25

Once under shelter they touched and teased each other, but Spencer was too stressed to be able to do much. Floyd needed Reid to sleep, but he didn't want to drug him further and so it was a loving massage of the feet, legs, butt, back, shoulders and neck which Floyd gave Spencer until the breathing changed to that deep sleep filled breaths he always had just prior to falling into the crazy dreams.

Floyd slid silently out of the shelter and sat at the entrance for a few minutes, just to ensure that Spencer didn't awaken. He then stood and walked to a tree on the other side of the fire. On the way over he picked up a couple of tree branches from a small pile and added them to the fire. Floyd sat at the base of the tree and looked across the clearing to the shelter and waited. He smoked four of his never ending supply of cheroots before Sam showed himself. Sam walked over slowly and quietly and handed over the note to Floyd. 'You wanted to talk to me?' He whispered as he knelt down in front of Floyd.

'Yeah, I need to talk to you. Tomorrow I'm heading back to the road again. There's a place only a few miles in that direction.' Floyd pointed. 'You cant follow.'

Sam rested his hands on Floyd's knees. 'And why cant I follow? How else am I going to keep Spencer amused every morning?'

Floyd's hands rested over Sam's. 'Well that's kind of the point, Sammy. You did a good job. It ends now. Go back.'

Small dirty, but pale fingers dug into Floyd's knees. 'Go back where? I've not got no place to go back to, unless you mean college and I don't think they'll have me back.'

Floyd sighed and licked his lips. 'I just need you out of the way for a little while. I need time just with Spencer to cement what's been started here. He needs me, Sam. You can cope out here alone. You've proved that much; just don't go around killing folks. Live out here for a year or so and I'll come back for you.'

'A year? Out here? Alone? On my own? With no one else? What the fuck? I'm not staying out here alone and you don't need Spencer if you've got me. Have you forgotten how happy I can make you? Have you forgotten all those lovely treats I know about? You cant really believe that you can just abandon me out here.'

There was a nod from Floyd as he removed his hands away from Sam's. 'It boils down to the fact that I cant handle you both. Now I've thought about this carefully, don't think I've not. The decision on what to do has been doing my bloody head in, boy, but you're just this little slut boy with a willing arse. There's no… no fight in you. I cant look at you with pride and know that I've battered and smacked you into place 'cos you've always been in that place. You're just a whore. A lovely little cuntboy, but I need to feel that… power? Is that the correct word? I need to feel that I have pushed you into submission… That's what I get with Spence. That's what I need. You're too easy.'

'You like easy.' Sam hissed. His hands moved too. They moved to the belt Floyd was wearing. 'You've just forgotten how good it is to be sucked off by me. Let me remind you.'

Floyd placed a hand on the top of Sam's dirty head. He had been meaning to grab his hair and pull him away. For the first time in Floyd's life he was going to turn down a blow job because he had a slight niggling feeling of guilt… At least he thought that sick feeling was guilt. The hand though didn't pull Sam away. Sam's little fingers moved with professional speed and though Floyd was muttering. 'Get the hell off me. Get off. Don't do that. Fucking shit in hades, get off me!' But Sam didn't get off him and that hand was forcing Sam's head further into position. Even if Sam had wanted to stop now it wouldn't have been possible.

Sam didn't want to stop though.

Spencer stirred and rolled over in the shelter. He reached out for Floyd and found he was gone. Slowly Spencer sat up and then crawled from the shelter and his eyes locked on what he could see the other side of the fire. His ears locked on a few words which drifted over… 'Stop… Get off…' with a few curse words in the mix of grunting and yelps and as Spencer picked up a stout bit of wood from next to the fire there was a low growling howl coming from Floyd. Spencer could see that Floyd was sitting and he could see something… some dark demonic thing on him. In Spencer's confused head it was something from the shadows. It was the thing which had been leaving warnings. It was the devil creature or the thing from the shadows and whatever it was doing to Floyd would have to stop.

