Chapter 11 - The Apartment.
Brian nudged the bathroom door open a smidgen wider so that his view of the hallway leading to Justin's apartment was clear. From his vantage point behind the slightly ajar door, he could easily see Justin's grungy doorway. With the lights off in the small bathroom behind him, though, he didn't think anyone would notice him lurking here. The only light in the room was the muted glow from his phone as the apprehensive man continued to follow the progress of the little locator arrow which travelled around the map displayed by the tracking application showing the current location of Justin's phone.
Brian had only been hiding in the small space for a couple of minutes but was already thoroughly disgusted by his surroundings. The cramped communal toilet was definitely NOT well maintained. There were sticky brown urine stains around the base of the constantly running crapper, mold growing on the ceiling and the cracked plastic shower surround and unidentifiable piles of lint, dirt and fuck-knows-what-else on the dirty tiles in the corner under the rusting, dripping sink. Brian was sickened by the thought of his blond having to share this filthy bathroom with the other degenerate slimeballs in the building.
One thing was for certain, as soon as he found his boyfriend, Justin was moving out of this shithole. The fucking place should be condemned. Brian also made a mental note to have a serious discussion with Jennifer about her judgment in letting her son even think about living in a dump like this. Brian was trying very hard not to touch any of the surfaces around him while he silently waited for whoever was coming to land in his trap.
Luckily for his sense of propriety, Brian didn’t have to wait in the toilet for very long. Within minutes after his arrival, he heard someone galloping up the stairs. A tall form shrouded by a dark denim jacket, a bulky brown woolen scarf and a baseball cap, wearing heavy leather work gloves and carrying a wooden bat rushed up to the door as Brian watched. The man turned the door handle, which had been conveniently left unlocked for him by Mars’ security installation guys, and shouldered his way into the apartment with only a cursory look around him.
Within moments, Brian’s phone vibrated with two new incoming text messages. The first was an automated message sent out by the security system which simply indicated that the alarm at Justin’s apartment had been tripped. The second was from Brian’s tech guru and read only, ‘He’s inside. Cameras working. I’m recording. Mars.'
Brian quickly dialed Ted’s number and whispered, “You’re on.” Then, taking a deep breath, the tall brunet slipped out of his stinky hiding spot, dashed a few paces down the hall and positioned himself just around the corner so that he was only a few meters away from Justin’s door but still out of the direct line of sight. Within about five minutes, Brian could hear Ted trudging up the staircase, breathing a tad heavily from the number of floors. When he saw his friend reach the landing, Brian waved at Ted from his place of concealment, indicating with a gesture which doorway to approach and jerking his head to let Ted know he should hurry up.
The intrepid little accountant visibly squared his shoulders, rolled his eyes and shook his head at Brian to indicate his ongoing doubts about this plan. But Brian wasn't going to be deterred by the likes of Ted, so he just glared at the other man. Ted knew it was futile to try to dissuade Brian from anything, so he screwed up his courage and knocked on the door.
::::::::::::::::::
Chris Hobbs was ready when he heard the knock on the apartment door. He peeked through the fisheye lens of the small glass peephole in the door, noting only the unassuming, mousy-haired man standing in the corridor. To pump himself up, he quickly inhaled and exhaled four or five breaths, just like the football coach always had them do right before a game. Then he hefted the baseball bat into his left hand, holding it ready above his shoulder, and grabbed at the door handle with his right.
As soon as he grasped the door handle, causing the cheap metal hasp to rattle faintly, the door was flung open violently. The wooden door crashed into his body, which had been positioned close to the jamb so that he would be ready to rush out towards his target. The momentum was enough that Hobbs was knocked backwards, totally unprepared and unbalanced, flying awkwardly through the air.
Before he could react at all, a large dark figure blasted through the doorway, slamming the flimsy door into the wall behind so hard that the handle crashed through the plaster. The blurry form rushed through the opening grabbing Hobbs and yelling like a banshee. A fist pounded into Hobbs' jaw even as the startled man was falling. The fall, added to the impetus from the punch, caused Chris to land heavily on the floor, his body continuing to slide backward on the slick hardwood flooring almost all the way across the room.
