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http://www.arkwolf.com/caillechsite/index.html
This is the
standard disclaimer. They don&apst belong to me. This story is not intended to
violate any copyrights held by Paramount, UPN, or Pet Fly Productions.
Author’s Notes: I want to thank Loopy…this chapter would not have come about if not for her pestering me about wanting a little of Joel and Rafe’s back-story. Thanks also to Spacepixell for the excellent beta…you always make my stories better.
Warning:
This story contains corporal punishment.
~*~*~*~
Chapter 6
The morning after the Dawn of the New Zone, as the day of Ezekiel’s death came to be known, started off slowly for the Panther squad. The team had slept well, succumbing to exhaustion after a week of being on the skate.
Blair woke last, and not entirely by choice, as Jim squatted next to him and shook his shoulder.
“Come on, Bait, time to rise and shine,” he coaxed. “Joel made flapjacks. Again. He’s gonna be downright scorched if you don’t gobble down at least six.”
“G’way,” Blair mumbled as he batted Jim’s hand away and burrowed deeper into his sleeping roll.
Jim chewed at the inside of his cheek and smirked. “I suppose I could try your wake up method,” he warned. “Hey H, toss me a water bottle, willya?”
Blair pried his eyes open and narrowed them at Jim. “’M up, see?” he grumbled as he hastily pulled himself up onto his elbows.
Jim chuckled and stood up. He gave Blair a friendly prod in the ribs with the tip of his boot. “Up and at ‘em, Bait, let’s go,” he insisted.
Blair groaned and swatted at Jim’s foot. “All right already. Sheesh.” He yawned and stretched and slowly managed to get to his feet, under the encouragement of Jim’s mock-threatening stance. A few minutes later he joined everyone next to the fire and dug into a plateful of food.
The conversation over breakfast centered on everyone’s thoughts about what they were in for once they got back to Cascade and had to deal with Simon’s bark. Blair just observed, wondering how this Simon guy was going to react to his presence.
Jim took a good long look at the weary team as they ate and talked. He got up and walked away, prowling the perimeter of their camp. He sniffed the air and concentrated his hearing on the surrounding area, searching. He felt Blair’s presence through the tag just seconds before he laid a hand on Jim’s upper back.
“What is it, sentinel?” Blair asked in a business like tone that Jim found both satisfying and annoying at the same time.
Ignoring Blair for a moment, Jim continued to scan the area, letting the tag convey that nothing was amiss. A moment later, a huge grin lit his face.
“Saddle up,” he shouted to the team as he gave Blair a playful shove. “I hear trout calling.” He looked off to the east and pointed. “Thataway. We’re going fishing,” he finished with a satisfied intake of breath.
The rest of the team flung a bevy of questions and comments at him all at once.
“What about Simon?”
“Shouldn’t we head back?”
“Did you say trout?”
“Simon’s gonna have a conniption.”
“Sounds like an A-number one plan to me.”
“You think we’re not in enough kimchee already?”
“Fishing? Really?”
The last two words came from Blair, in a wistful, unbelieving lilt.
“Guys, guys,” Jim said with a hearty laugh, clapping his hands to regain their attention and restore order. “Another twenty-four hours is not gonna make that big a hoo-ha. We missed our downtime after the last loop on accounta this skate and I say we snag it now. If any of you ladies are that worried about Simon skinning us, we can always let Twist do the driving. The way he brick-foots it, we’ll be back in Cas yesterday.”
“Hey!” Rafe interjected with an offended look as he glanced quickly at Joel.
“He better not be brick-footin’ a hover, not if he knows what’s good for him,” Joel stated sternly, returning Rafe’s look with a measured one of his own.
Rafe rolled his eyes and threw his hands into the air. “Thanks Jim,” he blurted out sarcastically.
H was already stuffing his gear into his pack, agreeing with Jim’s plan whole-heartedly, laughing and nodding his head. “Oh yeah, I think I can hear those trout too. They’re saying come get me H.”
Jim turned to Blair and smiled. He tapped the kid’s cheeks with his fingertips. “Fishing. Really.”
~*~*~*~
The place Jim had ferreted out was about a two-mile hike from where they’d camped. The late morning sun flickered intermittently through a cloud-scattered sky as they took their time, mimicking the lazy pace of the previous day. They stayed on a straight-lined course with Jim ever mindful of their proximity to the shield, making sure they steered well clear of it. Even with their late start, the team was hunkered down on the banks of a peaceful stream by early afternoon.