The first Floyd knew that something was wrong was Sam biting down.

The next thing he heard was someone screaming. The teeth let go, Floyd howled in pain. Sam was ripped away from him… and now it was Spencer who was screaming.

The first Sam knew that something was wrong was when something hard hit him over the back of the head. He did bite down… though he didn't have time to work out if he'd drawn blood or not. He was being pulled away and again something was hitting him. It smacked down across his face, it smashed at his hands as he tried to defend himself. It cracked him in the mouth (and he heard something inside his skull shatter). It was the smack after the one to his jaw and mouth though which stopped the pain and let Sam drift off somewhere a bit less uncomfortable.

'Spencer!' Floyd was on his knees trying to snag at Reid who had flown into such a wild rage that he couldn't hear anything anymore. The length of wood just carried on smacking down on Sam. 'Spencer it's Sam!' Floyd had one hand holding carefully onto his groin and the other managed to grab a hold of Spencer. 'For the love of fuck what have you done?'

It was those words which Floyd was screaming which finally filtered through Spencer's drugged mind. He dropped the length of wood and turned to look at Floyd. 'It was… it… it was…'

'Sam! He was giving me a blow job you stupid son of a bitch! If you've hurt him… may the gods help you Reid.'

Spencer turned back to look at the mud and blood splattered thing laying still on the ground. 'Sam?' He shook his head. 'No… no it…'

'He fucking bit my cock! I'm bleeding!' Floyd crawled forward to look at what Spencer had done. 'You fucking idiot! You stupid motherfucking cunt!' Slowly Floyd got to his feet. 'I was telling him… I'd just finished telling him that I wanted you. I'd just told him. He was trying to persuade me otherwise.' Floyd cocked his head to one side. 'Doesn't matter how far you run or for how long you run… I'm going to come after you and slowly tear you apart with my bare hands. You're a dead man Reid.'

This was bad. This was very bad. Floyd was calling him Reid. 'I didn't know!' Spencer was already taking steps away from Floyd who was pulling the limp battered Sam onto his own painful lap.

'Well you do now. Run pretty boy. Run for your fucking life. No one takes what's mine. Not even you.'

'He'll be all right Floyd. Sam's tough.'

'Fuck off! Go! Leave me. He could have bitten the best part of me off when you smacked him on the head. My pain is caused by you. Understand me Spencer? Do you understand? Run… I'll at least give you a while to re-gather your thoughts. I don't want to have to kill you when you've not had the chance to think about what you just did.' He paused and looked down at what was left of Sam's face. 'But so help me Spencer, I promise I'll come after you. And you know I always keep a promise.' The matter that Floyd had caused Spencer's confusion and paranoia didn't matter. Nothing mattered now except that Spencer had done this to his Sam. Had Sam done this to Spencer it would likely have had the same results. Both of them were Floyd's. No one takes what is Floyd's. No one who wants to live.

'I'm sorry!' Spencer felt the pointless words coming out of his mouth as he took another step away from Floyd. 'Please…'

'Fuck off!' Floyd bellowed. 'Fuck the hell off away from me. Go back to Hotchner and cry on his shoulder and then get yourself life long security, cos I'm going to come for you Doctor Reid. Believe me… I'm gonna get you.'

'I didn't know!' Spencer shouted back at him. 'I would never hurt Sam. You know I'd never hurt him. I thought he was dead!'

'Well he sure as hell is now!'

'He cant be…' Spencer looked at his hands and saw the blood splatter on them and on his shirt sleeves. 'I thought he was killing you.'

'Only you can kill me with your mouth, and that's not meant as a compliment. Get the hell out of my sight. I don't want you hanging around while I do what I need to do here. Leave. Be grateful that I'm letting you live for now. Always watch your back though babes. Keep your windows and doors locked, not that doing that makes a difference. I'm gonna come and tear your sweet murdering hide apart and make me a new belt and cheroot case from your skin. Get the fuck out! What are you looking at?'

