Games of Subconscious
Chapter 2
dime_of_dreams@yahoo.ca

Zach checked into the nearest hotel, purposely ignoring the giddy smile and flirty eyes of the young receptionist. He probably would have flirted back if he wasn't so tired and impatient to get some sleep. And when he was tired, he got testy.

This was presented to him as a quick case, when Lieutenant Kingsly called and asked him to come down. She was at an advantage when she caught him, too. He was half asleep when he agreed to fly to Wisconsin and work on the case. The following morning, a one-way ticket came as a special delivery to his door, and it was too late to back out.

But, he reminded himself, this would count as a getaway. He made that promise when he boarded the slick airplane.

Carrying a suitcase packed with a couple of spare changes of clothes and toiletries in one hand, and his brief case in the other, Zach followed the uniformed young man to his room. The plush, red carpet felt oddly soft, even through his shoes.

"Here you are, sir." The scrawny, blonde kid motioned to the brown door. Using his key to unlock the door, he twisted the handle and outstretched his arm to guide Zach inside. As Zach entered the room, he saw the kid anxiously shift from one foot to the other.

Glancing over the room to make sure everything was in order, he reached into the pocket of his black pants and took out a couple of bills. The kid eagerly stepped forward and eyed the folded money. With that in his possession, the blonde kid was out the door with a grateful wave.

Finally, he'd get come quiet to shower and get ready for bed in peace. He'd have to call Nathan as well, to make sure his friend didn't forget to look after his house. That was always a possibility as Nathan could get reassigned and take off to another state. Nathan Peters was with the FBI as well, more as personal man of Lieutenant Timerson, which resulted in him being available whenever Timerson needed him.

But he and Nathan went way back to elementary school. They first talked to each other at the principal's office after they threw a couple of punches at one another. From that day, they were inseperatable and their teachers always predicted that they were both going to be on those WANTED signs when they grew up.

Those were some good memories, and somewhere deep down, Zach missed those days when the consequences were never thought of. Everything was allowed to slide with no more than a slap on the wrists, but those were days of his harmless, bother-free childhood and now the reality of the world being a big, bad place was proven over and over again. It seemed--no, it was-- that whenever he managed to catch one of the slimes, three more took his place.

It seemed like a never ending battle, and he was always losing no matter how many times he'd have prevailed. That was what frustrated him to no end.

Setting his bag on the bed, he began to rummage through it in search of anything he might need as not to go through it again. He thought that he might as well call Nathan now so he wouldn't forget or be too tired to call later. Taking his cell phone, he dialed the number and waited for Nathan to pick up.

"Yeah?"

"It's me." Zach moved his arm and repositioned himself on the bed to get more comfortable.

"Zach?" Nathan called, his gruff voice carrying over the connection.

"Well, who'd ya' think it'd be? Of course, it's me."

Silence followed his statement. "Is that a knock on me?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Hey, do you know who you're talking to? I've a hell lot more of a social life than you, and you know it," he said, then paused. "Besides, doesn't being social include getting laid?"

If there was one subject that got Nathan to display his cockiness, it was sex. Zach knew there was no comeback that would knock Nathan without making him look like a dumbass, so he changed the subject.

"Are you still working the case?"

"The Harris case? Yeah. It's about all wrapped up so I'm looking to be reassigned somewhere else."

That was what Zach figured, he didn't know how Nathan could move from one place to another without so much as feeling anything. He envied him for being able to do that.

"So, they caught Harris?" asked Zach, couriosity leaping after being told so much about the case.

"Yeah, with my help, they did. All they have to do is sort the charges, and I'm out," he answered, and Zach could hear the pride in his voice.

"You'll be famous, probably. I hear they were working the case for a year or something," Zach informed him, knowing that Nathan was already going over all the perks it'd bring him.

"Yeah, but not as famous as you were when you figured out that Santa Claus case, remember?"

Oh, remember he did. That sick bastard bought a Santa outfit and lured small children away with him. Took them to his basement and did unmentionable things to them. Then buried them right there, in the shallow ground, giving them a horrible death after all the torment. Zach still remembered all the details he heard when he finally caught that son of a bitch, still remembered that smug look in the fucker's eye when he told him about all the kids over the years. He still remembered the gloating tone, and reminded himself to take deep breaths. He was behind bars, for life, and there was no way he'd hurt anymore kids.

But there were others out there, other perverts that the world were still unaware of. All seemingly innocent and incapable in the eyes of others.

Deep breaths, he told himself, deep breaths.

"Zach, you still there?" Nathan's voice brought him back from the flashbacks of horrendous memories.

"Uhh...yeah, I'm still here."

For the second time during their conversation, Nathan paused for a couple of seconds. No doubt contemplating over what to say. "Listen, sorry I brought up the topic. I know it's probably still a fresh wound."

This just fueled the already burning fire. "You're treating me like I'm not capable of talking about it," said Zach, squeezing his cell phone, wishing it was that bastard's neck instead. "Since you seem so interested, I'll tell exactly what the hell happened. I went down that basement, the floor was removed and it had a nasty stench. There was a mattress in a corner, stained with blood." He was shouting now, but that didn't matter.

"And thin ropes were placed beside it. Where the soil looked just freshly turned was where the sticks were placed, and on those sticks were taped small pieces of paper with each child's name, along with their picture. That piece of shit was taping what he did to those kids." He paused to take a long breath, and continued.

However, Nathan cut him off. "Look, I--I don't know what to say. I know that you went though hell there, and no matter what I say will change that."

Zach was still seeing red when he said, "This thing's charging me for every minute. I don't want to go bankbupt talking to you. I'll call you later." He hung up before Nathan could protest.

Closing his eyes, he tired swallowing every bit of rage inside him. He wouldn't get angry at that fucker's expense, that would be giving him too much power. He scoffed at himself for listening to his psychiatrist. After all, he didn't believe in wasting money to talk about his feelings. Plus, he was a Westen, and no Westen was dependent on a shrink.

This was turning into a long night, and he'd be damned if he didn't get any sleep. His mind worked better when he was well rested, and he was planning on working himself to the limit. He always counted on that, because his mind and body were too tired to create any nightmares regarding his last case. That was the only way he coped with his problem. He viewed it as something too private to tell anyone else, and knew he didn't need anyone else's help. He'd do just fine by himself.

He noted that he was still sitting on the bed. Zach was definitely more amused than worried that he was afraid of getting started on another case. It wasn't funny, and yet the amusement still lingered there. He had become afraid of getting another case? It was his job, for God's sake. The amusement was gone at once when he realized that the Santa Claus case was turning him into a coward. He didn't want to give the motherfucker any power, but somewhere along the road, he lost say in his life.

If he ever felt like punching something, it was now. But he didn't think that was much of a surprise given that he had just found out that his earnest prevention had been in vain.

Throwing his cell phone on the night stand, and crossed the room to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help him from punching the wall. Maybe.


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This would be the end of the second chapter. Not much of a progress one, though. But I like to background the characters before putting them into any sort of situations.