On the Edge of Wakefulness

Chapter 16

Amber reprieve in a glass, Sam thought as he pounded back a shot of whiskey, enjoying its kick as it went down his throat. He drank a second and then a third. Looked around, wiped his lips with his hand, and then brushed his hair back. He shook his head and poured another drink into the shot glass. All he could hear was Todd's voice, asking why he didn't do anything to stop Peter Manning.

"He's touching me..."

Christ. Sam quelled a momentary sensation of nausea as he drank another glass full of whiskey.

This evening he decided to hang out at Indigo, R. J. Gannon's club. The place was near the hospital. This way Sam could drink himself into a stupor nearby the victim of his negligence, near Todd. Once he was fully inebriated, he would look in the direction of the hospital and be thoroughly reminded of just how far his neglect went.

He also wanted the soft jazz to drown out the sound of his glass hitting the counter top every time he set it down to pour another drink. "Coach, can I come live with you?" Todd had asked him once in a weak moment, looking at him intensely. Sam had laughed and patted Todd's hair, saying, "Silly...I'd love to have you live with us, but I think your dad would have a problem with it." Todd looked away from him, not laughing. Resigned.

You don't see me. I am invisible.

"Not so, Pal," Sam said quietly as he lifted the glass and stared at the wobbling liquid. "Just needed to make it not real."

"Make what not real?"

Sam abruptly turned around, drunk now, and saw pretty brown eyes querying him. Téa Delgado. He turned back to his bottle, the fifth almost entirely being put away. "The truth," he said. "I deny the truth in order for it not to be real."

"What truth, Sam?" she asked again, sitting next to him on the bar stool, and requesting a glass of wine.

"That I'm worthless. That I ought to pay for my crimes against him."

"Are you talking about Todd?" After looking at Sam briefly in puzzlement, she lifted the glass to her lips and breathed in the fruity scent of the white wine. The feel of Todd's hands in hers still lingered. The look of emptiness in his eyes as told her he was raped so flatly haunted her. She wanted to go back, crawl into his lonely bed and hold him to her. The need overwhelmed her. She'd never seen pain like that so closely.

"Yes, I'm talking about Todd! Here, here, to Thomas Todd Manning!" Sam lifted his glass, drank fast and slammed the glass down. He laughed bitterly, ignoring the stares of other patrons. Not seeing one in particular whose ears perked at the mention of Todd Manning's name. The man rocked on the back legs of his chair, tilting his head in curiosity. Bounced to the purring music.

Téa eyed Sam a moment then asked, "What's happened to you?"

"What happened to the great Sam Rappaport you ask? Doesn't it ever get to you, the defending of criminals? Trying to get them off?"

Rappaport.

That's who the drunken idiot is, the man thought, the leader of the pack fighting corruption in Llanview. He slammed his chair back down to the floor. Rubbed his foot against the briefcase of money. Maybe I need to get rid of this crud, too. The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers! So, where is dear old cousin Todd?

"Only once," she said. "My client was guilty and he lied to me about it. He thought I was a dupe. I was… offended." She sipped her wine, wondering how many glasses it would take to forget Todd begging at her feet for forgiveness. The feel of his mouth on her instep. On her ankles. She shivered and lifted her shoulders, then relaxed them again, taking a drink of wine.

You don't need my forgiveness, only your own.

"Oh, let me tell you about defending criminals - real criminals," Sam said. "Child molesters. Rapists. It's enough to make you sick." He leaned forward, his head almost to the counter.

Tea sighed deeply, never having taken on those types of clients.

Except one.

"Once upon a time," he continued, slurring his words. "I knew a child. Strong, tall, smart. Burgeoning." He laughed at a memory, breathy, swishing around the whisky in its glass, quick waves swirling around and around. "One day, when he was changing in the locker room after a game, I saw marks on his back. Welts. Healing ones. Old ones. So I asked him what happened."

Téa studied Sam's face, looking at the deep lines, making him appear older than he really was. She began to suspect who he was talking about. "What did he say?"

"Quote, 'Rough sex. And you shoulda seen what I did to her.' That's what he said."

Forgive… everything.

"Kids laughed. A big joke, you know? He was thirteen. How the hell would he know about 'rough sex'? I about fell over. To hear that suddenly come out of his mouth was..." Sam snorted and drank the rest of the whiskey.

"Did you report...what happened?"

