37

'That's me.' Floyd stood. 'He's not turned up yet.' He walked towards the police officer and put out a hand to shake. It was looked at and ignored.

'I'm here because you reported someone missing.'

'My ward, Sam… Sam Trent-Saviour.' The police officer wanted a description. He was a long way over six foot and maybe four foot wide. A big chap and Floyd doubted that there was any fat in that bulk. 'He's five six, aged sixteen or thereabouts. And I say that because the date of his birth is unknown, not because I don't know… you see? Well, he's skinny, pale, long dark hair. Sometimes he will have a bit of eyeliner on. He… well can be a bit of an extravert.'

The officer was making notes, but this could have been a description of any number of young people. He wanted a more accurate description or maybe a photograph. 'There has to be a photo of his somewhere.' The officer said.

And yes, there did have to be and yes there were, but could he show the vaguely pornographic pictures of Sam to this man?

'Sam has problems. He's very emotionally unstable and he does things which I don't agree with. There are some pictures of him on the laptop. But you do have to believe me when I say that I didn't take them… it's Sam's doing.' So the cop was treated to some images of Sam. Images which caused alarm. Images which seemed wrong, but yet were not illegal. 'I told you he had problems. He whores. He runs off to the city and sells his arse for drugs. Now I could get him locked away, but I wanted to show him good morals. I want him to grow up feeling wanted and loved.' Floyd paused and pointed to the printer. 'Want me to print some off for you? Just the head shots obviously. I don't want you to think I'm offering to give you sick pornographic images of a teenager.'

The cop stood staring at Floyd and then he glanced back at the laptop again and then again at Floyd. 'You were aware of this?'

'Obviously. Sam is a strange person. He doesn't seem to think that there's anything wrong with this sort of thing and has no nudity taboo. So yes, I worry when he runs off like he seems to have done again. He's been through a hell of a lot recently. He's a very unhappy young man. He acts out and if I don't handle him carefully he leaves and looks for… comfort… somewhere else.' How close had Floyd just come to saying sex instead of comfort? Very close. 'Anyway. He stormed out the other night and hasn't returned. So I gave you a call. Sometimes you see he'll return after a day of his own accord, but last time he was all the way in Wyoming when we found him again… he's only been back a few weeks… one of those was spent in hospital. He as shot… so you'll know if you find him… he has a scar on his chest. I am wondering what there was in Wyoming. I never got around to questioning him on that, but he might be on his way back there. As far as I know he had no money on him. But Sam has a way of getting hold of money. I just need him found before he's picked up by the cops again. I need him here where I know he's safe.' It was a nice little speech. Did the cop believe him? Well Floyd didn't know, but he took a couple of head shot pictures of Sam and then the cop advised Floyd to get rid of the other things on the laptop.

Floyd saw him to the door, then closed and locked it behind him. The turned the sign to Closed and went back to sit on the chair in the corner.

'I have to remember that I am doing this for Spencer. I have to remember that Spencer's mental health and well being is why I'm here.' Even though they were in a small village in the middle of nowhere and even though they had fantastic views over the lake he was feeling horribly claustrophobic. He had control of Spencer for now, but that meant he couldn't leave him and go off hunting alone and he couldn't take Spencer with him all the time he was doped up and couldn't be trusted. At least he'd put out the right messages for the cops. They'd not be back for a while he hoped. But then there were these other missing kids… kids which Floyd knew weren't coming home either. Now what to do? The dark crawled in around the corners of the room. Spencer was still sleeping. There was no night life here and Floyd was bored.

Floyd went up to the bedroom and checked on the sleeping Spencer. He looked lovely and peaceful and Floyd thought that at least he'd managed to provide that for him. There was no twitching and kicking and yelping out in a nightmare… he was just laying there with the bedcovers draped over him and though it was a beautiful sight to see, he left the room and walked to the bathroom. Floyd didn't run water into the tub, but he got in anyway and lay on his back with one arm draped over the edge and his head tipped back. He rested his booted feet on the other end of the tub and the closed his eyes. At least he had his own sort of peace in the bathroom… and now he was going to go and explain things to Sam and see if he'd killed Az yet.

o-o-o

Az saw someone approaching. He thought it looked like Floyd's swagger, but it wasn't easy to tell. He did though, curl up and wrap his arms around himself.

