Tick--
By: Chris EiseleNovember 6, 2008
T-0—0425A—
The echo of the shot rang out a half-second behind Jake‘s
sudden gasp and drop to the pavement. Gavin hissed a curse as he spun into a crouch and threw himself to the
side, hoping that the large shipping container would provide him with some
cover. The slapping smack of bullets
impacting on the metal side of the container agonizingly close made him twitch
as he pulled his phone from inside his coat pocket with his left hand while
filling his right with the slim, black matte of a glock pistol.
Pressing in a quick key string on the phone, Gavin let his
smirk fill his face as he spun around the container, eyes and pistol flashing
fire. He dashed across the suddenly
deadly open ground, feeling the bullets tearing through the air all around him
as he reached Jake. Gavin stashed his
phone back into his coat and wrapped a hand through the front of Jake’s jacket
and dragged him out of the line of fire behind another shipping container. The splang
of bullets off the pavement chased them into the shadows.
Gavin put his back to the container before yanking open
Jake’s jacket to look for wounds. Jake
coughed once and patted his chest, dislodging the bullet that had impacted on
his layer of Kevlar underneath. Gavin
sat back with a look of relief on his face.
“How we doin?” asked Jake a bit thickly.
“Three…two…one,” replied Gavin, holding up his fingers for
effect.
The night blossomed into sudden golden orange fury as a
nearby container exploded sending a shockwave rumbling through the warehouse
district. In the confusion of smoke,
fire and deafening echoes, Gavin and Jake made a staggering dash toward Gavin’s
waiting car.
As the pair of them approached, Gavin pressed a key on a
ring fished from his pocket, causing the car to purr to life and the doors to
unlock. Jake jumped into the passenger
seat as Gavin sat in the driver’s seat, pressed the pedal to the floor, revving
the engine and dropped the Audi into a screeching takeoff into the night.
***
T-16—
Tyler sat in the absolute stillness that martial artists or
Zen masters attain via the total understanding of and focus on the control of
the body and mind amid a million tiny distractions. His hands didn’t move a muscle from the
location he’d placed them minutes prior. His face was a mask of terrible, ready calm. The only thing that could have betrayed him
was the expression filling his eyes as he looked across the lobby to the Lake
Organization emblem—a roiling hatred just barely contained and directed with
laser-fine intensity, upon closer examination, at the name “Lake.”
Tyler remained in that silent, horrible readiness until the
door toward the inner sanctum of the offices clicked open and a tall, thin man
with silver hair and a refined gait strode purposefully across the floor. His
voice was a deep baritone as he extended a hand to Tyler.
“You must be Tyler Williams,” he said, “I’m Edward Hobbs.”
Tyler stood and took Hobbs’ hand into his own in a firm,
resolute handshake. Hobbs’ eyes crinkled
a bit around the corners as he smiled a friendly smile at Tyler.
“Now then,” said Hobbs, “I believe you have something you
want to tell me?”
Tyler narrowed his eyes and cast a skeptical glance around
the lobby. Hobbs smiled again and
nodded.
“Perhaps this isn’t the proper place,” said Hobbs
lightly. “Why don’t you come into my office? We can carry on this conversation there in
private.”
Tyler nodded and followed Hobbs through the doors and into
the smooth, black-marble heart of Lake Tower. After a long, silent walk, they entered an office that looked out on one
side to the City below via a wall full of glass windows. Hobbs sat in a high-backed, luxurious chair
behind a massive desk kept immaculately clean and indicated a similarly opulent
chair in front of him. Tyler looked for
a few moments out on the city below him and then nodded. He sat down in the offered chair.
“Well?” said Hobbs.
“I know who is responsible for the murders in the District,”
said Tyler.
“You do? Then why
come to us and not the police?”
“You would probably have the police sweep this under the rug
anyway, and I want to make a deal.”
Hobbs paused a moment in thought. He steepled his fingers under his nose and
gazed thoughtfully at Tyler.
