The SUV bounced down the dusty backroad and rolled to a stop at the junction to the main highway. Turning left, Simon almost immediately pulled off onto the shoulder and alongside a blue and white truck. For a brief moment, he stared at the man behind the wheel, then slowly climbed out and walked over.
"You followed me."
"Yes, sir."
Simon scratched the back of his head, dark brown eyes never leaving the pale, gaunt features of his friend.
"He won't see you."
"I know, but I need to see him. Just - see - him."
"It's not good, Jim. He's not good." Then the brown eyes lifted to search the rapidly darkening sky before coming back to rest on Jim Ellison. "On the other hand - you're not good either."
"No, sir, I'm not."
"I think you're wasting your time, Jim. I don't think Blair Sandburg exists anymore."
"That's all right. Neither does Jim Ellison. And I just need to see him."
Simon nodded once, then walked back to his car. He climbed in and waited. Jim started the truck, then pulled out and headed away and up the dirt road to Blair. Simon didn't move. He had no intention of moving until - well, until.
Blair began the task of making the cabin secure for the approaching storm. He bolted the shutters closed over the windows, added more kindling to the fire and started to bring in more wood. On his third trip, the sound of another engine penetrated. He paused on the porch, thinking that Simon had returned. Tired blue eyes searched the road, then widened as a vehicle came into view. The truck.
Jim.
Frozen in shock and fear, Blair watched the truck park in almost the exact same spot as Simon's SUV had earlier. The man inside didn't move and Blair realized that he was being observed. Just that - nothing more. Blair wondered how much Jim could see. Were his senses gone? Dialed down? Erratic?
Blair turned away.
As he stepped inside, he gave one last look - up. The sky told him that it would rain soon - maybe a couple of hours. Jim had to leave.
Jim had to leave.
He closed the door behind him, his gaze falling immediately on the envelope. With determination, he walked over, picked it up, pulled out the paper, unfolded it and read:
~I know.
Jim~
Blair ran a finger over the three letters that formed Jim's name, then traced the two words above. Finally, he came back down to Jim's name.
Blair walked to the door and opened it. Jim was no longer in the truck - he was on top of it. Jim was sitting cross-legged on the roof of the truck. Sandburg blinked - then blinked again. And Jim was staring at him. Just - staring.
A rocker sat to the left of the door. Blair sat down and started to rock - and to talk.
"I'm assuming you have some degree of your senses, Jim. That you can hear me." He turned his head and Jim lifted a hand.
"Okay then."
He marshalled his thoughts, took a deep breath, and in a voice devoid of any and all emotion, began.
"I figured I could handle prison. After all, aren't I the one who can talk his way out of a paper bag? Oh, sure, I was scared, not denying that. Who wouldn't have been? But I was determined not to give in, I was determined to stay in control.
"That lasted - three days. Three days."
Blair stared across the porch to the railing. A squirrel sat atop it and seemed to have joined Jim in listening. Which was odd, because with the storm coming and all, Blair figured the animal would have sought out its shelter. Blair started to speak to it, which, somehow, made everything - easier.
"On the third day - they got me. Not even in the showers. Corridor, stairs and the supply closet. I was leaving the library. They blocked the end of the hall. Not a guard in sight. I tried for the stairs, but it was useless. They pulled me into the closet." The squirrel blinked. Blair went on.
"I'm thinking now that I shouldn't have fought them, you know? But hey, I was stupid. I fought. Rogers had a makeshift knife and when he got tired of me fighting him, he simply shoved it into my spread leg, down through it and into the floor. I stopped fighting then.
"There were four of them. Did I mention that?" The squirrel seemed to shake its head. "Well, there were. Four. They had a good time, I expect. Me? Hey, I passed out from loss of blood. Guess I missed the party. When I came to - I was in the infirmiry."
The squirrel's tail bristled, then relaxed. Small beady eyes blinked.
"I spent three weeks in the prison hospital. When I was released, I found that I'd been assigned a different cell. And I now had a cellmate. His name was Rick. A lifer. I was overjoyed, as you can well imagine. I'd gotten used to a roommate, you know?"
The squirrel seemed to pick up the sarcasm. It chittered and the sound was almost a chastisment. Blair shrugged.
"Rick made me an offer I couldn't refuse. He'd protect me and all I had to do was keep him happy. He liked me, thought I was cool and considering that I no longer had the ability to run, my leg and all, well, I kept him very happy. I never even considered saying no. Do you understand that? I. Never. Considered. Saying. No.