The fishing gear from their survival packs wasn’t anything fancy or high-tech, but it served its purpose. Jim took quite an inordinate amount of pleasure in giving Blair pointers. And even more pleasure in the fact that Blair let him.
In no time at all the members of the Panther team were comparing the sizes of their catch, bragging about or belittling each other’s fishing skill as warranted. They kept enough so each man had one or two good-sized fish to cook for dinner, depending on his appetite, and then continued fishing catch and release just for the joy of it.
The clouds cleared by mid afternoon and the sun beat down on them with rays of warm, welcoming heat. The cool, clear water was too inviting to pass up and H and Rafe stripped to their skivvies and dove in. They whooped and hollered, splashing around like idiots, trying to entice the others to join them.
Jim poked at Blair, encouraging him to plunge in. “You’re getting a little ripe there, Bait,” he teased as he pinched his nose.
“Look who’s talkin’,” Blair retorted without missing a beat as he waved a hand under his nose. “Last one in is a mutant scuzz-headed sentinel!” he whooped as he scrabbled to shuck off his clothes.
After an hour or so of swimming, everyone was back on shore. While the Panther team sorted gear and goofed around with each other, Blair took the opportunity to hook up with Daphne. He stretched out on his stomach in a patch of soft grass and dug out the travel-pac. He fitted the earpiece in place between the silver hoops and waited a moment for the interface to chime.
“Heya Daph,
you sizzlin’?”
“Yes Blair.
I have been worried. My sensors indicate a longer period of time has elapsed
since you last connected than what I had anticipated.”
“I know, I
know. Sorry ‘bout that. I’ve got about a jillion info bytes to dazzle you with,
so get comfy.”
“Are you
all right. I am still sensing that odd---,”
“That’s
Jim. And he’s not going anywhere anytime soon, Daph, so get used to it. If you
zip for a bit I’ll snap everything in place for you. Oh and Daph?”
“Yes
Blair.”
“Switch to
Naomi’s voice please.”
Blair relayed the events that had transpired over the past few days, even the parts Daphne was already aware of. She processed the information quietly, for the most part, with only intermittent requests for clarification or more detail.
“You have
been through quite a lot Blair. Do you think the sentinel will be able to find
someone who will be able to undo the tag.”
“His name’s
Jim. And I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“What can I
do to help.”
Blair thought about that for a moment. He knew what Daphne meant, in terms of her limitations and capacity as a computer, but it was Naomi’s voice he answered.
“Sing me
that song you used to sing me when I was little. The one about me being your
sunshine.”
“You are my
sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You will
never know dear how much I love you. Please do not take my sunshine away.”
Blair closed his eyes and grinned at Daphne’s rendition, her lack of mastering contractions making the song a bit awkward. The melody was rickety, with an underlying tinniness that Blair hadn’t ever been able to program out, but the soft, gentle tone of his mother’s voice washed over him along with the warmth of the late afternoon sun, lulling him to sleep.
Not too much later, he woke to the smell of frying fish and the sounds of nearby voices. A low humming in his ear told him Daphne had switched off. He stifled a yawn and rolled onto his side. He carefully tucked the earpiece back into its case and then slowly worked his way to his feet. He stretched and scratched and stumbled to a nearby bush to take care of business; then leaned against a tree and took a look around. He observed the others, interacting easily with familiar camaraderie, and suddenly had an overwhelming feeling of wanting to belong, but unsure if he did.
Jim and Henri were tending the fish, arguing good-naturedly about which spices they should use, as if they actually had anything other than the basics in their ration packs to choose from. Joel and Rafe were farther off, near the water’s edge, and Blair couldn’t make out what they were doing.
As if sensing Blair’s unease, as indeed he probably could, Jim glanced over at him. He winked, shook his head understandingly, and reassured Blair as best he could through the tag. There would be a period of adjustment, but Jim had no intention of letting Blair feel as if he wasn’t part of the team. He nodded his head in a genial invitation for Blair to join them.