Sam winced at her question, remembering his assumption that the injuries happened at football practice, remembering the rolling of his eyes and shaking of his head at Todd's uncharacteristic response.

Very funny, Todd. Go wash up. Wash away the pain in your eyes that I refuse to acknowledge.

"'Course not. I packed what I saw into a mental box where I kept all my suspicions and questions and legal doubts. Where I put my 'truths'. Don't tell me if you're guilty or not, just let me do my job. Don't talk to anyone. You know the routine. Defend...defend..."

Téa stared into her wine, listening to the rant. Thing was… she knew the routine. Client confidentiality. Keeping secrets was a knee-jerk response for a lawyer. She said quietly, "So you saw evidence of abuse and you did nothing."

"There wasn't anything to report! I saw red marks - he laughed with the boys. He just played a football game! The authorities would have charged me with filing a false report! Imagine that! Especially in those days, in the aftermath of the McMartin case. You were too young. It was madness. False charges of child abuse. And thusly, without realizing it, I defended the perpetrator. I helped a criminal get away with his crimes. I am so good that I defend without having even been retained to do the job! Brilliant lawyering!"

She conceded the point,had to, "Everyone has closed their eyes at one time or another… fear of coming forward, doubting yourself, your instincts. Denying what you see."

"You are so beautiful in your...diplomacy. God..." He reached up and touched her cheek, admiring her, betting she would have swooped down on Todd as a child and protected him. Téa would not have ignored the pleas of a child. She was too brash and arrogant.

"I'm not that diplomatic. Remember? I nearly killed Todd with a shovel."

Sam sat up and looked vacantly ahead of him. "Do you know what a male rape victim looks like? Ever seen one walk away from just having been...violated in the worst of ways?"

Téa didn't say anything, just staring into her wine.

"They limp," he said. "They bleed. They go into shock."

Téa dropped her head, breathed out shakily. Whispered with wet eyes, "You saw...him...when he was...raped?"

"Bingo! Give the lady a prize! She's a smart one! Oh yeah! Lord have mercy on my soul because I DID NOTHING!" He gritted his teeth at the end of his pronouncement, sliding his hand in front him, pushing away the glass and bottle. He buried his head into his arms on the counter. Téa remained quiet, straightening herself up in her chair. He saw and he did nothing.

My father raped me.

The man at the table leaned back on his chair, contemplating the lawyer's pathetic sob story and all at once he put two and two together. He burst out laughing, loudly. The sexy woman next to Rappaport suddenly turned her head to him and he shrugged at her, making her turn back around. Way to go, Uncle Pete! A punishment indeed appropriate for the bastard who fathered a child with my Michelle. Indeed appropriate. This was too good for words. Beat the Hell out of all.

"Oh, my God," Tea said, dismissing the obnoxious patron behind her. "Why? How could you...know...and..."

"The great mystery of life," Sam said, muffled by his arms. "Why. Because I was afraid to see it. I didn't want to believe it so...I denied it." Like he denied Todd's decline following his discovery of Georgie's body, like he denied Todd's odd behavior in the days prior to his suicide attempt.

"Oh Sam...I can't believe that you… didn't… do anything."

"And there you go. I should be the one cutting myself to pieces."

Téa stared into her own drink. One shouldn't throw stones. "I left him, too. I could have stayed around. Maybe I would have noticed he was abusing drugs. We're all guilty, Sam. Don't keep the spoils of this treasure all to yourself."

"It's my treasure, believe me, all mine."

Téa finished her wine and stood up, "I'm going to the hotel. Make sure you don't drive anywhere." She leaned in to Sam and hugged him. "There's nothing we can do to change what's happened. We need to move forward. I'm sorry, though, that you have to live with...that."

Phillip Manning stared at the woman's swaying hips as she walked away from Rappaport, making her way out the door of the Indigo. He looked at his watch, 10:00 p.m. A few more hours to kill before he would meet the Mole.

Todd woke with a start, darkness engulfing him, his body betraying him by giving in to his intense fear of Peter, by letting himself get an erection beneath sickening touches as he slept. Sweating and barely able to breathe, he dared not uncover himself. Dared not move lest Satan get to him and kill him before he had his chance at redemption.

You forgave me, Delgado. You did. Does it cover these memories, too? Does your forgiveness include the things I did to deserve those visits from Peter?

