Days Without Sun
Chapter Twenty-nine: Collision
Working his way as quickly down the corridors of Korovin's bunker as his caution allowed, Santo Justino felt his adrenaline build with each step. His keen ears strained momentarily as he passed each silent door, listening for any telltale sound of movement behind it.
He now held Aikawa's lipstick out again, uncapped along with his black-light in one hand; gun clasped in the other. He'd fallen into a rhythm, pausing at regular intervals to mark his totemic crosses. As he did this, his mind flashed with the fairytales his mother had told him as a child, most notably "Hansel and Gretel."
But this was no fiction, and Santo Justino quickly pushed these and any other stray thoughts from his mind as he focused on the narrow hall before him. He knew that in situations like this, a brain hopped up on danger could dart in all kinds of directions and one misstep would be all it took for him to lose his life and possibly others.
His eyes dropped back down momentarily to the mesmerizing trail that rolled glowing before him a far as the beam of his black-light extended. He tensed when after advancing several more yards, the path beyond him veered.
It curved sharply, disappearing beneath a closed door.
Santo Justino lightened his already near-silent steps. He marked a quick cross next to the door before he recapped Aikawa's lipstick once more and returned it and the light to his pocket. He was unsure of whether he did this now to illustrate his location or as petition for protection.
Depending on what was behind the thick wooden slab in front of him, he would soon find out.
Pressing his ear to the smooth, cool surface, he listened. The hand not gripping his gun took careful hold of the knob and twisted. The breath caught in Santo Justino's throat as the doorknob turned easily, quietly.
This was the moment that was always the worst: that second before he stepped into the unknown with no easy retreat.
It was the same when he'd been a cop. When he knew he had to proceed, but could never be sure of what the car he'd just pulled over carried, what lay behind the door of the call he was answering, or in the depths of the dark alley he was following a perpetrator into.
Once he knew what the fuck it was he was dealing with, he could react, respond, but until then…
Door unlatched, the detective gripped his gun with both hands. He nudged it open with his foot, stepping slightly off to the side. The movement of the door triggered a dim overhead light inside. Santo Justino tensed at the illumination and waited.
Silence.
Advancing carefully, he pressed the door open further. Met with no resistance, he slipped inside. His eyes took in the scene and he suppressed the chill that had suddenly run down his spine.
He no longer needed his black-light. Whatever carnage had occurred here had happened some time ago but the evidence of it was still clearly visible: beneath his feet, the tiled floor was black with dried blood.
Santo Justino's sharp eyes further scanned the room now that he felt sure it was empty.
Before him laid a small surgery set up. Two stainless steel tables shone dully in the weak overhead light. Mobile trays held dirty tools. Empty I.V. drips hung limply from poles.
Whatever happened here, it was messy.
Beneath one table was a large, dark stain of crusted blood.
That must have belonged to whoever made the trail I have been following.
Santo Justino doubted grimly if anyone could survive that kind of loss. He shook his head in sad dismay.
Despite the fact it had become obvious that no one had been in this room for some time, he moved further in; his eyes drawn to another door at the back of the surgery, this one steel.
Reaching the door, he set a palm on its surface. Under his skin he felt the thrum of electricity. His brow furrowed.
The catch on this door was different from the one in the hall. With a cautious hand, Santo Justino reached down and depressed the levered latch. The steel slab opened outward and a blast of chilled air rushed to greet him.
Santo Justino knew he should be tracking Usami, but he also knew what the possibility of a refrigerated room portended and he couldn't keep himself from investigating it further.
No light had been tripped by the opening of this room. Glancing around, Santo Justino grabbed a tray from one of the mobile surgical dolleys and used it to prop the door. The last thing he wanted was to end up trapped and freezing if it somehow shut and unexpectedly locked behind him.
The door secured, he reached a hand out into the blackness of the cooler and his nimble fingers soon located a switch along the wall. The quiet hum of the space intensified as overhead fluorescents suddenly glowed, revealing the room's interior.
Santo Justino felt an invisible iron hand grip his chest, constricting it painfully. He could feel the blood drain from his face at the scene that lay before him. He uttered a near-breathless gasp.
"Sweet Mother of God."