“I can presume then,” he said, “that this person who you
claim is behind the murders has something to do with the Lake Organization.”
Tyler sneered a look of pure derision. “You could say that,” he said.
“Will you tell me who this person is?” asked Hobbs.
“Not until I get a guarantee that there will be no reprisals
and that me keeping quiet about it is worth my while.”
Hobbs let a small look of anger slide across his eyes for a
fraction of a second. “Blackmail is
illegal,” he said.
“So is murder,” replied Tyler flatly.
Hobbs met Tyler’s steely gaze for a moment and then finally
gave an eloquent shrug. “Fine,” he said,
“reveal what you claim to know and we can talk price.”
Tyler smiled a mirthless, thin, smile. “You had better keep closer tabs on Gavin,”
he said, “and make sure the police don’t find any evidence at the dual murder
that he committed outside my apartment last week that implicates him. I suggest you pin the crimes on some
patsy—maybe the guy who the cops arrested for beating up that girl with a
two-by-four if he’s available. I’m sure
your people can arrange it.”
“You are saying that you saw Gavin Lake, CEO of the Lake
Organization, murder two people outside your apartment?” said Hobbs without the
slightest change in expression.
“Yes,” replied Tyler,
“also, a search of his apartment will probably net the police a listing of
several important names in the District gay community living in houses not
currently owned by the Lake Organization labeled ‘potential targets.’”
“You’ve seen this list?”
“Up close and personal, though I’m not so stupid as to
remove it from his apartment.”
Hobbs seemed to ponder the situation for a few moments. As he did, a slow smile blossomed on his face
and he looked back at Tyler.
“I think we can make a deal, Mr. Williams,” said Hobbs. “Of course, there are a few provisions to
which you’ll have to agree.”
“What are they?” asked Tyler.
“We’ll take care of Gavin’s indiscretions; we only ask that
you remain silent about this matter. In
return, you’ll be paid handsomely via a source that will remain, along with
your information, kept secret—even from your partner. This will continue until such a time as the
information is discovered publicly or proven to be incorrect via other means.”
“Proven to be incorrect?” said Tyler with a sarcastic sneer.
“You said it yourself,” replied Hobbs, “we are going to try
and cover this up. I shouldn’t have to
mention what the response would be if you break this agreement.”
“Yeah, blackmail is illegal,” said Tyler
“So is murder,” replied Hobbs. “I think we are done here. Thank you for the information Mr. Williams.” Hobbs pressed a section of the table in front
of him and spoke into the open air. “Charlotte, Mr. Williams will be leaving in a moment, please be so kind
as to escort him out.” Then Hobbs looked
again at Tyler and offered him a bone-white business card. “We’ll be in touch Mr. Williams, here is my
card. Contact me before situations
regarding our arrangement change.”
Tyler stood up and took the business card. As he turned to leave, he paused at the door
and looked back at Hobbs who was staring back at him unblinkingly from behind
the desk.
“You don’t care about those people who died at all,” said
Tyler, “do you?”
“No,” said Hobbs, “should I?”
Tyler let the door shut behind him with a soft click.
***
T-15—
“Ms. Lake, we have confirmation. As we already knew, Gavin was the
assailant. However, the search of his
apartment located the documents implicating your involvement. … Yes, it appears
the young man in question ironically let his own biases blind him. Convenient, and lucky. … We’ll be arranging a suitable offer to be
delivered to your son this afternoon. … I understand. Should he prove unwilling to negotiate, he
can be neutralized without risk to his life. … We believe that by removing the
target of his affections he can be brought to heel. Of course, the fact that the young man who
gave us the information is the target’s partner and can also be arranged to
have a similar accident is also convenient and lucky. … Well, hell hath no
fury, don’t they say? … Of course ma’am,
I understand. Goodbye.”
***
T-24—
For the fifth night in a row, Jake wasn’t where he was
supposed to be, and Tyler was going to find out the truth.
