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Chapter 48 - Getting to the PC Gist of It.

Brian felt like he was going out of his fucking mind.

He’d been pacing back and forth in front of the windows of the loft for more than an hour now. This was hell. He felt so useless, so impotent, but he didn’t know what else he COULD do. He was afraid that if he left the loft and somebody tried to reach him, that they wouldn’t be able to find him. But staying inside, doing nothing, while Justin was out there somewhere, alone and probably scared to death, maybe worse, was killing him. He couldn’t even get drunk because he didn’t want to be impaired if Justin needed him.

There had to be SOMETHING he could do! Other than wearing a hole in his floorboards, that is. Because, if he didn't find some way to help get Justin back, the images in his head - the ones where Bellweather had his Sunshine and was doing all those horrible things he'd bragged about earlier - were going to literally drive Brian mad.

Only, Brian couldn't think of anything else that he hadn't already done that would be at all helpful.

Right about the time when Brian was ready to put his fist through the plate glass window for lack of anything better to do, he was interrupted by the buzz of the intercom, indicating that he had a visitor. He sprinted across the room, hoping against hope that whoever was there had come with good news. He punched the button to answer, yelling, “yes?” into the speaker.

“Brian? It’s Mel. Can I come up for a minute?”

The voice that rang through the speaker was probably the last one he’d expected to hear. At that moment, though, Brian was so desperate for a distraction - any distraction - that he was even glad to hear Mel’s voice. He quickly hit the door release button and then pulled the loft door open in anticipation of his guest’s arrival.

Mel stepped off the elevator a minute later looking dispirited and leery. Which was not the way Brian was used to seeing his long time nemesis. It was disconcerting to say the least. She didn’t even snark at him in greeting, she just walked past him with her shoulders slumped and a long face. Brian raised a questioning eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He pulled the door closed behind his guest and followed her over to the sitting area where Mel collapsed onto the couch. Brian, who was still too keyed up to relax enough to sit, stood across the coffee table from her and glared at the silently stewing lesbian.

“Lindsey is lying,” Mel said when she finally spoke. Brian looked at her with evident confusion, so Mel continued, “I’ve been deliberating all night about what to do, and hoping that she'd come clean on her own, but since she hasn’t, I have no other choice. I decided I had to say something. I don’t know exactly what she’s hiding, but I know she’s lying. She knows something about Justin going missing.”

“FUCKING BITCH!” Brian yelled so loudly that Mel actually recoiled back against the couch cushions.

The initial outburst was enough to prepare her, though, so when Brian proceeded to kick the glass-topped coffee table over, shattering it into a million shards, Mel merely lifted her legs up in order to avoid getting hit by the flying projectiles.

“Explain! Now!” Brian ordered, so outraged that he did not even notice the fact that he was standing barefooted in a sea of broken glass.

“I was there yesterday afternoon when that detective came over to the house to question Lindsey about Justin’s disappearance. She told the cop that she was home all morning with Gus. Only, that was an outright fucking lie,” Mel started to explain, her demeanor defeated, emotionless and almost robotic. “She dropped Gus off at Dusty’s at ten and then was off the grid the rest of the morning. Her phone was off and nobody knew where she was. Dusty had to call me to pick Gus up just after one in the afternoon because she had to leave for an appointment. I got Gus and arrived at the house just after the cop, Horvath, started questioning Lindz. She lied to his face and inadvertently made me her accomplice. I still don’t know where the fuck she was at yesterday morning . . . but I suspect she had something to do with Justin’s disappearance.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you say something YESTERDAY?” Brian screamed at the woman who was now revealing this delayed truth. “Do you have any idea what Justin is probably going through right now? The people that took him are fucking monsters! The whole reason I bought his contract was because these same people were sitting around a fucking dinner table bragging about how they were going to torture and RAPE him! And now you’re telling me your partner basically handed Justin over to them, but you’re only now fessing up after he’s been in their hands for more than twenty-four hours? Fuck you, Mel! And fuck Lindsey too!” That accusation made Mel cringe even more than the violence and yelling had.