The cool air of his room confused him, though, making him think he was in the Buchanan lodge where he found Georgie Phillips. He squinted, trying to see the fireplace, the wood door, the beams, but he couldn't see them. He put lilacs next to her when he buried her in the brush of the forest so they would understand that she was good inside and not the pariah everyone thought she was.

Why hadn't he recognized her? He could have saved her; she was save-able.

Finally, unable to tolerate the heat built up under his covers he kicked them off, taking a deep breath at the cold against his wet skin. He sat up and recognition settled upon him at last: the hospital, Llanview Psych-o ward. The room seemed small, the bathroom a stone's throw away. The closet with a dresser in it. Tight. Locked in. He still couldn't breathe and rubbed his hair, pulling the damp strands out of his face, hoping this would ease the compression. Small as a linen chest, as a coffin, as a dirt pit. Heard a loud pounding in his ears and he pressed his hands against them to shut out the sounds only it got noisier. So he let go.

Don't make me do that...please don't make me. NO!

Peter was coming to get him. He flew off the bed and threw open the door to the closet, a light flipping on. He saw his clothes and shoes. Slammed the door shut, his hand remaining on the door knob, and he pressed his forehead against the cool wood. After a moment, he opened it again and pulled out his clothes.

I need air. I can't breathe in here - too small - too confining. I gotta get out. Get the fuck out. Run. Run like hell. He's gonna...he's gonna … he's gonna kill me.

He ripped off the pajama bottoms and slipped on his jeans, thick socks, and hiking boots. He quickly changed his tee-shirt, hating the moment where he couldn't see as the shirt went over his face.

He's gonna...he's gonna… he's...here.

He shook out his hair and brushed it back with his hands.

Wash it away - the sweat, the blood, the semen, sliding down.

He ran his hands across the front of his pants and the backs of his legs, but didn't feel anything. Tricks again. He stepped into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and washed his face. Stared at himself a moment in the mirror.

Such an angel...such a dear...such a fucking baby. RUN!

He shut the bathroom door and pulled a thick wool sweater on. He then walked to the door of his room and opened it a crack, trying to control his breathing. Kept looking back into the room, thinking someone was behind him. He knew on some level he shouldn't go, wasn't supposed to go, but he had no choice.

He's gonna… he's gonna...

The floor was quiet and he stepped out. He walked slowly down the hall, close to the wall, his fists clenched and chewing on his lip. A nurse was approaching him with her head down and reading a file it looked like. He looked to his left, saw the stairwell, and quickly ducked into it. When the door shut, he looked down at the stairs circling endlessly it seemed and he leaned back against the door, dizzy.

I knew you couldn't do it. Why don't you crawl back where you belong, you sick and pathetic slug?

The laughing always got to him, rattled him. Don't listen, he told himself, shut your ears to it, your mind to it. Walk. He bit down on his teeth, grabbed the handrail tightly and begun his climb downward, down. Into the darkness.

"Where is it, Jed? Where's the letter from Hannah?"

Kevin stared down the boy in front of him who looked particularly satiated as he kicked back on the couch in front of the television, like he had gotten one up on the frustrated cat in front of him. Which he had. They were in the family room of Kevin's home, surrounded by MTV video music pumped through surround-sound speakers and poly-ethnic women singing about what they were going to do to whom while slamming themselves against the cameras.

Moments earlier, Kevin had gone to his study to get the letter so he could tell Jed about it, but it was gone. He knew Jed had taken it. A light flickered on and all at once he understood why the kid had grown so angry.

Jedediah's eyes left the arousing black and white images on the huge screen and glared at his host, "You mean the one where Hannah says she witnessed the murder of my mother?! Is that the one? The one you were keeping from me?"

"I wasn't hiding it from you! I was delaying. I was concerned you'd take off… I didn't want you to go alone."

"Well, I guess you were wrong because I'm still here...for now."

"Yeah, I was. I'm sorry, Jed. I really am." Kevin picked up the remote control and shut off the television, walking closer to Jed. Crossed his arms. Eyed the kid.

Suddenly thrust into tense silence, Jed said, "I thought we were in this together. I guess the whole 'family' thing is a crock of shit..." He turned his head away from Kevin, hurt in his voice as it trailed off.

Kevin sat on the coffee table in front of Jed. Said, "You have a family. I was being overly protective of you and I'm sorry for that. I should've trusted you and shared the letter with you as soon as I got it."

