Jason caught hold of Riley's wrist again as she skittered to a stop just inside the alley, the muddy water splashing like ice water up his pant legs. The adrenaline was still racing through his veins, even more so now that they were within striking distance of a Cobra. Jason could smell just a hint of something foul and putrid pricking his nostrils, like overripe fruit starting to rot. He wasn't sure if it was coming from the Cobra or the general filth of the backyard, but either way it wasn't pleasant.
Glancing down, Jason felt a bit of sympathy despite the fear coursing through him. The Cobra was sprawled on his front, seemingly unconscious at his feet, half sunk in the mud. Blood trickled from his misshapen nose, and if Jason squinted, he could see bruises starting to blossom along his sharp cheekbones. But the external injuries wasn't what struck Jason the most. This Cobra looked young, probably a year or two older than him, at most.
A sudden realization came to mind that twisted Jason's stomach, and he tasted bile at the back of his throat again. If I had to live on the street…could this have been me?
His momentary lapse in attention gave Riley the opportunity to kneel beside the injured Cobra. Jason snapped back to reality, roughly pushing the thought from his mind. "Be careful," he warned, and Riley rolled her eyes at him. He drew his switchblade, just in case.
She cautiously reached a hand out, pushing on the Cobra's shoulder so he was lying on his back. He let out a feeble moan of pain, cracking an eye open. His breaths came in weak wheezes, interrupted by a string of coughs.
Riley and the assassin stared at each other for a long moment, both silent apart from the Cobra's laboured breathing. She shifted uncomfortably in her crouched position, eyes growing wider as though she felt the same fear spreading through her body, and a small part of Jason hoped she would change her mind, listen to that fear, and give up this stupid, dangerous humanitarian urge of hers.
"What're you waitin' for? Gonna watch me die 'fore you loot me?" the young assassin slurred in a weak tenor.
"No…umm…" Riley fidgeted, focusing her gaze on the Cobra's muddy sword. "We…" she glanced up at Jason, who minutely shook his head, and then corrected herself, "I…want to help."
The Cobra propped himself up onto his elbow with evident difficulty, muscles seizing and shivering from the cold. Riley helped him lean back against the brick wall behind him despite his hisses of protest. His head lolled against the brick, eyes shut tight as if trying to fight off a particularly unpleasant dizzy spell. Jason noticed his bangs were the colour of wet sand. Then he dropped his head, his hood obscuring his face. Jason could only see his broken nose and the blood dripping from his chin, diluted by the rain.
"Why? What do you care?" the assassin croaked condescendingly, voice raspy from his coughing. "Wouldn't having one less Cobra around make the streets a little safer? I bet Ponyboy here would love it if he didn't have to run messages without Cobras breathing down his neck!" He glared up at Jason when he said it, and Jason balled his fists, averting his gaze.
Riley grit her teeth, frustration raising insults to the back of her throat. "Do you want help or not?" she asked in a measured voice, trying not to let her irritation leak through.
"Stop trying to play heroine and leave me to die like you're supposed to!" the Cobra spat back.
"Like I'm supposed to." Riley echoed mordantly, wiping the mud from her skinny jeans as she stood. "If you really think you're only worth the stuff you carry, or the number of people you kill, then fine. I was going to offer you a warm, dry, safe place to stay, but I guess your generosity won't let you," the venom dripped from her voice like the rain cascading off the fire escape as she turned and let Jason gladly lead the way out of the alley.
When Riley and Jason reached the mouth of the alley, they suddenly heard the Cobra call out, "W-wait!"
Jason audibly groaned as Riley spun on her heel and eagerly scampered through the mud back to the assassin.
"Do you really mean it? Giving me a place to sleep?" the Cobra asked, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. He was still visibly shivering, more so now. Jason crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to prevent the chill of the rain from seeping any further into his skin.
Riley nodded, and the ghost of a tiny smile quirked the edges of the assassin's pale lips upward. "I guess…that'd be nice," the Cobra mumbled, almost timid.
"Where, pray tell, is this warm, dry place where he can sleep?" Jason drawled as Riley supported the Cobra to help him stand. She grunted as she fell on one knee under his weight.
"I have an extra bed in my dorm room," Riley simply answered, smirking as Jason's jaw fell open. "Help me with him, will you?" she requested as she fell a second time trying to help the Cobra stand.