Floyd knew that Az had seen him and he noted the defensive posture he took. But he wasn't here to make sure Az was all right. Actually he was amazed that Az was still lucid. He walked into his giant fancy tent and looked around. Sam wasn't here.

'Where's Sam?' Floyd asked the person chained to the floor.

'I've not seen Sam… not for a long time.' Az muttered.

'He came here yesterday.' Floyd informed him. 'I sent him here.'

'Well he didn't arrive.' Az told him. 'Are you ever going to let me go?'

'Nope.' Floyd walked around the tent picking up bottles and looking at the contents and then placing them back again. 'You are my compensation for having a really shit time doing my job… a job which I adore… but I'm still having a shit time. So… no Sam.'

Az didn't take his eyes off Floyd. The man or whatever he was terrified him. 'What can I do to persuade you to release me and let me go home again? I would do anything.' Floyd hated to see a man grovel and beg and plead for something unless it was for his life and as he had no intention of topping lovely slutty Az, then there was no need to beg – therefore he wasn't enjoying this much at all. He'd been expecting Sam. He'd been expecting a fight. He wanted a fight and there was nothing to fight against. He could have kicked Az around for a while, but that was no compensation to listening to Sam's complaints. 'Please, there must be something.'

'Yeah… there is something. Shut the fuck up.' Floyd turned from this little home in hell and began to walk away. He was smiling. Just a tiny bit of pleasure derived from Az shouting out and offering his arse… and Floyd thought that maybe he could go back and have a bit… just to relieve the boredom, but he didn't. It was more fun to leave the bastard where he was. His worry though was where the hell Sam was. He could wait and see if someone would talk to him, but he had a feeling that it was going to be a very long wait. There was only one other choice. He could go to The Old Woman, but the only way to her now was to die. It wouldn't have to be permanent death… or maybe not even a total death… just a little scare will be enough to get him to see her. It would of course mean talking to Spencer about it. He'd have to make sure that Spencer didn't just let him die. He'd done this sort of thing before. It wasn't difficult. He'd just need to persuade Spencer to do the right thing and this was the right thing. He hoped.

Spencer opened his groggy eyes and looked up at Floyd who was standing next to the bed. He gave a very small smile and coughed up some gunk into his fist. Spencer looked like a the most beautiful creature ever created. Floyd would have bet his life on that… apart from Sam and himself he didn't think that someone could beat the simple beauty which was Spencer. He sat on the side of the bed and stroked some stray hair off Spencer's face. 'You're looking a lot better.' He wasn't. He was looking like someone itching for a fix, but that wasn't a problem. Floyd liked that look. He liked Spencer to look defeated and degraded. Floyd's mouth twitched into a smile. 'I need to talk to you about Sam.'

He might well have done, but the whole matter was confusing Spencer. It made it feel as though his brain was swelling and it made his eyes feel like they were being forced out of his skull. 'I'm listening.' Listening and understanding are not the same thing though.

'I'm going to go to the bathroom and get in the tub… clothed and I'm going to slash my wrist. I need you to leave me there for a couple of minutes and then staunch. You have to wait for the exact right time.'

Spencer thought he must have still been dreaming. That made no sense and it wasn't a conversation about Sam. 'I… what? You what?'

Poor muddled Spencer. 'Spencer, Babes… I need to go talk to The Old Woman. I can only do that if technically I'm dead… so you need to let me bleed out enough for my heart to stop and then you need to staunch. It'll be fine. I'll be back as long as you stop the bleeding. There's stuff, bandages and shit… You can do that for me?'

'Staunch?' Spencer sat up. 'No… I can't do that for you! Are you mad? Why do you need to talk to The Old Woman? After what happened last time you can't guarantee that you'll end up being able to talk to her.'

'She owes me one. Of course she will. I just went home, Az was there, but Sam wasn't.'

Spencer kicked off the bedding. 'Az? You have Az somewhere?'

