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The clock had ticked the hour away, and it’s ticking had been the only sound to fill the silence of Chase’s apartment, and the dark outside was as mysterious as Aaron’s whereabouts.
He leaned against the island, drinking his second glass of vodka tonic, preparing to grab his keys and continue searching for Aaron. Chase had cried for most of that hour. Quiet bleats that he muffled with every drink.
The phone set off and Chase was quick to catch it, placing it to his ear without bothering to see who was even calling.
“Aaron?”
“I have him! Chase, I have him!”
The voice was female. It was familiar; he knew it but at the moment he was unable to place it. He was unable to conjure the face that belonged to it.
“What? I don’t—” He shot up from the island-top and slammed the glass down on the strong wood.
“Chase, its Sandra. I’m with Aaron. I have Aaron. Chase, it’s not good. He’s really fucked up!”
His throat constricted, and his stomach burned as he ingested what she meant, his mind conjuring the worst. As if flash projections, he saw Aaron splayed on the ground, his pale flesh milky and burning with ruby-tinged contusions and electric-red incisions.
“Where? Where are you? Where—where is he...?” Chase braced his hip and bowed towards the island, pulling in the air and the tears, holding it in for a moment, thanking a god he didn’t even believe in and letting it out again, switching gears completely and compartmentalizing everything into their separate rooms so that he could focus on rescuing Aaron.
“The park behind the museum. Just get here!”
There was a glow inside of him. Everything lit up in phosphorescence, and it was as if he could smell the air again. The fragrance of Bellingham’s night—the haunting smell of pressed pulp and the bouquet of cigarette smoke and petrol—wafted through the open balcony and curled around his head. He could hear the streets again—the clamor of drunk college kids and downtown legends—the living dead of a nightlife that had once seen better days, still partying hard as if they would never die.
He looked at Amanda, Tammy, and Carolyn, the three of them gathered around him, their eyes wide and Amanda still holding the pipe.
Chase pushed back from the island and raced into his bedroom, slipping his feet quickly into a pair of black sneakers and racing back out into the kitchen.
“Let’s go,” he said to Tammy, grabbing her arm and pulling her along with him back down the hall towards the door.
“You two stay here and don’t open the door for anyone! Keep it locked!” he shouted back to Amanda and Carolyn, who were still standing around the island passing the pipe between them.
They rode the elevator down towards the street in silence, the both of them looking impatiently at each other.
As soon as the elevator opened, Tammy and Chase were quick to race down the hall and throw open the door, crossing the distance between the sidewalk and Chase’s car in a couple of seconds.
Chase scrambled to unlock the doors and as soon as Tammy had buckled herself in, Chase started the ignition and put the Impala into reverse.
“Hang on!”
No sooner had Tammy slammed the door, Chase put pressure on the gas and peeled out of the parking space, his engine roaring through the night.
His thoughts were racing and his entire body was shaking and his knees knocked together. Chase’s heart raced, pumping the adrenaline through his bloodstream. Nothing could beat this high; the only thing that shadowed it was the high he felt fucking Aaron.
They hit a red light, and Chase slammed his hand against his steering wheel.
“Screw this shit!” He looked at Tammy and winked, before releasing the brake and forcing the gas, the car flying down West Holly Street, coming to a screeching halt along the curbside in front of that fountain.
Chase threw the door open and raced around the car, sprinting down the paved path leading to the Amphitheatre, the concrete spot-lit in electric orange from old wired posts.
In the distance he saw two shapes, huddled together in the night, one arm wrapped around the other, one body needing protection and the other providing the shelter that would keep him from the storm.
When their eyes met Chase felt everything inside of him stop. His heart. His brain and his lungs; all of it. He was stalk-still, immobile—chilled by the lacerations, the blood and the bruises that looked like neon in the night.
“Baby...” Chase said, his voice catching in his throat, desperate to say more, but not knowing what.
“Chase....” His voice was almost inaudible, it strained against the night, struggled to carry over the hiss of passing cars on the road.
He went to him, scooping Aaron up in his arms, and covering him with kisses. His face was rough with stubble and his hair was draped in a mess over his face, and the feathery mop tickled his chin and cheeks.
Aaron took his hands and brushed the hair to the left of his face, while they laughed with relief.
Chase saw the wrists. He saw the pink of under flesh, the flesh before the muscle and tendons. The dangerous flesh. The flesh that a human is never meant to see. Aaron winced in pain as Chase held him tight.
“Fuck,” Chase said, swallowing the pain—choking back the rage that burned deep inside of him, boiling like water in a pot, rattling the lid as it threated to bubble over. “You know you need to go to a hospital?”
Aaron shook his head in furious protest. “No. No, I don’t want to do that.”
“Damn it, Aaron, you’re going. You’re seriously fucked up.”
“Holy shit!” Tammy said, coming up to them and stopping just short of Chase’s shoulder.
Her eyes grew and filled with tears as she looked at him.
“We need to call the fucking cops!” Sandra demanded.
Aaron and Chase both looked at her, and then to Tammy.