Jason glanced down at her, and his eyes flicked to the assassin's sword, which had previously been sunk in the mud. The hand guard was shaped like a dragon, glinting a dull gold in the rain.
The church flashed across Jason's mind's eye. Fear spiked up his spine and he fervently shook his head, backing up until he hit the remnants of an old, caved-in shed behind him. "No. No way, we are not helping him. This guy tried to kill me earlier this week, and he killed Picasso!" he protested, eyes wide with fear.
"Who cares about Picasso? You're not dead, are you?" Riley shot back. "Jason, that's the only place where he'll be able to recover properly. It's warm, dry, safe, and clean. You can't ask for anything better than a proper bed!"
The Cobra closed his eyes for a moment, that almost-smile flickering across his lips again as if he were fantasizing about what sleeping in a real bed might feel like.
Jason shook his head again. "Riley, think about what you're doing. He's not a stray cat, he's a bloodthirsty assassin!" he was on the verge of shouting. "You'll have a freaking massacre on your hands! I'm not going to help him kill my friends!" Jason gestured wildly, trying to make her understand.
"Does he look like he's in any condition to massacre anyone?" Riley jerked a thumb at the Cobra. "Jason, stop being irrational and help me with him!"
Jason worked his jaw, pushing a hand through his sopping wet hair. Then he seemed to make up his mind, crouching in front of the assassin. The Cobra regarded him warily, as if he were half-expected Jason to punch him.
"This is gonna cost you, Cobra. If one person in that school," Jason held up his index finger, "gets so much as a scratch because of you, we're throwing you to the soldiers."
The Cobra nodded. "Anything else?" he growled.
Jason thought for a moment. "I want immunity from the Cobras for my family. The Carmichaels. And the Marshalls," he added, glancing at Riley.
The assassin twitched his upper lip in distaste at the last request, but he nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Done."
"I can't believe I'm doing this…" Jason moaned as he hoisted the Cobra's free arm around his shoulders, getting him to his feet with Riley. After a few stumbles, the injured assassin managed to limp at a relatively decent pace.
After a few minutes of walking, Riley queried, "So what's your name?" as if making polite conversation were nothing out of the ordinary while they avoided scope lights from soldiers, sticking to alleys.
The Cobra scoffed, "You don't need to know my name."
"Sure we do. We need to call you something while we take care of you," Riley smiled up at him. Jason noted that she just barely reached his shoulder.
The Cobra let out an annoyed sigh, rolling his eyes. He stayed stubbornly silent, but when Riley playfully nudged him with her elbow, he nearly doubled over, swearing under his breath.
"Sorry! I'm sorry," Riley quickly apologized.
"I'm fine…" the assassin coughed, resuming his hobble again. He glanced down at Riley, sighing lightly at her hopeful expression. "Name's Roach," the Cobra answered in an irritated drone.
Riley's nose wrinkled at the strange name, and Roach smirked amusedly, falling silent as they picked their way across yet another back alley, while the white beam of a soldier's scope light swept across the street on the other side of the building. They continued like that until they reached Van Vorst Park, just a block from Riley's dorm.
The dense, overgrown foliage of the park was especially useful for hiding from soldiers, and they rarely patrolled the park, anyway. Roach collapsed by a rusted, corroded set of monkey bars in what used to be a children's playground. The only evidence that it was once painted were the tiny flecks of blue peeling off the metal. A few tarps were tied to the banister of a large, dilapidated, red-roofed gazeebo on the other side of the park, and Jason caught the corner of one flapping down as if someone had ducked their head inside. He hoped Roach still elicited enough caution and fear from the park's squatters in his state to ward off any potential muggers.
Roach's chest heaved as he rested his head against the rungs of the monkey bars, and then he bent over as if to vomit. He gagged, but nothing came out of his mouth. Riley drew her eyebrows together, kneeling in front of Roach as he straightened up, wiping blood and spit from his mouth.
"When was the last time you ate something?" Riley queried, tilting her head to one side. Jason wandered off a few feet away, alert for soldiers and muggers as he hugged himself for warmth.
Roach gave Riley another smirk, as if her concern amused him. "I'll answer that question when I can think straight," he said.
The edges of Riley's lips tugged down in a frown, and she lifted the back of her hand to Roach's forehead. Her frown deepened as she retracted it. "No wonder, you have a nasty fever," she concluded, her tone sympathetic again.
"Why are you doing this?" Roach questioned with his usual irritation.