After Tyler pretended to go to sleep, willing his breath to
steady as he and Jake lay in bed, Tyler felt Jake’s arm lift from across his
shoulders and the slight lifting of the linens of the bed they shared as Jake
slipped silently out. Jake paused a
moment to make sure Tyler was still sleeping. Tyler feigned a contented sigh and watched through thinly-slit eyes as
Jake had gotten dressed and left.
Quickly, Tyler had slipped silently out of bed and slipped
on some handily prepped clothing nearby—a pair of loose black cargo pants, a
tight, black long-sleeved shirt—and carefully twisted the doorknob to the
bedroom before he cracked it open.
Jake had been standing in the kitchen with the golden glow
of the open fridge illuminating his face and the cell phone he had lifted to
his ear to whisper quietly into. Tyler
had slipped through the bedroom door, soundlessly crossed the dark room, and
had pressed his back against the wall near Jake in order to eavesdrop.
“..Of course, Gavin,” said Jake into the phone, “Come by and
pick me up.” Jake closed the fridge
door, plunging the room into darkness as he crossed to the door to the
apartment. For a second, a bright
rectangle of illumination was cut by his silhouette before he closed and locked
the door.
Tyler waited in silence until Jake had left the apartment,
counted slowly to ten and then quickly slipped into the hallway to follow
him. Tyler made a conscious effort to be
as silent as possible as he rushed down the stairs. Jake was just leaving the front door to the
apartment building when Tyler stepped around the corner to exit. Quickly, Tyler threw himself back around the
corner and against the wall as Jake paused in the threshold and looked warily
over his shoulder. Jake shrugged and let
the apartment building door clack locked behind him.
Tyler watched through the glass apartment building door as
Jake stepped out to the curb and was met by Gavin’s sleek, black Audi. Tyler’s blood began to boil as the window
rolled down and Gavin smiled up at Jake, who bent down and said something to
Gavin before walking around to the passenger side and opening the door. For the merest fraction of a second, it
seemed that Gavin’s eyes lingered on the apartment door and met Tyler’s as his
notorious smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. The window rolled up, the car pulled smoothly
away.
Tyler forced himself to count slowly to five before yanking
open the apartment building door and dashing toward his Mustang. He was no more aware of the door opening than
the key being in the ignition and the engine popping to life in a purring thrum
that seemed to vibrate in time to his body. He pressed the accelerator down and revved the engine once before
pulling into the street. After a frantic
moment’s search, Tyler saw the tail-lights of Gavin’s Audi making a right turn
up ahead and gunned the engine to follow.
He made sure to give the Audi a firm lead as he followed it
across the suddenly cold City night.
***
T-23—
Gavin pulled the Audi into the warehouse with a practiced
maneuver, the heavy warehouse doors automatically closing behind them. He let a smirk come over his face at the
sheer joy of driving a car with Jake in the passenger seat. It brought back some happy memories he
quickly stashed before his face betrayed him. He hit the key on the Audi center console that keyed on the warehouse
systems and shot a grin at Jake.
“Always makes me feel like James Bond when I do that,” he
said.
Jake rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Look,” said Jake, “I only agreed to help you because
Tyler’s in danger. Let’s not make this
more than it is.”
“Fair enough,” said Gavin as he stepped from the car onto
the warehouse floor, “let’s not make this more than it is.”
Jake got out of the car and walked briskly over to a table
where an assortment of small-caliber pistols arranged in increasing size. On a nearby rack, some tailored body armor
flack vests and jackets hung at the ready. Several computer screens rose like flat-paneled faces staring blankly
from a monolithic black tabletop, their keyboards strung to out of sight
processors. Jake let a small whistle of
appreciation slip between his teeth.
“You’ve been busy,” he said.
“Short-notice,” said Gavin who had crossed to stand right
behind Jake, “but it’s amazing what money can buy.”
“It can’t buy happiness,” said Jake turning around.
“Yes it can,” countered Gavin, “it just can’t buy love—or
whatever it is you call that sham you share with Tyler.”
