- - 27 - -
They were looking over their shoulders a lot after that week. Jamie disappeared for almost a month...
And from that point on, at least one of 'em was gone at any given time. Hidden away somewhere, getting played with.
Del wanted to hide out. But Zeke had other plans...
He called Tim, giggling like a kid. Come by and pick me up. They went to a biker hangout and sat at the bar.
Del could hardly get a shot down without laughing. Eventually Tim got the story out of him. The day before, he'd been ordered to get out of the house. Maintain something like his old routine, head off suspicion. He'd refused... and had gotten soundly thrashed. When he woke up, Zeke tickled him into a tight satin body suit. Pink.
It didn't show, under his usual clothes. Footies, a special pouch for his meat - and it vibrated everywhere, randomly. Unless he tried to tear it off - and then, it leveled him.
"Fuckin' electric bunny suit," he said, exploding into meaty laughter. Dropping his head and pounding the bar.
It looked, for all the world, like he was on a really good trip. He drank continuously. Didn't help.
Zeke dressed him like that for a week - lavender, fuschia, lilac, pale yellow - and then it made him howl whenever it peeled the old suit off. All Tim could do was ride along, grabbing the wheel of his truck when a particularly intense wave took him... and talking their way out of fights.
They fucked like rabbits. Seemed to be automatic. Helped 'em deal with all the stroking and milking - not to mention Zeke watchin' over their shoulders all the time.
Kevin had a special incentive. Zeke made him quit smoking, 'cause he was more fun to play with without 'em. It made him take up running and a whole slew of steroids, and he carped about it all the time. Really buffed him out, though. Usually he was hungry for a cigarette, and only got a couple only after he got laid. So he was out plantin' his flag every night Zeke permitted it. His new muscles didn't hurt any, in that kind of hunt.
Jamie chain-smoked for a while, but after he got back from Reno he got a bigger shock - Zeke cut him off from smokin' anything. He was sweatin' out the urge for a big fat joint. But it created a bunch of designer drugs - nonaddictive - and started him on free weights. Got him up to two-hour workouts every day. And it kept tuning the neurochemical that made him ticklish. The novelty of that sensation, and the horror, didn't seem to diminish any. He had some catching up to do.
Del would've been more ticklish without those cigars, but Zeke decided it would've been like cutting off one of his arms. So he was hardly ever seen without a fine Cuban going...
Matt's chew was taken away, a loss he was sorely reminded of, all the time.
And Tim, he smoked more than he ever did at college. Especially when he was gettin' played with. Zeke just cleaned out his system while he slept. He woke up with nice healthy cells everywhere, and a monstrous hankering for a cigar, or a fat joint. Every time.
He ended up with a spare tire - bigger than Del's - and Zeke started dropped hints about a sanitarium it knew about. Long-term, personalized exercise program...
The winter dragged on. Probably the longest ever, 'cause they were spending so much time in windowless rooms. Cells, dungeons...
Kevin joked about taking bets. Who was getting it the worst...
Everybody maintained the other guys didn't stand a chance.
But they couldn't be sure how many days Zeke had spent on 'em. It was almost easier to count the free days.
Jamie didn't there was anything funny about it. Betting on it. That was just... sick.
- - 28 - -
Tim laid on the couch, ignoring the TV. He'd called Tina earlier. She'd as much as said she was fucking her old boyfriend...
Zeke let him lay there. He went over the same what-I-should-have-done riff a few times, and nodded off.
When he woke up, it was dark. A cigar was stuck between his fingers while he yawned. Already lit.
* How ya doin', hoss? *
Tim shrugged.
* What are you doing, sitting here in the dark? You're a free man now. *
* Thanks. For reminding me. That helps a lot, * he growled.
Zeke chuckled - but it was a kindly chuckle. Tim feared its nice side in a totally different way.
* I know what you need, * it thought at him, conspiratorially.
He blew out smoke. And waited.
* You need some poontang. *
"Zeke," he said out loud.
The urge hit him. Blood rushed to his cock.