Riley lifted a shoulder. She honestly didn't know herself what drove her to even be within fifty feet of a Cobra. It was more trouble for her, and she was putting herself in danger by helping him. Not only that, she didn't have much to gain from helping him. "I dunno, just seems like the right thing to do," she answered after a short pause.
"Gimme a break…" Roach rolled his eyes.
"Are you two done chatting? We still have floor patrols inside the school to get past," Jason reminded them, bouncing on the balls of his feet to keep his legs from going numb.
Roach nodded, letting Riley and Jason hoist him to his feet again. Once on his feet he swayed dangerously, almost falling back against the monkey bars.
"Take it easy, c'mon," Riley encouraged, and Roach clenched his jaw, collecting himself as he limped forward. It was more difficult to hide from soldiers now that they had fewer alleys near the school to hide in. Jason spotted two soldiers standing guard at the main doors to the school, sheltered by the rain under the awning above the doors. They casually leaned against the brick behind them, the orange glow of cigarettes winking on and off around their lips each time they took a drag. The scope lights of soldiers along the roof of the building next to Roach, Riley, and Jason swept back and forth in a steady rhythm, like the lazy pendulum of a grandfather clock.
"What's the plan now, Riley?" Jason queried, intently watching the soldiers by the school doors.
Riley bit her lip, nervously eyeing the scope light cutting a path of light through the darkness. "It looks like we'll have to make a break for it," she said. The door to the fire escape of the dormitory by the school was so tantalizingly close, they just had to cross the street. Soldiers still patrolled the odd floor during the night, but they were much easier to deal with than the soldier on the roof and those by the school doors.
Jason glanced up at Roach, and though he couldn't see his eyes, he knew he was analyzing the soldiers' movements. Roach then switched his gaze to the splintered pavement of the alley they were hiding in, scanning the trash lining the brick walls.
"Pick up that bottle," Roach requested, motioning his head to a cracked, brown beer bottle lying on the ground.
"Why?" Riley cocked her head. Roach glared at her impatiently, and she obliged with a huff. Once she had the bottle in her hand, Roach turned his attention to the soldiers standing guard again.
"Throw it at the window of that old car, and then run," Roach jutted his chin out at an old, rusted van parked on the other side of the street.
Riley glanced from the bottle to the car, judging the distance. She nodded, drew her arm back like she was throwing a football, and tossed the bottle at the dilapidated car. The bottle flew in a smooth arc, but shattered next to the car's tire. The entrance soldiers' scope lights snapped to where the bottle landed with a cry of alarm, and they were suddenly at attention, rifles hoisted as they cautiously stepped toward the van.
"Go, go!" Roach ordered urgently, and broke into a sprint. A soldier's scope light swung in their direction, followed by a spatter of bullets. Jason flung himself at the door's handle, throwing all his weight against the metal. The hinges groaned in protest, refusing to budge. The soldiers' shouts were growing louder. A beam of light yawned at the alley's mouth. Riley braced her shoulder against the door, her heels sinking in the slick mud. It finally swung open, and all three of them piled inside the narrow stairwell.
Jason snapped the deadbolt in place, and put his ear against the door. Riley and Roach held their breath. After a few minutes, the soldiers' confused shouts faded into silence, and the only sound was the rain pattering against the metal. Jason gave the all-clear. They all let out relieved breaths, smiling at each other in the pitch-black stairwell.
"Holy crap, I can't believe that actually worked!" Riley panted, wiping the sweat and water from her face.
Roach gave a weak moan, swaying again. Riley and Jason carefully deposited him on the bottom step of the cracked concrete staircase. Jason sighed, glancing up at the black abyss above them, punctuated by a square of light for each floor. Roach curled up against the rusted iron handrail as another coughing fit wracked his body.
Riley took a seat beside Roach, rubbing her thumb over the back of his gloved hand. He cracked an eye open, throwing her a suspicious glance. "Don't worry, we're almost there. I live on the third floor," she smiled encouragingly, and Roach lolled his head against the railing with another moan, too tired to verbalize a complaint.
Jason held up a hand to wait once they reached the third floor landing, and Roach gladly leaned against the wall, panting. Jason poked his head out into the hallway, cringing as the ancient door hinges groaned loudly in the silence. The empty hall extended in both directions, and no footsteps signalled the approach of a soldier. Jason waved Riley and Roach on as he held the door open, and then shut it as quietly as he could.