'It's dark.' Spencer whispered, but he turned, picked up his backpack and walked slowly away.

'Run you motherfucker! Run to fucking Hotchner. Get back to your little Fed buddies and cry into their arms. Explain to them what the hell you did and see if they give you sympathy. I'm sure Agent Aaron Hotchner will have a few words to say to you… a cock to comfort you with! And if when I come for you Reid, if you smell of Hotchner he'll die too.'

Floyd didn't bother to watch Spencer run. He could hear he was running. Like the coward he was. Like the scalded child he was running back to where he belonged. Back to the world of serial killers and rapists. Or was he running from serial killers and rapists? Floyd didn't care. He didn't care when he heard Spencer yelp… or when he heard the crashing around and what sounded a bit like someone running into a lot of trees. Floyd would get Spencer for this. Spencer was going to do a hell of a lot of making up to get back on the good side of Floyd.

Reid ran… but not far. He didn't run into a tree. He ran into the willing and open arms of some fur clad hunters.

o-o-o

Floyd did what he had to. He sat for a while looking at the direction Spencer had gone in and half expected him to return with a bloody nose and an apology, but after ten minutes or so the forest had fallen back into a silence only broken by the crackling of the fire and odd noises coming from himself. He would deny strongly that he was maybe crying. There was no one here – alive – to say he was anyway. Who would dare even suggest such a thing.

He placed Sam on the ground next to the fire and prepared him. It was a messy job, but in a way Sam deserved what was done to him. It was really what he'd done to some of those soldiers not so many days ago. He tore open the chest, removed the heart, and sat at the side of the dying fire and munched down. Floyd then dragged Sam into the shelter he'd made for himself and Spencer and laid him on his back. He covered him in leaves and twigs and pulled a bit of cloth out of his bag and covered Sam's face. He didn't talk. He groaned softly occasionally. The rest of the night he sat outside the shelter with his back to the entrance and looked at the fire which was very rapidly burning down. Floyd would have liked to have been able to blame Spencer for all of this. He would have liked to have gone after him now and shown him his wrath, but there was a niggling feeling that if he'd not kept Spencer drugged, confused and paranoid this might not have happened. If he'd not told Sam to increase the paranoia by completing his night time tasks this might not have happened. If he'd not lied to Spencer this might not have happened. If he'd not gotten that last blow job off Sam this might not have happened. He wriggled closer to the fire and knelt so that he could inspect the damage done. 'I'm not going to be able to fuck for a month of buggering Sundays.' He moaned.

Floyd's anger at Spencer dissipated. Not because he was less sure that it was Spencer's fault. Not that he understood that Spencer thought he was saving him from something vile which had crept out of the shadows, but because he had a sudden fear that Sam had passed some nasty arse to mouth disease onto him.

Floyd stayed at the campsite until Sam began to make smells which Floyd didn't much want to smell. He went to into the forest and picked some wild flowers and tossed them into the shelter. 'There you go Sammy. When you're ready… come back to me huh?' Floyd walked away. He didn't walk in the direction Spencer had gone, but slightly more westerly and towards the road which he'd been avoiding. Now was time to get back to the city and get things sorted.

o-o-o

In the first instance, Spencer thought he'd run into solid shadow. He thought they'd found him and were going to kill him there in the dark where he stood. It might have been better if he'd been right. The band of rag tag men did to Spencer much as they had previously done to Sam. He had hands tied behind his back and a gag stuffed in his mouth and tied into place. They propelled him along through the forest at a speed which was more like one Floyd would have taken than he would have. He wanted to ask who the hell they were. He wanted to ask what they wanted, but he couldn't. He saw no point in trying to fight his way out of this. There were too many of these unshaven brutes for him to be able to even contemplate running. Where would he run to? Back to Floyd? They dragged and pulled him through the forest until the morning light came up and only then did they let him sit. They untied his hands and removed the gag and offered him water. He sipped it cautiously, but as he didn't gag on it or begin to feel sick, he figured it wasn't poisoned. Why drag him all the way out here just to poison him anyway.