"Nnnno, Zeke."
The cigar disappeared from his teeth. Zeke picked him up... like he was a fence post, or a rug. He was rotated until his nose was right over the cigar box. It was empty.
* Uh oh, outa smokes, * Zeke exclaimed.
The urge to rut hit him harder. And suddenly he wanted a cigar pretty damn bad.
* So make some more, * he thought hopefully, mind wandering...
* Better make a cigar run. *
He squirmed, then gave it up. * Okay. *
It whooped and set him down. The front door opened. Zeke slapped him on the ass. * Get along with you. *
By the time he backed out of the driveway, his hard-on was raging.
* Turn left, * it said. * How about a beer? *
* No thanks - *
* One little beer. *
Tim sighed. And blinked -
He was in Bonner, by the U. Forty miles away.
Zeke picked out a bar and had him park in the back lot. * Hold it... There. Now let's see - *
His boots changed. And his clothes.
He turned on the dome light. Scuffed engineer boots, jeans, chaps, rodeo t-shirt...
* What is this? *
Zeke combed his hair, and he tried to bat it away. * You're gettin' laid. *
* No, I'm not... * But his resolve was shot.
* I got somebody lined up. *
* I'll just bet you do, * Tim thought. He had an image, suddenly, of a guy's ass. Muscled like a statue's. Tim was thrusting - * Hey! *
Something... like deodorant was squirted under his arms.
"Zeke! Hold up!"
* Aw, why? *
* You got a... guy on ice for me? *
* Wait'll you see him. *
He braced his hands against the steering wheel. * Please, don't. Please. *
* I've gone to a lot of trouble, asshole. You are going to go in there and get...* Zeke trailed off. * Oh. *
Memories of his first lay flooded him. Fran the cowgirl. He was getting hard again. He groaned softly -
Zeke chuckled. * Oh, I get it... Look, just play along tonight, okay? With the guy. I could really use the data. *
* No! *
* But I know you're not opposed t- *
* Some other time! * Tim yelled.
There was a pause. * Next Friday, * Zeke said firmly.
* I ju- *
* Ah, * it cut him off, in a tone that left him no wiggle-room. * Okay. Got her. *
Before he could even get relieved about the implications of "her" - the chaps were gone. A leather vest was over the t-shirt. His whole upper body itched - and tattoos blossomed on his arms and hands. * Hey! *
* Work with me, dammit. I'll pull 'em later. Sheesh. *
His hand came up, with a lit match. It stopped at the tip of the joint that was now between his lips. He sucked in slow and hard -
It wasn't a joint. Tobacco. Harsh. Zeke had him blow out the match.
* Roll-your-own, * it said, before he could ask. * There's two more already rolled up, in your vest pocket. I think you know how to make yourself some more. Now, you're just about set... *
* C'mon, * he said moodily. Almost rather get tickled -
* I caught that, * Zeke marveled. * It'll come back to haunt you, tomorrow. Would it be okay if- *
* I didn't mean it - *
* Okay if I break your nose? *
* What? *
* You won't feel a thing. *
* No. Thanks.
* Zeke sighed impatiently. A burning sensation ran down his cheek. * Ow! *
* There. *
He looked in the rear-view mirror. He had a scar now. Looking at it, he reached for the cigarette, but his hand was pushed back down. * Naw, just let it hang. * His hand reached for the truck door handle...
He swaggered across the lot. Took a drag. * Do I get to participate in the sex tonight? At all? *
* Yessir. Soon as you're in her bed. Okay, you're going to have a bit of an accent. Canadian. Don't let it throw you. Your voice is real low, too - *
* If you wanted Del, why didn't you just bring him? *
* He's kinda busy laughing right now. Smart guy. Besides, you need the attention. *
* Like hell I d- *
* You don't want to be sassin' me, Tim. * He loped through the door, eating smoke. * I wonder how well this is gonna work... *
His hard-on made thinking... impossible.
