Chapter 11: Press Delete

Billy drove the pick-up in silence. Miles was grateful for that small favor. He was not sure he could talk to him without screaming. Miles clenched the dog collar in his hands, smoothing his thumb across the engraving on the metal tag. Puddles. Miles had never had a dog and did not particularly like the animals. What Miles did care about was protecting those being hurt unfairly.

The car pulled up in front of the rundown house and Billy shifted into park. He sighed as he turned to look at Miles in the passenger seat. "I'm sorry you saw that. I'm not a child you know. You can just talk to me about it. You don't have to go to my grandfather like you're tattling on some kid on the playground."

"I'm not here to judge you and what you are or what you do," Miles said, staring out the window to purposely avoid Billy's eyes. "But Wernicke...that asshole lied to me. He told me the Walrider was not a weapon."

"A weapon? Of course it's not a weapon, it's a swarm of nanites that my body produces because of the way the scientists reprogrammed me with the..."

"Yeah. But why? They wouldn't sink all this money just for the scientific joy of it. Murkoff is expecting some kind of payoff for perfecting this technology. They're going to use it as a weapon."

"That's going to be difficult then," Billy said. Miles shrugged without turning to look at Billy and opened the truck door. "It'll be difficult because they probably can't control who becomes the host..." Miles ignored Billy, opening the door and jumping out before slamming it shut behind him. Billy quickly scrambled out of the aged vehicle to follow Miles. "I tried to tell you. I tried to tell you, I'm not the...innocent person you think I am. I've done things."

Miles stopped at the door and turned to glare at Billy. "You slaughter animals like that frequently?"

"Define frequently?" Billy asked, his face completely serious.

Miles rolled his eyes and walked into the house stalking through the kitchen and into Wernicke's room. The life-support chair whirred louder than usual and Billy walked in and immediately set into action fiddling with some dials and switches. Miles stood back near the wall and studied the pair as Billy worked. Sometimes it was difficult to even tell if Wernicke was awake, but all the vitals said he was still alive.

"It's a goddamn weapon," Miles said without any prelude. The only response was Billy turning to give a sad look at Miles before continuing with his task. "Project Walrider is making a weapon. An indestructible killing machine. They wanted it to be sentient for fuck's sake! Making its own decisions, who lives and dies? Who thought this was a good idea? You?"

"What happened, Billy?" Wernicke asked in his usual wheezing tone.

"Dog came up, threatened the cows. Neutralized the threat," Billy murmured.

"Yeah," scoffed Miles. "He neutralized a threat named Puddles who wandered onto your property and was barking at some cows. And by neutralize he means shredded into a million pieces in midair and watered the ground with its blood."

"You know better than to exercise the swarm's abilities where others might observe," Wernicke said. "You put us all at danger. After all we have done to keep you safe, you would risk it for such a simple threat?"

"You know how it is," hissed Billy. He pushed his wide-brimmed hat off his head and set it on the bed. He combed his fingers through his wavy hair compulsively.

"Well, I don't know how it is, so enlighten me," Miles said, his anger starting to diminish as he witnessed the strange behavior. The all too familiar buzzing began in the room and Billy began to pace nervously.

"It's not human," Billy spat as he paced, not looking at anyone in particular. "The swarm is only concerned with its own continued existence. It fights to keep me healthy and young. It fights to keep me mentally happy so I'm not a danger to myself and therefore its continuance. And any threat, no matter how small, it immediately wishes only to neutralize it as quickly as possible."

"So the Walrider killed that dog? You didn't want to?" Miles pressed, even though he could tell by the increased pacing that Billy was growing agitated and pushing too hard could make him unstable. Considering what happened to Puddles, Miles felt his body tense up in case he needed to run.

"I...I didn't want to kill someone's dog. But, what it wants and what I want...it gets kind of jumbled in my brain. Sometimes it's easier to just agree than to fight it," Billy said. He abruptly stopped pacing and stared up at Miles. The buzzing sound was still in the background and the edges of Billy's irises seemed to be leaking into his sclera.

"So you can control it?"

"Of course," Billy said.

"Mister Upshur," wheezed Wernicke from his chair, "Billy did not ask to have this thrust upon him. It was a struggle for years to get to where he is now. I am afraid I may have glossed over some of the details of Billy's lateral ascension. Exactly why it was not hard to convince everyone that he was dead."

"No," Billy pleaded, staring at Wernicke in his chair. "Grandfather, please, let me...let me tell him. I don't like the way you tell it and..." Billy stopped talking to grab at his head and the buzzing in the room grew much louder. It was so loud Miles had to rub his own forehead to stem the acute headache the noise caused. It was a strange sound like static over the airwaves mixed with bees swarming around their hive. "Excuse me," Billy muttered, pushing out of the room and walking through the house.

"He disintegrated that dog," Miles said once Billy was gone. "There was nothing left but a few chunks and a fuck-ton of blood. You knew about this? You knew the Walrider could do this?"

