Disclaimers:
Summary:
Warnings:
Notes:
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by
The sound of a zipper broke the early morning silence. Adam ran towards the edge of the rest area, trying to contain the small inland lake that now resided in his bladder. Frantically, he tried to extract his manhood before an inundation of biblical proportions occurred. Success. A sigh of relief escaped from his lips.
He glanced toward the darkened roadway, looking for any signs of approaching cars. The splatter of warm water against his hand turned his attention back to the stone retaining wall, which he had inadvertently hosed down. He adjusted his aim. The stream of water arced over the retaining wall. Adam leaned forward, watching the stream on its' journey to the red and golden foliage hundreds of feet below. The thought of tourists down there, believing they had experienced a brief rain shower, caused a mischievous grin to break through his stern facade.
Finished, Adam retrieved a cheap cotton handkerchief from the pocket of his tailor-made Italian trousers. He carefully squeezed the final drops of urine into the handkerchief and patted dry the last remaining traces of moisture. A tuck, an adjustment, and the sound of a zipper completed the ritual. He held the handkerchief by one of it's corners. The cool autumn breeze tugged incessantly upon it.
Down in the valley, he saw a car's headlights. It was probably just tourists getting an early start on their day's travel, and if he repeated that over and over to himself enough times, he might eventually believe it. The situation was dire enough, without their meddling interference. His temper began to boil.
"Bloody hell," he said, before he could stop himself.
He took several slow, deep breaths. Then turned his attention back to the handkerchief. With icy detachment, he let go of it. The handkerchief leapt from his hand, reveling in its' newly found freedom. It soared high above the vibrant tapestry of foliage... until a silent, well-placed bullet sent it falling to its' fate. The power of life or death flowed through Adam's hands as it had so many times before. He glanced at his watch - only about 44 hours left. He walked noisily across the loose gravel to his car and drove away.
* * * * * * * * * *
Long hours of driving lessened the anger that was visible and brought him to his destination, a small isolated town. The streets were curiously empty this late in the afternoon, so finding an available room, above the pub, was not a problem. A hot bath and a few hours of rest would be a brilliant idea.
* * * * * * * * * *
A few bubbles raced to the surface of the water. Adam grinned. He realized this was his first bath since the whole messy situation began almost two days ago. Warmth caressed his bare flesh. He eased himself deeper into the soapy water, trying to distract his troubled mind and tired body from what would have to be done. And would be done to him if he failed in his assignment. Relaxation without worries was a rare commodity in his profession and he intended to savor every delicious moment of it.
The sound of approaching footsteps in the hallway sent a surge of adrenaline through his weary body. He quietly slipped out of the bathtub and crept to the bathroom door. The footsteps stopped a few feet away. He heard someone enter a nearby room - his room.
Adam carefully opened the bathroom door just enough to see what was happening. The door to his room was ajar. He could hear someone noisily rummaging around inside. Adam reached underneath the stack of towels on the nearby vanity, feeling for his gun... which wasn't there. Idiot! He had left the gun in his room. He glanced around the bathroom, looking for any means of escape. There were none. If it was the other ones, that had been following him, he was a dead man.
A young man, carrying an overnight bag, ran out of the room and down the stairs. Adam recognized the bag as his own. His temper flared and exploded.
"Thieving bastard," he yelled through clenched teeth.
He hastily wrapped a towel around his dripping midsection and gave chase, sprinting down the stairs and into the street. The young man had already reached the other side of the street, vanishing into an alley. Adam tried to follow, but bounced violently off the side of a passing car. He picked himself up and watched as the car, his car, the car he had rented, sped away. Anger, shock, and the unrelenting pressure of the last few days intermingled. Adam glanced back and forth at the alley and his car, unsure what to do or feel - his exhausted body and mind went numb.
"Bugger, so much for getting the deposit back," he said.
He turned and walked back towards the pub. Something blocked his way. Someone, a lot of someones, were standing in front of the pub staring and grinning at him.