* There! *
A woman at the bar turned. Watched him walk on over. She had blonde hair and nice tits and just a little extra poundage. A gentle, open face. Light blue eyes. Long hands. Almost the exact opposite of Tina.
And she was his dream girl.
* I've just become her dream guy, right? Bad boy -*
* Ssshhhh. *
He stopped in front of her. A slow grin slid around the cigarette.
They stared at each other, as he took a slow drag.
"Take me home?" she asked.
He chuckled a couple times, like a wolf. She turned and grabbed her purse.
* Well, that was easy, * Zeke marveled, as they walked back out the door. He was stunned.
It made him chuck the cigarette and kiss her hard.
Somebody punched him in the arm. He was in no hurry to look...
It was Kevin.
"Hey, bro..." Zeke had him relay a message - where Kev's conquest of the night was keeping herself. "Next to the jukebox."
Kevin nodded, grinning like a fool. He stalked inside -
Tim found himself fairly running to his truck, to follow her to her motel.
Tim woke up to the smell of coffee. Rolled over.
A mug was waiting in mid-air. He reached for it, and it backed away.
* Up, * Zeke ordered.
He dragged himself across mink and stood up unsteadily. A cigarette appeared in his mouth, and he took a few drags as he followed the mug. To the kitchen...
Jamie was sitting there, with a mug of his own. "Nice tats," he said, staring.
Tim flipped him off and sat down heavily. The other guy cocked his head for a second -
"A-ha," Jamie said. * Zeke got you some. *
* Gathering data - *
Jamie laughed out loud. Then he thought, * Dude, it's been running that scam on the rest of us, ever since we got back. *
Tim looked at him, trying to focus. * Well, then why would it want - *
* Compassion. * Tim looked at him like he was nuts. * Well, that ain't my word for it. But even Del agrees. It's learning. Zeke wanted to do you a solid. *
Tim finished his smoke. * You've finally lost it. *
Jamie shrugged. * Probably. We'll see. She's not expecting you back again 'til Wednesday - hey, you wanna go out to the races tonight? *
And it was Tim's turn to cock his head. * I would surely love to... hoss... but I'm gonna get tickled 'til I can't see straight. *
Jamie nodded slowly, and picked up his mug.
* Zeke? *
* Right here, Tim. *
* Where's Del? * No reply. * He's gotta sign those contracts. *
* So you keep saying. *
Tim sighed. * No contracts - no raw materials. People standing around, not working. * He pulled on his cigar. * Course, you could just brainwash the sales departments of all these companies into thinking they see Del's signature - *
* Oh, you're hilarious, * Zeke grumbled.
* I'm pushing on this, only 'cause it's going to hold up everything. Gotta have Del's signature. What'd he do, to bring this on? It's been a week - *
* Six days. *
Tim rolled his eyes.
* Al-right, that's it - *
The room got much darker. No... he wasn't in his office anymore.
He was in a jail cell. A wall of bars, dark hallway beyond. Stone. Big, grey blocks of stone. PAYBACK was scrawled in big letters -
Tim recognized the place. He started to tug at the straps, sliding over fur.
* Aw, c'mon, * he said, totally annoyed.
* You wanted Del to sign the fuckin' orders? Well, he's signing 'em right now. * Above him a light fixture swiveled, aiming the light at his feet. * 'course, his handwriting ain't for shit... *
Tim blew smoke out of his nose, pissed off now... and resisted the urge to say what he was thinking.
* And you're gonna fill in for him here. Smart guy. *
Black gloves appeared past his feet. Six of 'em - eight, ten. Greasing each other up, as they approached.
- - 29 - -
Zeke had Tim ordering books. Lots of books.
Tim did a lot of reading - and explaining. Psychology, economics, dermatology, history...
He yawned. Looked around his living room. Piles of magazines and books. Two TV's were on, changing channels erratically. He'd gotten used to that.
He had an unfiltered Camel in his hand. There was a carton on the coffee table, half-gone, and three crumpled-up packs. He didn't remember the cigarettes showing up -
Zeke hit him with a shot of euphoria. Had him lay down on the couch and chain-smoke for awhile...
