Days Without Sun
Chapter Twenty-Two: Answered
Aikawa and Santo Justino were on their way back to his office. Aikawa was driving; navigating the night traffic of the city with skillful haste while beside her the detective sat talking on his cell. He'd jumped on the horn the moment they'd realized Akihiko had escaped their observation and hadn't been off since.
He'd had his people call all the car rental vendors in town, since the author's regular rental was still in the condo's parking lot. A camera in one of the businesses showed the author not long after Santo Justino estimated Akihiko's time of departure from the condo.
Stopped at a light and the pair waited tensely, Santo Justino glanced over at Aikawa. He was on hold as Alvarez called the higher authorities, alerting them to this turn of events. Aikawa looked back and offered him a tight-lipped smile.
Just then his second jumped back on the line; Alvarez's voice was somber. "I've talked to the international team, they have already dispatched two commando units to the estate. They should be arriving at the grounds in less than an hour." Alvarez hesitated and then dropped his voice. "We've got the GPS for the vehicle Mr. Usami rented too now and, just as you suspected, he's at Korovin's. I have Silva reconfiguring the satellite surveillance now, we've been focusing on the ground's main buildings."
Aikawa watched Augusto's expression as the news came in. Her eyes widened when she suddenly heard a loud exclamation from the man on the other end of the phone.
"Fuck, S.J! Silva's found him and Usami's just dropped one of Korovin's security. This situation is about to go bat shit pronto here!"
"God damn cowboy!" Santo Justino snarled in frustration. "That fucking kamikaze asshole is not just going to get himself killed; he's going to botch this whole operation!
"Look, you have Silva keep an eye on him and keep me apprised. Meantime you call the incoming teams and tell them the situation has changed and there's a rogue civilian wreaking havoc!"
"Got it!" Alvarez said and in the background Santo Justino could hear the office mobilizing for action.
Though the light had changed, Aikawa hadn't moved. "What's happening?" she demanded having only understood Augusto's angry "kamikaze".
Santo Justino's eyes were blazing. He switched to English. "Your author's gone postal, he thinks he's fucking Clint Eastwood! I have to get out to Korovin's now!" Santo Justino's eyes widened when at these words, Aikawa suddenly hit the gas and pulled a sharp U turn halfway through the intersection, seeming completely unfazed by the horns and curses that erupted around her.
"What the hell are you doing, Eri?" Santo Justino gasped as he involuntarily grabbed for the dashboard.
"I'm getting us to Korovin's, what do you think I'm doing?" Aikawa snapped back sharply, her lovely face now set in a look of hard determination. "You need to stay on the phone and track what's happening. You can't do that and drive effectively and I remember how to get there, so that's that!"
"You shouldn't be there during this," One of Santo Justino's large hands covered hers as she gripped the steering wheel, white knuckled.
Aikawa's taut expression loosened a bit at his touch. "I am more than willing to be here, Augusto. I have been working with Usami-sensei for years now and he's not just my author, he's a dear friend, even if he is an incorrigible ass and a huge idiot!"
Augusto, felt his admiration for the woman beside him swell as he watched Aikawa begin to fiercely wend her way through the traffic.
He only looked away when a new voice came on the line a minute or so later. It was Silva. "S.J., the situation has just escalated. Usami's somehow breached the bunker. He's in."
Akihiko stood outside the door to the building where he hoped Misaki was being held. He watched the camera over the entrance as he dug through the duffel and pulled out a small device. He'd gotten all the information from the detective's office he could about Villinski's set up and had put together a supply list in his head on the way back to the condo. One thing about crawling through the underbelly of Garopaba as he had, looking for Misaki, was that he'd met a hell of a lot of "interesting" people.
Some of these were the kinds of individuals who could "get things."
Before he'd left the resort, Akihiko had placed a few strategic calls and not long after he'd picked up the Eco-sport he met up with a few of these people. The author looked down at the device in his hands and thought about the irony of this situation. He would have never known such a thing existed if it hadn't been for his Misaki.
He grinned bitterly.
Not long after Misaki had moved in with him, he had learned that in addition to his lover's questionable taste in manga the boy also had a penchant for heist and spy stories. As a result, Akihiko had written a tale that combined both of these genres for Misaki's twentieth birthday as a present.
With his normal meticulous attention to detail, he'd researched every aspect of this novel, acquiring all sorts of information, which while it had struck him at times during this process as tiresome or amusing, it was now turning out to be invaluable.
Akihiko pointed the device at the camera and pressed a button. No sooner had he done this than the light indicating the feed on this eye in the sky began to blink. He had three minutes now while the feed was disrupted to get in through the door.
The man scrambled to the entry and though he expected an alarm to sound any minute due to his tampering, he attacked the door's control panel.
A few cordless screwdriver twist later, a couple clipped wires, and some new connections with another little gadget, sequences of e numbers were flashing rapidly on a minute screen held in his hand, the number becoming still when the micro-computer determined it had found the right key in that sequence.
"Come on, you bastard!" Akihiko urged under his breath as the last set of numbers continued to flash. His heart was thundering in his ears and he was drenched with sweat. He was still having a hard time believing he'd made it this far.
