Outcast (17 page)

"Get a move on then," Flack said, crumpling up his empty Skits packet and tossing it on the floor. "There's a movie here I want to watch.
Balor does Belaar
. Should be interesting."

"The guy who bleaches his cock?"

"Exactly."

Prez laughed and went to the door. "I can live without that one," he said as Lan went past him into the elevator. "After what Kai did to my balls, I don't even want to
imagine
Belaari in the nude."

"They're fake Belaari anyway," Flack shouted after him as the elevator doors swished shut, but Prez didn't stick around to hear any more.

***

The shuttle trip to the surface was fast and smooth. Akilia had few clouds, just an atmospheric haze that filtered out a lot of the little light the star sent its way. Prez's eyes quickly adjusted to the dimness on the RealView as the shuttle descended toward the coordinates. After the twin suns of Aldor, Akilia seemed even darker than he'd remembered.

He landed the shuttle in the middle of what had once been a field and opened the door. Immediately his head was filled with the pollen from the waist-high grasses that grew outside, the pungent but sweet smell of the riverside orchids that pulled at his senses, making gentle tugs into the reaches of his memory. Lan stepped down behind him, squinting as if he was having trouble seeing. Around them in the grass scuttled the small creatures that had once fed on the rows of cereals the Akilian farmer used to grow there. He knew the farmhouse was behind the hill, and wondered if small curls of smoke still puffed from the tip of its conical roof, or if the farmer was dead like most of the others.

"Are any of these creatures poisonous?" Lan said, taking a dubious step away from the shuttle.

"No."

"I do not understand. We are in the countryside. How will you do business?"

Prez was looking toward the hill, at the thick tree that clawed the sky, standing alone on its top. "There," he said. "Someone I have to say goodbye to." The pollen was already tickling his nose and he sneezed a couple of times before striding off toward the hill. The grass whipped against his thighs and left little seeds clinging to his trousers.

When they'd reached the top of the hill, Prez looked up at the shards of slate-colored sky through the black branches of the thick tree. The glowing amberflies were starting to gather around the buds to feast on the microscopic fungi that grew there. He rubbed his palm over the rough bark and walked around until he found what he was looking for.

"Here," he said to Lan. "This is where he brought me." Kneeling down, he traced his finger over two crudely carved names and remembered the first time he'd really looked at the dim haze of the sun in the streaks of thin cloud, felt the warm breeze in his hair. And the silence. He'd never heard it before, and he listened again now... the soft rush of air, the faint creak of the branches, the trickle of the nearby river. After the constant noise of the compound, then the lab and the wearying pain of the tests... This quiet place had seemed like heaven.

He sat down on the earth and looked down the dusty hill at the river. It was a quiet, undramatic landscape dominated by grays -- the grass, the air, the sky -- but there were faint hints of color in the yellow leaves, the almost luminous blue insects, and the glowing green eyes of the little furry
sar-sals
that sprung between the branches and chattered in their own frenetic language. With so little color to attract the insects, the flowers released strong and heady scents. It was all still beautiful, because it was the first beauty he had ever experienced.

Lan sat down beside him. "It is difficult to see in this darkness," he said, and they looked out at the river beyond.

"I'll tell you a history," Prez said eventually. "You won't find it in any books, and there are only two alive who remember it: me and Flack, and even he doesn't know all of it. It's about a doctor called Garlo who thought he could save the world. But he couldn't even save himself. All he saved, in the end, was me."

Chapter Fifteen

It was summer, and the tree was spotting with yellow leaves. Garlo spread out a rug on the dry grass beside the tree and sat down. He patted the space beside him and smiled. "You can't run," he said. "So you might as well sit."

Prez did what he was told. The silence was like a soft blanket, and he closed his eyes, listening. He could feel the heat of Garlo's body shifting beside him and bit his lip. "You didn't bring me here to admire the view," he said, feeling his heart start to thump in his chest, the same way it did when he was brought into the lab and saw the needles. Fear and anticipation, but this time it was more than that.

Garlo opened the basket and pulled out a packet of Skits. He tore open the bag and offered it to Prez. It was the first food he'd ever seen that wasn't compound slop or rotten leftovers from the Wardens' dinners. He hadn't eaten a lot since he'd been taken to the labs; the doctors preferred intravenous feeding, to keep the test conditions as identical as possible. Dubious, Prez took a crumbly chunk out of the bag and put it in his mouth. The taste of the sea spread across his tongue and tingled underneath and he sighed with a beat of pure delight.

Garlo smiled beside him. "You're so beautiful right now," he said, snaking an arm around Prez's shoulders and shifting closer. "Your face shows everything you feel. That's why you're such a good subject. I can tell..." He stretched out a finger and traced the slight hollow the base of Prez's throat. "...
exactly
what you're feeling."