Oh it was going to end up as a big to do all over nothing! Floyd could feel it! Why did Spencer have to have such an attitude about the guys he liked to Fuck! 'He's just an arse!' Floyd shouted at him. 'And I didn't screw him. I thought Sam would be there. He's not. He's not been there… so where the fuck is he? Well The Old Woman will be able to tell me.'

Spencer was shaking his head. 'I don't think so. Sam is not on her little list. Sam isn't one of hers. Why would he be there?'

'I never said he'd be there! I said she can find him! She can pull in favours.'

'And for you to do that you are going to cut your wrists and expect me to be able to save you at the last second?'

'Yup. Get up and get coffee. I need you awake for this.'

He was talking crazy again of course, but Spencer went down and brewed up coffee. He dropped a carton of milk on the floor. It seemed to explode and shoot milk in every direction possible. And why he had milk in his hand in the first place he didn't know. He was here to make coffee and both of them drank it black and sweet. Spencer also poured coffee all over the work surface, dropped the sugar bowl on the counter and made a vile mess as it mixed with hot wet coffee. Floyd was going to go apeshit at him.

'Spencer! What the hell are you doing down there? I'm waiting!' Floyd called… the voice had a slight echo and Spencer assumed rightly that Floyd was waiting for him in the bathroom. Half way up the stairs he tripped and dropped one of the mugs. 'Spencer!'

'Yes! I'm on my way.' He'd have to find a way to clean up the mess before Floyd saw it.

He was right. Floyd was again sitting fully clothed in the dry tub. He had a razor blade in his hand and a smile on his face. 'You know what you have to do?'

'Wait until your heart stops and then staunch.'

'No… if you wait until my heart stops I'm too far dead. You need to wait for fibrillation, but you'll know cos you're the brightest little button on the planet and I know you know what to do. You'll see. You'll know.'

Spencer knelt next to the bathtub and took Floyd's hand. 'This is mad. It's insane. Please don't do this. What if I refuse to help you?'

'Refuse? Oh I might take you square dancing and then go fuck Az. Up to you.'

'You make it sound easy. What if I leave it too late? What if I make a mistake? I don't feel right… my head feels muddled. I don't want to have to do this, Floyd… can it not wait? Please? Wait at least until I've woken up a bit?'

'No. I'm in the mood to do it now. Get some towels and drink up the coffee. It'll be done and dusted in less than five minutes. OK… that's all it's going to take. I just need to ask her one little biddy question and I'll be right back. Just don't let me bleed right out.'

'It's too risky.' Spencer grabbed at Floyd's arm.

'It's for Sam. I'm worried about him.'

Spencer could have pointed out that Floyd had actually drowned Sam but was there any point? He didn't think so. Spencer grabbed some towels and hunkered down again next to the tub. 'Please…'

'Stop whining. I trust you. I trust you completely. Just do what I've asked you to do. It's better to stop it too soon than too late.'

Spencer nodded. 'I'm ready.' His head was spinning though… he felt horribly sick. 'Floyd… promise me that you're not abandoning me again. I can't… I just can't be without you.'

Ah such nice words. 'I'm not abandoning you. If I was going to do that I'd go do this in private. I'm sure everything would be OK anyway, but with the way they were last time… and with Sam not being where he should be… I don't want to take the risk. This is the only way I can speak to her.'

'Very well.' Spencer swallowed back bile and his stomach clenched… The room swam once and then settled again.

'On three then, and remember that I love you.'

Spencer heard Floyd count to three. He heard the horrible sound of a blade slicing through flesh. He looked down at the rapid flow of blood. It pumped and pumped blood down his arm along the fingers hanging over the side of the tub… and it dripped…

The room span.

The blood made a small splat sound as it hit the floor.

Spencer yelped and moved back.

The blood… so much blood – a puddle.

The bathroom continued to spin. Spencer reached out to grab something and missed. His head hit the radiator with a loud crunch. He let out a small noise which might have been 'no' and might have just been a noise which meant nothing.

The blood carried on flowing… the puddle increased.

Floyd's head snapped back and hit the edge of the tub as his eyes rolled back.

Spencer lay motionless on the floor making his own small puddle from a bleeding cut on the back of his head.

The blood eventually stopped dripping.

The room was silent.

A phone rang.

A muscle at the side of Floyd's eye twitched then stilled.