"You must be cold," someone said and laughed. He followed their gaze downward and saw the family jewels huddling close to his body for warmth. Without thinking, he turned and walked out into the street to pick up his towel. Adam was vaguely aware of men whistling at him as he bent over.
* * * * * * * * * *
Adam's numb haze faded to stark, unforgiving reality. After a timeless eternity lying on his bed, feeling returned to his body. He struggled to his feet and surveyed his belongings. Everything of his was gone. Even his worn-for-two-days cotton briefs and socks that were laying on the floor, were gone. Maybe someone thought that they smelled ripe enough to dispose of... or to keep. The gun, the only thing which he would not be keeping after this job, was now his only possession. Those sods who stole his car and all his belongings, and gotten him insanely upset, had been too much of a distraction. Tomorrow morning, locating Cairnsdale would be the first order of business. That, and getting some clothes to wear - without the benefit of money, or any clothes to wear while shopping for clothes.
Adam had been deliberately pulled into this situation by whomever it was that wanted Cairnsdale eliminated. A competitor, maybe? Idle speculation would get him nowhere. The others would soon be closing in. Once he had found the proof against Cairnsdale and dealt with him, Adam could walk away from this alive, hopefully.
* * * * * * * * * *
Adam stared at the white goo laying in front of him. The waitress claimed that it was some type of sausage gravy, but Adam seriously doubted that. Instead of being a respectable shade of pinkish-brown, as one would expect, it was an unhealthy, stomach turning, pale white. The thick, creamy substance surrounded and attempted to engulf what the waitress mistakenly referred to as biscuits. He scraped as much as possible of the so-called gravy from one of the golden, and very hot, muffins. Edible, but lingering traces of the milk gravy ruined the taste of an otherwise palatable soft bread. Disappointed, he pushed the plate over to the side, out of his way.
Adam felt almost naked being out of his hand-tailored Armani 3-piece suits, but the faded blue jeans and flannel shirt that what's-his-name offered would have to do for now. The snug caress of the jeans around his crotch and buttocks, were unfamiliar and made him uneasy. He was not use to anything, even a man, clinging in such close contact to his nether regions.
He turned to the window and watched the deserted main street. The depressing grayness of morning, permeated this less than idyllic early morning scene. Handy or Horny or whatever that guy's name, was late.
Adam glanced around the pub. So this is the breakfast crowd. It was almost as deserted as the street outside. He felt the eyes of the men at the next table upon him. He played with his fork and tried to ignore them and the scent of clearance-priced UK-mart cologne that accompanied them.
"He's a pretty one, don't you think boys," said one of the men at the nearby table. His breakfast buddies grunted in agreement. "We could have used one like him in Desert Storm."
"Yeah, those were some cold nights, " said a second man. "You had to huddle up together in a single sleeping bag just to stay warm." His friends grunted in agreement.
"I'll bet the stranger would have made a lot of friends there," the first man said. Adam strangled the fork with whitened knuckles.
"Yeah, real c..l..o..s..e friends," the second man said. The friends laughed. Adam could feel the leering smiles of these inbred Yanks on the back of his neck.
A hand caressed the back of his shoulder. Assuming it was one of the inbreds, he started to get out of his chair to punch the guy in the face.
"Hey," what's-his-name said. Adam relaxed his posture slightly, exhaling some of the tension.
"Morning, umm... Sorry, the name escapes me," Adam said.
"Randy," he said. " How are the clothes ?" Randy motioned toward the empty chair. Adam motioned for him to sit down.
"The clothes ?" Adam said. "Brilliant. You chose my sizes on the first go." He put the fork down on the plate. Like an amoebae, the almost-living, white gravy goo began pulling the fork into itself, attempting to engulf it for digestion.
"They look good." Randy said with a sparkle in his eye. "I mean it." Something brushed against Adam's leg.
"Earlier this morning," Adam said, "you mentioned that you knew where I could find Cairnsdale," Something brushed against his leg again.
