Copper and Salt, page 9
Oren reached for him, unable to bear it any longer, and pulled him into his arms. Alex fell against him with a stifled sob, his delicate frame shaking, and Oren held him, rubbing his back and crooning an old lullaby his mother had sung to him.
It took several minutes and a few repetitions of the song before Alex was quiet, but finally Oren eased him away and looked at him. Alex’s eyes were red, his nose running, and he ducked his head, shame on his face.
Oren cupped his chin, tilting Alex’s head back up. “I’m in this for good now,” he said. “Andrei burned my house down, Alex, you really think he’d let me just walk away?”
Alex lifted a shoulder. “If I gave myself back, give him the—”
“No,” Oren interrupted. “No, that’s not how guys like him operate. He won’t let me live. I’ve seen too much, and that means I need to be silenced. Besides.” He smiled, a little rueful. “I’ve never been one to back down from a bully. Drove Ben crazy, the way I was always throwing myself in the middle of fights and breaking up dogpiles.”
Alex’s brow creased and Oren couldn’t help his laugh, but he cut off abruptly as a thought occurred to him.
“Give him the what?”
Alex hunched his shoulders, turning his head away.
Oren caught his chin, gently pulling his face back around. “Give him the what, Alex?”
“I—” Alex swallowed hard. “I took something. When I run.”
Oren’s stomach sank as Nikolai’s questions began to make sense. Where is it?
“What did you take?”
“Thumb drive,” Alex whispered, holding his fingers up about an inch apart. “Had all Andrei’s… clients.”
“You took his little black book,” Oren said, swallowing nausea.
Alex nodded miserably.
“Oh boy,” Oren said. He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees, and concentrated on breathing deeply. “Okay. Oh boy. Oh holy shit, oh my god.”
“I’m sorry,” Alex whispered.
Oren lifted his head. “No, I understand, really. You needed insurance.”
“Insurance, da,” Alex said. “That he would let us go.”
“So where is it?” Oren asked. “If it had been on you, I’d have found it. Unless you—” He broke off, peering closer at Alex, who snorted an unwilling laugh.
“Is not inside me,” he said. “Is in Cheyenne. Safe. I will get it… and Mihai. Same time. I will give him back this, and he will give me Mihai. That is plan.”
“Fair enough,” Oren said, standing up. “Right now we have to get back to camp and pack our stuff so we can get going. We’ve lost a fair amount of daylight.”
He helped Alex onto his back and started up the hill. The uphill trek was a lot more difficult than the downhill one had been, and he had to stop several times to rest, not running on adrenaline like he’d been yesterday.
“I’m sorry,” Alex said after the second time Oren stopped to catch his breath.
Oren patted his thigh. “When we get to camp, I’m going to make you a travois. It’ll be easier on both of us. I should have done it last night, but I fell asleep and forgot.”
He reached camp without further rests and eased Alex down onto the sleeping bag. “Have axe and rope, will travel,” he said cheerfully, digging in his pack for both items. He spent some time selecting the right size tree limbs and then arranged them in an X pattern, lashing them in place and adding two more limbs in a rung formation lower down.
“It’s not going to be the most comfortable,” he said as he worked, “but I think I can rig the sleeping bag between the poles to act as a sort of seat to hold you while I walk.”
Alex watched, fascinated, moving obligingly when Oren needed the sleeping bag to put in place.
“We’re going to get you another crutch, too,” Oren told him. “I’m sorry I left yours behind.”
“You were in hurry,” Alex said, smiling. “Where are we going?”
“Well, we can’t go to Cheyenne, obviously,” Oren said as he tested the travois’ strength. “So we’re going to Laramie.”
“You cannot walk all the way to Laramie, Oren!” Alex said.
Oren grinned at him. “I’ve walked farther. It’s only… what, fifty miles from Cheyenne proper? And I was already two miles outside the city limits, plus I covered easily five miles last night, so I got a nice jump on it already. We’re close to 211 by now. We’ll hit that and then it’ll be smooth sailing. Maybe we’ll be able to hitchhike into town.”