Blair hesitated for only a moment, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, suddenly feeling young and foolish. But Jim’s reassurance rippled through the tag, easing his anxiety. Then his entire body relaxed and he scooted across the short distance. H immediately put him to work, as if Blair’d always been there to be his gopher.
Soon, all that could be done was done and it was just a matter of waiting for the fish to be cooked to Jim’s satisfaction, so H and Jim settled back with cups of coffee. Blair dug out a bottle of water and gratefully accepted the packet of strawberry flavoring crystals H tossed to him. Joel and Rafe still hadn’t joined them.
“What’s the what’s-up with Rafe and Joel?” Blair ventured with a quick head jerk toward the two men. He arched his eyebrows, trying for subtlety, and wobbled his head back and forth. “Are they, you know?” He added a well-known rude gesture, suggesting they were a couple.
Henri choked and spewed his coffee. Jim started slapping him on the back forcefully while giving Blair an incredulous look. “What?” he blurted out. He shot a glance at Rafe and Joel, and then scowled at Blair. “What’d you say?”
“I, they, it’s just---,” Blair tripped over his tongue.
“Why would you think that?” Jim asked with a truly perplexed look.
“They spend a lot of time together,” Blair responded softly. He shrugged and toyed with a loose button on his shirt. “Joel seems overly protective and, and, well, they’re kinda touchy-feely.”
H recovered from his coughing fit and launched into a laughing jag. “Kid’s got a point, Jim. No use tryin’ to hide it. They do make a cute couple.”
Jim jabbed the air with a warning finger, aimed squarely at H. “Zip it,” he commanded and turned his attention back to Blair.
“You and Rafe spent quite a bit of time yesterday swapping oh-noes about parental-type barbarity,” Jim reminded with a wry smile. “Right?”
Blair gave Jim a puzzled look. “Yeah,” he admitted cautiously, still not making the connection.
Jim reached out and patted Blair’s knee. “Joel is Rafe’s L-G,” he stated simply.
Blair blushed and jerked away from Jim, mortified. He jumped up and started pacing. “Oh, oh, geez, oh, I didn’t, I mean, oh,” he spluttered. “We just compared you-wouldn’t-believe’s, you know? I---, he---, Rafe never said. He didn’t tell me.” He swiped his hands through his hair and then started waving them about, working himself toward hyperventilating. His gaze darted nervously from Jim, to Joel and Rafe, back to Jim. “It’s not like there’s any tell-tale look-alike, you know?”
“Suck in some O-2 there, Bait,” Jim advised. “No harm done.”
Blair did as he was told and took a deep breath. “But you said Rafe grew up in the Zone?” he questioned as he stole another look at the two. Then he gave Jim a wide-eyed ‘gimme’ look. “There’s gotta be a grabya do-tell, huh?”
The small ruckus started by Blair’s comments had drawn Joel and Rafe’s attention and they started toward the campfire to investigate what the commotion was about.
“Yeah,” Jim said, nodding his head thoughtfully. “But it’s not my story to tell.”
Just then, Rafe and Joel arrived. “What story?” Rafe asked enthusiastically. He glanced around anxiously and rubbed his hands together. “Nobody said we were going to have campfire stories.”
Joel poured himself a cup of coffee and sat next to H, nudging him with an elbow by way of inquiring what was up. H shook his head and stifled a chuckle, leaving it up to Jim to explain.
“Well, Twist,” Jim said as he rubbed his jaw. “The Bait was just a mite curious as to how you and Joel ended up together.”
H wasn’t able to suppress his laughter. He opened his mouth, but shut it quickly when Jim frowned at him.
Blair blushed again, but in the soft golden hues and shadows of the late-day sun, Jim was the only one to notice.
Rafe’s features scrunched and he scrubbed his hands across his face. He rocked back on his heels and then crossed his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits. Finally, he looked at Joel, deferring the choice to him.
Joel grinned. “Sure, why not? It’s one of my all-time favorite stories.” He stood up, wrapped an arm around Rafe’s shoulder and gave it a hearty squeeze. “Everyone grab a plate and get all comfy-cozy. I’ll spout the do-tell while we eat.”
~*~*~*~
The Gully, Old Cascade, ten years earlier…
Joel carefully made his way through the rubble-strewn street. He was on patrol with several other Badges, sniping for any leftover flash-bangs or tickers from the recent spate of turf skirmishes to plague the area. His mind was completely focused on the job at hand and a million miles away at the same time.