"Yeah, I can take you up there, if you want. We can go in my truck." Randy said, pointing towards the main street. Adam panicked. The last thing he needed was a witness tagging along.
"You mentioned that it wasn't too far. So, I'll walk, if you don't mind," Adam said, trying to ignore the boot that was a gently tracing the contour of his calf muscles.
"It's a long walk," Randy said. "But, maybe, I could drive you part of the way." The corner of Adam's mouth curled in disapproval. A look of disappointment crossed Randy's face.
"I can show you a shortcut. You can take the rest of the way on foot," Randy said. Adam's expression lightened up.
"Right. When can we leave ?" Adam said. Randy smiled.
"You gonna eat that ?" Randy said, pointing at the barely eaten breakfast. Adam frowned a "no".
Randy stuck his finger deep into the creamy white glop. He stared directly into Adam's eyes, while slowly licking the gravy from his finger, allowing it to pool on the tip of his tongue before swallowing. Adam fidgeted nervously in the chair.
One of the men at the nearby table started to laugh. Adam had endured enough of them. He turned toward them, ready to physically silence the man if necessary. The man abruptly stopped in mid-laugh, his face turning ashen-white. All of the men hastily got up from the table and left the pub. One of the men threw a wad of currency onto the table, without counting it, as he half-ran out of the pub. Puzzled, Adam turned back to Randy, whose expression was innocent and friendly.
"Wow, what did you say to those guys ?" Randy said.
* * * * * * * * * *
The ride was bumpy and uneventful, except for Randy's roving hands. Adam wasn't sure whether Randy was just friendly or trying to get friendly. Feigning tiredness, which wasn't far from the truth, Adam spent most of the trip catching up on sleep that he had missed the night before.
When they had reached the shortcut. Adam watched the truck drive off, out of sight, before proceeding on the forested trail that would take him to Cairnsdale.
* * * * * * * * * *
Randy's shortcut wasn't. Adam spent most of the day on the twisting trail, but had yet to find Cairnsdale's home. Twice, he had followed the wrong fork in the trail and had to re-trace his steps back to what passed for a trail. He stopped momentarily to catch his breath. All these trees and nature were so completely different from the city, where open space meant owning a flat with a terrace; and nature was what you stepped in when someone forget to scooper after their dog.
The sound of a car engine caught his attention. He followed the sound to the top of small hill. Through the bushes, the back of an opulent manor house was visible. It was a small island of civilization in the middle of nowhere, complete with the over-manicured, completely sterile landscaping that only the truly wealthy can afford. Oddly, there appeared to be no security - no high walls, no electric fences, no man-eating dogs, and no security guards. Adam crept around the perimeter of the house, trying to find the hidden security measures that had to be there. Nothing.
Puzzled, Adam boldly crossed the lawn to get a closer look at who might be in the house. From what he guessed was the study, two male voices are arguing very loudly over something of great importance to both of them. Peeking through a window, he could see the cold, determined face of Randy and the anger-filled face of a bald man, who Adam immediately recognized as Cairnsdale. What was Randy doing here ? Could he be selling me out ? Adam watched and waited. A rumbling in his stomach reminded him that he had forgotten to bring along any supplies.
A few minutes later, Randy stormed out of the room. Adam heard the sound of Randy's truck throwing gravel against something, most likely Cairnsdale's Mercedes, as it sped away.
Adam looked through the window, waiting for whoever else might be in the house to enter the room. After such a heated exchange, someone would undoubtedly show up. Cairnsdale ran his hand through the hair that was no longer on his head, walked over to his desk, and began typing on his laptop.
Several minutes passed, Cairnsdale was still alone in the room. Adam retrieved the gun and silencer from his pants' leg, and looked for a suitable way in.
* * * * * * * * * *
The kitchen door was ridiculously easy to open. Adam moved silently from room to lavishly decorated room, making his way towards the study. There appeared to be no one else in the house. With gun ready, he positioned himself outside the study door, taking one last look around the hallway before quietly entering the room.
