Darkness Follows
Thad Beaumont could barely steady his breathing as he waited anxiously in the old motel room, his arms folded around himself in a crude embrace, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. He fought them back every time and focused on counting the cracks in the plaster above him. In front of him on the cheap motel desk sat a notebook with a sharpened Berol Black Beauty pencil sitting atop it, with two packs more crammed into a mason jar nearby. Thad forced himself to pick up the pencil and place the tip on the page, hearing a soft twittering which he believed could easily be the sound of a couple of pleased sparrows. Sighing, he started writing, ignoring the sounds around him.
STEEL MACHINE
By George Stark
The name itself sent a terrible tremor through Thad, but he pushed it away and forced himself to keep going, if only for the sake of his sanity and the fluttery feeling in his stomach. It had taken him nearly seven months to discern what that particular fluttery feeling was, but once he had honestly looked himself in the face and forced himself to tell the truth, he knew what he had to do, and he knew he had to do it now.
Bending over the notebook, he started to write.
Chapter 1: The Wedding
Alexis Machine was rarely whimsical, and for him to have a whimsical thought in such a situation as this was something which had never happened before. Yet it occurred to him:
What occurred to him, Thad?
A jolt shot through Thad, and he glanced around the room, listening carefully for the signs of an intruder. No dark shapes looming in the corners, no almost silent footfalls, no foggy breath. He was still along in the room.
But not really alone, old hoss.
The voice sent a fine tremor through Thad's body, but he pushed it away and bent over the notebook again. His job was unfinished.
Yet it occurred to him: Of all the people on earth—what? five billion of them?—I'm the only one who is currently standing inside a moving wedding cake with a Heckler & Koch .223 semiautomatic weapon in my hands.
He had never been so shut up in a place.
"Just like you're shut up, Thad?"
Thad did not hesitate to push the notebook away and stand, turning and throwing his arms around the man behind him without even looking up to see what it was. Because, in these sorts of situations, we all know who it is behind us, right, boys and girls? Maybe it's the murderer, maybe it's the sibling that's been missing since the beginning of the movie, but we always know. And Thad knew without looking who he was wrapped around while he sobbed like a child needing to be comforted from a particularly horrible nightmare. Because it had been horrible, a horrible fucking existence indeed without his so-called alter ego.
He felt large, warm hands cup his face and tilt it upward, felt a rough but not unloving mouth cover his lips, felt strong arms circle his waist, almost lifting him off of his feet. When he shifted even slightly, the person moved with him, as if knowing his every movement before he knew he would be performing it.
George knew things like that.
"Ike and Mike, they think alike," a voice said aloud, a slight Southern twang evident, but only if you were really looking for it. "Ain't that right, old hoss?"
Thad nodded breathlessly as he stared into George's dark brown eyes, his head swimming, body hot and sweating underneath the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing. When he felt his eyes flutter closed, he tried desperately to force them up.
"Relax," George whispered, easing his arms around Thad, this time lifting him off the ground, carrying him towards the bed. "You ain't got anybody to impress around here, Thad. We both know the score." He placed an easy kiss on Thad's forehead before laying him out on the thin comforter.
George himself would have preferred something just a little better, but anything would do. Hell, the desk would do just fine if it came to that. The floor, if nothing else. He had been gone far too long, and he was finding he had missed Thad as much as Thad had obviously missed him. The notebook was the evidence. Of course it was. And later, maybe when Thad was asleep, George might just sit down and work a little, maybe write a couple of pages before turning in to feel the heat of Thad's body in his arms. Maybe so, maybe no. He would just have to see.
Thad moaned quietly, those flawless bright brown eyes sliding open just enough to see the irises and their color. George moved over him, sliding into the empty space beside him and pulling Thad into his arms. When Thad whimpered, begging for a kiss, George conceded and covered Thad's mouth with his own again, reaching over to push Thad's t-shirt up enough to touch the soft skin of his stomach. Thad reacted as expected, melting, his body sagging in George's arms. When George pulled away, he was not half surprised to see the misty pleasure in Thad's eyes.
"You really must have missed me, huh, hoss?" George whispered.
Thad nodded silently and slipped in for another kiss.
Hours passed, but neither of them noticed when the sky's color darkened from sunset to night and to sunrise. By the time George slumped back on the mattress, still sweating from the exertion, his back was aching from the way Thad's fingers had dug in with every thrust, and his ears were ringing with Thad's screams and moans. Thad himself was still shivering slightly, eyes rolled back in his head as he still rode an impossibly long wave of pleasure. George kissed him goodnight, waited until Thad fell asleep, and then moved to the desk, taking one more glance at Thad's sleeping body, then stopping to cover him with the comforter.
George sat down and picked up the pencil Thad had discarded, then looked down at the paper.
He had never been so shut up in a place.
And he began to write.
But he knew, out there in the room somewhere, Jack Rangley was standing with a Steyr-Aug semi-automatic, and though Machine could have ditched the entire thing, could have shown up in disguise, put some make-up on his face or something, it was events like this that he and Jack pulled that got him all the high he needed. It was watching Jack's wild mane of black hair fly around his merciless face.
When Thad stirred around noon, he saw George sitting at the desk, scratching away in a notebook.
Smiling, he turned over and went back to sleep.