The Final Rule (14 page)

Ellis grabbed his arm. “He doesn’t feel it.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t feel it?”

“That’s Danny. Jon’s brother.”

George’s confused expression was replaced by wide eyes and pale skin. “I’m not even going to say that isn’t possible.” He sat back in his seat. “What do you think he wants?”

“I don’t know.”

Danny pointed to a side road.

“Turn there,” Ellis said.

George did. Ellis glanced back but Danny was gone.

“What now?” George clenched the steering wheel.

“We wait for the next set of instructions.”

“You’re kidding, right? We’re going to take directions from a dead boy?” George laughed. “I think I’m losing my mind. I really do.”

“Welcome to the club.” They crested a soft hill. At the bottom, Danny stood at the four-way stop.

They pulled up beside him. He pointed to the right. As they drove, fields with livestock, and country houses became the scenery. Most of them appeared abandoned.

No, that wasn’t the right word. They were lost.

A familiar alien fear thickened the air. “Where is this road in relation to the Grove?”

“It’s on the opposite side. There’s about three miles of pasture and woods from here to there. Why do you ask?”

“Because I feel it.”

“What?”

“
The Big and Terrible
.” It seemed ridiculous to call it that but, at the same time, there was no better name.

Up ahead, Danny stood on the shoulder of the road. At first, Ellis thought he was pointing to the woods. As they got closer, the high grass thinned, revealing a gravel road.

George turned, putting Danny so close to the passenger side of the car that Ellis could see the calluses on the boy’s hands and a frayed spot on the pocket of his overalls. Ellis met Danny’s warm gaze. He nodded once.

Ellis blinked and he was gone.

“How far do you think we’re supposed to go?” George said.

“Till he shows up, I guess.”

Twilight turned the world monotone. They crested a hill and the headlights cut slivers out of the darkness up ahead.

A body lay in the road.

George pulled to a stop.

Ellis sat frozen in his seat.

“I’ll go check.” Check and see if he was alive. Check and see if there was anything left to save.

Dread became concrete in Ellis’s joints, making it hard to move. “I’m coming with you.”

“Ellis…”

“Shut up, George.”

The cold enveloped Ellis, nipping the tips of his fingers and sanding his cheeks. He swung himself on the crutches, moving closer, and yet Jon was a million miles away. What was he going to do if he was dead? If the precious gift given to him had been snatched away?

I’d die. I would simply cease to live.

Ellis stopped and knelt. His trembling breath fogged in front of his lips.

The fabric of Jon’s jacket whispered against Ellis’s fingertips. A tingling sensation crawled across his skin. He froze. He swallowed. He forced himself to lean closer.

The soft sigh Jon exhaled was almost lost to the silence. A second breath escaped in a puff of white.

Jon opened his eyes.

“Oh, God.” Ellis wiped away the blood congealing on Jon’s cheek. “I thought…”

“Hey.” He closed a hand over Ellis’s.

He ran his hands over Jon, half checking for injuries and half trying to assure himself Jon was really there.

“It’s okay.” Jon pushed the hair back from Ellis’s face.

“George, can you call for an ambulance on your radio?”

“The signal is bad here. But a mile up the road I should be able to.”

“I don’t need an ambulance.” Jon pushed himself up on an elbow. “I’m just banged up.”

“Can you stand?” George gripped Jon’s arm.

“I think so.”

Ellis grabbed his crutches to balance himself while he helped George pull Jon to his feet.

“What happened to your foot?” Jon said.

“It’s just sprained.”

A crease formed across Jon’s forehead. “You were in the car. I couldn’t get you out.”

He stroked Ellis’s cheek with his knuckles. “I left you. God, Ellis, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s just get you home.”

The tub filled while Ellis helped Jon undress. The extent of bruising stretched from his right shoulder to his hip. Nasty scrapes covered his chest and back. Reddish brown mud outlined the creases in Jon’s skin.

“I really think you should go to the hospital.”

“I’m okay.”

“You have glass in your shoulder.”

“I saw a pair of tweezers in there.” Jon nodded at the medicine cabinet. “Hand them to me and I’ll get it out.”

Ellis got the tweezers. “You can barely hold your head up. I’ll do it.” He went to the other side of the small wooden bench where Jon sat. Ellis propped the knee on his injured side on the edge.