“I . . . I thought . . . At first I thought I was overreacting. That maybe I’d misunderstood or something,” Mel tried to explain, although she herself had to admit it all sounded beyond lame. “We argued about it for hours last night. I even made her sleep in the guest bedroom. I hoped, as soon as she’d thought through the ramifications of her actions, she’d realize what she was doing and confess the truth. I just . . . I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. She’s my partner. I thought I knew her. I knew she was upset over Justin but I thought she’d eventually get over it.” Mel’s voice broke and Brian thought he could see tears welling up in the butch dyke’s eyes - a sight he never expected to see in a million years. “I thought she was better than this . . . but apparently I was wrong.”

“Where is Lindsey right NOW?” Brian demanded, his tone so cold and callous that Mel barely recognized the man she’d known for almost ten years. “I’m going to find her, beat the truth out of her, and then kill her.”

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The boy had been drifting in and out of time for quite a while. That was fine though. He didn’t want to be where his body was anyway. And some of his dreams - the ones about Brian - were rather nice. Of course, some were nightmares, which didn’t help quell the underlying panic much, but overall even the bad dreams were better than his current reality.

He thought that Luke had been gone for some of the time. However the warm arms eventually came back and wrapped themselves around him. The boy liked that. It was comforting.

Finally, though, he found he couldn’t stay asleep any longer. The boy moaned and tried to fight it, but it was useless. His eyelids fluttered open against his will. He sighed. His body was still held captive in the dank darkness, which meant he was still in the Handler’s control. Damn. He had been hoping that was one of the nightmares.

The other downside to waking up was that he now had to deal with the pain that suffused his body. His chest and stomach felt hot and sore and he ached pretty much all over. Worse still, it hurt whenever he tried to take more than a shallow breath. The boy was pretty sure that wasn’t a good sign.

He tried to wiggle around to see if a different position might help, only to find that moving was a really bad call. The moaning and writhing in pain must have awakened Luke since the arms squeezed him tighter for an instant. The boy groaned once more when the gesture meant to comfort only added to the pain.

“Shit, Little One. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you more,” Luke instantly apologized and the arms fell away. “I’m afraid you probably have a couple cracked ribs. Fucking ham-handed Handler . . . Just try and lie still, okay.”

The boy gladly followed Luke’s advice, although there really wasn’t much else he could do. It’s not like they had anywhere to go, right? So they just huddled together in the dark like they’d been doing already, and Luke chattered and told little stories about nothing much at all. It was okay, though, since it kept the boy’s mind off what was coming.

Just when the boy thought he might drift off again, the two PCs were startled by the sounds of clinking metal coming from the door to their cell. Luke grunted with displeasure and started to try and get up. He wasn’t moving much faster than the boy at this point - it seemed that his earlier session with the Handler had left him pretty beat up as well. They were quite the pair, trying to help each other up into the kneeling position that would be expected of them. Justin was further hampered by the damned leg restraints that tethered his legs together. Luke helped the boy up off the bed but then couldn’t let go because if he removed his steadying grip the boy would probably just fall over.

“Fucking Handler,” Luke groaned, worried about the boy and unsure what to do. “Haven’t we already been fucking submissive enough for one damned day?”

Before they had time to complain any more though, the door creaked open and the light from the hall inundated the tiny room, blinding them both. Neither of the voices they heard were that of the Handler, though, which was at least some relief. By squinting into the light, the boy thought he could see two big men dragging something between them into the room. The something being dragged was moaning and panting and finally, when the two bigger figures dropped their burden, it cried out.

By that point the boy was able to see enough to recognize the two hulking brutes who had helped the Handler take him from his Master’s loft. They rolled the body they’d dragged into the room over, shoving and kicking until the newcomer’s limbs were finally clear and wouldn’t block the path of the door. Looking over at the addition to their merry little band, the boy thought he recognized one of the other PCs from the disastrous Lapointe dinner party.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the fuck are you doing?” the Handler’s voice intruded before the minions could get the cell door all the way closed. “Who the hell is this and why are you putting him in here?”