Jedediah wasn't going to give in to the tenderness. No way. He'd been betrayed by this supposed friend who had promised he would tell Jedediah everything and he didn't. "You know, maybe the reason Todd is so screwed up is because of this 'family'," he said. "Maybe it's better to be nuts than having to deal with you people!"

Kevin closed his eyes and put his head down; this was all too familiar. Jesus. Is this kind of bitterness hereditary? "What's going on, Jed? It isn't just this letter that's gotten to you. What else?"

Jedediah got up in a huff and walked to a large oil mural on the far side of the room; one of a woman with eight arms about her, surrounded by delicate images of fruits and flowers. Colorful. Hopeful. An Indian influence. He studied her eyes, her Mona Lisa grin. Her breasts were covered with two of her hands, hips draped with a tight fitting sheath. The mother of the universe. He turned around and scowled at Kevin.

"You don't understand what it's like to be raised with secrets. You don't know! You had it great with a mother and father who loved you. They didn't hide things about you, from you. You could run to your mom and give her a hug and call her 'mom'. You didn't have to pretend to be someone you weren't! When I saw you put that letter away...it just...it just made me think that you were like all the rest of them. A liar."

Kevin sighed heavily. "Ahh, Jed. I would not lie to you. Ever. You ask me anything and I'll tell you the truth. This was poor judgment on my part. And for that, I apologize."

"So you're sorry. So what?"

"I hate that I've hurt you. I care about you. I don't want there to be secrets. Do you understand?"

Jedediah kind of punched the air in frustration and scuffled over to the couch, falling heavily back down on it. "Fine, whatever. It's hard to explain, Kevin."

"Well, hear me, then. Remember what Todd told you, that 'you are loved'? When I first met you, that was so evident; I couldn't believe the confidence and power you possessed. That could only come from being loved. It hasn't disappeared."

Jedediah looked down, his heart beginning to ache again for home, for that connection. No one could make him feel the way Mimi did. No one. But Kevin was piercing that armor he had built up, that protective layer to insulate himself against further losses, until he could strike out on his own. His thoughts brought him back around to the real issue. Said, "Some bastard murdered my mother. Pushed her into that river or at least did nothing to save her. And you know his name. So where is he? And what else does this Hannah know?"

Kevin had to talk about the letter, that he knew. On to business. "Any other questions, Jed?"

"Yeah, this Manning dude, he has the same last name as Todd. Do they know each other? And since Todd's a gang-rapist...you said he was a bully when he was a kid...did...did he rape my mother? Is that how she got pregnant with me?"

Kevin sat down next to Jedediah on the couch, seeing the trouble on Jed's face, the hurt that he was trying to deal with as his imagination ran away with him. Too much information, no patience yet to sort through it. "I don't know the answers. Todd needs to tell us what happened with him and Michelle, who Phillip is. But we have to wait until he's stronger. Let's talk to the doctor first thing in the morning to get a read on when we can do this. Ok? No bolting?"

After a moment, he said, "Yeah. I wasn't going anywhere until I talked to him anyway. I'm still here, remember?"

Kevin smiled at him, at his cousin.

Jedediah then got a perplexed look on his face, "Have you talked to the cops yet?"

"No. The cops here have something going on with Phillip Manning - a bribery scheme." Kevin's voice dropped, "One involving my family - the Buchanan family."

"What - what kind of...scheme?" Kevin then told him all about the condemnation deal, the lawbreaking officials, the potential role of Asa Buchanan and the rest of the sons; Kevin's family. Jedediah listened with a questioning eye, waiting for the real point: "Now how does this relate to you not calling the cops about this...murderer?"

"If he's got Llanview in his pocket, who knows who else he's got. Chicago might be locked up, too." Kevin did keep one secret: the hit out on him. He didn't even want to think about it. He shook away his thoughts and continued, "Look, I'm letting the current investigation into the judge move forward and when Manning gets closer to being taken down, which he will, then we'll jump on it. In the meantime, I want a confession or some other evidence. We have an eye witness. But can she identify him? Today? Hannah said she recognized him from earlier reports but what pictures were those? So, while I 'hid' the letter from you, I set it up at work to take some time off next week so we can head out to see Hannah. Together. What I'm looking for now is a picture of Phillip and there is NOTHING out there. She needs to identify him."

Jedediah rubbed his eyes, tired from the day. Tired out from talking and from his non-stop emotions. No more talking. His head hurt. "All right," he said. "Can I have my videos again?"