“You are crazy,” Alex said.
“Entirely possible,” Oren agreed. “Hop on, let’s give this puppy a go.”
Alex gave the travois a suspicious look, but he maneuvered himself to his knees and sank onto the seat, tucking his feet up underneath his body. Oren took a lap around the clearing, watching over his shoulder, as Alex gripped the edges of the travois with both hands, but Oren’s work held firm and he set it down triumphantly after one circuit.
“I’m a genius,” he said complacently. “I’m gonna pack the escape bag and then we’ll get going.”
Alex reached out a hand, catching Oren’s wrist and pulling. Oren went to his knees next to him and silence fell between them. Alex’s eyes were huge and dark, the tip of his nose pink from the cold, and he lifted his hand and cupped the back of Oren’s neck, bringing their mouths together sweet and slow.
Alex’s lips were cold, a startling contrast to the warmth of his tongue, and he threaded his hands into Oren’s hair, catching and tugging gently as he took his time exploring Oren’s mouth.
Oren’s knees were getting damp in the snow and the angle was awkward, but he thought distantly that he could have stayed there forever, lost in Alex’s spell, lips and tongues sliding against each other, Alex’s breath feathering warm across his cheek in soft, hesitant puffs.
Finally, though, Alex broke away, one hand still wrapped around the nape of Oren’s neck, his breathing ragged.
It took Oren a minute to find his voice. “What—ah… was that for?” he finally managed.
Alex’s mouth curved up and he lifted a shoulder. “For luck?” he suggested.
Oren blinked, thrown, and then started to laugh. The stress of the past several days caught up with him in a rush and he collapsed in a helpless heap, half in Alex’s lap, as he howled with laughter. “Did you just—you did, you just Star Wars’d me!” he gasped.
Alex stared down at him as if he’d grown a second head. “You are doing it on purpose now,” he said, his tone accusing.
Oren wiped away tears and pushed himself upright, putting a hand on either side of Alex’s face and kissing him again, quick and soft.
“I’m not,” he managed, swallowing another rush of giggles. “I swear I’m not. I’ll explain if we make it out of this alive, okay?”
Alex leaned up into another kiss. “Okay,” he said. “We should go.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Oren said. “Just one more thing,” and kissed him again.
He couldn’t stop smiling as he walked, pulling the travois over the rocky ground, casting quick glances over his shoulder to make sure Alex was in place.
It took several hours of hiking through the trees before he finally hit 211, the broad, flat farm road that ran between Cheyenne and Laramie in a meandering, lazy sprawl through the hills.
Oren set the travois down and bent over by the side of the road, his hands on his knees as he labored to catch his breath.
“How you doing, Alex?” he asked between gulps of air.
The answer was slow in coming. “I am alright.” His voice was faint, and Oren straightened to take a look at him.
Alex was white as a sheet, the circles under his eyes so dark they looked like bruises, and he swayed as he gripped the edges of the travois with both hands.
Oren swore and felt his forehead. “You’re trying to get sick on me again, aren’t you?”
“I am not trying to,” Alex protested softly, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Figure of speech,” Oren said. “Okay, listen. I’m going to walk along the road, see if anyone’s out and about. If they are, I’m going to try and get us a ride into Laramie. Listen to me—Alex, pay attention, can you look at me?”
Alex looked up at him, beads of sweat on his forehead.
Oren fought down a surge of worry. “You’re a hiker I found in the woods, okay? You fell and that’s where you got those bruises. You’re on vacation, you’re a tourist, you don’t speak much English.”
A glimmer of amusement sparked in Alex’s eyes at that. “I… don’t speak much… English.”
Oren cupped his face briefly. “Keep that sense of humor, sweetheart. Now hold on, I’m going to start walking again.”
He was able to set a much faster pace on the flat tarmac, although he had to be careful not to slip on the icy patches. Alex curled up in a ball on the sleeping bag seat and Oren put his head down and pushed himself as hard as he could, setting a speed he knew from experience he could hold for hours without collapsing.