Jake shot Gavin a dark look.
“Fine,” said Gavin holding up his hands, “I won’t say that
you two aren’t in love. Have you told
him about your sordid past? About how
adept you are at squeezing off a trick-shot in a tight situation?”
“No,” said Jake quietly.
Gavin leaned in closely to Jake and almost whispered in his
ear. “Then your ‘love’ is based on a
lie, Jacob,” said Gavin, “and you are doing Tyler great harm to not be truthful
with him. I never asked you to lie—and
we were in love. You can’t tell me that
always having to make sure your lies add up at the end of the day is conducive
to a healthy relationship—to ‘love.’”
“You don’t know the first thing about love, Gavin,” said
Jake weakly.
“Prove it,” said Gavin, “kiss me.”
“What?”
“Kiss me. If there is
not a spark of love there, I’ll believe everything you say is true.”
Jake pulled his head away from Gavin. Jake noticed the closeness of their faces,
the suddenly silent and still air, the sparkle in Gavin’s eyes, the smirk on
his lips. He felt the blood thumping in
his chest, heard it pounding in his ears.
“You never have to lie to me,” said Gavin.
Jake leaned in and brushed his lips softly against Gavin’s
smirk until it softened and opened. Their mouths met and an almost electric shock rippled down Jake’s
spine. His body started to go limp but
then surged with sudden ferocious intensity. His hands found Gavin’s head and twisted that perfectly set hair around
the fingers, and then yanked it back, breaking the kiss. Gavin gave a slight gasp as Jake released his
lower lip from between his teeth.
Suddenly Jake slammed a palm into Gavin’s shoulder, sending
him staggering back a few paces. Gavin
stumbled and looked up with a hurt expression. As he looked into Jake’s heavily veiled eyes, Gavin’s shock melted into
a low, wicked chuckle and his ever-present smirk. He looked at Jake, who reclined with arms folded,
leaning on the large table, his expression a smirking mirror of Gavin’s own,
and executed a small bow.
“Hello, Jacob,” said Gavin, “it’s nice to finally see you
again.”
Jake opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the sound
of something outside the warehouse falling noisily to the ground. With a whirl of movement, Jake had a pistol
in his hand, cocked and ready. Gavin had
also armed himself with a Glock-19. Gavin’s left hand went through a series of quick gestures toward
Jake. Jake nodded and moved into the
shadows as if swallowed up by them.
Gavin crossed the warehouse floor in silence and flattened
himself by the entrance door. He held up
his fingers—three…two…one—and burst through the door in a roll that brought him
up in a combat crouch just to the right of the doorway. He saw the retreating tail-lights of a car
speeding away from the warehouse, but couldn’t make out any real details. Moments later, Jake appeared at his side.
“What do you think?” asked Jake.
“No clue,” replied Gavin, “high-speed, large wheel
profile—probably a muscle car.” He
paused to consider his observations a moment. “Shit,” he spat toward the retreating car.
“What?” asked Jake.
“Nothing,” replied Gavin a bit too quickly. He checked his watch. “I should get you back
home. Wouldn’t want Tyler to get upset
that you are out and about plotting death and mass property damage, would
we? Keep the gun, you might need it.”
Jake looked down at his own watch. “Fucking hell!” he said.
“Yeah, time flies,” said Gavin, “when you’re having fun.”
***
T-22—
Jake slipped back into bed silently, never noticing in the
dark that Tyler’s eyes didn’t close or that his shoulders were icy cold. Jake pulled up the covers and stretched a
contented arm around his lover with a sigh.
Hours later, he would wake to find breakfast made and a note
from Tyler saying “At work, coffee is made, enjoy breakfast.”
***
T-12—
Jake was coming home from shopping at the grocery store when
the first drops of rain began to fall.