"You mean the sexy ones?"

"Yeah. It's the next best thing to the real 'thang'..." He smiled mischievously, his mood lifted but his mind and heart no more assured. Too many questions on the horizon, too many possibilities, and they were all disturbing. What he really wanted was to go for a walk. A ride. Get the fuck out.

Kevin smirked a little, picked up the remote control and flipped on the television. They both sat a minute and watched the continued gyrations and bounces and teases of the women on the screen. Jedediah sighed and leaned back.

"Yeah...the next best thing..."

An hour later, the house having grown quiet with Kevin and Cassie asleep, Jedediah pulled his boots back on. He looked around to be sure he wasn't seen, grabbed his jacket and left the house. After rolling his bike quietly out the blackened driveway, he kick-started it and headed to town.

Freedom.

Phillip Manning decided to take a stroll down the boulevard, inadvertently heading in the direction of Llanview Hospital. How he loved the freezing air. Winter was well on its way and he adored it. Biting cold. He glanced up and down the street and lifted his arm so could he could see the time. Still another hour or so before he had to meet the Mole. He saw the park and decided to go there. Sit in the dark a while, breathe in the iciness. Contemplate life in the suburbs. Contemplate where he was going to hide out while the fucking feds bulldozed their way through his offices. Thank God for paper shredders and in-home incinerators. He laughed loudly at his own messed-up paper trail, leaning his head back, teeth showing. His short, spiky black hair shimmered in the fading moonlight as did his mahogany eyes. Idiots.

The phone rang waking Tim Graham up as he slept peacefully in his small cottage on the outskirts of Llanview. Groggily, he reached across the man in his bed, whispering, "Sorry…," and picked it up.

"Graham, here," he said, yawning and rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

"Dr. Graham, this is Nurse Hanson. One of your patients has left without the proper check-outs."

Still under the influence of his deep sleep and some tender sex, he thought procedure. "Ok. What time was it?"

"An hour ago, we estimate."

"Did they leave with family? This isn't out of the lock-down ward, is it?"

Procedure.

"Uh. No, it's out of the voluntary section. Dr. Graham, it's Todd Manning. He's taken off."

Tim shot up in bed, his heart racing. No. "Gotta be kidding me! When did you check on him last? He was borderline tonight… God..."

"Around 11:00 p.m. and he was sleeping. Went down around 8:00. Very compliant but he was depressed. We gave him his usual meds which included a mild sedative. He was supposed to be asleep the rest of the night. He should have been...unless… he didn't swallow the pills."

"Damn." A headache started to inch its way up Tim's neck, spreading slowly, heading right in between his eyes.

"He must have moved fast, doctor. These things do happen."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks. Call Mrs. Carpenter… and… call his wife. He might have gone there." He hung up and fell back. Dark eyes gazing at him.

"What happened?"

Tim smiled and put a hand on the bearded face of his overnight guest… "A patient of mine escaped the looney bin. Sleep, my good man. I'm going to the hospital."

"I'm awake now."

"Don't tempt me." He slipped out of the warm bed, got dressed. Gave his friend a deep kiss… a promise for more soon. As he drove the roads to Llanview proper, he shivered. It was so so cold outside.

Todd walked quickly down the noisy sidewalk, shivering because the wool sweater wasn't enough. Did he even have a jacket? It was downright polar. He walked with his head down, his long hair hanging about his face, listening to each step he took. Had to be near 20 degrees. At the most. The sky was a thick black, barely a star shining down. Twinkle, twinkle, little Starr. He swallowed down a burst of loneliness. A sliver of a moon accompanied the star. He was on a path through Hell leading nowhere good.

He kept looking behind him, knowing he should go back to the hospital but Peter was there so he couldn't. He'd felt his hands on him whenever he closed his eyes and he couldn't take it any more. Peter was there. In the room with him. Touching him in that revolting way, pulling at him, doing things. The sedative wasn't going to work; he knew he wasn't going to sleep that dreamless way he lusted for. So now he didn't want to sleep. He wanted the meth again to assure wakefulness, to assure control.

Found a payphone. Found coins on the floor. A fucking miracle. Spent about twenty minutes picking up the phone and hanging it back up, time and time again. In and out of the booth. Back against the wall, pulling at his hair, groaning with indecision, then staring at the phone again. Manic behavior, no question. When at last he made the decision to call, the guy didn't have his usual stuff, offering heroin instead. Todd wanted speed not the other.