"So began my days as Rick's whore. Or to use prison parlance, his punk. I did my duties during the day, he kept the others away from me and at night, I rolled over for him. I was so brave. You'd have been proud of me. Held my ground, I did."
The squirrel chittered again.
"The days turned into a few more weeks and one day, while scrubbing the floors, a guard approached me. He said he could get me into the mail room, get me off the floors. You can guess what he wanted, right? So I did him, right there, on my knees, wobbling slightly cause my leg barely held. I took him all the way down and then I let him do me. Two days later, I was in the mail room. Easy job, the mail room. Rick thought I was incredibly lucky. He never was very smart.
"My tenure in the mail room lasted about two weeks. Then Director Madigan showed up and set up an appointment for me. Said he wanted to see where I really fit. Where my talents would best be utilized. We soon discovered that the library would be best for me, and Madigan felt I was a perfect fit. He liked me on my knees, doggy style.
"My world became Madigan, Sheriff Carlson and Rick. And when I wasn't busy servicing them, I worked in the library. Seemed kinda fitting, you know?"
The squirrel reached back and bit at its tail.
"Brother, you're telling me."
Blair reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a few nuts that he kept for the wildlife around his cabin. Tossing them across the wooden expanse, he went on talking, unaware that the squirrel didn't move to eat.
"So the weeks went on. I collected books, stamped cards, swallowed semen, took it up the ass every which way, and thought, hey, this prison life isn't so bad. Then I got word that I had a visitor."
Blair stopped again and his head lowered. When he started talking, his voice was deeper, less - frigid.
"I couldn't believe it. I mean, I know I'd had visitors before, and I'd refused to see them, you know? Didn't even ask who, just said no. But after weeks of ... I had no connection to any other world. And suddenly, there it was. The real world - just - there. So I agreed. It was mom.
"I sat down at the table across from her and she said, 'Honey, I heard you were in the infirmiry, but they wouldn't tell us anything or let me see you. Are you okay?' What do you say to that, uh?"
The squirrel gave a little bark.
"Yeah, barking would have been good. But alas, I chose to say that I'd been in a fight but was okay, as she could see. I remember being there, with her, yet not. There was someone else sitting there, talking, chatting and she'd noticed the limp but this guy, this man masquerading as me, just waved her off. And I like, just watched, you know? A bell rang and I realized that she had to leave and mom got up and she said something about Simon and Joel and how they were working on getting me out, and for me to please see her, that she'd come every week until I was released. She kissed me on the cheek."
Blair moved his hand to his right cheek and rubbed lightly. The squirrel went completely still.
"She - kissed - me. And then I watched her leave. My mother. I could still smell her perfume. Feel her dress, her shoulders, her lips on my cheek. And I," he glanced up and made eye contact with the squirrel. "I never even asked about Jim. I couldn't."
The squirrel nodded and waited.
"I remember walking back to my cell and sitting down on my bunk. Rick was gone, probably watching television in the common room. My mother was all around me, invading me, bringing visions of Simon and Joel and Megan and - everyone. That night, Rick came back a little better for some junk he'd purchased and he passed out. I don't remember sleeping, all I remember is mom's voice, the way it sounded. And all night, I heard other sounds too. I heard Henri Brown's laugh and the elevator at 852 Prospect and the sound of Simon's office door when he'd slam it, and Megan's accent and - Jim's laugh. I heard Jim's laugh the most. I could see his face in happiness, the small laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes and how I could make that happen...."
Blair's head lowered again and he found himself staring at his scarred wrists. The squirrel gave an impatient bark and Blair glanced up, blinked and without thought, started talking again, but this time - the voice was real.
"The next day, Carlson approached me. He told me to meet him in our usual place. And I thought of mom's words, about Simon and Joel trying to get me out ... and I thought about what I'd become, what I was, and I left the library, went back to my cell, reached under Rick's mattress and pulled out his shank. I hid it in my jeans and went back to the library, to the men's room. I went into a stall, sat down and did it. I sliced open my wrists. And it was good, didn't even hurt. I watched the blood leave and I felt warm and good and right. I could feel myself start to leave ... and then words. What I didn't know was that Simon and Joel had worked their magic and Simon was there, in the prison, with the warden. He'd called in every favor. He was the lucky person, with Warden Emory, that found me.