“Let’s just get him to the hospital, and then we can take care of it there,” Tammy suggested. “Amanda and Carolyn are still at the apartment,” she said to Sandra. “Go back and let them know what’s going on and we’ll get him to Saint Joe’s.”
Sandra placed one hand on her hip and pinched the bridge of her nose with the other.
“Yeah, okay. Police first or hospital first, it doesn’t matter to me. Just call the fucking cops!”
Aaron gave a defeated sigh. He didn’t have much of a fight left in him as it was to put up much more of a protest.
“Fine. Let’s just go. I’m starting to....”
Everything around him—Chase, Tammy, Sandra, the nighttime park and the post lights—moved away from him, or maybe he was falling from them; either way, he was losing his footing and he fell against Chase’s chest.
“Aaron!”
––––––––
The ride to Saint Joseph had been filled with a weighted, eerie silence. Tammy said nothing as she manned Chase’s car. She hadn’t driven a vehicle in two years and it was her unsteady confidence that kept her anxious and focused on the road.
Chase sat in the back with Aaron’s head resting in his lap. His face was vacant and his eyes had stared into the dark, unblinking, seeing past the lights of the stereo and the dashboard.
They took a right off Meridian Street, winding up the dark, tree-lined road of Birchwood Avenue, passing rows of darkened office buildings, and nighttime fields that cast ominous shadows that stretched across the pavement under lamplight.
“It’ll be okay... I promise.”
Chase felt helpless. He wasn’t sure how to comfort his boyfriend. He was unable to do something about the fiend who took him and he was unable to bring Andy back from the dead. What good was he to Aaron? What good was he if he couldn’t scare away his demons? What use was he to Aaron if he couldn’t drive away Bailey’s phantom?
The car turned into the drive, riding up the hill that led into the Emergency Room drop-off, the vehicle coming to an abrupt halt in front of the doors. Tammy and Chase could clearly see that the waiting room was packed with people.
“Let’s go!” Tammy said.
She climbed out and pulled the back door open, gingerly slipping her arm under a complacent Aaron, grasping his waist and leading him out of the car. Chase was quick to exit from the other side, collecting Aaron in his arms and carrying him into the hospital.
“Oh my...” the receptionist let out as soon as the large glass and steel door slid open.
She was round and short—no more than five feet—and her hair was curled and carrot red, and her brown eyes were tired and unfazed, as if she had already seen five more guys like Aaron that night.
“Look, we need help!” Chase pleaded. “Please!”
“What happened?” she asked him.
“He was attacked. He’s really hurt....” His heart raced and his palms were sweating beneath Aaron’s shoulders and bended knees. “Can you just help him? Please!”
The receptionist nodded and made her way immediately into the emergency room.
They hadn’t waited for more than a minute before the little receptionist returned with two male nurses and a hospital gurney.
Quickly they helped Chase navigate Aaron onto the mattress and began to wheel him through the mammoth chocolate steel doors, leading the three of them down a corridor on the left and into a private room. It was white and sterile, with a draw curtain, a sink, as well as another door which Chase assumed was the bathroom.
As soon as the nurses pulled the bed into position between the heart monitor and the waiting IV rack, Tammy told Chase that she was going to park the car in the lot before it was towed.
“There is a hospital gown in the cupboard over there; if you can help him get into it, that would be great,” one of the nurses, a blond in his early thirties, said with a smile.
“I’ll be back with some fluids and morphine for the pain. They’re going to have to stitch him up.”
Chase thanked him and smiled.
“All right, kid,” Chase said to Aaron, mustering as much calm as he could manage. “Let’s get you undressed....”
“Yea...” Aaron whispered.
He began to reach for the hoodie’s zipper, but Chase intervened, gently guiding his hand away and assuming the task himself. Chase removed his torn and bloody jeans, and Aaron winced in pain as the blood-stained denim began to pull on the sliced skin and the black hairs on his legs.
Chase kissed him gently on his cheeks, neck, and forehead, whispering ‘I love you’ before going to the cupboard and pulling down one of the folded, clean hospital gowns with mint green pin-stripes and pink and electric blue triangles that reminded him of a bottle of L.A. Looks hair gel, like everyone and their mother used to use in the early Nineties to get that perfect Zack Morris wave.
––––––––
“Hello, I’m Doctor Trishaw,” the man said as soon as he walked into the room.
He stood as tall as Chase, his salt and pepper hair balding at the top, and his eyes were wide and gray. He was dressed in mint green scrubs and a white jacket.
“So, who do we have here?”
He took his stethoscope and placed it against Aaron’s chest.
“His name’s Aaron. He was attacked earlier—”
“You are?”
“Chase. I’m his boyfriend.”
“I see.” Trishaw gave a slow nod, pulling back the curtain. “And who attacked you? Was it a fight?”
Chase and Aaron shook their heads.
“No. I... I was... my friend... Andy, she was.... This morning in the cemetery...”
“Oh, I see....” The doctor’s words drifted and his eyes moved as if they were searching for the right thing to say.
“Is he going to be okay?” Chase asked him as the nurse returned with the saline and morphine drip.