"Hey, man, it makes you feel great, real fuckin' peaceful," insisted Paulie Smith, Todd's pusher. "It's more expensive but it's worth it. You're in one of your moods, I can tell. It'll help you. Trust me. Better than the shit they're giving you at the asylum."

Well. Mmm. No. He hung up. No sale. That's bad stuff. No. Not smack.

Inwardly, Todd was relieved that his "friend" came up empty. But the pain was too much. Maybe he could make it to Viki's place. Yeah. He thought of Téa and even though he wanted her, he didn't want to go parading his lunatic-self into the Palace Hotel. She had forgiven him. But, he was falling again. And there was...no one...to pick him up.

He was freezing, shaking like crazy. He was confused now. He didn't know where he was. Buildings looked the same, the streets looked the same. Where was Viki's house? Walked and walked and walked.

Stopped dead in his tracks.

A man. Tall, six foot two, maybe more. Todd stood still as he monitored the monster walking into the park. Strolling as if nothing could touch him, as if he was invincible. A black bag hung from his hand as he strode along, unaffected by the lack of light as the street lamps were all out. A bag belonging to the Devil. Pure evil, he knew. That was him. It was Peter Manning in the flesh, he thought. Couldn't be. He's dead. He's dead.

Reincarnated. That's it. He's come back.

Todd raised his hands to his face and then covered the sides of his head, slouching into himself, backing up.

He's gonna...he's gonna.

The True Pariah walked casually to a bench, ignorant of who watched him. He crossed his legs and bounced his foot to a silent beat.

The sound of an engine approaching caught Todd's attention and he turned around to run toward it. One last glance behind him and he saw the man coming to him, smiling and snickering. It was deafening and Todd ran. Right into the street, right to the single light that was headed toward him.

Light. Let me dwell in the light.

Jedediah squinted back the tears that blinded him for an instant as he drove down the main drag, past the bank, past the YMCA, past the hospital. It all hurt so damn much. He felt so alone. Yeah, yeah, Viki and Kevin really were trying, but he just couldn't feel it. These people were strangers. When at last the wetness was blinked back, he saw himself staring right at Todd in the middle of the street, terrified eyes. He jolted at the sight, squeezed the hand brakes, and sharply turned the front wheel of his bike to avoid hitting him. Skidded hard. Todd tripped and fell trying to get away.

Jedediah finally slid to a stop, barely avoiding a collision with the dead street lamp, and yelled, "TODD!"

Hopping off the bike, letting it fall to its side as the engine died, he bounded over to where Todd lay on the side of the road, curled up to protect himself. When Todd felt Jedediah's hand on his shoulder, he grabbed it and with all his strength, pushed him away. shouting, "DON'T TOUCH ME! Oh god, oh god..."

Jedediah fell on flat on his bottom and just sat there, stewing, glowering at Todd who had curled up again. After a second, he gathered his wits and demanded, "What the hell are you doing out?! I could have fucking killed you!"

"Out… out… I saw him...him… not dead, not dead at all… oh, God.. don't touch me… don't… don't..." Todd was shaking from the cold of the asphalt and dead-on fear.

"What? I don't know what the hell you're talking about… ahhh!" Jedediah kicked the ground with his foot in frustration. "Why did I have to find you?! Why me?!"

Just then, the two heard a clapping sound accompanied by a voice, "Bravo. Good fucking show." Clap. Clap. Clap. The two looked in the direction of the sound but couldn't make out the face as the light of the motorcycle was shining right behind him. All they could see was a towering figure cloaked in black with big hands. Jedediah moved a little closer to Todd who lay transfixed by the advancing specter, his lips parting slightly. Stunned.

"Whoa," the man said. "That was a close call, wasn't it kiddies? Need… help?" The ghostly man remained a shadow, his face hidden and black.

"No," Jedediah said, his own internal alarms for danger going off. This dude was scary and Todd, Satan himself, was paralyzed with terror. He must know something. "We're just fine. My friend and I had kind of a disagreement over a chick. So we were just screwing around. Thanks though. Come on, dude, let's go. NOW."

Jedediah got up and grabbed Todd's hand, grunting as he pulled him to his feet. He pushed him against the street lamp and ordered, "Don't move."