Surprised at the intrusion, Cairnsdale frantically pounded a couple of keys on the laptop before reaching for his gun.
"What do..." Cairnsdale said, as the sound of a breaking window filled the room. He stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes vacant. A steadily increasing stream of blood flowed from the bullet hole in his forehead. He slumped over, falling face down onto the laptop.
Adam glanced toward the broken window, realizing that it was a sniper. He flung himself on the floor, trying minimize his chances of being shot by whatever business associate Cairnsdale had pissed off. When he heard the sound of a car or something, spinning gravel as it sped off, he knew it was probably safe to get up and conclude his business.
Cairnsdale was lying face down on the laptop. Adam moved the body out of the way and surveyed the laptop for any damage. Aside from the large quantity of blood which was seeping into the keyboard and a few loose keys, everything seemed to be okay. He turned the laptop upside down to let some of the blood drain out.
The keys made a weird, squishing sound when he tapped them. He quickly found the files that he was looking for. In them was proof that Cairnsdale was the one who had transferred the funds from Adam's employer. Normally, this would have been a simple elimination. But due to the VERY large quantity of untraceable funds that had been appropriated, something special was required. The fact that Adam was the fall guy for the theft only served to complicate things. Without this proof, Adam would soon be experiencing something much worse than death.
He fumbled with the slippery keys, but finally managed to open a file that contained the funds transfer authorizations. A small dialog box popped up, asking for the encryption key. A small timer ticked down the seconds that remained until something that Adam did not want to happen, would happen. A skillful search of the desk, turned up a piece of paper taped to the underside of one of the desk drawers.
No matter what he tried, he was unable to type in the key correctly. Some of the keys had been damaged by the impact of Cairnsdale's head on the keyboard. His temper grew. With only seconds remaining, he re-considered his actions. The solution finally dawned upon him - he switched off the laptop's power.
It was simple. By restarting the laptop in command-line mode, he could get at the information while bypassing the higher-level 0S security measures. He flipped the power switch on. The hard drive whirled; the laptop beeped. There was a lot of hard drive activity, before the command prompt finally appeared. Adam quickly searched through the directories trying to find the vital files.
All the files had been erased.
"Bugger me..." Adam said. It dawned on him that some secret key press was probably required during boot up. Visions of the very short and very painful life which he would soon endure, filled his mind.
* * * * * * * * * *
A cold rain began to fall. Fog and darkness were already descending into the valley, obscuring the gravel road that Adam was attempting to follow back to town. That chill in the air cut all the way to the bone. Oddly, the weather reminded Adam of a beautiful spring day in London.
He reached inside his shirt and pulled out a sandwich. If he was going to die, it would not be on an empty stomach. Before leaving Cairnsdale's house, he had helped himself to Cairnsdale's well-stocked kitchen. Oddly, he found two of Cairnsdale's bodyguards lying there, with similar gunshot wounds to the head.
Shortly after sunset, the rain abated. Although the sandwich helped to fill the emptiness in his stomach, his body still ached from the unending effects of the cold and dampness. The smell of burning firewood greeted his nostrils. Following the scent through the darkness, he came upon a campfire. On the other side of the small fire was a sleeping bag with someone in it. He pulled the gun from beneath his pants' leg, screwed on the silencer, and clicked in the magazine... loudly. The sleeping bag moved slightly.
"It took you long enough," Randy said. Adam was puzzled. He quickly tucked the gun down the back of his jeans as the familiar face turned in his direction.
"What are you doing here ?" Adam asked.
"Trying to sleep," Randy said, feigning tiredness.
"Sleep ?" Adam said, snorting with disgust. "What in the bloody hell were you doing at Cairnsdale's this afternoon ?" A surprised look momentarily crossed Randy's face, before being replaced by his ever-present innocent expression.
"Things aren't always what they appear to be. Are they Adam, or whatever your name is, " Randy said, trying to avoid the issue by shifting it back onto Adam's hidden agenda.