There were three gangs rumbling over the measly few square miles of Old Cascade that made up the Gully, and each new scuttle left less and less to battle over. Joel shook his head as he surveyed the damage. When he was a kid this area had flourished as a cultural district. Now it was an overflowing cesspool of scum and villainy.
None of his children had ever had the opportunity to…
Joel swept the thoughts of what-ifs and should-have-been’s from his mind. The Cascade of his childhood had been long gone before his own children had even been a twinkle in his eye. Still, he couldn’t help but mourn his loss. So much loss, still so painful. He chuckled morosely; mentally giving himself the swift kick his wife promised she’d deliver from the hear-after if he fell into dwelling on the past.
He peeked skyward, “Sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, picturing her face.
The epidemic had hit their tiny hamlet while he’d been on an out-and-about three-day patrol. A quarantine had been ordered, preventing him from getting to his family or suffering their fate. The last time he’d heard his children’s voices and seen their faces had been through the crackle and spit of a two-way.
His retrospection came to an abrupt stop as he took his next step. His foot caught on something and he fell forward with about as much grace as a guzzle-soaked digger, landing on his hands and knees. A low moan and hissed breath shot through the air and it wasn’t his. He quickly twisted around into a defensive crouch, drawing and leveling his weapon in a well-trained move.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” a male voice, young and shaky, pleaded.
The person he’d tripped over cowered against a partially demolished wall, and immediately shielded his head with up stretched, crossed arms, obscuring his face.
“Move your hands away from your face, put ‘em out where I can see ‘em, slowly,” Joel ordered. He righted himself into a steadier position on his knees, never taking his eyes off the kid.
“Sure, sure, whatever you say, just don’t shoot,” the kid complied hoarsely, doing as he was told.
Joel gave the kid a cursory once-over, looking for some sign of which gang he belonged to.
“Where’s your blaze? Who do you run with?” Joel snapped, signaling with his weapon for the kid to ante up.
Frightened, puzzled eyes answered him.
Joel took a closer look at the kid. He was filthy, but it was surface grime, recently accumulated, not the ground in dirt that came from living in the Gully.
“You trying to tell me you’re not a Gully-runner?” Joel asked skeptically.
“A what?” the kid answered, shaking his head no.
Great, Joel thought. Judging by the clean underneath the grunge, and the confusion and trepidation in the kid’s eyes, Joel suspected he had a Gully-stumper on his hands.
Youngsters on the fringe, offspring of the privileged few who had power and money to spare, every now and then ventured into the Gully on a dare or to prove their mettle in a convoluted game of one up-manship that entailed spending a night in the Gully and returning with some token to show off. This kid must have drawn the universe’s shortest straw, to have ended up with his stump cut off by the nastiest three-way out-and-out to hit the Gully in recent years.
Joel lowered his weapon but didn’t holster it yet. “What’s your name, kid?” he asked.
“Rafe,” the kid answered warily. “Why? What’s it to you? I haven’t done anything,” he added hastily.
Joel tapped the mic control on his headset and reported his find, including the kid’s name.
“Hey!” Rafe exclaimed with sincere indignation as he took in his surroundings with a swipe of a hand. “I didn’t have anything to do with any of this.”
Joel cocked his head and pinned Rafe with a stern glare. “I’m not sayin’ you did, kid, but I don’t think that attitude is gonna go far in saving your hide when your pop gets hold of you.”
“My dad’s dead, died a long time ago,” Rafe responded, looking off. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.
“Then what’s your jabber, Rafe?” Joel questioned. He heaved himself up to his feet and look down at him, intensifying his stern look. “You a cuckoo?”
The commonly used jargon for a fugitive from a Juvenile camp left the kid with an even more befuddled look.
Just then Joel got a comeback from his call-in, and he frowned in consternation when it hadn’t netted any Missings or Juvie runaways. He heaved an aggrieved sigh and motioned for Rafe to get to his feet.
Sullenly, Rafe complied. He slid upwards slowly, keeping his back against the wall. He eyed Joel suspiciously but didn’t stand a chance of winning a stare-down.
“Well?” Joel demanded as he finally holstered his weapon, deciding the kid didn’t pose a threat.