"Jay, go get first-aid stuff from the nurse's office, will you?" Riley requested as they reached the door to her room.
"It's locked at night, you know," Jason reminded her.
Riley pursed her lips, and then nodded in agreement. "Crap, yeah…didn't think of that…"
Roach slipped his hand into the breast pocket inside his jacket, producing a small ring of four keys. He plopped them with a clink in Jason's hand. "One of those is a skeleton key, opens all the doors in the school and the dorm," he explained at Jason's confused expression.
"Where'd you get them?" Jason wrinkled his brow.
"Do you really want me to answer that question?" Roach sighed impatiently, and Jason shivered, pocketed the keys, and slipped off down the hall to the nurse's office. He rummaged around through the various cupboards in the dark exam room, gathering a metal bowl, a bottle of saline solution, gauze, clean rags, and antiseptic. He stuffed a packet of sutures in his back pocket just in case.
When he slipped into Riley's room, she was helping Roach out of his jacket. It was caked in mud on one side, leaving a trail of splotches across the hardwood floor. Roach's t-shirt underneath could pass for white-gone-yellow rags, riddled with tears, holes, and streaked with filth. The back was completely covered in blood, most of it dried, but some of it fresh. They were silhouetted against the desk lamp's warm glow, and it was as if they were the only two people in the world, focused only on each other. Jason leaned against the doorframe, an odd feeling settling in his stomach like he was interrupting an intimate moment, which was absurd because Riley and Roach were complete strangers.
He watched silently as Riley carefully peeled the shirt away from Roach's back, using as light a touch as possible. Roach watched her warily over his shoulder, his jaw tightening as if he was trying to suppress winces, or maybe insults. His eyes locked with Riley's as she stepped in front of him, flashing a clear warning as her fingers hovering at the frayed hem of his shirt. Jason tensed, eyes riveted on Roach's hands.
"Are you going to let me take your shirt off?" Riley quietly asked him, her tone firm, but gentle.
Roach said nothing, but his harsh glare softened. He exhaled softly through his nose. Taking that as a confirmation, Riley slipped her hands under the fabric, slowly hiking the shirt up. Roach's muscles seized and he audibly sucked in a breath, but he didn't push her hands away.
Smirking, Riley tilted her head to one side. "What? Are my hands cold?" she teased playfully.
"No. Warm," Roach mumbled as Riley tossed the shirt over her desk chair. He turned to pull his boots off.
Riley clapped a hand to her mouth and gasped.
Four long gashes spread like bloody fingers across Roach's back. They were ringed with a sickly yellow puss that mixed with the fresh blood oozing from the cuts, and Jason resisted the urge to gag. The swollen, inflamed skin around the gashes stretched as Roach breathed, coloured an angry shade of red.
"Somebody take a pitchfork to your back?" Jason attempted to joke, but Roach just gave an irritated snort as Riley threw him a disapproving look.
"Bullwhip, actually," Roach dryly corrected him as he lay down on the bed. Riley and Jason winced at the mental image.
Riley took a rag from the small pile on the desk, dipped it in the bowl of the saline solution, and dabbed the first gash on Roach's upper back. A mixture of puss and blood came away, and Roach hissed in pain, digging his dirty fingernails into the mattress. Riley kept working on the wound, ignoring his muttered obscenities as his muscles tightened, to the point where they began to shake from the strain.
"Need a minute?" Riley guessed, her tone gentle. Roach snorted condescendingly at the idea, but the silent plead in his eyes told the opposite. She smirked, handing him a protein bar that she had sneaked the previous day at breakfast. He appreciatively nibbled on it, the fleeting vulnerability gone.
Jason relaxed enough to recline on Riley's bed, kicking his shoes off. Roach eventually closed his eyes and fell silent, giving the occasional twitch as Riley moved on to the antiseptic solution. Every now and again, Roach's ragged breathing would be interrupted by coughing, or Riley would bring a chipped mug of water to his pale lips. She worked with a gentle tenderness, dabbing the sweat from Roach's forehead or rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. Something pricked the back of Jason's mind, and a tiny voice hissed that Roach didn't deserve Riley's compassion, he didn't deserve her gentle touch; what he deserved was to be freezing out there in that alley.
Why can't Riley see how dangerous this is? Jason worried. Somebody's gonna find out and get us expelled, or someone's gonna end up dead, and it won't be Roach.