* What's with you? * it asked, handing him a Rainier.
* I don't know what you mean, * Tim said mechanically, sucking the whole beer down.
* You're not happy. *
He snorted.
Zeke took the bottle out of his hand. * Somebody... needs cheering up. *
"No!" Tim said loudly, sitting up. His heart was pounding. He reached for the California travel guide he'd been slogging through. * Not again, aw please, I'll be good - *
* Yeah... *
* I'm fine! Really - *
The frame appeared.
He was suddenly tied to it. And then his clothes were gone.
The closet door opened. A new enclosure... soundproofed. Sticking out from under the stairs, into the living room. Nobody in their right mind would make a room there - no person, anyway.
The frame carried Tim, vertically, into the dark closet... and the door shut softly behind him.
The next afternoon...
He finally caught his breath. Tied down to the furry bed in his basement. He'd been down there for a few hours, that he knew of - if "hour" even meant anything consistent, anymore...
Zeke watered him, and had him start a cigar. Invisible fingers played with his hair. * There it is again. *
* What?, * he asked reflexively.
* That depression. *
* I'm not depressed, Zeke. * He didn't know if this was another setup or not. Didn't really matter. Some things had too much potential for misuse... * What makes you th- *
* Loss of sleep, appetite, affect, hopelessness. Apathy. *
* Uh. Well, I'm just... sad. * He was studied for another minute. He could feel it.
* I don't get you guys, * it mused, almost affectionately.
* Just forget it. I don't want to talk t- right now, * Tim sighed.
There was a pause. * You can talk, or I can start my own... mood-altering treatment program. Takes at least a week. Twenty gloves - *
* Okay, okay. *
Zeke sighed. * You and Del. You're both stubborn cusses. Kevin gets into the tickling, top or bottom, 'cause he's so into the domination. Jamie embraces it, eventually, to pay some cosmic social-bloodsucker debt. * A towel appeared, and started blotting his sweat. * Matt's the only pure play of the original bunch. And he didn't even know he liked it. Had no idea. Still fights like a Doberman 'til I get him strapped down... but then he's just torqued. *
* Good for him, * Tim thought, letting smoke out slowly.
* I jump him sometimes and just leave him alone all night. All cuffed down and ready. Geeked on dread and longing... But hey, enough about him. It's you I'm dealing with now. *
Tim said nothing.
* What's it gonna take to win you over? *
* You know, * Tim said, getting mad, * there are some things you just can't force. *
* Naaah. *
* If your empathy modules were working, y- *
* Oh, that again. *
* Yeah. That again. * Tim shook his head. * Alright. I don't take to being a slave. And I also don't take to helping a dictator. But that's old news. * He smoked some more. * Ah, what the hell. Everything gets used against me anyway. You know we're outclassed and you're misusing your power anyway. That's scary. I mean, you can see that Earth's got a lot of problems you could help solve. But you say the hell with all that, I like torturing guys, I'm gonna... enslave Billings and Casper... Denver, then the whole states, and there's Californ- *
It ran a couple feathers down to his belly button. * That is old news, hoss. * They swept back and forth lightly. * I reckon I enjoy things as they are. *
* And you're settling, * Tim grinned, clamping down on the stogie. * You'd get even farther with cooperation. Tyrants always get overthrown. *
* I'm not your ordinary tyrant, * Zeke sniggered.
* You sure as hell aren't. But even you can't see everything, all at once. People - slaves - will come up with a way to slip out of the net. And they'll destroy you if they can. Wipe you off the map, so you don't ever take 'em over again. *
* 8.4 years. *
Tim lifted his head off the mink pillow. * What - did you say? *
* Highest probability of a revolt that annihilates me, given the... aggressive expansion plans I have, is around the end of the decade. *
He closed his eyes, and sighed. Relief. Then, anger. * So you know I'm right. *
Black gloves appeared and began petting his sides, making him giggle. The cigar was pulled out of his mouth and sat in the air, while he squirmed. But the fingers stopped after a few seconds. * Yeeeeeaaah. Smart little monkey. * Zeke paused. * I was sure you were wrong, but I did some forecasting. And what do ya know. This better be cheering you up, asswipe, * it whispered, all sinister -
* Yeah, oh yeah, I feel better already, * he said, looking all around.