“It’s a new arrival from Bellweather’s, boss,” Brute Number One answered. “He wanted the boy to get the full treatment, but all the other isolation rooms are full. You rather we throw him in with S756?”

“Shit, no. I’m afraid S756 is a lost fucking cause. I think we’re going to have to terminate that one. And we can’t throw one of Bellweather’s boys in with that nut job. Damn it. Not that I mind the business - I’m making money hand over fist lately - but we sure do have our fucking hands full at the moment,” the Handler complained as he worked through his overcrowding problem. “Oh, well. I guess we don’t have anywhere else open for the moment, so go ahead and leave him here. But then I need you two to go take care of the group up in Dorm A . . .”

Thankfully, the door slammed closed before it was revealed exactly what the sadists were going to do to the poor souls in Dorm A. As soon as it was safe, Luke assisted the boy to lie back down on the mattress and then he crawled over to their new cell mate, feeling his way along in the darkness.

“Hey, man. You still alive?” He asked when he finally located the unmoving body.

“Unfortunately,” the new voice muttered.

“What? You’d rather be otherwise, Sweetheart? Or is it that you’ve got something against these fine accommodations we find ourselves in? I know, maybe you're just the anti-social type?” Luke teased, trying to distract the new kid as he struggled to pull the injured boy over onto their small mattress pad. “Cause I was thinking, now that there's three of us, we should really get this party started.”

“I don't think I'm up for a party, dude,” the new arrival grunted, trying his best in spite of the pain to help Luke's efforts in getting him arranged comfortably next to where the boy was waiting.

“Well, that's probably for the best, cause I don't think my Little One here is feeling very festive either,” Luke situated himself so that he was sitting up behind the boy, providing his thigh as a pillow of sorts for both of the others. “I'm Luke, by the way. My friend here don't talk much, so I don't know if he's got a name or not, but seeing as we got all the time in the world - between beatings that is - we can probably come up with some kinda name for the kid. What about you?”

“Rex.”

Luke laughed out loud - which startled the boy because this really didn't seem like the kind of place where laughter was welcome. “I shoulda guessed. That fool Bellweather hasn't even got enough brains to come up with real names for his boys. He always calls them dog names. He still got that one poor boy he calls ‘Spot’? I'm surprised you lot don't gang up and bite the shit outta him in retaliation.”

“Hey, at least ‘Rex’ is better than ‘Fido’. If I'd been saddled with that one, I'd probably have bitten the fucker myself.” Both Luke and Rex laughed at that one, and even the boy smiled. “I think I can help you with a name for your little friend, though,” Rex offered as soon as the chuckles had died away. “And maybe he can help you and me in exchange.”

There followed a lot of rustling, accompanied by several grunts and a whimper or two as the new boy squirmed around - none of which made sense to the boy who couldn’t see what the other man was doing in the pitch dark - and when Rex spoke again, it sounded like he was now lying with his face pointing directly towards the boy.

“You’re Justin, right?” he asked, sounding oddly hopeful. “You're Brian Kinney’s boy?”

The boy nodded vigorously as a spark of hope lit up his soul just from hearing that name.

“He can't see you nodding your head in the dark, Little One,” Luke chided, with a gentle caress to the boy’s cheek. “I believe that was an affirmative response, Rex.”

“Thank fuck!” Rex let out the breath he seemed to have been holding. “I can’t believe it. For once in my shitty excuse for a life, something actually went right.” Rex sounded like he might break into sobs, but he only sniffed and then went on. “I brought you something, Justin.”

Another spate of rustling and then a small blue glow erupted in front of their faces. It took Luke and the boy a minute or two to figure out what was causing the glow. When they did grasp what Rex had in his hand, Luke blew out an unhappy huff of air.

“A phone? What the fuck good does a phone do us in this hell hole? Who the hell are we gonna call? I don’t think 911 will send the rescue squad to come save a bunch of worthless PCs from our mean-assed masters. This ain’t exactly what I’d call a brilliant escape plan, Rex,” Luke scoffed and the boy could feel the man’s bigger body slumping back against the wall in defeat.