“I’m waiting for my brother,” Rafe replied, which didn’t seem to be a good enough answer, not by a long shot, if he judged Joel’s expression correctly. “This is Old Cascade, isn’t it? And that’s Donnelly Park, right?” he continued, pointing to a rusted, busted up wrought iron arch a few yards away. “If things went skizzy, and they did, then I’m supposed to meet him here.”
Joel waggled his fingers impatiently. “Let’s see some ID.”
“I ain’t got no ID,” Rafe answered defensively. “They took it.”
Just then a loud whistle sounded and Joel received instructions via his headset to regroup with the sweep team.
Joel latched onto Rafe’s collar and started walking, tugging him along. “We’ll sort it all out at the station.”
Rafe struggled to free himself. “I’m not going anywhere. I told you; I have to wait for my brother here. How’ll he find me?”
Joel stopped and pulled Rafe up short. “In case you haven’t gandered, this place isn’t safe. You obviously don’t belong here and whoever this brother of yours is oughta be throttled. Now move.”
“No,” Rafe answered, planting his feet.
“Dang,” Joel cussed under his breath. On the few occasions an OTP Badge came across a stranded G-stumper, the kid would always be anxious as all get out to be rescued and retrieved. This kid just didn’t fit the cutout.
It would be so easy to just leave him here. But the stubborn little shit was way out of his league and now that the Badges had finished their sweeps, the G-runners would be crawling out of their holes to reclaim their scraps of territory and Rafe would either be recruited into one of the gangs or, more likely, shot on sight as an unwelcome interloper.
It was as if Joel could hear his wife’s voice whispering in his ear, insisting the kid needed him. The growling of the kid’s stomach at that moment was what ultimately made up Joel’s mind.
He re-secured his hold on Rafe, gave a mighty tug, and started dragging him along, muttering loudly, “Wrong answer, wrong attitude, wrong time to give me lip.”
Still not agreeable to Joel’s edict, Rafe twisted his body with a sudden jerk in a corkscrewed move that would have made any contortionist envious. The move dislodged Joel’s hold and he wriggled free, leaving Joel empty-handed and madder than a wet hen. He took off, but the litter-strewn terrain made it difficult to move fast and in no time flat Joel caught up with him.
Joel grabbed hold once again, this time snagging a fistful of clothing, the scruff of Rafe’s neck and a few locks of hair to boot. With his other hand he delivered several stinging wallops to Rafe’s backside.
“Yeouch!” Rafe protested loudly as he tried unsuccessfully to shield his butt. “Knock it off! Who do you think you are?”
Ignoring Rafe’s outburst, Joel hefted him up and slung him over his shoulder. “Listen up, Twist, cuz I don’t wanna be repeating myself. My name’s Joel Taggart. And you’re coming with me. We’re gonna get you cleaned up and get some warm food into you and then you’re gonna give me the whole jabber ‘bout how your scrawny keester ended up here. And then we’ll see what’s what. ” He swatted Rafe’s butt again as a warning to hold still. “Got it?”
After a moment’s hesitation and another swat to his backside, Rafe agreed with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. “I got it, I got it!”
Then Joel peered up at the sky again and whispered, “You sure ‘bout this sweetheart?”
Rafe tried to make note of the route they were taking out of the Gully, but his awkward upside down position combined with the queasiness of his empty stomach made it impossible.
When they arrived at the meet-up, Joel slid Rafe off his shoulder and steadied him as he wobbled precariously.
“Whoa,” Rafe whispered. He licked his lips, closed his eyes and brought one hand to the side of his head to help balance himself. “Dizzy.”
“Here, sit,” Joel instructed as he pushed Rafe onto an overturned crate. He glanced around and gave a shout, waving an arm to gain attention. “Hey Skinny, need some quick-fix nutri-sip over here!”
A minute later, Joel eased a bottle into Rafe’s hands and guided a straw to his lips. Rafe accepted it gratefully and started sipping rabidly.
“Easy, easy, Twist, it’s not goin’ anywhere,” Joel chided. “This’ll re-hydrate you and fill you up some. Then we’ll get something a little more stick-to-your-bones into you.”
Rafe just nodded, not willing to stop drinking long enough to give a verbal response. The liquid was syrupy but not sweet with a fruity tang that tasted quite good, especially to someone who hadn’t had anything substantial to eat for a few days.