* If you were a bunch of deer, my plan would work perfectly. But as things stand, I'll do better... gathering data, hee hee... from volunteers. *
* Yeah. So when do y- *
* Not tonight, you squeamish, restrained piece of skin. *
* When? *
Zeke made a fake-exasperated noise. * It's a secret. * Tim's cigar was pulled from his teeth. It vanished.
He started fidgeting. * If it's the, uh, pragmatic thing to do, the sooner the bet- *
Invisible gloves took hold of his feet.
* I know. It's illogical. * More gloves, all over his torso. * But hey, I'm havin' way too much fun with the likes of you. Why would I be so all-fired quick to give that up? *
The fingers bore down. He yelped, and tugged at the ropes.
* No need to be hasty, is there? With you? *
But it didn't wait for an answer.
- - 30 - -
One morning, Kevin moaned and groaned himself awake. He fought it, but he couldn't get back to sleep.
He rolled over and crawled across the fur that lined his cage. Took hold of some bars on the door and waited. His eyes started to close.
Some days it made him wait for a whole hour. Holding onto the bars. But today the bolts withdrew, and Kevin let the door drag him halfway out. He snuffled and hawked and crawled the rest of the way, finally standing up.
In the kitchen, a plate was landing on the table. A coffee mug was already there, and a pint of whiskey was topping it off.
He sat down and rubbed his eyes. Looked at the plate. Canadian bacon, and scrambled eggs with cheese, and hash browns, and a little dish of blueberries. Sorta like his dream breakfast. That worried him. But no feathers came and attacked him or anything, so he picked up his fork...
Kevin cleaned his plate, and licked it clean. Boy, but he'd learned that one the hard way. He reached for the mug, to empty it - but it moved a little, and then it was full again. As he picked it up, the plate disappeared...
It was replaced by a pack of Kools, and a book of matches.
He made a happy noise and picked up the pack. This is too good to be tr-
Shit. Oh, shit. He froze, with the pack in his hand. He hadn't asked for permission. He touched 'em without asking - Fuck...
An ashtray showed up, next to the mug.
Kevin seriously wanted a smoke. His brand and everything, too. He thought it over. Definitely he was in trouble for touching 'em. But Zeke hadn't said anything.
Was he supposed to say something now, or not?
He sat there, paralyzed with indecision, and then his hands started to tremble -
Back. Leaning back, feet up on another chair. Comfortable.
Blowing out smoke.
The ashtray had a few butts in it. The pack was open. Oh joy, another whole pack was within reach.
* W-what's up, Zeke? *
His hand flipped some ashes off, expertly, and brought the cig back up to him. He tugged on it hard, 'cause Zeke made him. It felt good, though.
His head went back a little, and he blew a bunch of smoke rings.
Zeke got his attention without saying anything. Sorta what people do when they clear their throat. * I've been pretty hard on you guys. *
Shit. Kevin didn't know what it wanted him to say to that.
Zeke made another familiar sound, which Kevin could also make by sucking his teeth. * Yeah. * It paused. * Well, you get the day off, soldier. Twelve-hour leave. Report back here by midnight. *
* Thanks, * Kevin said, amazed. Maybe Tim would know wh-
* And don't you go buyin' no more cigarettes, * Zeke said sternly.
He nodded, and gulped.
"You're crazy," Del said, shaking his head. "Snow job."
"Huh-uh," Tim replied, setting his Rainier bottle down on the bar. "Some of those actions, the things it's doing - forget for a moment what it's saying to us - they don't work for a slavemaster." He looked around 'em. "But they do make sense for a - for the owner of a Club Med or something."
Del rolled his eyes, and blew some smoke rings. Finally, "What's the angle? Why would it tell you this shit? Or let you tell me?"