"It was created to be a tool, Mister Upshur," Wernicke said, his finger flicking to turn the chair slightly to face Miles. "A hammer is a tool. When used incorrectly, the tool could injure the user. In the wrong hands, a hammer is a weapon. I did not mislead you. The Walrider is no more a weapon than a hammer."

"Does he kill often?" Miles asked, not sure if he meant Billy or if he'd began to think of the Walrider as a male. There was no answer, and no change to Wernicke's slack face. "Humans?" Still nothing but the click and whir of machines. "Fuck this..." Miles said before storming out of Wernicke's room and walking down to Billy's. The buzzing grew louder as he got closer. Billy was inside, sitting on his bed with his face held in his hands and his body shivering.

"So you really are a monster? You kill pets and people?"

Billy slowly lowered his hands and stared at the floor, giving no indication he had even heard Miles speak.

"Tell me."

"Why do you want to know? Is this for your article—your investigation? Or are you asking as my...lover."

"I'm asking as a friend," Miles said, sighing. He was pleased when the buzzing died down. Miles pressed closer to Billy. His presence seemed to have a calming effect.

"I did not know what had happened to me. I was an angry child. My mother was dead and I wanted all of them dead. The Walrider fused with me and...it took over for a while. I let it. It happily fulfilled my childish wishes. I was immature and given such a great power.I did not kill Grandfather. He had been the only one fighting for me. The rest of the scientists and technicians were...well, you saw," Billy said.

Miles choked back an urge to vomit. "You're a murderer..."

"Do...do you really think so?" Billy asked, turning sad eyes on Miles.

"People died because of something you did."

"I didn't know. Grandfather said it was like giving a child a powerful tool. I made it dangerous and my anger combined with the power of the swarm took out every living soul in that laboratory," Billy said. "I was forced into something far beyond my capacity. The result hurt people—but I was as much a victim as them. They died, but I...I'm not dead, but what am I?"

Miles should have felt afraid—Billy was admitting to splattering a laboratory full of humans against the walls. Were they talking about a handful of people, or several dozen? Miles did not know. Did it matter? He stroked at his chin, feeling the scruff there, as he tried to determine his next move.

"My life was full of darkness. My father. The experiments. The...the therapy," Billy said, his voice sounding hollow. "Once my mother was dead I knew I was alone and thought that no one else cared. Grandfather did, though. He told everyone the swarm had destroyed me and everyone else that day. Buried evidence of the contrary. He made his own arrangements then retired and notice of his death seemed inevitable. His advanced age, plus the stress of witnessing that...no one really questioned. Murkoff was quick to put it all behind them."

"But they haven't. Not anymore," Miles said, feeling even sicker than before. They were experimenting on humans, potentially experimenting on Chris, and the end result was a sentient swarm of machines that could tear a person apart from the inside out. Shit. "I'm going to have to finish this story. I intend to publish it. You know that, right?"

Billy turned on the bed until he was looking directly into Miles' eyes. "You do what you have to do. Maybe you will even help those people. But please, don't leave." Billy frowned as he took a deep breath. "Don't leave me?"

Miles' eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. Billy was not afraid of Miles exposing him, but he was afraid of Miles leaving. "I'm not leaving," Miles said.

"Oh, thank you," Billy said, reaching forward to cup Miles' face and kissing him. Miles happily accepted the attention, still feeling slightly shaken that someone wanted him to stick around so badly. "There's still so much about you I need to learn. I liked what you said earlier, about dating. We should date," Billy said before adding, "...casually, of course."

"A casual date with a dog murderer," Miles said, frowning. "You can't do things like that. If you really do control this thing, then you need to make it count. Don't kill creatures. Don't you dare hurt a human being. You have to promise me..."

"I promise," Billy said, kissing Miles again, deeper, breathing into his mouth. Miles pulled Billy against his body and he responded with a seductive roll of his hips. "I would never hurt you. We would never hurt you. We promise you."

Miles nodded. "I need a shower..."

"...you can take one here, I just dried some towels this morning..."

"...and I need to do some work. I'm going to my hotel tonight," Miles said. He definitely needed a night of drinking after what he had seen and his motel room was the best place to do that.

"You're sure," Billy purred, moving his hand to grope along Miles' thigh until he found proof of his arousal and gave a firm squeeze. "Sure you don't want to stay here and let me repay you for earlier. Your mouth felt so good. Let me show you."

"It will have to wait," Miles said. He did not want to get into the fact that Miles knew those blood splatters on Billy's shirt were from someone's pet dog and it was really deterring any romantic feelings despite his body's physical reaction.

"Listen. If we are going to date," Billy said, licking his lips before he added again, "...then we should go on a date. Come out with me tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere special."

"That sounds nice," Miles said, sighing as he looked over at Billy. "I'll come back tomorrow."

"I will...that is to say..." Billy started then his young face creased in wrinkles as he seemed to concentrate to find the right words. He sighed and slouched forward until he could rest his head against Miles' shoulder. "I miss you when you're not around. Ever since you showed up everything feels...not right, when you're away."