Jake knew something was wrong the moment he walked across
the threshold of the apartment building. His well-trained senses were pinging warning signs all across the
board. He wondered if he and Gavin had
been discovered and if someone had sent a team to neutralize him. He remembered that he’d stashed the gun Gavin
had given him the night before in a lockbox under the bed that only he and
Tyler shared a key for. Peering around
the street warily he noticed something he’d missed on the way in—Tyler’s Mustang
was parked on the street nearby.
“Shit,” he whispered, “Tyler!”
Jake dropped the bags, spilling the groceries, and hit the
stairs at a run. He took the stairs two—three
at a time and though his heart was pounding, his feet seemed to fly silently up
the stairwell bringing him to the doorway to the apartment in moments. He
paused a second to reign in his breathing and to listen past the thump of blood
in his ears to any stray sound escaping from the other side of the door.
After a brief stall outside the door, Jake dropped into a
crouch before twisting the knob. Surprisingly, it wasn’t locked and turned with a quiet click. Jake slipped through the door and closed it
quietly behind him. He looked at the
wreckage of his apartment and reminded himself to remain calm.
The kitchen was a wasteland of broken plates and
glassware—all jagged-edged and sparkling in the light. The living room couch had been attacked with some
sort of edged blade, turning it into an evisceration of stuffing pouring from
every padded section. The art on the
walls had been flung at a corner creating an abstract mess, the frames having
shattered on impact into kindling. Everything was rent asunder—papers flung, boxes torn open and tossed
aside, shelves yawning open, empty after having vomited their contents out onto
the ground in messy disarray.
Jake took it all in with a moment’s glance before crossing
silently through the waste, making his way toward the bedroom. He gave the bathroom a passing glance and
confirmed that it, too, was devastated and destroyed. The hallway toward the bedroom bore a scratch
the length of the long wall that had jagged, mean edges. The bedroom door was ominously open and Jake
could only hear silence within.
Jake stepped around the door to the bedroom prepared for the
worst and froze. Tyler was sitting on
the bed cradling the gun in his lap. His eyes locked on Jake’s and the look in
them was a cold, dark and wounded thing. Without saying a word, Tyler picked up the gun and pulled back the
slide, chambering a round with a suddenly loud Ka-clack.
“Tyler,” said Jake carefully, “what are you doing?”
“Cocking a gun, Jake,” replied Tyler calmly, “what does it
look like?”
“Why?”
“Because it seems a shame to have it and not use it, don’t
you think?”
“Tyler, what’s going on? Did you do all this? Why?”
Tyler was silent for a moment, his eyes boring holes into
Jake’s own. Finally his gaze
softened. “I think,” said Tyler, “that
you should leave.”
“What?” said Jake, shocked.
“You heard me. Get
out. Go. Leave.” Tyler emphasized his
argument with little waves of the gun in his hand toward the front of the
apartment.
“But, why?” asked Jake. His eyes were watching the barrel of the gun warily as it waved in
Tyler’s hands.
“You know why,” snapped Tyler. “Don’t make me say it.”
“Tyler,” said Jake with both hands up, “calm down. Please put the gun down and explain to me
what is wrong.”
Tyler seemed to notice the gun in his hand was pointed
dangerously close to Jake and chuckled before putting it down on the bed next
to him. “You think I was going to shoot
you?” he asked. “How could I shoot you? Not dear, loving Jake—not the perfect love of
my life. No. Never.”
“Okay,” said Jake as he stepped into the bedroom. “Now, what’s wrong?”
“I could never hurt you, Jake. But if I see that smirking bastard, I will
fucking kill him.”
“Smirking… you mean Gavin?”
“Don’t say his name,” hissed Tyler through his teeth. “Do not say his fucking name.”
“What did G—" Jake began, catching himself as Tyler
shot an angry glare at him, “what did he do now?”
Tyler’s glare turned from anger to a mixture of wounded hurt
and disgust. Jake reached a hand out
toward his obviously distressed lover. Tyler jumped as if hit with a shock and slapped the hand away from him
like it was a snake about to strike him.