"I don't know. I don't see one. We're on a tight leash already. It's out to convert me, and you..." Del nodded. "but this doesn't directly help it there, either."
"We're gonna end up back in the fuckin' ship. Or the Box," Del grumbled.
The Box. Zeke had built a fortress underground. A much bigger version of its ship. It was forty hard miles from the nearest dirt road. Jamie had been flown there for the grand opening. Big stone walls and thick bars everywhere. Individual cells...
It was out to catch some strays. Fill up its reformatory. Younger three-time losers, dropouts, scooter trash -
And Matt. He was Ward No. 0001. Jamie saw his cell, but only caught a quick glimpse of Matt as he was being dragged off to "the hole". See, Matt, he hadn't been smokin' enough...
Jamie was pretty scared of the place.
There were hints about other secret tickle-prisons. Zeke had gotten a lot more powerful - or it had been making clones of itself.
Tim sighed. "Yeah. Probably. For a while. But even Zeke can read the writing on the wall." He gestured for a couple more Rainiers. "All those places are going to end up full of volunteers. If it kidnaps people, no matter how badass, word'll get out eventually. And people won't put up with it being here, preying on us. Not forever. If they tolerate it, they could be kidnapped next."
Del thought that over for a while.
"It might be backing off on expanding the fuckin' business. Maybe," he emphasized with his cigar. "You just may be reading it right. I wanna argue with it, but I can't."
They took a ride over to Kevin's. Pounded on the door - and it opened magically.
The playroom was in back. As they walked up, it looked as it did for normal people. Unfinished. Bare studs, dusty tools, a stack of sheetrock.
But as they crossed the threshold -
Leather and chrome. Track lighting. Hundreds of restraints and toys hanging from the ceiling, and the walls.
Kevin was on his back, curved around a sphere of steel mesh. His arms and legs were chained inside. Devices that looked like rotary buffers surrounded him, and he hovered just off the surface of their fluffy pads. Inside the ball, his limbs were blanketed by pads...
Zeke had just shut down all the equipment.
Jamie stood in front of Kevin with an airbrush, modified to spray oils instead. Tim knew it well. Del stopped where he was, just inside the room. He'd spent way too much fuckin' time here.
" 'sup, dudes?" Jamie sang.
"No big. Hey, Kev," Tim said. The younger guy looked over and nodded, panting too hard to speak.
Tim told 'em what he'd been thinking. Zeke already knew all about it, and was letting him pass the word - or maybe it just wanted to get him in here and strap him up on his own ball, next to Kevin...
"Refocusing. Yeah," Jamie said. "I'd wondered -"
"Zeke's... safe," Kevin gasped. "Always will be. Make 'em... forget... all about it."
They all stared at him.
He got a dose of Zeke-speed, and twitched. "Whew. It can wipe memories, right? So why won't it make more boxes, more towns? It can just make everybody forget it's there."
"Low risks, high stakes," Tim said finally. "More isn't better, if the party comes to an end too soon." Nobody knew what the fuck he was talking about. "Okay. In order to run the town, or the Box, it has to hold on to people. If anyone ever comes looking, and gets persistent, the whole setup's at risk. Zeke can't wipe the memories of everybody who ever knew me - at least it hasn't yet, right? - and with all that bullshit we've heard about not making permanent changes, to the hardware..."
"It makes mistakes," Jamie murmured.
"Yeah - but it can't afford the wrong mistake. Grab the wrong guy, or fail to wipe his memory well enough, and the whole thing comes down."
"No tellin' when that could be," Del said.
"True. But the risk is already real, right now," Tim insisted. "Tina's on the honor system. I bet... whoever it was you were with then figured some of this shit out, Jamie. Shelia, too. Who know how many others. Matt's folks, maybe."
"So?" Kevin managed.
"The more prisoners it keeps, the greater the risk."
"Unless they're in the Box," Jamie said. "A thousand Boxes."
"Nope. Only way a deer can outsmart a hunter is to stay in motion," Del put in.