Akihiko moved purposefully down the winding halls of Korovin's maze. From his piggybacked position, Jadir navigated them smoothly towards the playroom.
In addition to the directions, after years of forced muteness, Jadir had suddenly regained his tongue. He kept up a whispered monologue, one whose pace was frantic. It was as if he knew he would not survive whatever their future encounter with his captor held and so, he was making his final confession to Akihiko in a mix of Portuguese and broken English.
Akihiko's normally light complexion was ghostly now: white with rage and horror.
He wished to silence Jadir, but he couldn't bring himself to shush the battered youth. His mind reeled, completely overwhelmed by what he could make out from the boy's ramblings. His attention was dangerously divided between what lay ahead and trying to determine if there was anything in Jadir's terrifying words he could use as a weapon against the inhuman filth that taken his Misaki, Jadir, and the other boys he'd so recently left behind.
Despite his wish that Jadir's unending reel of tragedy would cease, Akihiko stopped when Jadir suddenly uttered a gasp and fell silent.
"Jadir, are you alright?"
Akihiko adjusted his hold on spindly legs as he felt the youth on his back shudder. The thin arm around his neck tightened. Behind him Jadir moaned. Akihiko frowned as he felt a new dampness, one different than their shared sweat, seep through the back of his shirt. He wondered if the boy had lost his bladder, but the placement of the wetness wasn't quite right for that.
His mind returned to the mixture of blood and cum he had noticed dripping down Jadir's legs as he'd raised his head after apologizing. It was obvious the boy had been injured, but the spreading patch on his back was also far from where Jadir's most obvious wounding was.
Another spasm wracked Jadir's lean frame. The boy groaned again, his body stiffened and tensed. Then suddenly, he relaxed.
Akihiko stood, wanting to move forward, but unsure if he dared jostle the boy. A sudden fear gripped him at Jadir's new stillness and he was filled with horror that the youth had just died. His heart resumed beating when, after another moment of silence, Jadir gasped out weakly.
"I am okay. Please, Usami, we need to keep moving."
"I don't know, Jadir. I'm thinking again that I'd best leave you here and go on alone."
Akihiko made to loosen his grip and slip Jadir down from his back. He started when the arm around his neck suddenly held him with a strength he'd never imagined possible from the boy behind him.
"No… I have to be there…"
Akihiko hastened forward at this. He wasn't one to normally take argument, but he knew in this instant every second they lingered left not only them, but also Misaki, in greater danger.
His movement however, was arrested again within just a few steps by another sharp gasp from Jadir. This shaky breath spoke of an entirely new kind of pain, as did the shudder, so strong it shook them both. It took Akihiko no time in this instance to ascertain the source of the wound.
Korovin had just rounded the corner and now stood down the hall before them.
Within the frigid confines of the refrigerated room, Santo Justino found he had broken into an uncomfortable sweat. His dark eyes loomed unusually large within his handsome face, their usually sharp gleam slightly glazed.
"Mother of God."
The words fell unbidden again from his lips. It had become an unconscious mantra within the last minute as his gaze swept over the deep shelves, three high, lining the cooler's interior. In contrast to the chaos of the surgical room, the refrigerator reflected a pristine organization.
There must be at least sixty…
Santo Justino tried once more to recalculate, hoping that somehow his usually acute math skills were wrong. But try as he might, the answer to the number of body bags that lined the shelves didn't alter.
Biting back the rising revulsion of his discovery, the detective stepped further into the room. He moved over to one of the frosted, black, polyethylene bags that lay neatly spaced between its brothers.
Running a hand over the end of the bag, a clear plastic pouch was revealed. It bore a name.
ViniciusRibeiro
This was one of the names on Flynn's list of missing young men.
Santo Justino moved down to the bag to the left of Ribeiro's; beneath the heat of his hand another name appeared.
Egon Fuerst
The detective recognized this name too among Flynn's "disappeared." The teen was not Brazilian, but a troubled German national who had vanished some time ago from a local surf haven. Santo Justino's hand hovered over the zippered bag.
Just before he brought it down to open the slick surface of death's cocoon to view its contents, he stopped.
