Before the Darkness (Refuge Inc.) (19 page)

side and on top of his arm, pinning him to the

gravel slope. The pain in his arm rushed him

tenfold. "Jena!" he called out. "Jena, get help."

He blinked, realizing Jena wasn't there.

He must have been dreaming. Reliving an

agonizing memory he'd rather forget. The

person he should have been calling out for was

Elliot, but he wasn't there either.

He lay there, allowing light lakes of dust

to feather across his face. Steadying his

breathing, he tried to move. Stuck and in a panic

he kicked his feet and tried desperately to free

his arm which was trapped under the car from

his shoulder. The pain was unbearable,

excruciating even though his fingers were numb.

How long had he been lying there with a car

halfway on top of him? He had no idea how

much time had passed or if Elliot was in a

similar unfortunate predicament. Hell, had Elliot

done what
he'd
set out to do and found Refuge

Inc.?

The thought quickly escaped him when

the pain increased. He cried out like a wild

animal clutched in the painful grip of a bear claw

trap. He lay still, motionless, and the pain

lessened. He could see the mangled car easily,

and even make out the wall next to him, the wall

that held the car up on its side, preventing it

from falling over and off of him. Light suddenly

illuminated around him and he remembered his

lashlight. He moved his head, looking around at

his surroundings, searching for the lashlight

with limited mobility. The lashlight rolled a little

down the slope and rested too far away for him

to grab it.

Nausea unexpectedly hit him and his

stomached clenched. He heaved but nothing

came out. Was Elliot okay? Was he lost or

seriously injured? Would Elliot forgive him for

pushing him down, for hurting him, for leaving

him?

Elliot had said that they would never see

each other again if he left. Had he ful illed that

prophecy? What more could he do if he was

stuck under the car forever but die? He would

die without telling Elliot how sorry he was, how

stupid he was, how much he cared for him.

The pain returned. Adam bit his lower lip

and groaned through his nose. He knew better

than to do something as stupid as jump off of a

freeway overpass. Even at the last minute when

he had a change of heart and tried to climb back

up, he knew how crazy the idea was. What was

he thinking? He knew the dangers and chose to

ignore them. Now look at him. Some hero.

A warm relief grew between his legs and

he hadn't known he was urinating until the

liquid ran over his groin and soaked his jeans.

Even knowing what was happening he couldn't

stop it. Suddenly the feeling of helplessness sunk

in. Humiliation and shame washed over him.

Even though he was the one who left the

hospital, he felt abandoned and worthless. The

urge to see a familiar face, to hear the voice of

another human being, to feel a human presence

overwhelmed him. The urge quickly turned into

more than a necessity. He felt hollow, like an

empty shell, like nothing. And he understood

that feeling to be death. The death he dreaded

and had escaped by denying who he was, who

he was always meant to be.

Finally, he experienced the inevitable …

his tortuous suicide.

Maybe he
was
dying. Maybe he was

bleeding out from somewhere, maybe the warm

sensation between his legs was blood. He lifted

his head to take a look, but couldn't hold his

head up long enough to inspect. With every

move the pain in his arm increased. Besides, it

was too dark down there to make out the

presence of blood anyway.

He used to wonder what it felt like to

have death on your heels. And now he knew.

Every path they took and every detour was an

attempt to escape death, but it had inally caught

up with him. The Adam he was familiar with had

perished and was simultaneously going to die

halfway pinned under a burnt and twisted heap

of metal.

Now he was worse off than having an

asteroid fall out of the sky hurling down toward

him. At least with the asteroid he had a chance.

Pinned under a car, in pain and no one around

to help him was much worse. "What a way to

go," he mumbled through clenched teeth.

A strange noise echoed in the distance,

pulling him from his grim thoughts. He struggled

to hear where the sound came from. Pain sliced

through his arm and shoulder like a sharp,

heated blade. His eyelids closed and all went

peaceful.

Calm seized him. Adam heard the faint

sound of a voice. Someone was calling his name.

He opened his eyes to an intense bright light.

Was this the end? Was this that infamous white

light at the end of the tunnel guiding him to

whatever came after? Then he heard the sound

of lapping as a wide, wet tongue licked his face.

"Adam!" Elliot knelt beside him and

placed his hand on Adam's chest, putting the

lashlight down near them. "Oh, shit. Shit! Adam?

What happened? You okay? Can you move? Can

you hear me?"

"One question at a time." Adam grimaced,

his arm ached and throbbed. "I climbed down

and it fell and—" He pushed the slurping dog

away.

Elliot gasped. "You climbed down from

up there?" He shined his light up at the bridge

with a puzzled looked on his face. "Why?"

"I saw another R," Adam murmured.

"Thank God I saw your flashlight shining."

Elliot scoffed, shaking his head. "How do I get

you out of this? Here, grab my arm. I'll pull you

out."

"No, no. It'll hurt like hell." Adam

wondered if Elliot understood what he just said

about the R or just chose to ignore it for now.