"And that would likely include you as well," Adam said. Randy waited a moment before replying.
"And what about you ?" Randy said. His eyes watching Adam's every move. Adam remained silent, appearing to almost sulk at the suggestion that he might be the hiding something. Randy wisely chose to change the subject.
"You'll catch your death in those clothes," he said, noticing that Adam was standing there, shivering, in damp clothes. Adam was reluctant to concede any victory to Randy. "That fire isn't going to do you any good, as wet as your clothes are. Take them off."
Adam stared in surprise. But Randy was right, even a couple of feet from the campfire, the wet clothes he was wearing still felt unbearably cold. Randy pulled back the sleeping bag, revealing his shirtless, firmly muscled torso. Something inside Adam was emotionally moved. Sex was the last thing on his mind, but for the first time since he had arrived, he actually saw Randy as a man. Adam felt a tension in his nether regions. He wasn't sure whether it was caused by his recent meal, the cold rain, seeing a half-naked man in front of him, or the fact that he would soon be dead. Regardless, his body craved one thing: the warmth and closeness of another man's body.
As Adam began unbuttoning his shirt, his sense of modesty and reserve resurfaced. He turned in the other direction and began undressing.
"Hey, don't worry about it. Remember yesterday, in the Main Street ? I've are ready seen everything that's worth seeing," Randy said. This only served to make Adam more nervous.
"And you won't be needing that," Randy said, smiling. Adam realized that the gun, which he had stuck down the back of his pants, was fully visible to Randy. Adam turned around, his pants half unzipped. He reached behind him and pulled out the gun. Randy reached deep into his sleeping bag, searching for something. Adam tensed up, unsure whether Randy was going to shoot him. Randy pulled out a crumpled wad of white underwear.
"White flag of truce," Randy said, waving the underwear back and forth with his hand. Adam visibly relaxed. He laid the gun on the ground, and continued to undress. He knew that Randy was only interested in sex, and would soon lose interest after the vile deed was accomplished.
"Don't expect... what you might be expecting," Adam said nervously, as he discarded the last of his clothing. The flickering light of the campfire only helped to emphasize the contrast between Adam's pale skin and his dark body hair.
"Nice fur," Randy said, smiling. Adam's face showed no sign of emotion, as he climbed into the sleeping bag with Randy. He made a mental note of the location of the gun, just in case he needed it later.
* * * * * * * * * *
Randy's strong arms surrounded Adam. The sleeping bag was a snug fit for the two men, but Adam tolerated the physical closeness. He buried his face deep into the warmth of Randy's strong, firm chest. His body warmed, but his blood still flowed black and icy. Rough hands traced their way down the contour of Adam's back and settled on his buttocks, urgently trying to pull him closer than was physically possible. He felt the stiffness of Randy's manhood pressed against his own. The musky, sweaty scent of this new man imprinted itself into the deepest recesses of Adam's mind.
The urge was strong. Adam knew only the intense desire to be filled. Sex was always difficult like this, not really knowing what you wanted, just knowing that you wanted it desperately. Adam's wondered why he needed to be filled ? What was he, some type of a car in need of petrol ? Did he really need Randy to put in a long, thick prick and start filling him with gallon after gallon of masculine fluids, which at the present time seemed so vital and necessary to his continued well-being. Desire could be stupid like this.
Or, did he need feeling ?
Sex always seemed to be such a mechanical affair. With all the mindless lusting after warmth and moisture; and the grinding of two or more bodies, resulting in the subsequent release of bodily fluids. Sex was never really about feeling, it just was. Much like taking out the garbage, it was a nagging something that every man needed to do from time to time - often when he would much prefer to be doing something else. Actual intimacy and closeness were something to be avoided at all costs.
There was no kissing, only the unending movement of hands across Adam's body. The mingling of unsanitary bodily fluids was seriously over-rated, in Adam's opinion. The physical warmth was pleasant, but all this closeness made him uneasy. He wished it would end.