“Where’d you snag this runner?” Skinny asked. “You want me to put him with the others?” His head lolled indecisively in the direction of a land-hugger van that held about a half dozen rowdy occupants.
Joel shook his head as he spoke. “He’s not a runner. I’ll keep him with me. How soon before we flit?”
“It’ll be a bit. Juke and Natter are still out. They just called in a livewire,” Skinny tossed back at Joel as he wandered off.
Rafe listened to the exchange with a detached curiosity as he glanced around, getting his bearings. He debated what would be his best chance of giving Joel the slip and how he was going to find his way back to the park. He drained the bottle and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
Joel pulled up a crate and sat down in front of Rafe. He fisted one hand on his hip, rested the opposite forearm on his thigh and leaned in toward Rafe. “Best you give me your jabber, son, so I can figure out what I’m gonna do with you.”
Rafe took a deep breath before diving in. “I was bootlegged from the Free Zone,” he paused to do a mental tally, “five days ago.”
Joel tensed at hearing that tidbit, but hid it from the kid.
“My older brother Gabe and me live in Perseverance sector, near the northwest rim. He made a handshake with a trader to get us out. A by-gosh palm-spit good-for with Indents for five years each. Gabe’s a crackerjack tech-er. There’s not a two-way or transmat he can’t take apart and put back together with his eyes shut. Preston said it’d all be up and up on account of there was plenty of need for good Ears outside the Zone.”
Joel’s brow furrowed and he interrupted, “This Preston fella, is he a big, ugly galoot with a mug that’d crack plaster and a mangled tattoo along his jaw line?”
Rafe nodded hesitantly, wondering how Joel knew that, and answered defensively, “Yeah, so?”
“Go on,” Joel prodded with a flick of his dangling fingers, “if the palm-spit was for the two of you, where’s Gabe?”
“There was only room for one of us this go. I mean I wasn’t the only one he was taking out. Preston said he was gonna do a dash back a few days later---,” Rafe explained.
Joel was shaking his head by this point, not because he didn’t believe the kid’s story, but because he knew for a fact that even if Preston had any intention of going back for Gabe there was no way it was going to happen.
“You said things skizzied?” Joel prompted some more.
The heel of Rafe’s left foot started tappity-tapping against the crate. He quickly bent his head, not wanting Joel to see the flustered, embarrassed look on his face. “He took us to this place to arrange our indents, and there musta been some kinda snarl because I ended up with this dude who took me to this, this, this place,” he said with distaste. Keeping his head down, he looked up at Joel. “You wouldn’t believe what he told me he wanted me to do,” he said in a strangled whisper and then quickly ducked his head again.
Joel reached out and laid a hand on the back of Rafe’s neck and started rubbing it soothingly. “Shhhh, it’s okay,” he consoled. “So you did that twister move and rabbited?”
Rafe hitched a breath and nodded.
“Look at me,” Joel said as he moved his hand to Rafe’s chin and gently tilted his head up. “Dirty Dog Preston is a known peddler. We’d heard he’d stooped to shanghai-ing underages from the Zone. Promising tickets to folks who wanted a way out for their younguns, ‘specially with the recent juice on the grapevine. He was never going back for Gabe.”
“No, no, you’re wrong,” Rafe whispered disbelievingly, his head shimmying back and forth. But his eyes told the truth…he’d heard the rumors too, more clearly than anyone on the Outside, which was why Gabe, and many others, were scrambling to find way-outs for their loved ones.
Joel steeled himself and continued. “Ezekiel gave a stay-away shout to the surrounding Con-feds and Territories two days ago, and then slammed the shield down and clamped it tighter’n a miser’s wallet. It’s zipped for good, no one in, no one out. I’m sorry.”
Rafe stared at Joel slack-jawed for a moment, his eyes shiny with moisture as he mouthed a silent no. Then he jumped to his feet, turned, and strode away with a determined bounce.
It only took Joel a second to recover from the sudden change in Rafe’s demeanor and he knew instantly where the kid thought he was headed. He started after him, jogging to overtake him before he broke into a run. He caught up, spun him about and enveloped him in a hug. He ran his hands up and down Rafe’s back and tried his best to offer words of support and comfort.