“HE KISSED YOU!” shouted Tyler, then he finished with a cold
tone of pure rage, “and you kissed him back. I saw it. Last night. You snuck out like some sort of fucking thief
in the night. I followed you and saw you
jump in his car—you were smiling! Then I
tailed you in my car to a warehouse filled with…what the fuck! And that’s where you…and him…that fucking
bastard. I am going to fucking kill
him.” Tyler looked down at the gun lying
on the bed and scooped it up into his right hand. Then he stood up and gave Jake another cold,
level look.
Jake stood in the doorway with a look of determination on
his face that only fueled Tyler’s rage.
“Move,” said Tyler.
“No,” said Jake. “Tyler, put the gun down. This
isn’t you. You don’t want to do this.”
“Yes, Jake—or should I say ‘Jacob?’—I do.”
“Tyler, if you don’t put down the gun and relax, one or both
of us are really going to get hurt. Please, just put the gun down and try to listen. Let me explain. You don’t know what I was doing in that
warehouse with G—“
The force of the strike brought stars to Jake’s eyes for a
moment as his mind processed the shock of the impact. He felt the first tinges of heat from broken
vessels in his cheek. A half-second
later, a second punch hammered Jake’s midsection. He doubled over in pain and
raised a hand to his mouth, wiping away a trickle of blood from where he’d bit
his tongue. Jake tilted his head up and
saw Tyler staring down at him in cold, detached fury.
“I told you not to say his name,” said Tyler.
“Give me the gun,” said Jake with a creeping edge in his
voice.
“No.”
Jake spun from the hip and caught Tyler’s gun hand in his
own and gave it a wicked twist backwards. Tyler’s hand involuntarily let
go of the gun, dropping it to the floor with a dull thump. Jake kept pressure
and angle, locking the joint as he stood up forcing Tyler to cry out in pain
and sink to the floor on his back. Jake
kept up the twist until he felt Tyler’s bones lock in position. He looked down at Tyler with a face filled
with hurt and pity.
“Tyler,” he said quietly, “please, don’t move. I don’t want to hurt you. Please just listen to me—“
“Fuck you!” shouted Tyler. Tyler tried to stand through the pain, attempting to rise to his feet
when the apartment’s thick air was shattered by a loud, horrible sounding crack.
Horrified, Jake instantly let go of the wristlock. Tyler was cradling his arm just below the
elbow. He was hissing slightly through his teeth as the pain of the break sent
shocks through his system. Jake took a
step forward but stopped when Tyler flicked a look of pure, unmitigated hatred
at him.
“Get out,” said Tyler through clenched teeth.
“Tyler,” said Jake, “I—“
“GET OUT!”
His eyes filling with tears, Jake fled the room, the hallway
and the wrecked apartment. He didn’t see
the stairs on the stairwell through the watery glare. His cheek was hot where Tyler had hit him,
and his ribs were screaming in broken protest from the second strike, but he
paid them little heed in his retreat out the front door of the apartment
building. He stood, numb with shock,
facing the street in the pouring rain.
After several minutes of shattered confusion, Jake pulled
his cell phone from his pocket and keyed a speed-dial sequence. The person on the other side picked up the
phone, but Jake was mutely silent. After
a moment of conversation from the other side, the connection clicked shut. Jake put the phone back in his pocket.
Fifteen minutes later, Gavin’s black Audi pulled up silently
in front of Jake. Without saying a word,
Gavin stepped out of the car and wrapped a strong arm around his shoulders,
leading him toward the passenger seat. He opened the door, seated Jake without hearing a protest, and gave a
look of pity to the apartment window. Seeing someone inside the window staring back down at him, Gavin crossed
to the driver’s side of the car without breaking his gaze.
“What did you do, Tyler?” shouted Gavin at the window.
Gavin waited a moment for comment. Hearing none, he opened the door to the Audi,
sat down and closed the door before driving away.
---
©2008 by Chris Eisele, all rights reserved. Used with permission by yourgayreno.com
Coming up in Episode Twelve: Time runs out on love, loss, and Tyler.
