon was also on it, so he never had a chance to speak to the blond more than necessary. After that confrontation from that day, they hadn't spoken much to each other. Still, Karl's eyes were always on him, and Francesco couldn't tell anymore if that was a cause for concern or something else.
At least, Mouse hadn't brought up the issue either, and that was good. Things were good between them. They were fucking; they were surviving. There wasn't much else about their lives.
Now and then, he felt an urge to get on his feet, walk over to Karl, and ask him something stupid, like whether they would be okay and when they could return to their lives. But he had stopped each time because it would have felt like a kid running to his parent for assurance and protection. He didn't need stuff like that from Karl, and it wasn't like the asshole could give it anyway. He was thankful for having Mouse and Leon's and Ollie's friendship. Anya and Ty were good people, too.
So why the fuck it stirred him so much whenever he looked at Karl? It was like a worm inside his heart, fighting for a way out. He needed to stay the fuck away, that was what he needed to do. That fucker was bad news, he tried to convince himself over and over.
He noticed Ty running toward Leon and, even before the boy opened his mouth, his stomach sank. A strong sense of premonition overwhelmed him. He dropped what he was holding and rushed toward them.
Ty's face was in tears. A few leaves were hanging in his hair, and there was a small cut on his right cheek, under his eye. He was sobbing and trembling, and little sense could be made out of his words.
Leon grabbed him by the shoulders. "Ty, what is it?" he asked sternly.
"Anya, he... he just went a little farther... I told him... And Karl said --"
"What did I say?" Karl interrupted him.
Francesco didn't recall seeing him around, so he was just as surprised as the others to see him. His face was covered in soot, and Mouse's words about him being paramilitary hit him. Yeah, the guy looked like he was using camouflage or something like that.
Ty froze at Karl's voice. He whimpered as the blond grabbed him from Leon's hold and shook him. "Where the fuck is the little whore?" he asked through his teeth.
But Ty was trembling now and couldn't get one word out.
"Karl," Francesco tried to intervene.
"You stay the fuck out of it," Karl said, raising one hand.
A short warning stare from Leon convinced him to shut it.
Karl returned to Ty. "Speak or I'll fucking slap you until you do."
"Anya, he..." Ty began again.
Francesco winced as Karl slapped Ty hard across the face. He took one step forward, but he was surprised to hear the boy talking rapidly.
"I told him he was going too far, but he went on and on, not listening. And we went that way," Ty pointed out to his right, "over the river, to search for some berries. I was a little behind, and then I no longer saw him." He sobbed for a moment. "They took him. There were two men, and they took him. Hit him over the head, I saw blood --"
"Fuck!" Karl shouted. He let go of Ty and began pacing. All the others were watching him, not daring to say a word. Then he stopped. "When did this happen? Where were you? Take me there step by step, and don't miss a thing!"
Ty was sobbing quietly. Francesco took him by the shoulders. "Ty," he said gently, "this is important. I'll come, too."
"Like hell," Karl spat.
"You could use the backup," Leon suggested.
Karl grunted, but gestured with his chin. Slightly assured by Francesco's gentle touch, Ty began explaining and walking. Francesco stopped in front of Leon for a moment. "Mouse," he started.
"I'll tell him, don't worry," Leon replied. "You go and find Anya."
"Are you coming already? Fucking pantsies," Karl growled as he began stomping too fast for anyone to keep up with him.
"Karl." Francesco hurried after him. "We need to follow Ty."
The blond cursed some more but allowed Ty to walk in front. "Take us there, now," he said through his teeth.
Francesco could barely keep in a shiver. Karl had a grim expression and Ty was in tears as he pointed out at the exact place he had seen Anya last. They were quite far from the camp, which begged the question what the hell Anya had been thinking wandering like that.
Karl began to examine their surroundings. It looked like each broken branch, each mark on the ground were clues for him. Francesco just followed. "Take Ty and head back," Karl ordered shortly.