'Doctor Reid.' A tall man took the small metal cup away from Spencer.

Reid's eyes went wide. They knew him? These people knew who he was? How was that possible? 'Erm.' He replied, not sure where this was going to go next.

'A Federal Agent.' The tall man now said and Spencer's heart leapt to his throat.

'What makes you think that? I was just out camping with my friend.'

'Oh we know all about you and your friend. Been following you for a few days. Sam told us quite a bit about you. Said you're worth money.'

Spencer stared at the man. 'Sam?'

'The lad whose brains you splattered over the forest. Surely you remember him?

'What do you want with me? Let me go. You've not hurt me as such.' He rubbed at his wrists. 'You can let me go and I'll find my way back to the road. No one needs to know what happened.'

'Well you sort of killed someone didn't you Doctor Reid? Could hand you in for some reward for that at least. That's if you're no good to ransom as a Fed.'

o-o-o

The next few days saw Spencer dragged to what appeared to be a rough hewn cave with a barred door. He was manacled to the rear wall by one ankle. Over in the other corner was a boy of about twelve years old also manacled to the wall. He was given food and water and a bucket to relieve himself in. Initially the lad didn't talk to him. He stayed as far away from Spencer as he could and eyed him with great caution. Spencer attempted to speak to him, but got nothing in reply to his questions.

'What is this place? How long have you been here? How many people are here? Are there any women? Do they keep you here, or let you out sometimes…' (He got the answer to that without having had a reply from the boy.) 'Do your parents know you're here? Have they hurt you? Why are you here?' When questions got him no where Spencer introduced himself. 'I'm Spencer. Do you have a name?' The boy shook his head. 'I'm from Vegas, have you ever been there?' The boy snorted an answer. 'I suppose it's not for everyone, but I like Vegas.' It went on like this for about an hour and then Spencer gave up for a while. The cave was about twenty foot square and the ceiling was about ten foot high. There was a pile of straw for Reid to sit on and though it was actually dry, it was scratchy and uncomfortable. He sat looking at the lad for a while and then thought of what he'd done to Sam. He talking inwardly to himself about how it couldn't have been Sam. It was impossible to have been, but if it wasn't, why was Floyd so angry? Spencer wasn't sure if anger was the right word though, it was more like shock. Floyd seemed maybe more upset than angry and why would he feel like that if it was just some random shadow demon thing?

This meant that it must have actually been Sam. The same Sam he'd sworn he would protect, even though he loathed him. Spencer then tried to reason with himself over what he'd done. Sam had after all slaughtered those poor men. But this just made Spencer feel that he was no better than Sam had been when he'd killed them. Killing someone who was unarmed… not just killing them, but battering them to death when they'd been no direct threat. It made Spencer feel sick. Then he more than felt it. He spent a while kneeling in front of his bucket, puking up the few bits of food he'd had.

The following day his answer about if the boy ever left the cave was answered. The barred door rattled open and a short plump hairy man collected the boy. Spencer listened out for screams but heard none. He'd been expecting to hear the sounds of a young person being tortured echoing through the cave complex, but the only thing he could hear was maybe the very distant sound of a motor cycle revving. During the time the boy was away Spencer had his bucket emptied and was given more food and water. He asked repeatedly where he was and what they wanted with him and he got not even a twitch for an answer. The cave Spencer was in faced a rock wall. There was nothing to see, but daylight of some kind did filter down to where he was. He thought he couldn't have been too far from the outside. All that time he'd been with Floyd he wanted shelter and roof over his head and now he had it, he wanted desperately to be with Floyd again. Floyd would rescue him. Maybe he'd rescue him just so he could be the one to kill him, but Spencer was sure that he would.

The boy returned and was attached back to the wall. Spencer could see that he looked tired and dirty.

'My name is Spencer.' He tried again.

'I know. You told me that already.'

'Do you have a name?'