Prez slapped the hand away, sick at the sudden arousal that flooded his body. This man was a doctor; they were rarely seen around the compounds except to choose the next batch of lab rats. It was Garlo who'd chosen him, and he forced himself to remember the sickness, the injections, the draining of his blood and the constant tests... because all those memories were starting to fade next to this... whatever it was. He gazed into Garlo's amber eyes and said in a shaky voice, "Take me back to the lab. I'd rather be there than... here, with you."

Garlo sighed. "You
are
happy to be here
with me
. Do you know how I know that?"

"No," Prez whispered as Garlo's fingers brushed over his collarbone, so close to that spot that he almost strained toward the touch instead of away because this was madness, if anyone else found out...

"Because I have read your DNA, examined your blood, and now I can see it in your eyes." He stroked Prez's cheek and smiled again. "There's
no one
in this whole universe who knows your body better than I do. You
want
to hate me, so much. But you don't." The fingers slipped down to Prez's ear and traced around its outline. The touch sent goose bumps down the right side of Prez's body.

Wake up
. With all the strength he had left, Prez pushed the hand away. "Please," he said, shaking his head, his refusal unconvincing even to his own ears. "Don't."

Garlo looked at him and frowned slightly. He reached into the basket again and before Prez could react, the Doctor jabbed a needle into his thigh. "I didn't want to do this," Garlo said as Prez's body sagged into his arms. "But I haven't got time to let you get to know the inner me, or wait until you realize that you want this just as much as I do. This drug is a muscle relaxant." He laid Prez down on the blanket and stroked his face. "It'll wear off very soon... after."

Prez stared at the dim sky, barely able to move, yet his mind was sharp and aware. He felt the fumble of fingers at the ties around his waist, Garlo's hot breath on his belly as his T-shirt was pushed up over his nipples, the double trail of the forked tongue dipping into his belly button and heading up past the constricting band of his T-shirt... Fingers slick with saliva, rubbing his nipples into aching little points, then the tongue again on that hollow at the base of his throat...

Prez tried to keep his focus on the clouds. He was so painfully aroused, and yet so weak from the injection that he could barely catch a breath. It was
wrong
to be so hot inside, he was
sick
, there had to be something else in that injection because it wasn't right how his cock was starting to throb, no matter how much he willed it to stop. His vision blurred with sudden tears, and he watched a distant buzzard swoop in the skies, so far away from the tree in the countryside where any shred of self-respect he had left was being slowly stripped away.

"Breathe!" Garlo said, and fell upon Prez's body, kissing him all the way back down to the waistband of his loose lab trousers where he paused for a moment to lick and nip at the skin around his belly. When he'd pulled Prez's trousers down round his ankles and exposed his body to the warm breeze, Garlo sat back on his knees and pulled out his own cock, which was dark and rigid. Prez could see it out of the corner of his eye and tried to say something but it came out as a helpless moan that made Garlo smile. The doctor took a jar from the basket and dipped two fingers into it, idly slicking the substance around the head of his penis, the hard shaft, rubbing and sighing, all the time his eyes fixed on Prez's. Prez could not look away from those amber eyes. Even though the tears were leaking down the side of his face, he still held the doctor's gaze. He was used to his body being used for purposes out of his control; now his heart was betraying him too.

"Your body talks to me all the time," Garlo whispered, and drew his fingertip lightly along the vein on the underside of Prez's cock right up to the tip, chuckling at the involuntary shivers and twitches that his touch elicited. Then he grasped it lightly in his hand and slowly massaged it up and down, barely any contact but enough to wrench another moan from his helpless captive. "And I think you know what it's telling me." He stroked the
kel-mah
at the base of Prez's throat and smiled. "You're glowing."

Prez's muscles were starting to tingle with the seeping return of strength. There had to be more in the injection than just a relaxant; it surely couldn't be
his
hands that were starting to clutch at the Doctor's head as Garlo descended once again on his tortured nipples; it couldn't be
his
breath that was rasping in and out of his lungs. It couldn't be
his
voice that was crying out in pleasure and uttering semi-coherent words of encouragement.

Then Garlo smiled and kissed him, and with those first touches of real tenderness, Prez felt a part of himself start to drown.

Garlo flipped Prez onto his front and slid a cushion underneath his belly. Prez felt his legs thrust apart, forceful fingers rubbing something around his asshole, dipping inside, stretching and probing against the knot of nerves inside until Prez had almost lost his mind. His fingers scratched against the rug as the swooping buzzards caught his eye again. Or perhaps they were carrion birds, waiting to feed on the bloodied remains of his pride, he couldn't tell.

He felt Garlo on top of him, pushing inside him, grazing his teeth against the back of his neck. The birds rose and fell on the soaring winds and another tear escaped the corner of his eye. He tried to control his treacherous body but Garlo was merciless, pounding on that spot until Prez's body stiffened and clenched and finally, he gasped out his surrender, his cock spurting hard against the cushion. Then Garlo froze suddenly, crying out his own release to the sky. He collapsed forward onto Prez, his breathing harsh while his body trembled and stilled.

"Mother of skies," he muttered, brushing his lips against Prez's ear. "You have no idea how much I've wanted you."