“Hey, gimme a break. I know it’s not a GOOD plan, but I didn’t have a lot of time to work on a better one. I was too busy having my ass kicked by Bellweather to work out something better,” Rex chuckled despite Luke’s criticism of his plan. “And you and I may not have anybody to call, but I think - I HOPE - Justin does.”

Luke made yet another disparaging noise, but Rex wasn’t deterred. “Justin, your owner - that Kinney guy - he’s looking for you. He wants you back pretty badly. He even sent the cops over to question Bellweather earlier today. But, unfortunately, both Bellweather and his buddy Stockwell have a lot of connections and they think they’re safe from any real suspicion. I don’t think anybody knows where you’re being held as of yet, and if you just wait around till the idiot police do their job, you’ll either be dead or long gone before they get here.” Rex held the phone out, almost shoving it into the boy’s hands. “But, maybe, if you called your Master, he’d come get you and hopefully bring the police with him.”

“Yeah? So the Little One’s Master comes and takes him back. What the fuck good does that do?” Luke argued. “I mean, maybe the guy’s slightly less of a monster than Sapperstein, which is good for the kid, but how the fuck does that help the two of us?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it won’t,” Rex conceded. “I just thought that, if the police find Justin HERE - basically catching The Sapp red handed with a stolen PC - that hopefully he’ll be arrested and won’t have time to give me the ‘full treatment’ like my Master had requested. At least not until he gets out of jail. And I’m hoping that won’t be for a really long time.”

“Hmm. Well, you may have point there,” Luke acknowledged grudgingly. “Although most of the goons he has working for him are just as bad. Who knows, though? Maybe they’ll shut this whole place down. Of course, that just means we’ll be shipped back to our own masters, but it can’t be worse than being at The Sapp’s mercy. So, what the hell.” Luke turned to the boy with a cautiously hopeful expression. “What do you think, Little One? You know somebody you can call that could get you out of here?”

The boy thought about it for a second. Then he nodded. He bit his lip pensively and carefully dialed the number he wanted. Then he waited anxiously to see if it would work.

“You’re talkin’ to the Debs!” the woman’s voice resounded across the phone line with Debbie’s usual verve. “State your name so I know who it is that has the honor of being graced with my attention this fine afternoon,” she asked, adding a chuckle at herself.

Just hearing that familiar voice almost made the boy smile. He sighed with relief that he’d apparently remembered the number correctly. It had been more than three weeks since the matronly woman had written her phone number on a magazine and told him to call if he ever needed anything. He hadn’t thought he’d ever need it. But, thanks to his photographic memory, it had stuck with him. He’d have preferred to call the Master directly, but he’d never had any reason to call Brian so he didn’t have that number memorized. Which is why he’d been forced to call Debbie instead. He just hoped it worked.

“Hello? Anybody there?” the vivacious woman asked, sounding a little irritated when she didn’t get any answer. “Hey, buddy, not that I really mind having you panting at me, or anything, but I’m too busy today to be the subject of your pervy fantasies. How about you call back another time, huh?”

The boy didn’t know what to do. She was going to hang up. But he just couldn’t speak up. It was like the words were stuck in his throat. All he could do was sigh again with a barely audible whimper added in to express his fear that this wasn’t going to work.

“Justin?” It must have been enough. “Justin, Sweetie? Is that YOU? Shit, Honey, where the fuck are you? Brian’s been going nuts since you disappeared. Are you safe? Can you tell me where you are?” Debbie finally fell silent as if hoping for a real answer.

The boy still couldn’t find the will to talk. He just sobbed a little with the relief that she’d realized it was him. This just HAD to work. The Master would come for him, wouldn’t he? Please let him come.

“Somebody get Brian on the phone right the fuck NOW!” Debbie was yelling in the background before she once again spoke into the phone. “You just hang in there, Justin. We’re going to come and get you. Don’t hang up the phone, okay? You don’t have to talk. I get it that you can’t say anything. And it might not be safe for you to talk even if you wanted to. Just stay on the line. We’re going to get Brian for you, Honey. Okay? . . . ”

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