Phillip Manning shook his head with sneering grin on his face, "I don't fucking believe it. You look just like..." Jedediah kick-started his bike just at the brink of recognition for Phillip, the roar of the engine drowning out the voice of the stranger. He jerked the bike right in between them and grabbed Todd by the arm, yelling "GET ON!"

"You son of a..." The curse trailing, Phillip suddenly lunged for Todd, but Jedediah let go of the clutch, pulling away sharply with Todd managing to hop onto the back just in time. Instinct. They sped away leaving the ghostly stranger screaming something incomprehensible, a few strands of hair in his hands.

As they tore down the boulevard, Jedediah reached down and tried to loosen Todd's death grip on his shirt with no luck. Jesus. Todd had buried his head into the back of Jedediah, tucked down as they shot across the roads. Jedediah had no idea where he was going, only wanting to get the hell away from whoever it was that scared the living shit out of them.

As the two shot down the road to get as far away from the stranger as possible, Jedediah felt Todd fussing behind him and got nervous. He became even more so when he felt Todd's grip on him loosen. Finally, not being able to take the nagging feeling that his so-called father was about to drop off the bike, he pulled over. Todd immediately slid off and stumbled over to a tree where he threw-up, sputtering and spitting.

Jedediah shut off the motor and sat back, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. He heard Todd moaning and then what sounded like his falling to the ground. He casually turned around, aggravated with this unfortunate turn of events. Saw Todd sitting with his back against the tree, his head forward and his arms wrapped around himself, warming himself up, it seemed. With a heavy sigh, Jedediah got off the bike and stood in front of Todd, "Ready to go back? You're freezing. How could you walk out of that place without a jacket or something?"

Shaking from the cold, Todd said after the longest minute, "J-Just g-go. I-I'll make it on m-my own."

"Oh, right. You ran in front of me; I nearly hit you. You're going back to the hospital."

Todd looked up at Jedediah indignantly and then turned away. He groaned, beginning to feel sick again as shivers quaked through him. Cold. Icy cold. He kept taking deep breaths to stop the nausea, but then no longer able to fight it, he whipped around and threw up again. "Oh God...oh..."

"Come on," Jedediah whined, frustrated with Todd's incredible stubbornness and his being sick. Like father like son, he thought, rolling his eyes.

Todd snarled at the impatient kid in front of him as he pulled himself back to the tree, "What is your p-problem? Y-You want to g-go to the hospital, go then. There's a room for you. M-My room. It's empty." Almost empty. Oh, didn't I mention there's a child molester in there? Oops. Hands. Todd squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the memories of those visits. Again. Would they not ever stop?! He began to bump his head back against the tree rhythmically. Pain is good. Yeah.

Jedediah looked at him and wrinkled his nose, not knowing what to do. There wasn't any choice, though. Todd would die out here if he was left to his own devices. It was too cold and too dangerous. He kneeled in front of this virtual stranger, who was still head-tapping back against the tree with his eyes closed, and said, "Look, we have to go. If you don't want the hospital...that's ok. But you have to tell me where you do want to go. I'll take you. Doesn't matter where. But we can't stay here." Todd slowed his movements and seemed to be listening.

"And something else," Jedediah said. "You may not care about dying out here in this cold...but I don't want to. And I can't leave you, so...if you decide to stay - then so will I. You want me to die, too?"

Todd stopped his movements entirely and his eyes slowly moved to Jedediah, the father in him crawling out of the darkness of his mind. Peeking through a crack in the thousands-of-miles thick wall built up around his soul. He wasn't alone. His death would not be anonymously blissful. He would be responsible for someone else. His own son. Damn. He looked down and after a long pause, he stood up.

"Take me to the Penthouse," he said. "I...used to live there. I think it's open." He couldn't hold his gaze on Jedediah, however, because his motivations were not all that paternal. After all, the father in him had only peeked out of the crack, not jump through it. He thought of one thing as he envisioned his residence. The meth. It was in his closet. Or his sock drawer. Or under his mattress. Wakefulness.

Jedediah got up, nodding in relief, "Good. Let's go. Tell me which way." Todd carefully got on the bike behind his child, tentatively holding on to his sides as the boy kick-started the bike. The engine roared and they turned back around heading into town. Todd rattled off the address. Jed knew the place. Kevin had showed him.

Unidentified howling accompanied them as they drove away, screeching its way through the icy air. A dog, a wolf, a night creature. Sadness, a broken heart, a begging.

To be continued….