"No way. I'm coming with you." He had no idea why he was playing the brave right now. Somehow, the thought of leaving Karl alone was scaring him more than the alternative.
"You don't have a choice." Karl got in his face and then pushed against his chest with one finger. "Do you think we're in fucking high school?"
"I'm not leaving you," Francesco said stubbornly.
"Jesus, Cesco, is this the fucking time for you to come on to me?"
He wasn't fooled by Karl's forced grin. "I'm coming with you," he said firmly while closing his fists.
"Guys, I can head back on my own. I don't want to be out here anymore," Ty intervened.
"See, Cesco? Go with him. This is no place for boys like you."
"Ty, can you go alone?" Francesco asked.
"Yeah, don't worry. I'll go now," Ty said and hurried away.
Karl spat on the ground and gave Francesco a hard look. He wagged a finger at him. "If anything happens to you, I'll kick your ass so hard you won't sit for a week."
"Very touching. I didn't know you cared. Can we go now?"
Karl's smile was crooked. "And where is that we need to go?"
Francesco threw his arms out in frustration. "How should I know? You're the boss."
"Good. Keep that in mind. I say stop, you fucking stop. I say run, you run. Got it?"
"Yeah."
Karl threw him one last look, and, for a moment, his soot covered face seemed to relax. But then, he gestured for Francesco to follow and began walking, taking large steps.
They must have walked for at least another hour when Francesco sensed the smoke in the air. He stopped for a moment. Karl turned toward him and nodded. "They can't be far."
Then he walked over to Francesco and pushed something into his hand. He was surprised to see the knife. "Why?" he asked.
"Because you need it," Karl said curtly. "Just hold on to it. I'll need it back."
Franceco said nothing and clasped his hand on the handle.
His breath caught in his chest. Anya was on the ground, hog tied, and he wasn't moving. From the bush in which they were hiding, they could see the camp, and there were at least 3 men they counted. They wore rags rather than clothes, and they looked wild with unkempt beards and matter hair. They were milling about, laughing, and one kicked Anya, one time, hard in the stomach. The shape on the ground moved.
"He's alive," Karl said matter-of-factly. "Now listen to me closely, Cesco. No stupid moves allowed."
"What are we going to do?"
Karl stared at the camp. "They have at least one spear," he pointed out, "and a knife. I can't see what the third guy is carrying."
"Maybe you should have the knife," Francesco suggested. "I don't know what to do with it anyway."
Karl nodded and accepted the knife back. "Do you have your sling?"
Francesco didn't ask how Karl knew about that. "I have it."
"We'll need to get their attention."
He was about to reply when someone grabbed him from behind and pressed one heavy paw over his mouth.
"You, drop that knife," a low and husky voice ordered.
Francesco stared at Karl's face. The blond's face twisted in a scowl and then he lunged. The stranger dropped Francesco to the ground and caught Karl's hand.
"Run, Cesco," Karl ordered and he grabbed the man with his free hand and did something, something Francesco couldn't tell or describe, but the stranger was soon flat on his back and Karl was on top of him, lowering his blade to the guy's neck.
The man was in his late thirties and had a strong build. He caught Karl's armed hand and held it. "I'm not against you, boys," he hissed.
"Cesco, run, the fuck you're doing?" Karl asked without looking at him while pressing down with all his force.
Francesco couldn't tell what came over him. He wanted to hear the stranger out. He was big and scary, but his appeareance was much neater than that of those at the camp. For starters, he had only a short stubble on his face, and his clothes looked much cleaner than what Francesco had seen in ages.
So he took Karl by surprise when he pushed him away.
"The fuck," Karl spat.
The stranger jumped to his feet. "Hush, boys, don't make a sound or they'll hear us. My name is Morgan and I'm here to help you get your friend back."
Francesco threw an anxious look toward the camp. The assholes didn't appear to have heard their little scuffle.
"How?" Karl threw at Morgan still pointing the blade at him and in a defensive stance.
"With this."
Francesco's eyes grew wide at the sight of the shotgun.
tbc
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