"That's it, bitch, give it up now." The author's face took on a grave smirk as the last set of digits in the code slipped into place. "Brilliant," he breathed. Punching a button on the device he held entering the numbers into the panel, Akihiko heard the most beautiful sound in the world next to Misaki's voice… the click of a latch releasing.
Akihiko slipped in and looked down the long flight of stairs before him. He located the next camera and used his electronic magic again before he began to descend the stairs.
A shiver shook him as he heard the door close behind him. He fought to commit the sequence of numbers from the door into his memory, hoping that perhaps Vallinski was lazy enough to repeat the code if he came across any other such key pads in his search.
Akihiko felt the heavy air grow cooler with each step down he dropped into the man's lair. As he reached the base of the stairs he turned and saw a long corridor ahead of him, more cameras and another armed door. He sighed and reached in the bag for the devices again, but not before looking down and noticing the curiously stained pattern on the pale grout in between the tiles.
The author straightened at this, and his eyes narrowed at the large, dark, rust-colored patch that almost matched the terracotta tiles. He stepped over this, a small prayer on his lips, to who, he had no idea. Crossing this, a shiver coursed through him and he momentarily felt as though he'd just walked over someone's grave.
Jadir was limping his way to the incubator to carry out his master's orders. The youth's eyes were downcast as he focused on walking, his ass ached painfully. Not to mention that even after all these weeks, his leg still throbbed fiercely where the dog had mauled him. The walking cast he wore did nothing to ease the hurt of his cracked bones. Still neither of these torments were anywhere near as excruciating as the random cramps he had rather frequently in the hand that no longer existed.
Jadir ran his remaining fingers through his still shower-damp hair. Though he'd just bathed he was already sweating, despite the cool temperature of the catacombs. He leaned against a wall in the hallway he was traversing as another wave of nausea swept over him. He seemed to feel sick all the time these days. The youth looked down at his protruding belly and felt tears well up quickly.
Jadir wiped his leaking eyes with the back of his hand and wondered once again what it was he'd done to make God abandon him in this way. He had always been a good catholic; he had even been an altar boy. It was this background that in no small part had kept him from attempting to kill himself for so long.
He wondered if all that had happened to him was God's punishment for the fact he'd always be drawn to other boys instead of girls. Though he before his capture he'd believed the God of his trust would understand and was not as vindictive of such inclinations as the priests had made out. He'd wondered constantly since being taken if he hadn't been wrong.
When he'd woken up after his attempt to escape and found his tattered arm gone, he had finally resolved that ending up in hell (whether for killing himself or being gay) had to be better than this this place. This was a thought he'd had often during his time of captivity but never before dared to act on. Somehow though, Korovin had known what he was thinking, for it was not long after he'd regained consciousness that the man told him of the other life he was now responsible for.
Jadir's knees buckled as his grief overwhelmed him. Was he carrying Korovin's monster inside him? Or did this baby belong to one of his fellow captives? He hated himself for the wave of anger that washed over him towards this innocent being that was now keeping him here, regardless. Suicide was one thing, being gay another, but Jadir could not stand before his God as a murderer of an innocent as well.
But if we live…
Jadir let out a gasping sob at the thought of their fate.
Kneeling on the hard floor, Jadir tried to push himself back up, but he found he simply couldn't. His heart began to pound within his scarred chest and he trembled as he considered the punishment his master would visit on him if he didn't show up for his chores in the proper amount of time.
The youth's already shattered heart splintered further as the weight of his hopelessness crashed down on him. Jadir bowed his head. How often he'd wished he could abandon his God and be free of the weight of his actions, but try as he might, he just couldn't… Until now.
Dear Father, this is the last prayer I will ever make to you. I have at last run out. Please… God… kill me or save me... I mean us... Kill us of save us... I beg you."
As always, after making his petition, though he knew it was childish, Jadir waited. His ears strained for the noise of his long hoped for miracle. Salvation or destruction he didn't care which. He felt a new wave of sobs wrack his battered frame as silence continued to reign in the hallways surrounding him.
Unfortunately in his sickened state, the jarring of his sobs soon set him to retching. Jadir curled himself tighter as the last of his captor's foul seed poured out of him.
Once he'd stopped heaving and regained his breath, Jadir remained still a moment. Never in his life had the boy felt so completely empty and alone: out of hope, out of prayers, and now out of tears as well. He drew one of his last two thin fingers through the glistening pool of spew and sperm on the floor before him.
Jadir rubbed the viscous fluid between his two remaining fingers with his thumb. He studied it with detachment.
Jadir sighed in complete resignation.
He shakily pushed himself up off the floor, knowing he needed to clean this up now too, in addition to the tasks waiting for him at the incubator. Jadir staggered slightly as he made his way to the nearest utility closet to get a mop. Rounding the corner, he stopped.
His jaw dropped open and his eyes popped at the lavender-eyed apparition that suddenly appeared before him. Jadir gasped and stumbled. Tumbling forward, he felt the strong arms of the being he'd called forth with his last prayer envelop him as he fell.
Angel or demon, Jadir thought as blackness overtook him, it doesn't matter.
His God had finally heard him.
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