Hobbs sprawled awkwardly, his limbs akimbo, a bit stunned. His attacker wasted no time covering the three paces between the doorway and where he landed, pouncing on Hobbs and raining repeated blows onto his face. He raised his arms defensively to ward off the hard fists, unable to gather his wits enough to fight back right away.
"Where is he, you fucker? What did you do to him? Where is Justin?" Hobbs heard the words being screamed at him over and over, each sentence punctuated with another clout to his face or body.
Hobbs wasn't sure how long this tirade continued. Finally, when his ears were ringing and each new blow caused the hazy red splotch of pain to obscure his vision a little bit more, he noticed that the punches started to land less solidly.
"Stop! Brian, stop! He can't answer you while you're punching him in the face," Hobbs heard an unfamiliar tenor voice.
After a brief struggle, the unassuming, smaller, dark-haired man managed to reason with the hulking bundle of rage hovering over him and the hail of fists ceased. The attacker stood up shakily and Hobbs finally recognized the stylish auburn hair and the too-handsome chiseled features of the 'Boyfriend'. The older man didn't move too far away. Kinney remained hovering over Hobbs, pacing while he absent-mindedly shook out and flexed his right fist, surveying the damage to his hand. Hobbs could see dark red smears of blood on the man's knuckles, although he wasn't sure if the blood was from Kinney's split knuckle or his own split lip.
Hobbs watched the Boyfriend taking deep breaths as he tried to calm himself. His own mind was far from calm. Thoughts, plans, ideas were swarming through his brain, each immediately discounted as he tried desperately to come up with some way to escape.
"Fuck!" Kinney swore as he cradled his right hand in his left. "I think it's busted."
"I'm not surprised looking at that mess you made of his face," the smaller, timid man replied as he relaxed a little, leaning back against the wall behind him.
"Mars," Kinney yelled, looking up vaguely towards the ceiling. "Make sure the cops are on the way!"
Then, apparently forgetting the pain in his hand, Kinney advanced back towards Hobbs who was still waiting on the floor where he'd landed. The infuriated brunet aimed an angry kick at the prostrate Hobbs who tried, unsuccessfully, to scramble backwards in order to avoid the blow. Rage and fear and desperation were all obvious on Kinney's face as he continued to crowd towards the now terrified ex-jock huddled on the plain wooden floor. Hobbs continued to scrabble his legs, trying to find enough purchase on the slippery surface to slide backwards.
“Now, you goddamned little fucker,” Kinney hissed menacingly as he bent over Hobbs until the two men’s faces were mere centimeters apart. “Tell me what you’ve done to Justin.”
Chris continued to try inching away from the intimidating man but had only moved a tiny ways when he was stopped short in his retreat by the wall behind him. He managed to scoot closer and sit up more using the wall as a support. All he could do at this point though was slide along the plane of the wall until his back was wedged into the corner of the room. Kinney was still glaring at him and following closely, never letting up the pressure of his hulking presence.
“You’re not going anywhere, Hobbs,” Kinney threatened. “The cops are going to be here any second and this time you’re not getting off with community service. You’re going away for a long, long time. But, first you’re going to tell me where you’ve taken Justin. And he better not be fucking hurt or I’m going to make you hurt even more, you goddamned little prick.”
Hobbs looked around him frantically trying to come up with some way to escape. He was trapped. Kinney was starting to get impatient since Hobbs still wasn’t talking. The older man loomed closer, starting to lean down to grab onto the cowering Hobbs, thinking he could shake some answers out of the fucker.
Hobbs was still trying to inch away but was almost ready to give up when his left hand touched against something cold and metallic. He had no idea what it was but he grabbed onto the item, feeling the smooth round surface against his palm. As Kinney grabbed at his jacket collar with his uninjured left hand, Hobbs desperately lobbed the unknown object into Kinney’s face, rejoicing at the cry of pain as the older man recoiled. Kinney fell backwards, blinded, his hands wiping at his face which was now covered with sooty black ashes, a stray cigarette butt or two caught in his hair. The empty Spaghettios can, which had been temporarily put to use as an ashtray, rolled away from its spot under the window where Justin liked to smoke.
