Concerning A Murder

Chapter Two: Visitors and Crusaders

Mort Rainey woke up at the sound of pounding on the door. He looked around, orienting himself. He was in the bathroom, lying on the floor, just as he'd been for the past three nights. It seemed to be the only place he could sleep anymore. Even his faithful couch was turning on him.

Mort stood and wandered downstairs, massaging his neck and stretching his aching muscles. He passed the living room mirror and let out a small laugh at the sight of himself. He'd apparently left his personal appearance up to fate for the past three days. His hair was pulling the old trick of lying every which way against his head. His glasses were askew. He was once again wearing the tattered bathrobe that had once belonged to his wife.

At the thought of his wife, Mort cringed and put his hands to his head.

"Honestly? I did it, right?" Three days of seclusion can make it quite difficult for anyone to see the truth, but Mort seemed to be having more trouble than most. It was as if he believed and remembered killing them, but he couldn't convince himself of it. "Damn…" The pounding at the door continued and Mort grabbed at his hair, turning to the door. "I'M COMING!" He straightened his hair the best he could and answered the door.

Before him, on the doorstep, stood a nineteen year old boy dressed in an all black, tattered outfit, a crimson overcoat ending about midway down the boy's calf. The boy stared at Mort with a weary, almost dead look in his stone-gray eyes. Blood dripped from a cut above his right eye and he held his left arm gingerly, as if it would fall off if he let go. His dirty blonde hair fell about his face in complete disarray. He looked like something out of London in the late 1800s.

"I'm sorry… to bother you, sir," The boy spoke with a slight English accent and a voice that had probably once spoken of nobility. "I was hoping to take refuge here for awhile. I need a place to stay… away from the world."

Mort stared blankly at the boy and opened his mouth to speak. "I… may have a place for you. I haven't been using the bedroom lately, actually. You can stay there."

"Thanks," The boy muttered. At a gesture from Mort, he entered the house and took a very careful seat on a lone chair near the fire. He was shaking violently, cold, hurt, and he seemed to have more than one thing on his mind.

Mort stared at the boy for a moment, then slowly closed the front door. "Do you need any help with those?" He pointed to the cut above the boy's eye. "I've got a first-aid kit."

The boy stared up at him and blinked rapidly, unsure of what to say. He sighed wearily and leaned his head on his right hand, staring back at the dying fire.

I don't remember lighting a fire last night… Mort stared blankly at the fire, trying desperately to remember that one moment. No memory came.

"Thank you. I think I could use some help. I didn't think it was all that bad, when I got the wounds, but it is." Mort was startled out of his reminiscing by the boy's voice.

"Sure thing. I'll be right back." Mort turned and rushed up the stairs to the upstairs bathroom, where he kept the first aid kit.

What the hell is with this kid? There's this air about him… Did I make a mistake letting him come in here?

Picking up the first aid kit and searching through it for his needed supplies, Mort finally found some bandages, hydrogen-peroxide (AN: The magical disinfectant that hurts more than the cuts…), and some Neosporin. He ran back down the stairs and grabbed a clean washcloth from the kitchen.

"Here we go." Mort wet the cloth and went back to where he'd left the boy. He was no longer sitting in the chair. The boy was pacing the floor in the living room, muttering to himself and clutching his bad arm.

"Um… I got the kit." Mort caught the boy's attention and stepped to him, reaching out and touching the washcloth gently to the cut above the boy's eye. After cleaning that, he motioned to the arm. The boy stared at him for a second, wondering what he was supposed to do.

Then, as if a light had been turned on somewhere, it clicked. The boy pulled his long sleeve up as far as it would go. It wasn't enough, so he gave in and pulled the shirt off all the way. His overcoat and shirt fell to the floor with a small thud and the boy crossed his arms uncertainly over his chest.

Mort couldn't help but giggle a bit. "Oh, don't worry. I like girls. I have absolutely no intention of molesting you." He poured some peroxide onto the washcloth and dabbed at the bloody gash on the boy's upper arm. After the blood was cleaned away, Mort could finally see that the gash was about six inches long and could very well have cut all the way to the bone. He finished cleaning the cut and put some Neosporin on and around the wound, hoping that it wasn't as deep a cut as he believed. In which case, the boy should have rushed to a hospital and Mort might be making things worse. He wrapped some gauze around the boy's arm and stepped back.

"There, I've finished. It's okay now…"

The boy looked up at him with a small smile. "Thank you, Mister…"

"Rainey. Morton Rainey. Call me Mort. And you are?"

"Alexander Wright. Just call me Alex, please."

"Can do, Alex. Now, are you tired? I just have to change the sheets on the bed. Shouldn't take more than three minutes."

Alex nodded wearily. "I am a bit tired… Thank you."

"Right. Come on." Mort led Alex up the stairs to the bedroom. He pulled the sheets off and replaced them with cleaner ones, making the bed semi-neatly. He then pulled down the top sheet and blanket to allow Alex to lie down.

"There you are. I'll be sleeping on my oh-so-faithful couch, so I won't even need to bother you except to grab my night-clothes. If you need anything, like an extra outfit, or food, or whatever, just tell me. See you in the morning."

Mort smiled and left the room, walking down to the couch. After stoking the dying fire a minute, he laid down and fell into a fitful sleep. So much for his oh-so-faithful-couch.

TBC

Well, That's that. They've met. The entire chapter was just them meeting and dealing with Alex's wounds. There'll be some time where it seems like they're just a couple of guys in a dormitory, then they'll learn about each other's morbid pasts and frightening inner characters. Should be fun. You bring the chips and I'll bring the dip.

I want to thank Dawnie-7 for being my only reviewer as of yet. But I'm not discouraged, I'm sure the rest of you will come around when you realize how wonderful I am at typing these condemning stories… ahem Anyhow, thanks again Dawnie, hope you enjoy this one.