“I could sit on the floor so you don’t have to stand.”

“I’m fine.”

Ellis picked away bits of drying mud until he could get a grip on the pieces of glass. One after the other he tossed the fragments into the sink. By the time Ellis finished Jon listed to the side.

“You okay?” Ellis shook him.

Jon jerked up straight. “Yeah, just…tired.”

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” Ellis lifted Jon’s arm to put it over his shoulder.

“I can walk.” Jon pulled away. “You worry about that ankle.” The muscles in his thighs quivered as he climbed in the tub.

“Do you need more Tylenol?”

Jon winced as he lowered himself into the water. “I’m good.”

Ellis moved the bench closer. Starting at the top of Jon’s head he began the slow process of scrubbing away the remnants of Jon’s brush with death.

Ellis feared it wasn’t the last.

“You never did tell me how you got away from Lenny.”

Jon caught Ellis’s hand and kissed his wrist. “You never asked.”

“Well?”

“To be honest, I don’t remember.” Jon made small circles on Ellis’s palm with his thumb. Every so often he kissed Ellis’s fingers. “He made me get into his truck and we went…” Jon grimaced.

“Headache?”

“No. Just…” He relaxed. “It’s gone now.”

Ellis lathered up the washcloth and squeezed soapy water over Jon’s chest. “This may hurt a little.”

“It’ll be fine.”

The clumps of bubbles forming under the washcloth turned pink. Ellis rinsed them away. “We should probably get some antibiotic cream for these scratches.”

“Later.” Jon leaned back against the tub.

“I really think you should go to the hospital and get checked out.” He moved to Jon’s thighs. There were a few cuts but the bruises were intimidating.

“Feels nice.” Jon groaned. “Maybe I should make a habit of getting found on dirt roads at night.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I don’t know. This kind of makes it all worth it.” Jon caught Ellis’s hand again.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” A heavy weight formed in the air. “Not at all.” Jon tightened his grip.

“Then what’s wrong?”

The brown in Jon’s eyes was darkened. “Nothing. You just missed a spot.” He pushed Ellis’s hand lower. The thick length of Jon’s cock slid along Ellis’s arm.

“You’re bruised like a piece of fruit and you want me to—”

“Yep.”

“Jon, I think you should rest.”

“I am resting. That’s why you’re doing all the work.” He pulled the washcloth out of Ellis’s hand and guided Ellis’s fingers around his cock. “That’s better.”

“I can’t believe you.”

Jon gripped the front of Ellis’s shirt and pulled him down. Their mouths met. What had once been warm lips were cold and Jon’s rich natural flavor was gone, replaced by the taste of sour ground.

Ellis jerked away.

Jon’s eyebrows crushed together. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh, nothing.” He pulled but Jon wouldn’t let go.

“Then why did you stop?”

If he yelled for help would the Marshes hear him? “I just…just remembered I was supposed to help Eleanor unload something from her car.”

“Now, Ellis.” Jon clicked his tongue. “You know better than to lie to me.” He twisted the front of Ellis’s shirt until it tightened around his ribs. Static echoed through Ellis’s chest and turned into the rage of
The Big and Terrible
.

“Jon…”

He pulled Ellis closer. “Yeah, baby.”

“Let go.”

“Now, why would I want to do that?”

Ellis pulled at Jon’s fingers. “Please let go.”

“I don’t think so.”

Jon leaned forward to catch Ellis’s mouth. He turned his head. “Let me go.”

“No.” Jon brushed his lips along Ellis’s jaw, and licked a line down his neck.

Ellis pushed against the edge of the tub with enough force to rip the collar of his shirt. Jon grabbed Ellis’s wrist. He squeezed until the pain forced Ellis to open his hand and yanked him into the tub.

His cry for help was snuffed out by the water.

Jon held Ellis down.

He kicked out and a bolt of agony shot from his sprained ankle. His other leg hung over the edge of the tub.

The air in Ellis’s lungs escaped in a cloud of bubbles. He fought against the need to breathe, but his body heaved and a burning rush shot up his nose. Then the water peeled back as he was pulled to the surface. He heaved one liquid cough after the other.

Jon dug his fingers into Ellis’s hair. “I wonder if I should fuck you first.” He grinned. “Give that tight little ass of yours one last ride. You know, for old time’s sake.”