It was not that he couldn't face death. He had encountered it many times over the years in all its often terrible permutations, but in this moment, Santo Justino could clearly feel the weight of unheard cries pressing down on him. Chiding himself for being foolish, he steeled himself and, after another moment's pause, opened Egon's bag.
Confronting the brutalized corpse, Santo Justino knew now, without a doubt, that each person in Korovin's icy mausoleum had suffered terribly.
Gazing down on this scene of frozen horror, the P.I.'s usually iron staunch legs unexpectedly buckled and he staggered. He gripped the edge of the shelf directly before him to steady himself. Looking down, his burning eyes made a startling discovery. The bag in front of him was empty.
Almost empty,he corrected.
There was a small bump in the otherwise smooth, slick surface.
Santo Justino felt his fingers drawn forward. This time they did not hesitate as they grasped the cold, stiff zipper and pulled.
Parting the chill-crisp plastic of the bodybag, Santo Justino encountered a single arm. Discolored by death, the limb still showed visible signs of severe trauma. Dark contusions pooled black beneath its waxy, scarred, pale surface.
His professional eye noted quickly that the arm was emaciated. Though the point at which the limb had been severed had obviously been done with a surgeon's skills, in other places the flesh had been brutally torn. Santo Justino observed teeth marks, most likely canine. He saw also that all but one finger and the thumb were missing, not severed, but amputated.
His thoughts went to the finger Usami had been sent. His fevered eyes immediately sought the name on the bag.
If only the arm is here, then… Then maybe the rest of him is still alive, somewhere.
Santo Justino cursed out loud when the name on this bag was revealed.
Jadir Cavaco
He knew of the boy. His disappearance had been all over the news a few years ago and resurfaced even now on local stations occasionally.
Unable to bear looking at the name or the silent accusation it held, his eyes fell on the completely empty bag adjacent Jadir's. The name on it was quickly discerned.
Takahashi Misaki
Santo Justino backed away from the shelf. His excited gaze traveled the room and he noticed on other shelves, spaces where empty bags also waited.
There's still hope.
Please let there be time too.
Santo Justino felt lighter somehow. He knew he could not linger here among the dead any longer. With haste, he gathered himself and left Korovin's frozen mass grave behind him after promising justice to this animal's victims.
"Usami!"
Korovin's voice ricocheted off the walls of the empty corridor. The mad rage that had been burning in his eyes as he'd rounded the corner immediately dialed itself down to something cooler and far more sinister.
Akihiko's own eyes narrowed and he struggled to keep his face impassive.
At least twenty feet still separated them, but Akihiko suddenly found it difficult to breathe. His burning hatred all but suffocated him being so close to Misaki's torturer.
"Korovin."
Akihiko could feel Jadir trembling against him. He drew himself up and bristled protectively as he faced the man who had also reduced the poor lamb on his back to his decrepit state.
"I thought you were going to wait for us to join you? I would have hastened my pace, had I known you were such an anxious host."
Korovin felt his rage bubbling dangerously back up at Usami's cool, mocking tone.
"Can the 007 bullshit dialogue, Usami. That might work in books, but not here!
"You couldn't think I would allow you to have your fuck toy after the idiotic stunt you pulled with my cameras?"
Akihiko looked startled by these words. He feigned incomprehension. It was an expression he'd perfected long ago, from when his father would try to draw him into understanding the family company's business matters.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Shut up! I can see now where your little Taka-cunt got his deceptive prowess!"
Akihiko's eyes truly widened at this. As long as he'd known Misaki, his lover had always been a horrible liar. He wondered what his sweet Misaki had been hiding from this fiend… and what it might have cost him.
Seeing the expression on Usami's face, Korovin felt a momentary confusion.
Have I overerestimated Usami?This thought stirred him further and his ill-heeled fury threatened to overwhelm him.
I can't allow myself to get carried away… Yet…
Akihiko had remained silent, but his keen gaze caught Korovin's hesitation. He knew his only hope was to keep the devil off-balance.
"I want my Misaki." He said this without heat, but the strength of his words filled the hall. A wicked sneer twisted Korovin's face.
"I have no doubt you do." Korovin reached into his pocket and withdrew the remote. "He is such a sweet fuck, after all."