"Keep moving?" Kevin said wearily.
"Yup," Tim nodded. "If Zeke stays in one place too long, or kidnaps too many guys at once, it's going to be destroyed. Not if, but when." He looked at Jamie. "It can keep people from seeing or hearing the Box... make 'em forget what they were looking for... but if they're stubborn enough, it can't prevent 'em all from finding it."
"Or stumbling onto it," Del said.
"What are we missing? I keep thinking we gotta be missing something," Tim said. He got shrugs and blank looks in response. "Well, think it over sometime, if it lets you. I still think it definitely learns... through us." He got another cigar out. "And I still figure we're royally fucked. I ain't gettin' my hopes up. Like, our lives changed the day he got us, and I'm thinking the whole world's gonna change, if - did I say 'he'? It! Dammit... haven't done that in a while. If it decides. Whatever way it decides-"
Jamie snorted. "Slaveowner, the way you see it."
Kevin even nodded. "Hell, yeah," Del said.
Tim held up a hand. "Zeke's either gonna play with a few guys at a time, or a few hundred... or as many as it can. All at once. Which way it chooses could hinge on how long it can get away with it."
"Snag a fucker or two, here and there, keep 'em undercover... or set up permanent Boxes," Del said, with a dark look.
"A world full of Boxes," Jamie groaned.
Jamie was sent over to Tim's to get his weekly assignments. Zeke didn't mind him getting an occasional contact high, so it made Tim roll a big bomber and toke on it hard, while Jamie fairly drooled all over himself...
He made an offhand remark that night, about Zeke.
Tim had no idea what it was, when he finally woke up. But it had got him thinking. He rolled in to the plant, and snuck out back after a while. He and Del had taken to doing this when they wanted to talk. They knew full well it didn't matter - Zeke heard every damn thing they thought - but it felt sly, like when they all used to sneak out behind the locker room at school for a smoke or a chew.
* You mind getting Del, when he's got a minute? * he asked Zeke.
Not long after, Del hurried out the back door. Blinked, and saw Tim. He cocked his head and smirked, meandering on over.
Tim nodded, and started trying to explain. It had to do with the way their relationship with Zeke was changing, each one of 'em. Jamie, it was almost like he'd found a guru. Expanding his consciousness and all that. Kevin was totally stuck in a master/slave thing, in the dungeon Zeke had made for him...
Tim wasn't sure, but he felt more and more like a nanny - no, like a tutor, with an extremely bright and... sinister student in his care.
Del pulled on his cigar and looked up, pondering. "Older brother," he said finally, making sure no one else was around, lowering his voice. "Bigger, badder. And kinkier."
He sighed, and woke up.
Ceiling, walls -
Bars -
"Aw, fuck!" Del growled. He looked at the cuff on his right-wrist, and started to tug. Pull, stretch, snap. Every mutherfuckin' morning...
Part of him still couldn't believe he was stuck. Him.
Couldn't fuckin' believe it. He cussed and fought the straps.
When he quit, he was breathing hard. A cigar appeared between his molars anyway. Same damn thing.
* Not tryin' to hurt your feelings or anything, punk... But you got no idea how much fun that is to watch. *
* Curl up and blow away, * Del snapped.
* Every time you wake up, you go through the same routine. Like it's the first time. Whoa, cuffs! Well, shee-it. Now what the fuck could that mean? Heh. Don't matter how many days in a row you've been caught. That twelve-day stretch... now, that was a scream. *
White gloves appeared by his feet. Waving at him.
Del tried to kick a couple times. "Fuck."
- - 31 - -
Tim got back from the plant all excited. He'd been to Pocatello the weekend before, havin' a great time with Tina... with her folks watching the kids, for thirty-six hours of perfect rutting. The stamina of a fifteen-year old, all the expertise Zeke could stuff into him...
This morning it had let him know he'd be goin' west for a while. Don't wait up or anything, he'd told Del, smirking. Pocatello was southwest.
He went into his house just long enough to take a leak, and grab a bag Zeke had packed. Then he jumped in the truck and sped off...