Hobbs seized the opportunity afforded him by the momentary chaos, bolted to his feet and headed towards the door. Ted jumped up as well and tried valiantly to block the retreating man, but Hobbs rushed the smaller man just like he’d been taught when confronting the defensive line in any football game. The burly jock easily knocked the lightweight man aside, throwing Ted violently against the wall as Hobbs ran past and out the still open door as fast as he could maneuver. Ted slumped to the ground, the wind temporarily knocked out of him, unable to stop the retreating man or come to the aid of his nearby friend who was trying to rub the stinging ashes out of his eyes.
By the time Ted was finally able to gasp a ragged breath and move towards where Brian was still hunched on the floor, Hobbs was long gone.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::
“I TOLD you, I’m fine,” Brian was hollering from the corner where the paramedic had corralled him while trying to examine his eyes.
“Sit still Kinney and let the guy look you over,” ordered Carl Horvath, shoving Brian back down with a hand on the younger man’s shoulder when the reluctant patient tried to stand up.
The paramedic said nothing but continued to irrigate Brian’s eyes using a large saline filled squirt bottle, letting the solution drip down the man’s face to collect in a kidney shaped basin the medic held against the injured man’s cheek. When the medic thought that enough saline had been used, he set the bottle and basin aside and pulled a small pen light out of his pocket, switching it on and flashing the beam into his patient’s eyes, watching the reaction of the pupils. The bright light caused Brian to blink, eliciting a yelp from the impatient patient, and causing him to flinch away from the man trying to look into his injured eyes.
“It looks like you’ve got some minor abrasions to your corneas,” the paramedic explained as he continued with his examination. “After the ashes got thrown in your face, some of the particles got caught under your eyelids and you probably ground them even deeper by rubbing at them. We’re going to have to get you to the hospital so a doctor can look at you and make sure there aren’t any foreign particles still in there. You’re going to have a lot of pain and tearing and your eyesight will likely be blurry for a few days but it should heal on it’s own pretty fast. The doctor will give you some antibiotic eye drops to prevent infection and help with the pain. As long as you take it easy and rest, though, you should be fine in a couple days.”
“Fuck that!” Brian exclaimed, trying again to evade the medic’s grasp and get up from the chair where he’d been seated. “That maniac’s still loose and he’s got Justin. We don’t have time for this, Carl.”
“Yeah, and who’s fault is it that Hobbs is still out there, huh Kinney?” Carl admonished the younger man angrily. “Why the fuck didn’t you call and tell me what the hell you were going to do before you went off like a half-cocked vigilante? You’re lucky you didn’t get yourselves killed, you know that? Fucking god complex . . . ” Carl’s voice trailed off as he turned away from a now sheepish looking Brian Kinney, pulling out his cell phone and barking orders to the unseen person on the other end of the line.
Ted wandered over from where the other paramedic had been examining him. Brian and Ted watched as Horvath paced and shouted into his phone, cursing out whoever he was speaking to and delivering various directives both through the phone and to the nearby uniformed officers and forensic staff. When the older detective finally hung up the phone he approached the two waiting amateur collaborators, shaking his head and mumbling curses under his breath.
“We still don’t have a residence for Hobbs pinned down,” Horvath confessed. “The video you got along with the other evidence we’ve dug up at the club should be enough though to get us a warrant to get the info from one of the local utility companies and an arrest warrant for once we actually locate him.” Brian started to interrupt but Carl was having none of it and continued in a more demanding tone. “In the meantime, Kinney, you’re going to the hospital and get looked at by a doctor. And, don’t try to argue. A fat lot of fucking good you’d be to Justin if you can’t even see straight. Schmidt, you’re going with him and make SURE he doesn’t leave till the doctor gives him the all clear.” When Brian again tried to protest, Carl held up his hand to stop the interruption and pierced the complaining brunet with his most authoritarian glare. “If you don’t do exactly as I’m telling you, Kinney, I swear to god I’ll arrest you for interfering with a police investigation . . . And, if that doesn’t work, I’ll sic Debbie on you.”