Akihiko stiffened at these words, despite his resolve. He thought of Jadir's soiled legs, of the boy's whispered violations. A wave of emotions rose up and crashed within his chest. Fighting the sensation he was suddenly drowning, however, he held his tongue at Korovin's taunt.
"Of course, you should have thought of that before you came barging in here and tried to make a fool of me, Usami!" Korovin's thumb hovered dangerously over the trigger of the remote.
Akihiko saw the truth in Korovin's eyes. He took a lurching step forward as the Doc's thumb lowered slowly, stopping just a hair's breadth above the trigger.
"STOP!"
Both men started at their shared exclamations: Akihiko calling for Korovin to spare his beloved; Korovin seeking to halt Akihiko's advance.
A disconcerting smile now graced Korovin's face. He was back in control.
Akihiko's voice was much softer now. "I have Jadir."
"So you do." Korovin's smile widened. "But I imagine it would be hard for you to kill him at the moment, carrying him as you are."
Akihiko frowned at this.
"It seems you two made up quite quickly… By the way, Usami… Where's your gun?"
At these words, Akihiko slowly slid Jadir from his back. The moment his feet hit the cement floor, without the broad comfort of shoulders and back to support him, Jadir doubled over.
Akihiko bent down to Jadir, but before he could lay a hand on him, Korovin stopped him.
"Touch him and Takahashi is dead, Usami."
Akihiko froze where he stood, but then straightened and studied Korovin with something that bordered on amused.
"Paranoid much?"
Korovin snorted at the comment. "It has enabled me to live a long and enjoyable life, thus far."
"Well, as you can clearly see now, it wasn't so much a matter of 'making up,' as it was the fact he's hardly in any condition to resist." Akihiko tried to keep his expression cold as he glanced at the broken boy huddled at his feet.
He shifted his eyes to Korovin. "You said you wanted him, after all. Didn't you? I was only trying to comply.
"And as for my gun… Well, there wouldn't have been an easy way for me to carry it and him. Now would there?
"Besides, I didn't imagine you'd appreciate me bringing it along."
Korovin quirked a brow at Akihiko. "You know, I never found your novels believable and now I know why…"
"Jadir!"
At the bellow of his name, Jadir's head rose. His skin was pale and a sheen of sweat beaded his forehead.
"Take off that coat and bring it here!"
Jadir's remaining hand drifted up and grazed the collar of the light jacket Akihiko had draped around him. Without intending to, he looked up at Akihiko.
Akihiko had hoped Jadir's collapse was a theatric cover to help hide the scalpel taped to the underside of his stump from Korovin's view. But looking into the pain-glazed eyes staring up at him, he was horribly concerned about Jadir's state. He wondered again if it might not be too late for the boy.
Then, given what Jadir had told him as they'd traveled the halls, he wondered too, if death might not bring the poor youth his best chance at peace.
He gave Jadir the barest nod, but Korovin caught the exchange. Seeing Jadir… his Jadir, defer to Usami, the contentment he'd felt at having things back in hand instantly shattered.
"Jadir!" Spittle flew as he called his pet's name again. "Shuck that coat and get your worthless ass over here!"
Akihiko knew that the moment Korovin had Jadir he'd have no bargaining chips left. It was part of their plan, but it seemed utter madness now. He watched with mounting dread as Jadir removed the jacket with trembling fingers.
The boy tried to stand again and it was then that Akihiko noticed that there was something wrong with Jadir's swollen stomach. His navel was discolored and stretched oddly out of shape. A clear viscous fluid wept from it and coated Jadir's distended belly.
Unable to stay straight for more than a few moments, Jadir crumpled again to the floor. Here, he clumsily finished drawing out of the coat.
Akihiko realized now that this was what he'd felt against his back earlier. His heart clenched at the possible implications of this development.
He was torn from his reverie by Korovin's next words.
"Now, it's your turn, Usami."
Akihiko turned puzzled eyes away from Jadir.
"What?"
"You heard me, Usami! Strip!" Korovin's gaze held a terrible gleam.
"Why the hell…"
"Please excuse, what we have determined, is my untrusting nature. But while I feel quite convinced that you secreted something away in that coat for Jadir to damage me with, I doubt you'd trust your gun to him.