He nodded this time. 'Adam.'

Now Spencer nodded too. 'Where did they take you? Are you all right?'

'And what's it to do with you? What can you do about anything?'

'I can listen to you. I can talk to you.' Spencer tried on a smile. 'Did they hurt you?'

'No. I've been chopping wood and getting food ready. They don't hurt me. Why would they hurt me? I do what they ask. I get food and water and sometimes something different to drink. I've nothing to complain about.' The lad then curled up on his straw and fell asleep.

Sleep didn't come as easily for Spencer. He too curled up, but tossed and turned and waited. Waited for Floyd to come to his rescue. Floyd almost always did. He tried not to keep replaying over and over in his head what he'd done to Sam. He attempted to convince himself that it wasn't Sam who he'd attacked. He tried to give himself a reason for what he'd done, but as the days and nights passed and the effects of the drugs Floyd had been giving him wore off the more he could see what had been going on. Now he could play back those nights Floyd protected him when the haunting sounds had been going on in the forest. Now those noises sounded like Sam. The way the van had been attacked seemed like something Sam would do. The drawings in the dirt had been done by Sam. It was all Sam and Floyd knew it. Floyd had left a note to talk to the thing which had been following them knowing it was Sam and knowing that Sam would come to him and give Floyd what he wanted. Why Floyd felt he had to play mind games like that was beyond Spencer, but maybe now he could see how dangerous it was to push the way he had. Spencer's wooziness had died off now and he had that post pounding headache feeling which he got after Floyd had been drugging him. This was what Sam had been worried about. Sam had been refusing to eat what Floyd had given him and Floyd had admitted that he drugged Sam. Spencer now wondered why he thought he was so special that Floyd wouldn't do the same to him. Spencer felt a deep growing anger. Floyd had pushed him to the very edge and when he finally slipped over the edge, Floyd had blamed him for it.

Spencer counted off on his fingers the days he was held in that cave. He reached the day he was going to have to move onto his toes when finally someone came to get him. They removed the manacle and escorted him out of the cave. Now he could see where he was. A large encampment. Wooden buildings, some with corrugated iron roofs and some with wooden roofs. These people seemed organised. They had electricity. They had a main road going through the middle. Some places were thick canvas tents. There didn't seem to be any women, but there were young boys and girls sitting in the dirt watching what was going on. No one seemed worried or upset at the situation. This was there home. Spencer was taken to a small log cabin and told to sit in a chair. There was a rough made table in front of him and sitting the other side of that table was a grey haired middle aged man with a patch over one eye. He looked at Spencer and sighed.

'Federal Agents are not good for ransom.' He informed Spencer. 'So I'm not even going to start to go in that direction.'

Spencer nodded. 'What do you want from me?'

'Names. Addresses. Passwords. Information.'

Spencer sat stock still and said nothing more.

o-o-o

Floyd walked down the road with a vast empty feeling inside.

He hitched a lift from a truck driver.

He didn't kill him. He didn't even hardly talk to him. Floyd thought that if he'd started a conversation with this large stomached man that he might have spilled everything in one long ear splitting scream, so Floyd just mumbled a general location he wanted to get to and said nothing else. He shared his cheroots. He drank a beer offered when they stopped off for an hour break, but he didn't have a conversation with this man. John Mayer was maybe one of the luckiest men ever born. He had a beautiful wife and four children of mixed genders. He had a small house which always had a smell of fresh baked bread about it. He had a small red car. He didn't argue with his wife and she didn't have affairs (as far as he knew). He also spent three days in the company of Floyd Flanders and lived to tell the tale. Not that there was much to tell. John Mayer dropped Floyd off at the outskirts of the city. He was going to take the truck back to the depot and then go home to his wife. They had planned a barbeque for that weekend. He thought of asking this strange silent, brooding man if he wanted to join them.

'You got somewhere to stay?' He enquired.

'Nu hu.' Floyd replied.