“Lemme go,” Rafe mumbled into Joel’s shirt, though his efforts to extricate himself were half-hearted. “He mighta gotten out, he mighta,” he said with youthful conviction. “I gotta be where he told me to meet him. I gotta.”
“Gabe’s a smart guy, you said so yourself,” Joel reasoned. “He wouldn’t want you to be somewhere where it isn’t safe. And you’re right,” he placated. “He might’ve gotten out, but if you’re not there, he’ll skedaddle and look for you in one of the registers or camps.”
There were numerous places that took in and cared for refugees from all the recent turmoil, both man-made and Nature’s. The juvenile camps were well stocked with food, clothes and medicine. And many people, whose own children had been ripped from them, or whose ability to have children was no longer an option due to the poisons in the environment, were looking to take in underages and claim them as their own.
It felt safe in Joel’s embrace, and safe was a feeling Rafe hadn’t known for days. But it also felt wrong not to at least try to be where Gabe had told him to be.
Rafe’s indecision radiated through his body in trembling ripples, and Joel prepared himself for the last ditch effort he knew was coming. When Rafe tried to shove away and twist out of Joel’s hold, the attempt was thwarted. Joel used Rafe’s own momentum against him and easily re-positioned him so that his upper torso was trapped underneath Joel’s left armpit, leaving his backside a sitting duck.
Joel delivered a quick, hard spanking, peppering Rafe’s bottom with a series of stinging swats. Then he pulled Rafe up, holding tightly to his upper arms, and gave him a good shake.
Rafe was too startled to say anything. He gulped nervously and stared at Joel.
“Listen up, Twist,” Joel said in a gentle yet forceful voice, “I’m claiming you. You understand that? I’ll register you on the Ref lists and do everything I know how to make sure Gabe’ll be able to find you. But in the in-between I’m not gonna take the chance of you being claimed by someone who’ll move to one of the outer sectors. You hear me? We’ll be right here, in Cascade. I’ll have a Look-Out posted for Gabe. You’ll have the entire Olympic Territorial Police scouting. Whaddya say, Rafe?” he ended with a please in his eyes.
“Why? W-why would you,” Rafe answered shakily.
Joel pursed his lips and nodded heavenward. Rafe followed his gaze.
“My wife couldn’t have children. And if ever there was a woman who was meant to be a mother, it was her.” Joel looked at Rafe again. “We had five claimed younguns. Marie sure knew how to pick ‘em. I couldn’t’ve loved or been more proud of each and everyone one of them if they’d been natural born.”
Joel had Rafe’s full attention now; so he went on to explain about the recent epidemic. Then he let go of Rafe’s arms and cupped his cheek. “And now, by god, she’s picked you, so whaddya say?”
Rafe’s face lit up with a shy grin. He rubbed his butt and chuckled softly. “You don’t spank as hard as Gabe, I guess I could live with that,” he quipped. “I say yes.”
Joel whooped and hugged Rafe again, lifting him off his feet. When he set him down, the two of them were laughing and grinning. Joel wrapped his arm around Rafe, tucked him next to his body, and steered them toward the tangle of Badges and hover-cars.
“I’ve just gotta check out over here,” Joel said. “Then we’re going home.”
~*~*~*~
“Hot-diggety!” H exclaimed, rubbing his hands together appreciatively. “I do enjoy that tell-tale. I think we oughta give it an official title. It’s that good.”
“Hardy-har-har-har,” Rafe deadpanned as he gave H a good shove.
Jim smiled broadly. He and Joel exchanged silent, knowing looks that weren’t lost on Blair.
“It is a good tell-tale,” Blair agreed, laughing along with the others. “Thanks for the split.”
Jim broke things up. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us,” he reminded. “Let’s see, H and I did the cooking, the Bait helped out, I do believe that leaves K-P duty to Twist and Joel.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rafe grumbled good-naturedly as he started gathering the plates.
“And you,” Jim said solemnly, pointing at Blair, “have a trip due.”
Blair winced and screwed his face into a displeased grimace at hearing the euphemism. He got up and trudged silently along with Jim to a spot a few yards away that afforded a modicum of privacy.
Blair was spared the agony of a lecture, refusing Jim’s offer of a reminder of why he was going to get his butt walloped. His negotiation attempt from the previous night hadn’t gained him much. He’d only managed to niggle his sentence down by one spanking of Jim’s choosing. It was a hard won concession on Blair’s part and he suspected Jim had only finally given in out of sheer frustration in the face of Blair’s unrelenting yammering as well as the tag’s agreeable zing.