Prez flexed his hands as the last of the drug wore off. His blood was swimming with a pleasurable afterglow, tainted with a burning shame. He looked at Garlo and bit his lip. "You never talk to me."

"We're forbidden to talk to the test subjects."

Test subjects
. A sudden wave of disgust. "Don't fucking touch me!" he shouted suddenly, scrambling up into a sitting position and out of the embrace of the Doctor. He scratched at his skin where he could smell the Doctor's saliva and then hugged his knees to his chest and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes so hard that it hurt. He knew that when he looked at the gray world of Akilia, it would never be the same again.

For the next few days back at the labs, he didn't speak. Speaking required thought and effort, and it was so much easier to lie on his bunk bed and stare at the wall than to think about what had happened. Every day, the same routine -- injection in the morning, scratch tests, blood tests, IV bags containing mysterious fluids hooked into his arm. Small patches of skin grafted onto his back once a week. He went through it all without a murmur, barely feeling the sickness that was starting to creep over him.

The others were puzzled by his behavior, but Flack was the only one who knew that Garlo had taken him out of the compound and he didn't say anything. Prez knew that Flack assumed he'd been raped, and said nothing. Better to let Flack believe that than the even more disgusting alternative, that if Garlo had just tried a little harder, he wouldn't have needed to give the injection at all.

The sickness passed, and Garlo took him to the tree again. Again, a picnic basket; this time Garlo allowed him to eat the contents. Pink
aska
fruit that squirted sweet juice all over his face and hands, soft bread filled with cuts of smoked meat and savory jellies, a whole packet of Skits. Even a tiny shot of something called
mukkesh
, the first time Prez had ever tasted alcohol, and it left him with a pleasant buzz, once his belly was full and the wind gusted the scent of the summer flowers around them and Garlo was stroking his hair... he was almost happy.

That was the day Garlo told him that the tests were due to stop soon, that the government was finally about to recognize
ku-tah
as sentient beings. Then the Doctors would be withdrawn, and the Wardens would take over. And life would be... whatever it would be. There was even talk of building better homes for the
ku-tah
so that the compounds would cause less of an inconvenient stench for those on the outside unfortunate enough to live near one.

"Madness," Garlo said and gave a bitter laugh. "When we're so close. For the last few months... Can you believe this? We've been injecting you with tiny plague tumors, Prez, and your beautiful, amazing body is just swallowing them up and killing them. They can't catch hold, anywhere, not for long." He stroked his finger down the side of Prez's face. "All the answers, they're in here. We need more time, but that's the one thing none of us have."

Prez stared at him. "You do this..." he waved his hand at the remains of the picnic, "and yet you're injecting me with the plague?"

Garlo sighed. "I want to live," he said and lifted his shirt. Prez saw the redness of tell-tale scarring running down his side, probably from where the first of the tumors had been removed. Garlo took Prez's hands in his and planted little kisses all over his fingers. "It's getting harder and harder to leave you in that place," he murmured. "Don't you see, this is madness for me too? To the powers that be, you are nothing more than those beasts in that field, and this resolution won't change that. But to me..." He paused for a moment and swallowed. "I want us
all
to live, to cure this terrible disease. It doesn't mean that I don't..."

Love you
. He didn't say it then, but Prez saw it in his eyes, and the last of his resistance melted away. He saw the same look the next day when Garlo came to do the skin tests. He sat on the cold stool while Garlo scratched his back with one needle after another and told the results to the other doctor in a monotone voice. All the time, Prez could feel Garlo's breath faint on his back, the soft touch of his fingers contrasting with the sharp scrape of the needles, the warmth of his body so close. When it was done, Prez slipped the robe back on and looked Garlo in the eye, and the Doctor's gaze was so full of love and misery, it was all Prez could do to stop himself from hugging him tight and trying to tell him that everything would be all right, even though he knew it wouldn't.

The third time he took Prez out of the compound was the last one. When they got to the tree, Prez took Garlo's hands in his. "You don't need to give me any more muscle relaxants," he said, and the look in Garlo's eyes took his breath away. Then Garlo kissed him, and all thoughts flew out of his head. "I love you." Neither of them ever knew who had said it first.

Garlo didn't take him back to the compound. Instead, he steered the vehicle toward the nearby city and Prez gazed out of the window at the cone-shaped homes, some of which had spirals of smoke curling from the top. Most were empty; gardens were spilling over with tendrils of climbing plants that had overgrown the fences, waist-high grass and broken children's toys lying around, already relics because there were few children left alive who were able to play with them. The trees were growing huge and smashing the pavements slowly with their thick roots. Few people were in the streets but there was a pack of slavering dogs roaming around, tearing at garbage and howling. A couple of restaurants were open and a brightly-lit bar pumped out music but only two customers were dancing -- a slow, jerky dance that didn't match the music at all.

"Where are we going?" Prez asked, slightly overwhelmed.

Garlo turned to him and smiled. "Home."