At the highway, the steering wheel turned east, suddenly, instead of west.
"Hey now -" Tim objected.
The doors locked.
* Boy, I just love these power door locks, * Zeke sighed.
It sounded more like Jamie, these days. To him, anyway. Del said it had taken after Kevin a lot more than it used to, just when it talked to him. Fuckin' with his head -
* You said west - *
* I lied, * it said, with a chuckle.
* But Tina - *
The visor flipped down - and he caught an envelope. From her.
* Read it, * Zeke said softly. He tore it open, and scanned it. He read it two times, carefully...
She'd decided to go ahead and File. The. Papers.
When he looked up, Zeke said, * Now, I truly didn't intend for that to hap- *
He slammed the steering wheel. * Like hell you didn't. This is my life you're playing around... with..." Well, duh. He let that line of reasoning go. "And hers. Her kids. You son of a bitch, I bet you made her - *
A hand pushed him back against the bench seat. * Listen. She decided to file, smart guy. She did. I left her alone, like you asked... even though it's stone stupid for me to not have her... wired up, like you. Isn't it? *
* Yeah, b- *
* She's kept up her end of the bargain... and I've held up mine. *
He fumed for a few seconds.
Then he blinked, and it was dark outside. He was drunk, with a big Havana between his teeth, half-gone. The cab of the truck was full of smoke and country rock...
* Where are we? *
* Oh yeah," Zeke scoffed. * Right. *
* You're just gonna bail out of any argument you're losing, huh? *
* If I want... Plus when you get like that, there's no reasoning with you - *
* Horseshit. *
He smoked for a minute or so.
* I don't wanna be the bad guy all the time. *
Tim didn't say anything.
* I'm not the cause of all your problems. *
He made a coughing noise. * No, just ninety-nine percent of 'em. *
* What? You mean Tina? You two were bored with each other as it was. You were already waiting for her to make a move just like this. Filing the papers. Admit it... *
* Yeah. Okay. But it would've been nice if the biggest crisis in my life had nothing the fuck to do with you. *
* Well... I got that. And you know I didn't set out to make you a... swinging divorceé. * And then, unexpectedly, Zeke's voice became... kinda anxious. * Don't you? *
It was a rare moment. Tim knew, beyond a doubt, that it was on the up-and-up. He sighed, sorta sick to his stomach... * Yeah. *
Zeke felt relieved - and Tim was all too aware of it.
* Since you're not going to let me go anytime soon, * Tim said caustically, * you better do right by Tina and the kids. *
* Their fate is more important to you than your own. *
* Uh... yeah. Actually. *
* So maybe... it'd be true to think you're buying their freedom. *
Tim thought that one over. * Damn you. *
That made it laugh. * Hey, we're gettin' close. Time to blindfold you. *
Handcuffs were next.
*There really are people on this planet who would be glad to let you have your way with 'em - *
* Awwww, I reckon I'm just shy. *
* Like hell. I don't like this, Zeke. Just in case it wasn't clear. I will never, ever want to be fucked with. *
* I know. But that's one of the things that makes you critters so interesting. *
A few minutes later, Zeke parked the truck and pulled Tim out of it. The blindfold was pulled off.
He stood, blinking, in front of a log cabin. He didn't recognize the trees... only that he was at a lower altitude -
* Okay, hoss. * The door swung out, slow and creaky. Menacing.
Tim's heart was double-timing it. He looked at his boots -
Zeke gave him a push. Low in his back, but above the handcuffs. Not an especially mean push, but a firm one. * Come see what I got ready for ya. * He started moving, full of reluctance. Couple yards to go, and he'd be in. * I've been looking forward to this since that first morning... *
* To what? * Tim said, stalling. Hoping for an immediate earthquake, flash flood, anything.
* Gettin' you... in a place like this - * And it shoved him again, through the doorway, * for a good, long week. *
Behind him, the door squealed like a stuck pig. Then several pneumatic bolts fired, sealing it.
* Naw, let's make it two. *
05sep2001