Randy moved deeper into the sleeping bag. Adam could feel a warm wetness surround his manhood. Randy was obviously hungry for something which Adam had no intention of giving. Once again, Adam's body overruled his decision. The tension in his crotch was becoming more than he could contain. It occurred to him that this would probably be his last opportunity to be really close to someone before he died a, literally, horrible death. He should probably make some sort of effort in that direction. He put a hand on the back of Randy's neck, encouraging him to continue in his endeavor. Adam endured the physical sensations for several more minutes, before the tension in his loins became too great to hold back.
There was no pleasure or satisfaction.
Adam felt only the familiar, hollow sensation of fluids being mechanically expelled. His body began to relax, but the same dull tension was still present in his crotch. Randy seemed to be very satisfied with the results; Adam was just glad that it was over. A creeping sense of revulsion began to surface, but he was too exhausted to free himself Randy's embrace.
As his exhausted body succumbed to the murky depths of sleep, he was vaguely aware of a body rubbing against his and a feeling of something warm splashing against his thigh.
* * * * * * * * * *
Randy remained silent during the entire trip. Adam wasn't in the mood for conversation anyway, especially anything concerning intimacy or what had happened last night.
The ride to town seemed to take longer than Adam remembered.
Randy had gone into the pharmacy to get something. Adam got out of the truck and walked down Main Street. He passed a parked car that appeared to be of a more recent model that any of the other cars. He glanced at the license plate. The car was from out-of-town and a rental. Panic and a large quantity of adrenaline surged through his body.
He started to walk away, but collided with someone who was coming out of one of the local shops. He didn't know the man, but he did recognize the look - the emotionless face, the expensive dark suit, and the mirrored sunglasses. The man pulled open one side of his coat, revealing his holstered gun.
Adam's heart sank. He knew he was a dead man.
Without thinking, he turned and ran - directly into the waiting arms of the man's associates. They removed Adam's gun, and forcibly stuffed him into the back seat of the car.
* * * * * * * * * *
The car sped along the gravel road, only slowing down to avoid occasional potholes. Adam soaked in these final images of the thickly forested hills. It would be the last time that he would ever see them. All that he could think about was the warmth of Randy's embrace.
An explosion rocked the car and sent it veering wildly off the road. It raced down the embankment, plowing through bushes, small trees, and anything else that was in its' path. It came to rest in a small stream at the bottom of the gully. The car and its' occupants remained motionless.
* * * * * * * * * *
Dazed by the impact, Adam fumbled with the door handle. The door was stuck. He rammed his body against it, forcing in open. As he leapt from the car, he felt flat on his face. One of his kidnappers had grabbed his leg as he was trying to escape. Adam rolled over and gave a strong kick to the man's head. The man let out an inhuman roar and clutched his face in agony. Adam stumbled to his feet and ran toward the nearest stand of woods.
Another one of the men slowly freed himself from the car, retrieved the gun from the inside of his coat pocket, and fired several shots at Adam.
Small geysers of earth, caused from the bullet impacts, erupted around Adam's feet as he ran for his life.
* * * * * * * * * *
Adam stopped to catch his breath. He listened carefully for the sound of someone approaching - nothing.
He felt eyes upon the back of his neck. He turned and saw Randy standing there.
"Annoying aren't they ? Kind of like mosquitoes," Randy said.
"What the... did you do that... back there ?" Adam asked, struggling to talk and catch his breath at the same time.
A wild smile briefly crossed Randy's face. It was barely noticeable, but he cocked his head slightly to one side, as though he were aware something that Adam wasn't. He pulled a stick of dynamite from his back pocket and lit it. Adam's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Good for fishing," Randy said, as he waved the dynamite in front of himself. Nervous about how quickly the fuse was burning down, Adam half-tried to crawl away.
"Never did care much for fish," Randy said, shaking his head as he threw the stick of dynamite over the hill.