The sun was well overhead when he stopped for a break around midday, but Alex barely roused when Oren set the travois down. Oren decided that since there’d been no signs of pursuit, it was safe to risk a small fire, and he started a pot of snow boiling to sterilize it.
He managed to get Alex to swallow a little of the cooled water, but then his head drooped and he was out again.
Oren gulped down a cold MRE and shouldered the pack, getting back on the road as quickly as possible.
He was relieved to see a road sign helpfully telling him that Laramie was only twenty-seven miles away, and he put his head down and walked faster as Alex lay in a motionless ball.
Close to sunset, Oren knew he was pushing himself near the brink of exhaustion, but he hadn’t seen a single car on the road. He wasn’t sure Alex would survive another night in the cold, not in the condition he was in.
“Oren,” Alex said, his voice weak.
Oren set the poles down and hurried around them to kneel on the pavement next to Alex. “Yeah, Alex, I’m here.”
Alex reached a wavering hand out and Oren took it, worry surging through him at the heat radiating off Alex’s skin.
“Promise me,” Alex managed.
“If you’re going to make me give you a deathbed promise, you can save it,” Oren said, his throat tight. “You’re not dying, you hear me?”
Alex ignored this. “Save… Mihai,” he whispered, his eyes beseeching.
“We’re going to do that together, sweetheart,” Oren said, and then headlights bathed them in brightness and Oren caught his breath and stood up, waving his arms frantically, and the car was pulling over and doors were opening, people spilling out and voices raising in concern.
The ride into Laramie was a blur. Their saviors were an older couple named George and Rosie. George drove like a bat out of hell, all his attention on the road, his broad shoulders hunched in fierce concentration while Rosie, tiny and birdlike, twisted in her seat to talk to Oren and Alex.
Oren was crammed up along the door, Alex half in his lap, still mostly out of it, his eyes closed and his face turned in against Oren’s abdomen.
“What happened?” Rosie asked, all warm, fluttering concern.
Oren struggled to marshal his thoughts, unable to think of anything but how frail and helpless Alex looked. “I—I was hiking, and I found him in the woods. He doesn’t speak much English, but he said he was out hiking too and he fell. He broke his ankle, and I think he has pneumonia or something. Please, sir, can you go any faster?”
“I go any faster, they’ll be picking us up off the road in pieces,” George said gruffly, but a minute later, the city limit sign flashed by.
“We’ll be to the hospital in a jiffy,” Rosie said comfortingly, but Oren barely heard her, bending over Alex again.
“Hold on,” he breathed against his burning-hot cheek. “Hold on for me.”
At the hospital, things devolved into a lot of shouting and bustling as Alex was yanked forcibly from Oren’s arms and bundled onto a gurney, disappearing behind a bevy of blue-scrubbed nurses through double swinging doors.
Oren staggered, bereft, and Rosie caught his arm and guided him to a chair.
“Here you go, son, now you sit yourself down here and rest, you’re worn through clear to the bone, look at you!”
“Stop fussing, Rosie,” George rumbled from somewhere above them.
Rosie made a rude noise. “Someone’s got to, George, this poor boy obviously hasn’t had anyone take care of him in ages!”
Oren couldn’t help his weak laugh. “I just need to catch my breath,” he said. “I’m okay, really. Thank you both, so much.”
“Well, I’m just glad we could help,” Rosie said as a nurse approached, clutching a clipboard.
“We need you to fill out some paperwork on the young man who was just admitted,” she told Oren, who blinked at the clipboard.
“He… doesn’t have insurance,” he said.
“None at all? Are you sure?”
“Positive. We talked… a bit. He doesn’t have a job or income, I’m sorry. His name is Alex, but….” Oren trailed off. “I don’t know his last name, actually.”
“Alright,” the nurse said. “Sit tight, we’ll be back with you soon.”
‘Soon’ turned into hours. Oren fell asleep in the corner, his head at an uncomfortable angle, arms crossed as he waited for any news.