That last comment caused all three men to break into grins temporarily before Horvath put back on his serious cop face and turned to order his men out of the small apartment and onto the next task. Brian and Ted watched as the paramedics finished packing up their gear. When everyone was finally heading out of the tiny room, Ted linked his arm through Brian’s and started guiding him out the door as well, determined to herd his headstrong friend to the hospital before Brian could get them both in even more trouble.
::::::::::::::::::::::::
Justin leaned back against the piled up tote bags that were making up his bed and tried to wait patiently after Hobbs left. He’d been picking at the takeout food from the bag next to his bed but, even though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, the cold, greasy burger wasn’t very appetizing and did nothing for his still slightly nauseated stomach. However, he knew he needed to eat to regain some strength so he kept trying.
He’d also been thinking, now that his head seemed to be a bit clearer. He thought back to the last clear memory he had - it was of Brian kissing him amid a chaos of swirling lights, noise, people and vehicles. He could see in his mind that there were several ambulances and firetrucks surrounding the area where he and Brian were standing. He tried to concentrate on that image, seeking to clarify what he remembered. After reviewing the picture in his mind repeatedly, something clicked and he finally realized where they had been standing - it was outside Babylon.
As soon as he recalled that fact, his mind was flooded with other images of the club: People packed into the brightly lit club - his mother and Tucker, Michael and Ben, Ted and someone he didn’t know, others he recognized from the community; It wasn’t the normal atmosphere of the club though. . . .
The Benefit Concert!
The memory flashed into his mind all at once followed by a flood of other related memories; Emmett up on the stage; Cyndi Lauper singing; a blindingly bright flash of light - the BOMB!
Then, later, the emergency workers were pushing into the now darkened building, ear-shattering alarms blaring away everywhere, and Justin remembered trying to help an older couple who’d been injured get out of the building. And, then, Brian had found him. Justin again felt the same sense of overwhelming relief as the tall, obviously worried man pushed his way through the debris towards him, the strong arms wrapping around his still trembling body and the always soft, warm lips meeting his.
Another memory, later still, outside the club where he saw Brian again moving toward him, threading his way through the maze of emergency vehicles and busily rushing people. Justin remembered breaking away from the police officer to whom he’d been giving a statement and quickly walking to meet Brian. They’d embraced again, holding each other to reassure themselves that they were both still there and alive. Their eyes had met and Justin had seen the surging love and longing in the hazel orbs that he adored so much.
Then, the confession - Brian telling him how scared he’d been at the news of the bombing. Brian telling Justin that he loved him. Repeating that long yearned for phrase; “I love you”. Brian had finally admitted it. Brian loved him!
Justin was too distracted by that wonderful memory to press on for more. It didn’t really matter, he figured, what had come after that. Brian loved him and was willing to say the words that he’d withheld for so long. That was all that was really important. However it was that Justin had ended up hurt and locked up here was not nearly as important as the fact that he knew Brian loved him and that he had to get back to him no matter what.
The ecstatic blond allowed himself to revel in that delicious memory for a long while before he finally looked around himself, determined to figure out how to get back to his lover. He still didn’t remember how he’d ended up here, but now, in the daylight, he clearly recognized his location. It had been more than four years since he’d last been in this room, but he easily recalled the memorable time he’d spent here in the athletic equipment room at his old school on that faraway afternoon when he’d given Chris Hobbs a hand job while the two boys leaned up against that very same metal grating.
Of course, on that occasion, Justin had been on the other side of the locked grating. Now, he was inside the metal cage where the coaches locked up the more valuable equipment whenever it wasn’t being used. He knew he was hurt and weak but he was feeling stronger. And, he knew that Chris Hobbs was the one responsible for him being hurt and locked away.
All Justin needed to do was figure out how to get out of here and get back to Brian.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::