Ellis hooked an arm over the side of the tub. “Don’t—” A mouth full of water followed his plea. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“This isn’t you.”

“It isn’t, huh? You sure about that?” Jon moved to his knees. The shift dragged Ellis further into the tub.

“No. No. This isn’t you, Jon. It’s that thing. It’s inside you. It’s making you do this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Ellis. It can’t make anyone do anything. It just frees you. It makes you unafraid to be who you were truly meant to be. Who you want to be.” He leaned closer. His words warmed Ellis’s ear. “So how does that make you feel? To know how I’ve fantasized about holding you down, letting you scream, and fucking you till you bleed?”

“Jon would never want to hurt me. You’re lying. You always lie. It’s what you are.” The knowledge filled Ellis’s mind on the back of
The Big and Terrible’s
anger and hate. “It’s what you’ve always been.” There were more flashes of memory and moments of thought. The images were so strong they were practically words. “You’re a disease. And you’re afraid of me. Why? Why are you afraid of me?”

Jon rolled up his lips and his expression turned feral. The brown of his eyes darkened to black, then the thing inside him swam under his skin.

“I can stop you. That’s why you hate me.”

Jon shoved Ellis back under the water.

The joints in Ellis’s fingers groaned in his effort to keep a hold on the side of the tub. He had to breathe. He had to escape. He had to make Jon let him go. The rippled surface broke apart Jon’s features as he leaned over Ellis. More weight traveled down Jon’s arm and threatened to shove the precious bit of air from Ellis’s chest.

He let go of the edge of the tub. The sudden loss of resistance toppled Jon forward. Ellis went to the bottom of the tub, bent at the waist, and kicked out. His shin connected with the side of Jon’s head. He rocked back and Ellis pulled his knees under him. Feet together, he kicked out, planting his uninjured foot in the middle of Jon’s chest. The blow knocked him backward and Ellis was pulled to the surface. He tore away, leaving pieces of his shirt in Jon’s hand.

A wave of water followed Ellis to the floor. He crawled on his hands and knees into the bedroom.

“You fucking little cunt.”

A vise closed around Ellis’s bad ankle. Ragged pain shot up his leg. Bile rose up in his throat and his vision blurred. He yelled out but the sound was muffled by a heave that expelled another mouthful of water. Ellis’s fingernails tore to the quick on the wood floor as he was dragged backwards.

Jon pinned Ellis down.

“That wasn’t very smart.”

“Get off me.” Ellis bucked against the concrete weight of Jon’s body.

“I was going to make this quick, but not anymore.”

“Jon. Listen to me.” Ellis coughed around a watery gasp. “Please, please don’t let it make you do this.”

Jon collected both of Ellis’s wrists into one hand and pulled up the remnants of his shirt. Ellis twisted in Jon’s grip, but he already had the fabric knotted around his wrists.

Ellis coughed hard enough to clear his throat. His scream was cut short by Jon back handing him across the face.

Pressure against his windpipe severed his next breath.

“How many times do you think I could choke you out before you finally don’t wake up?”

“How many times do you think I can shoot your ass before you die?” George stood in the doorway with a shotgun pointed at Jon’s head. Eleanor stepped up behind him clutching her robe.

Jon let go and the air rushed into Ellis’s lungs so fast he choked.

“I suggest you move yourself over to that corner.” George waved the barrel of the shotgun.

“You’re not going to shoot me. You’ll hit Ellis.”

“Don’t test me.” George’s mouth was a hard line but his eyes were full of fear.

“Why not?”

The pressure returned to Ellis’s throat. George walked over and pressed the barrel to the side of Jon’s head.

“I said let go of him.”

“Go ahead. Do you think watching my brains splatter all over the room will break Ellis? I do. I think it will ruin him. I think it might even kill him.”

It would. Ellis would never be able to escape the nightmares, and he knew in time, they’d eat him alive. He begged George with his eyes not to do it.

The pressure on his throat disappeared again and Ellis sucked in air, hungry for every breath he could take.

“I’m only going to ask you one last time, Jon. Get away from him.”

“And I’m not going to. So either shoot me or watch me kill him.” Jon laughed and George braced the stock against his shoulder.

“Don’t shoot him. Please.” Ellis twisted against the bindings. Water squeezed from the creases and leaked on the floor.