Finally, another nurse gently woke him. “Are you the one who brought the hiker in, sir?”
“Yes,” Oren said before he was fully awake, jerking upright. “Yes, that’s me, do you have news? How is he? Is he okay?”
The nurse, a Hispanic woman in her fifties, smiled at him. “He had a broken ankle and quite a few other injuries—do you know anything about this young man?”
Oren swallowed a rush of fear. “I… not really. Why?”
“The injuries present as signs of severe systematic abuse, done to him over a period of years. He’s also been raped quite recently as well. Did he say anything to you, maybe indicate who might have done this to him?”
Oren shook his head, nausea welling up. He’d known, of course, known what Alex had gone through, but hearing it put so bluntly made him want to throw up all over again.
“Well, he’s not a minor, and he refuses to say who did it to him, so there’s really not much we can do. He mostly keeps asking for you. Will you come talk to him?”
Oren shot to his feet. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”
The nurse looked taken aback, but she stood and ushered him through the halls, her crepe-soled shoes squeaking on the floors, to a small room.
Oren stepped inside and the nurse shut the door behind him after making a gentle motion toward the bed. Oren took a step forward; swallowing hard at the sight of Alex in the bed hooked up to various machines, looking terribly young and vulnerable, his eyes closed.
Oren sank down onto the chair beside the bed as Alex’s forehead creased and he turned his head on the pillow, his eyes still closed.
“Oren,” he whispered.
“I’m here,” Oren managed around the lump in his throat. “You gonna open your eyes, you donkey?”
Alex’s mouth curved up and he opened his eyes. “Bună, Oren.”
“I’m going to assume you just said hello and you didn’t profess your undying love for me or something,” Oren said, somehow keeping his tone light. He took Alex’s hand, careful not to tangle any of the wires and cords that trailed off his bed, and brought it to his lips. “How are you feeling, gorgeous?”
Alex twisted his hand to cup Oren’s face, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. “Am… better. Sleepy.”
“You go ahead and rest, okay? I’ll be as close as they let me be.”
Alex’s hand tightened on Oren’s at that. “Don’t leave… me, Oren.”
“I won’t,” Oren said. “The nurse might kick me out for a few minutes here and there but I’ll be back the second they let me through the door. I won’t leave this hospital until you’re with me, okay?”
“Do you promise?” Alex whispered, his eyes drooping shut.
“I promise,” Oren said gently. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”
Alex’s grip slackened, lashes fanning dark across his pale skin, and Oren sat quietly, holding his hand and watching him sleep as he worked on a plan for the next few weeks.
9
The nurse’s name was Maria, and apparently she had a soft spot for waifs, because when she came in a few minutes later and found Oren holding Alex’s hand, her eyes softened and she turned on her heel and left.
She was back in another few minutes with a steaming cup of coffee and handed it to Oren, who cradled it gratefully in both hands and inhaled the fragrant steam as Maria checked Alex’s vitals.
“Can I stay with him?” Oren asked quietly.
Maria glanced at him over her shoulder as she straightened Alex’s IV lines. “It’s against hospital policy,” she said briefly.
“Please,” Oren said, swallowing hard. “I’m—he doesn’t have anyone else. He barely speaks English. I feel… responsible for him.”
Maria smoothed Alex’s blankets over his legs and sighed. “The dayshift starts at six AM sharp. As long as you’re not in the room when the shift changes, I’ll clear it with the day nurses.” She fixed him with a sharp look. “You stay out of the way, keep him quiet, and don’t make any noise yourself, do you understand?”
Oren nodded, gratitude thick under his tongue. He couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t explain why it was so important, but Maria seemed to understand. She patted his shoulder and pointed at the empty bed on the other side of the room.
“Get some rest,” she said. “You look nineteen different flavors of exhausted yourself.”
Oren drained the coffee as Maria finished tidying Alex’s bed and left the room, letting the door swish shut behind her. He stood and kicked his shoes off, suddenly unable to think of anything but the clean, cool sheets of the empty bed, and stumbled across the room to crawl under the covers.