"It'll hurt?" Elliot shook his head again, a

breathy urgency in his voice. The sound of him

trying to keep his composure but inding it

dif icult. "Wouldn't it hurt less if I pulled you

out? Maybe I can lift it." Before Adam could

protest he stood and limped to the front of the

car, out of Adam's sight. Titan followed and

must've got in the way, causing Elliot to demand,

"Sit and stay. Okay, Adam," he said, getting

Adam's full attention. "I'll count to three. On

three you slide out, okay?"

"Elliot, no."

"Yes, yes. I gotta try something!"

"You can't—"

"You trust me?"

Adam wanted to remind Elliot of his own

wound on his leg and tell him he didn't have the

strength to lift a car, but the thought of Dark Lad

—with the ability to lift anything no matter the

size—coming to his rescue, fueled his optimism.

He crossed his ingers. "Okay, on three." Adam

braced himself. He listened as Elliot prepared

himself too, and inally the sound of gravel

beneath Elliot's feet quieted.

"Okay, one, two, three." Elliot grunted.

Adam knew he was trying desperately to

lift the car but the car wouldn't budge. After a

second, the car slightly rocked toward him,

sending a bolt of sharp pain up his shoulder and

down his side. "Stop!" Adam cried. "Just stop."

He panted and groaned, trying to control the

pain.

Elliot returned to his side, panting and

idgeting. "It's too heavy and I think if I keep

messing around with it I might tip it over on top

of you. Fuck." Elliot turned his head, looking

around their environment, probably trying to

come up with a better idea.

"Someone
just
painted an arrow on the

bridge, pointing to that van over there." Adam

gestured with his uninjured arm. However,

doing so drained him of energy. "I climbed down

to get to it."

"Did you see who painted it? Do you

think they're still around here?" Elliot's eyes

glistened with wetness, tears he kept at bay.

"Maybe they can help, huh?"

Adam's luck had run out. There was no

one out there who could help him. "Maybe."

"Help!" Elliot called out, his pained voice

echoing in the isolated streets. "Somebody help

us!"

"Elliot." Adam sighed, his voice lowered

as his words slurred. "I'm fucked."

"No, you're not. All we have to do is—"

"I feel … strange. Like, almost like … I'm

dying."

"What are you talking about?" Elliot

dipped his head to look into his eyes while he

gingerly placed his hand on Adam's chest. "It's

just your arm. People live … without an arm all

the time. And I don't even see blood. It's not that

bad."

"I didn't climb down," Adam admitted,

eyes blinking slowly, speech slowing. "I fell. I

could be bleeding inside."

It was silent.

Adam closed his eyes for a welcomed

moment and opened them to an angry glare on

Elliot's face.

Elliot's voice was low, guttural and full of

anger. "You asshole. You're just gonna lay here

and give up? You gonna give me some pussy

excuse to give up on me?"

"Elliot, there's nothing we can do." Adam

pleaded with his eyes for understanding. "I'm

fucked. Look at me. I'm fucked!"

Elliot waved a dismissive hand. "Wanna

know the plan? Well here it is. I'm gonna ind

whoever is spray painting this goddamned place

and drag their ass back here to help me get you

outta here. That's the plan."

"I feel it. Inside of me. It's a hollow

feeling. It's over." Adam went on as his body

slowly weakened.

"And you're gonna hang tight until I get

back."

"What if I'm gone when you get back?"

Adam said, forcing Elliot to acknowledge the

possibility. "What if this is it?"

Elliot plopped down next to Adam and

stared ahead at nothing. He swallowed

repeatedly, his Adam's apple rising and falling

again and again. Adam knew he was trying to

keep calm and control his emotions. "The 'what

if' game, huh? I hate that damned game."

"Yeah," Adam whispered.

The silence, the stillness, the need to

emotionally release lingered in the air. The

unnerving sensation twisted in the hallow pit of

Adam's gut. His arm went numb again and the

urge to close his eyes beckoned him. "Always

wondered something about you, but never

asked."

"What is it?" Elliot hugged his knees to his

chest and idgeted with his hands as he stared

off in the distance.

"The way you blink—"

"I'm surprised you didn't ask earlier."

Elliot wiped at his eyes with the back of his

hand. "It's blepharospasms. A condition I had as

a kid. It only happens when I'm stressed, or

don't get enough sleep, or the light's poor, or—"

"I think it's sexy," Adam interrupted,

confessing. He rested his head back and inally

closed his eyes. A smile twisted his lip.

Elliot sniffed. "When I hit you, did it

hurt?"

Adam forced his eyes opened and turned

his head to look at his friend, his companion, his

lover. "It hurt but not on my face." It was silent

for a few seconds, seconds that felt like hours

during which he silently appreciated why his

heart ached worse than his injury.

Then Elliot spoke, breaching the stillness.

"Sorry for hitting you." He gulped. "You know,

there was something I wanted to ask you too."

"Now or never."

Elliot cleared his throat. "Why didn't you

ever marry … her? You were with her long

enough to do it."

Adam huffed. This was his chance to fully

come clean. He owed Elliot that much. "Was

stalling."

"You admit that you wanted a baby and

wanted to get married because you were trying

hard to be straight?"

"Don't know." Would it be so terrible to

admit that now, at a time like this? Did he want

to end it knowing Elliot was right about Jena and

his engagement? Would admitting it mean he

was a bad person?