"I'll be back. Promise," Miles said. He pulled in Billy for another quick hug before standing up and walking out of the house to his Jeep. Billy watched him drive away, a somber look on his young face. Miles found himself not wanting to leave, but he could not afford to get behind in his work again. Maybe he actually missed Billy as well.

Back at the motel, it was business as usual. Miles hammered away on his laptop while the local news blared on the low-definition television. There were still no cups in the room so the bourbon bottle was open and sitting out on the desk.

After putting the finishing touches on a post about a "Tubular Sale on Inflatable Sleds" Miles pushed his chair back and slammed his forehead on the table in frustration. This was really his life? Even two large gulps from the bottle could not erase the taste of bitter failure in his mouth. Of course that's when his phone would ring.

"Upshur."

"What did you do to me, Miles?" Waylon's voice was quiet and serious.

"Waylon? What's wrong?"

"The last time you were here," Waylon said, "you told me that you got off the other night. What did you do to me?"

"Nothing..." Miles drew the word out very long, "...much."

"It's important to our continued friendship that I know what you did."

Miles hummed, feeling rather confused and it was not all from the bourbon. "I kissed you." Miles could hear the sharp inhale clearly over the phone. An uncomfortable silence followed.

"Is that all?" Waylon asked.

"I kissed you, and you kissed back. But, you were asleep."

"That's not so bad," Waylon said. "So when you said you got off on it, it was just an expression, you really meant you kissed me and liked it."

"No, kissing you excited me so I humped you a little," Miles said, giving a humorless bark of laughter. "Like a horny fucking teenager—I needed some kind of friction between us. Like an itch I had to scratch. I shouldn't have, and I am really sorry. I did not touch you..."

"How could you not touch me if you were grinding on me?" Waylon asked, and his voice was breathy and light. Miles' eyebrows rose in surprise. Waylon did not sound mad in the least.

"I mean I never went under your clothes. I only touched myself and I was kissing your neck," said Miles. At first Miles thought he had heard a disappointed sigh from Waylon's side, until he realized it was actually a moan. If he had not have been drunk, he would not have pushed the issue. He should have ended the call there.

"I was straddling your body,tasting your neck while I brought myself off," Miles said, his voice low and rough. "You were so...soft and warm, and I knew I should stop but..."

"Why?" Waylon breathed into the phone. "Why would you do that..."

"Because to me you're irresistible. I know I shouldn't want you this badly, but...fuck, I do, and I can't seem to convince my head that it's impossible." There was a very long pause.

"What would you have done if I woke up?"

It was a simple question but it caught Miles completely off guard. He had not even considered that possibility that night. "I don't know. Try to blame it on the beer. Try to blame it on you and say you initiated it and didn't remember. I'm a selfish asshole I would have gone into self-preservation mode."

"What if I reciprocated?"

"Then I would have stripped you naked and fucked you all night long. What kind of question is that?" Miles chuffed into the phone. "I'm a bad friend to you. Since that night last year, I look at you that way. Yeah, you're my best friend, but I wanted you too. I wanted more."

What the fuck was he saying? Miles groaned and put his hand over his mouth to stop the pointless stream of drivel. "You should hate me." A pause. "Do you hate me?"

"No," Wayon whispered. "Surprised, but not angry. Except you need to not do anything like that ever again. Eddie would kill you."

"I'm not afraid of your meathead boyfriend..." Miles stopped. Images of Billy's hopeful little smile crept into Miles' drunken mind and refused to leave. The boy was starting to grow on him. "I'm...dating someone new right now. I can get past this-I just need some time. I haven't been obsessing over it as much recently, I haven't watched the video in..."

"Please, delete the video," Waylon interjected, breaking Miles' train of thought.

"I...I should but it's difficult..."

"It's not difficult. Press delete."

Beep.

Miles moved back to the cheap desk, recovering the bottle. He opened the video—one last time. He started it right near the end. After the initial experimentation, both men forgot about the camera. The camera angle was terrible and crooked. They were both only visible from the waist up. Miles' head hovered over Waylon's, moving in time with his body's thrusts. Miles remembered it so clearly in his mind. The original film-making purpose was forgotten when he was buried in that heat. Waylon was mewling and writhing, hands clawing at Miles, and for no real agreed upon reason they kissed. Long. Deep.

Miles bent his face down near Waylon's ear and whispered something that was only a mumble on the video. Waylon's response was immediate. Where Miles could not see, he broke out in a huge smile. Moments later, a shiny tear ran down his cheek. Miles had not known. He had laughed it off the next day. Denied having feelings. Blamed it on the heat of the moment. Broke Waylon's heart.

Delete his most precious memory? Well, he owed his friend that much. Before he could delete the file, however, Miles fired off a quick email to Waylon's main address and attached the video with the subject line: "Watch it and pretend the day after never happened." True to his word, Miles deleted the file and his copy of the email. He even emptied the recycling bin. Twice. The video was gone. Miles passed out with his computer still open and running.

Note: The update rate has decreased from 2 chapters a week to 1 chapter a week and potentially longer while I work through some difficult re-writes I felt necessary for the story to be as strong as I would like. Thanks for your patience and understanding!