Dr. Trishaw gave a tired sigh.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
For the next half hour Chase sat back in silence as Dr. Trishaw asked question after question, telling Aaron that when he was ready he would have to speak to the police. Aaron nodded slowly as the morphine and the exhaustion began to kick in.
The cuts had been deep, and he confirmed to them both that Aaron was going to require dozens of stitches, and the swelling and the purple-green bruising around his ankles made Trishaw suspect that he had sustained serious injury due to the fall from the chain.
“The major problem that we have here is the damage to your wrists and arms.”
Chase rose up from the corner chair and made his way over to Aaron’s bed to get a better look at what he was talking about.
“What do you mean?” Chase asked him.
“Well, you see here...” he clicked on a pen light and shone it on Aaron’s worn wrists. “The surface flesh looks as if it was rubbed away and he’s in serious danger of infection.... On top of that, he’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Jesus....” Chase reached out and placed his hand assuredly on the back of Aaron’s neck.
“Plus, there’s a pretty bad contusion on his head and from the looks of it, his nose is broken.
“We’re going to have to keep him overnight...”
“No!” Aaron protested. “I don’t want to stay here...” Even as he said it, his eyes struggled to stay open.
“We need to get you patched up and make sure you’re doing okay. Who knows what internal damage you’ve sustained? There are X-rays and scans we need to run. I’m sorry, son, but you’re not going anywhere.
“Besides, you’ll be sleeping away most of your time here.”
Aaron gave a heavy shake of his head.
“I’ll drink water... I’ll....”
Chase watched as Aaron’s eyes rolled into his head for a moment, the lids falling shut for just a second before his head jerked him awake again.
“It’ll be fine, I promise. Okay?”
He sat himself on the bed next to Aaron, leaning over him and caressing his hand with his thumb.
“I don’t want to be alone....”
Aaron’s voice was a meek tremble and he continued to fight against the morphine, as if he could somehow conquer the narcotic’s tranquilizing effects.
“Duh, sleepover,” Chase smirked.
“You can’t stay here...” Trishaw answered.
“What?” He looked from the doctor to Aaron and back again. “Of course, I am.”
“I’m sorry, but you’re not his family, and you’re not married to him; its hospital policy.”
Chase had been waiting for the other shoe to drop and there it was.
“But Chase is my boyfriend—” Aaron managed.
“I’m sorry—”
“Well, then fuck you! I’m not staying!”
He reached out for the doctor’s stethoscope, trying to rip it from his throat, but Chase grabbed him and forced his arm down.
“You know what? Fine. That’s fine. I’ll walk him to his room and get him situated and then first thing in the morning—at the first light of day—I’ll be here to take him home!”
“It’s just the rules,” Trishaw said to him. “It’s not the same.”
“Do you want me to go right now?” Chase asked sharply.
“No. You can remain until we get him settled. We still need to run X-rays and get him stitched up.”
––––––––
Aaron was placed in a room on the fourth floor. It was a single room with one bed, a television on the wall opposite, a private bathroom, and one large window overlooking the parking lot.
Chase took note of the exact location of the lot and how far it was from the main entrance.
“Now, Aaron, let’s just get you as comfortable as possible, and then you can get some rest. We’ll be back later to check on you.”
It was close to two in the morning by the time they were done getting his cuts cleaned, threaded, and wrapped up in bandages, careful to allow the scars to breathe.
“Yeah, okay....”
Aaron’s words were no more than a lethargic murmur.
“I’m just going to say goodnight to him for a moment, if you don’t mind,” Chase said defensively.
“Right, then,” Trishaw nodded. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“God, I love you.” Chase wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and drew him close, breathing in the smell of his hair and the salt and dust of his skin, trying hard to fight back the tears.
“I love you...” Aaron mused.
“Look, take this,” Chase reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, which he tucked under the white cotton blanket. “Tammy and I will be in the car, right out there. I’ll make sure I can see your window.
“If there is any problem... and I mean any... if you have a bad dream or if you fucking sneeze wrong, I want you to call Tammy, okay?”
Aron struggled to nod and Chase’s face dipped into a frown as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on Aaron’s lips, lingering there for as long as possible.
It was difficult for Chase to pull away and he walked back sluggishly towards the door, his steps heavy and his shoulders hunched from exhaustion.
“Goodnight, Chase Sheppard...” Aaron called out dreamily.
Chase stopped in the door frame and craned his neck back to look at Aaron resting there in the bed with his eyes struggling to stay open, and his veins sucking up the morphine.
“Goodnight, Aaron Christopher.”
He switched out the light and closed the door, making his way to the elevator and glaring at Dr. Trishaw as he did so, suspecting no doubt that the doctor was lingering behind to make sure that he didn’t try to sneak back into Aaron’s room.
Nothing could stop the guilt that Chase was feeling for leaving Aaron alone, especially when the killer was still out there, waiting and plotting, no doubt planning on finishing what he started.
Tonight was it. It was Bailey’s anniversary. In all of the excitement, Chase had neglected to mention it to Aaron, and now the door to his room and the floors that separated them were like the Berlin Wall before its destruction.