'You got money?' Damn… John was that nice you know? He offered Floyd twenty bucks, but Floyd turned it down.

'No ta.' He said. 'Have a nice day.' Floyd said as he slipped from the cab and shouldered his backpack. There was a vile waft of sweat and dirt which followed him. He gave John Mayer a small salute and a sideways smile and slammed the truck door. The truck moved away slowly and then turned a corner and was gone. Floyd never saw John Mayer again. That horrible empty place inside of Floyd had contained his need to do what came naturally to him and now it was gone. He needed to get that back again. He needed Sam back again. He needed Spencer back again. Floyd walked with his head down towards the city proper. It was a long walk but he didn't mind. It gave him time to think without having to worry about if he broke out into a howl of despair.

A very rare moment found Floyd using a public telephone. He rang Reid's apartment and reached the answer phone. Funny thing was that it was Floyd's voice which was on the recording. He pressed the button on the cradle and called a different number. It was Hotchner's home number. Again it was an answer phone, but this time it was some random voice which probably came with the phone telling him that there was no one there. 'Fuck.' Floyd muttered. He called Spencer's cell but knew he'd not answer it. He then stood in a dirty noisy street and wondered what to do next.

Floyd stood outside Spencer's apartment door. He looked at the scratches in the wood and ran a finger over them. He knocked. He could have broken in but he felt the need to knock. No one answered. There was no sound from the other side of the door. Spencer wasn't there. Floyd didn't think Spencer had been there. Floyd put that down to the fact that he'd threatened to kill him. 'Fuck.' He said again. That need to kill Spencer had died off slightly. He wanted to punish him… hell yes! But skin him? Probably… skin him alive… maybe not so much. Floyd rested his head on Spencer's door for a few minutes and then walked away again.

He headed for the dark back streets and alley ways. He skulked in empty door ways. He slid down behind big bins from the shops out front. He curled up in the filth and watched through the gap under the bin. He watched rats, some of which he snatched at and bit down on. He watched the feet of pimps and drug dealers but he didn't let on that he was there. He didn't sleep. He was waiting.

If Sam was going to be returned to him he would come to somewhere like this. Maybe not tonight, maybe not even this month or year, or even maybe not in the life time of most or any of the people here, but eventually he would return and he'd come looking for Floyd. He would sniff him out, and so Floyd gave up plenty for Sam to sniff. He urinated where he was curled up. He let his nose bleed on the rubbish behind the bins. He moved on without shouting or killing when the store owner came out to empty rubbish and saw Floyd laying there amongst old needles and a gross variety of other odds and ends. Floyd moved on. He found a new place to mark. He marked his territory with his smells. No one bothered him. Most of the regulars around here, the rent boys, the whores and junkies, they knew Floyd and they kept their distance and that was just fine with him. He kept his boots on. He found a woolly hat in his backpack and pulled it down over his filthy hair.

Floyd spent a whole month without fucking, killing, shouting, thieving, fighting or doing much but lurking in shadows waiting.

Floyd had originally thought that he could wait forever for his boys to come back to him. He could have waited until the earth crashed into the sun for his boys… but it was four weeks already, the earth hadn't crashed into the sun, Spencer hadn't come looking for him, and Sam hadn't been returned. Floyd was running out of patience. Floyd was feeling that the empty place inside was filling up. What it was filling up with was anger and greed but most of it was filled up with a hell of a big sulk. His dick still hurt. It hurt when he pissed. It was blinding agony when he masturbated… He thought it was time to visit a hospital and see if someone (a young fair haired male nurse maybe) could rub some ointment on it for him. The weird smell Floyd was carrying around was smelling sour. He left his manhood in his pants for a further week and let out tears of agony when he pissed himself and finally decided that, yes, his cock was rotting. Sam would pay for what he'd done… as soon as Sam was back here Floyd was going to beat the living shit out of the cock biting little dead cunt.

Then he'd hunt down Spencer and stuff a long red hot instrument of torture up his arse.

Firstly though, hospital.