It was little solace to him at the moment however, as he lay over Jim’s knee, his legs pinned securely under one of Jim’s, his backside being soundly spanked.
~*~*~*~
Blair tried to sleep, but it was a lost cause. After turning in, he spent more than an hour tossing and turning as the adrenaline buzz of the past few days tried to wiggle itself out of his system. The lingering stinging sensation on his butt reinforced his fitfulness every time a spastic flip landed him on his back. He finally gave up trying to sleep all together and flopped onto his stomach. He blinked his eyes rapidly and rubbed at them with tight fists to waken fully. He burrowed his elbows into his duffel, rested his chin on his forearms and stared into the glowing embers of the campfire.
His thoughts pin-wheeled in a hundred directions and he vigorously tried to tame them into some semblance of order. He let the flickering firelight mesmerize him, allowing him to meditate. He schooled his breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly until he found his center. Humming low, feeling the vibrations in his diaphragm, he conjured the calming mantra Naomi’d taught him when he was six.
Jim lay on his side a few feet to Blair’s left and little behind him. He watched covertly, giving the boy time to unwind. The tag droned between them in a subtle undertone, each aware of the other on a subconscious level.
Once he’d centered himself, Blair systematically compartmentalized and stowed away all the worries, fears and uncertainties that had been eating away at him. There’d be plenty of time in the clear cool light of a new day to dissect them further.
“Do you always think so loudly?” Jim asked in a hushed voice, not wanting to roust the rest of the team. He hid a smirk, lest Blair look his way.
Blair jerked his head only slightly, not really startled but more annoyed at Jim’s observance of him. He dismissed Jim’s remark with a decidedly affected teenaged scowl.
“You’re doing it again,” he griped in an air of exaggerated exasperation.
“What?” Jim asked.
“That whole x-ray scanner mojo dealie on me,” Blair retorted sourly.
Jim did smirk this time since Blair was pointedly not looking his way. “Can’t help it Bait. Me sentinel, you guide, remember?” he answered.
Blair ignored the remark as well as the tag’s happy go lucky buzzing. He stared intently at the ground.
Several long minutes slid by as they each shifted their weight self-consciously. The soft breathing and muffled snores of the others filled the air. The spit and hiss of the dying coals crackled soothingly and cast reddish-gray shadowy images across the camp.
Blair broke the silence with a
drawn out sigh. “I really don’t want to like you Jim,” he confessed. He rubbed
his tender backside to help illustrate his point. Then he shrugged and made a
sort of snorted chuckling that Jim immediately liked the sound of. He idly ran
a fingertip through the dirt tracing strange angular patterns. His eyes
remained fixed on his task. “But I do,” he admitted. He sounded tired and young
and unsure, as if the admission was an unwilling surrender. “Sorta.”
“I sorta like you too,” Jim
replied evenly. He pursed his lips and gave a non-committal body-shrug. “When
you’re not being a twinge.”
Blair did look at Jim then. He
squinted against the darkness, trying to gauge Jim’s sincerity. The solemn
expression on the sentinel’s face told Blair he wasn’t being humored or teased.
“What’s gonna happen when we get
to Cascade?” Blair asked. “I mean with you being a Badge ‘n all? Do I get a
place in the posse?” he nodded his head in the general direction of the other
men.
Jim sighed and scratched his chin.
“I’ll put in my claim on you for starters. Then we’ll have to see where you’re
at with schooling, med-checks and all that. After that we’ll have to run it
past Simon. He’s the head honcho.”
“But I’m your guide,” Blair
replied, sounding defensive at the suggestion of someone else having a say.
“Aren’t there rules that are meant to be broken for sentinels and guides? Why
would he get to have a nay-say just because his Badge rank is loftier? Does he
know anything about sentinels and guides? Who does he---,”
Jim tuned out at that point,
letting Blair prattle on, expending energy. Seeing and hearing his guide with
his hackles up in response to the idea of not being at his sentinel’s side,
especially due to somebody else’s say-so, amused Jim to no end.
He couldn’t wait for Simon and
Blair to meet.
End Chapter Six