There was a deafening explosion, followed by two of the dark-suited men flying through the air. They twisted around like lifeless rag dolls as they fell in slow motion to the ground.
"I've got something you might like to see," Randy said, smiling seductively as he began unbuttoning his shirt. He reached inside and pulled out a gun. He tossed it to Adam and then turned and walked away.
Adam checked the gun chamber. There was only one bullet in it. He wasn't sure what to do with it, but still had a nagging suspicion that someone would have to die. Randy had turned out to be much deeper, and psychotic in a lovable sort of away, then Adam had expected. The notion crossed Adam's mind that maybe he should shoot Randy now, in order to avoid future problems. Or, Since Adam was a dead man anyway, was Randy offering him a way out? Was he supposed to shoot himself? Adam stared at the gun, unaware of a dark-suited man running around the side of the hill towards him.
The sound of a single shot echoed through the valley.
* * * * * * * * * *
Adam tossed the last of the clothing onto the fire. He stirred the coals with a dead branch, making sure that every trace of his pursuer's clothing was destroyed. Randy was leaning up against a tree, busily typing on his palmtop computer.
"Did you take care of them ?" Adam asked.
"Yeah," Randy said, not bothering to look up from what he was working on. "Their nekkid bodies are staked out a ways on up the ridge. They're coyote chow."
"What about hikers ?" Adam asked. Randy momentarily looked up from his work.
"I deal with any strangers that come around," Randy said, a devilish smile on is face. Adam turned his attention back to the fire.
Randy was deep in thought, busily updating his private files. He deleted the files on Cairnsdale, the local drug dealer who needed to be eliminated because he was attracting too much attention to the community. He also deleted the files on Adam: personal and professional history, detailed accounts of daily activities for the past six months, relationships and sexual habits, and potential compatibility.
The coup des gras were the falsified documents that Randy had so meticulously created. Making it appear that Cairnsdale was stealing money from Adam's employer, and then having all the evidence to point towards Adam. But, some excuse was needed to make Adam stay around. Randy deleted the last of the files and then put the palmtop back in his shirt pocket. He walked over to Adam and put his arms around him.
"You'll be safe as long as you stay around here... around me," Randy said.
"And if I leave ?" Adam asked. Randy studied the question for a moment before answering. He smiled and looked deeply into Andy's eyes.
"I would have to hunt you down and kill you," Randy said, smiling. Adam smiled back.
"We really are two of a kind, " Adam said.
"Do you have any idea," Randy said, " how hard it is to find someone who enjoys the same things you do ? Very hard."
Randy gently kissed Adam on the cheek. Adam did not consider it to be all that pleasant, but he might eventually learn to like it. Adam pulled free of Randy's embrace, and went back to attending the fire.
"What is it that you do around here ?" Adam asked. Randy considered the question for a moment.
"I guess," Randy said, " you can say that I am a sheriff... sort of. I take care of any trouble that happens around here."
"In a town of this small size," Adam said, " I don't expect that you would have all that much trouble, do you ?"
"Well, " Randy said, "it is a special sort of town."
"Special ?" Adam said.
"Yeah, " Randy said, "remember when you showed the entire town your B.A. a couple of days ago? Didn't you notice how much whistling there was ?" Adam had a puzzled look on his face.
"I don't see what..." Adam said.
"The town. The entire town. This whole place is a retreat from the world for all of us," Randy said. Adam still didn't get it.
"I am saying you... me... and the whole town are..."
"Oh...OH..." Adam said, as it suddenly dawned upon him that the entire citizenry of the town was gay.
"Now, I understand why everyone is so wary of outsiders. And you take care of any TROUBLE that occurs. Sounds fun."
"That's dying out," Randy said, pointing at the fire.
"Why don't you go ahead and put that out, then we can go home."
"In a moment," Adam said.
The heat of the fire felt marvelous upon Adam's skin. He glanced at Randy. For the first time in his life, there was an unfamiliar warmth to his blood.
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