"Besides," a harsh barking laugh erupted from Korovin's lips. "He hasn't the fingers or the strength to be an effective trigger man now. Has he?"
"You're insane…" Akihiko's chanced another step forward but his motion stopped and the words died on his lips as Korovin's thumb suggestively rubbed over the button on the remote that held Misaki's fate.
"Uh uh uh…Usami."
Despite the teasing tone Korovin's expression was cold. His next words were devoid of any humor at all and in fact were uttered in an incredibly malicious hiss.
"I really think that it's time you understand the true nature of your present situation. I am done playing.
"The next time you tempt me, I will kill Takahashi. The best you can hope for now is that I offer you a chance to see your beloved rabbit hole before I kill you both.
"If you're very well behaved, I might even allow you two to exit together."
So good of you.Akihiko's eyes flashed his thoughts, but he said nothing. He could not risk provoking Korovin further.
"My house. My Rules."
Shaking his head in defeat, Akihiko began unbuttoning his shirt with steady fingers. He growled in disgust as it slid from his shoulders and Korovin's bright eyes traced over his sweat-slicked skin with unabashed lust.
General AN:
So, this is so close to finished. I am just going to keep writing and posting when there seems like enough for another chapter and I have found some tantalizing page break.
Also, I just wanted to let you know that The Black Flamingo 101 has recently been posting some original fiction over on FF's sister site: Fictionpress. The stories are great and if you're looking for new, hot yaoi to entertain you during these sultry summer days, I encourage to pop over and take a look. And please drop her a review.
Shout Outs:
Soratalex and Blaysers- Thanks for the favorites and follows.
Smileandsleep, Invisible Image, Kai, Guest, Primordium, Blaysers - Thank you for chiming in. Glad you have been enjoying this story. We're getting so close to the end! Hang in there, Misaki!
Barrettachante- So pleased you found your chapter, Koi. Appreciate the worries, but I am tougher than I sound in my ANs.
Alcuzey- Yeah, killing the dog was not easy… but I needed Aikawa alive more… So…
Silentstare- Happy to hear from you. Love your enthusiasm. I wouldn't recommend you try it. Flammables can be unruly.
Pheonixette101- Well, hopefully you won't have to wait years. Thank you for the kind words though and the new one: "FANTASMICAL." Adding it to my repertoire.
Puupyfacetwo- So faithful. And sorry to hear about your pup's whiskers. Fourth of July accident? Glad to hear he's healing.
Sarah- Thank you so much for chiming in. It pleases me greatly when a longtime reader or follower of a story lets me know they've been traveling a tale with me. I appreciate that you and the other readers have not been too annoyed with my OCs in this fic. Makes me feel like I have done something right. Never abandon a story… Just set them aside occasionally for far longer than I should.
SlythClover- Clover-san, you're so kind when I have been so remiss. Please know I have not abandoned my intentions to review "Junjou Therapy." Just more behind these days than usual. I have thought of you and your wonderful words often in my travels.
TBF101-My sweet Uke Bird, few things I like more than hearing you "squee!" Thank you for all the wonderful updates of your fics to keep me inspired. Be on the lookout for my own little nod to your rocking JR adventure "Digamma." I hadn't thought about it, but you're right. I don't think I have ever read a JR FF where Aikawa is as active (beyond fangirling) or a fic that really focuses on her. Hmmmm… more inspiration for Don't Preach's Minimum Damage. I really appreciate how receptive the readers have been to a strong, constructive female presence in this fic. Gives me hope for the yaoi world, somehow.
Leigh's Last Laugh- Delighted to be able to pull you from your shadows and into my own. Your comments are always acute and I relish that you steer me in previous un-realized directions. The note on Jadir and the crosses was very apt. I shall put that in my hopper and take it under consideration, should he prevail. (Now that I have killed two fictional dogs, moving to fictional people doesn't seem such a great leap, as you might now guess from the number of bodies in Korovin's lair.) The contrast between Akihiko and Santo Justino and their approaches is significant for an upcoming chapter. And yes, the scene has been set for the Calvary's charge. How that will unfold… well… Now you'll just have to wait and see. Heh.