"Simon told me later - his own form of shock therapy - what he and the warden found. He went to great lengths to describe the blood pooling around me, the way it had sunk into my clothing and hair, the way the smell permeated every corner of the small room, and how many showers Simon took to rid his body of the smell and how he threw out his clothing and wore hospital garb ... and then he told me what he'd done while others held my wrists and people were dispatched from the hospital ward...."
Blair's voice trailed off and the squirrel gave a warning bark, its tail flicking anxiously. As if on autopilot, Blair went on, his voice actually shaking....
"... he told me how he held me and yelled at me, commanded me to stay, to not run...."
Tortured blue eyes connected with small brown ones as Blair said almost pleadingly, "But I wasn't really running away. More like - running to. Or better still - running back. Simon doesn't really know it, but I heard his voice. I was so happy and warm and floating. Below me, the forest, thick and foggy and smelling of sweet earth and heavy dew and I could see the wolf loping happily along, tongue lolling from the corner of its mouth and I was the wolf, yet - not. I was drifting down to it, almost within reach ... when I heard Simon's voice.
"I like his voice - normally. But at that moment, it was like," Blair paused, searching for the right analogy, then he snapped his fingers. The squirrel never flinched, just waited. "It was like fingernails on a black board, you know? I didn't want to listen, refused to hear. But damn it, he just kept it up, kept talking and I couldn't concentrate, couldn't reach the wolf and my body started moving up and away and I could smell - hospital - smells and I hated it, but fuck, Simon was strong."
The squirrel seemed to nod its head as it chittered agreeably with Blair.
Blair noticed the white tips on the furry little animals ears and he smiled gently.
"You're a funny beast. Don't you know it's going to storm any minute? You should run along home - to family, hearth and home."
Something in the animal gave Blair pause. He tilted his head and squinted. Then he shook his head. "Oh, no, I am done. That's it, my nut-loving friend. There's nothing more. Inside or out - it's gone. There are kings and horses and men, there's super glue and the sun coming up each morning and going down each night, but none of it changes anything. None of it can put any of this back together again. The pieces are dust now. Just - dust."
Unmoving, the squirrel stared back.
Haltingly, Blair glanced down at his hand, at the whiteness of the letter that fluttered ever so slightly with the breeze of the upcoming storm. He could see the words, the few, sparse words, then they blurred and suddenly it became of supreme importance for Blair to be able to read them, but he couldn't. He blinked, and blinked again, and drops of rain pooled on the paper, except - it wasn't raining yet, but the ink ran and the words disappeared. With an anquished cry, Blair jumped to his feet.
He had to find the words again, And Jim's name ... he had to be able to touch Jim's name!
"I know."
Blair whirled to find a tall, dark shape standing on the bottom step of his porch. Behind him, lightening cracked open the sky and the deluge fell. Neither man noticed.
Jim took another step up. Both Blair and the squirrel remained motionless.
Jim made the final step to the porch and Blair held out the letter.
"It's gone. Your name. And the words. They're gone."
His voice was soft, young and plaintive.
"That's all right. I'll write them again."
"No use. Gone. Just - gone."
"Blair...."
"No. You need to leave. It's all gone. Don't you get that?"
"I know. I just had to ... see you. Just see you."
The rain pounded the ground, sending up small tufts of dirt that immediately fell back and turned to dark, rich mud. The thunder was almost constant and sometimes, the lightning and thunder came as one. Blair searched Jim's face, catching glimpses of lines that had never been there before, bits of greying at the temples as the forked energy zipped across the sky.
"We aren't here anymore, are we, Jim?"
"No, I don't think we are. I guess that makes us the walking dead."
Blair's face seemed to fracture as he molded it into a smirk. "Maybe we should make a suicide pact, eh?"
"All right."
The words were spoken so quietly, so simply, that it took a minute to register on Blair. But when they did, Blair's eyes widened in horror and his hand came up to hover about his mouth.
Blair took a careful step forward, eyes locked on Jim, traveling the length of him, then back to the calm face.
"You'd do that," he said incredulously.
Jim nodded and Blair noticed for the first time that the pale blue eyes he'd always loved were swimming in unshed tears. Then he realized that Jim was also soaking wet. And - shivering.
Without thought, he reached out, snagged Jim's jacket and started hauling him inside. From the railing - the squirrel watched. When the door closed, it jumped down, skittered over to the nuts, stuffed them into each cheek, then scampered off to disappear.