Collateral Damage Part 4
Not averting his violet gaze, Duo reached out and stroked Heero's cheek. "I understand." he replied placidly, "All to well."
Strength depleted from the never-ending struggle to keep up his stoic facade, Heero's shoulders sagged. "No you don't." he sighed as a sturdy shiver lanced through his body. "Nobody does."
With wordless reassurance, Duo wrapped his arms around Heero's trembling frame then, without hesitation, pressed a consoling kiss on the uncertain assassin's quivering lips.
Normally Heero's reflex reaction, dictated by hardhearted preservation instincts, stern discipline training and years of distrust, was to strike out and counter any perceived threats with violence.
This time, with unaccustomed conviction, he acted on faith, surrendered those ingrained survival impulses and reciprocated the kiss.
*********
How dare you disregard protocol! Odin Lowe's ruthless censure resonated harshly in Heero's mind, but his aching need for intimacy proved more powerful than the scathing rebuke.
Fueled by lust the kiss could have turned ravenous, yet he resisted the primal urges. This time tenderness tempered hormonal desires and irrational emotions superseded brainwashed logic. It wasn't mere sexual release Heero hungered for but redemptive nourishment for his wicked soul.
Suddenly, like a shot in the gut, desperation wrenched Heero from the kiss. In response to Duo's predicted confusion, he muttered, "I can't do this to you."
"Ya ain't doin' nothing I don't want ya to."
"We can't be together. It's too dangerous." was stated emphatically.
Again that damnable logic insisted the braided Irishman get the hell out-after all Heero was a callous bastard who relied only on himself. As always ignore the aching need for a human touch, for the simple comfort of a kiss, because a merciless deliver of death isn't worthy of being loved.
Sensing Heero's conflict, Duo played the Devil's Advocate. "You really want me to go?"
The reality of Duo leaving, of facing another hour alone, stripped away the solitary assassin's austere armor. Sliding his arms around Duo's waist, Heero tucked his head under Duo's chin and, tears flowing freely, clung fiercely as if he wouldn't survive the severance. As purifying sobs purged pent up fear and pain, Duo tightened his reassuring embrace.
Five minutes later, when the weeping subsided and halting breaths evened out, Heero sat up enough to look into Duo's empathetic eyes. "I need you," he admitted unashamedly, "but in good conscience I can't ask you to stay."
Duo centered a resolute glare which left no room for argument. "I ain't goin' nowhere."
"You don't know what horrible reprisals the Syndicate is capable of dealing out." Heero stated as images of past betrayers' gory punishment flashed with stark realism through his mind. "Too much time and money has been invested in my training. The Green Dragons will do whatever is necessary to retrieve me and they won't hesitate to kill you."
"You're smart and cunning and one hell of a marksman." Duo counter-reasoned. "I trust you."
At what was perceived as a naive declaration of trust, Heero straightened sharply. "Are you fucking crazy! I can't guarantee your security. You know the kind of man I am."
"I know the man you want to be."
"What makes you so damn sure I can change?"
Duo locked his determined sight. "You've already changed. The first step was choosing not to put a bullet in my brain then taking care of me last night." Absolutely certain of his correct assessment, a knowing smile flickered across Duo's lips. "When was the last time you cried?"
Heero stared in stunned silence. Tacky bloodshot eyes didn't blink. Was he being foolish? Could there really be a happily-ever-after or would his selfish desire to elude isolation condemn Duo to death?
A tentative sigh accented Heero's, perhaps foolish, assertion. "Running won't be easy."
"Anything worth doing is never easy."
Leaning closer he studied Duo's face for any sign of reluctance. "If I go rogue it has to be right now."
Slender fingers feathered along Heero's tear-tracked cheek. "Together we're unstoppable."
Decision made, Heero stood up. "Get dressed and do something with your hair. You literally have the shirt on your back. We'll stop by your place but can't waste time."
"Where I'm staying is a long walk from here." Duo declared as he braided his hair in the bathroom.
"That's okay, I have a car."
*********
Outside the early morning sky was mantled in slate gray and there was a nippy promise of rain in the air. Heero, lugging the extra armaments duffle and sniper's case, and Duo carrying the second duffle bag, walked side by side at the urgent pace of someone racing the devil.
Heero's leather jacket concealed the Glick tucked into his waistband. Having both hands occupied made him edgy but he and Duo had only three blocks to traverse before fetching his SUV, which ironically was a Ford Escape.
On the corner of 4th and Central Heero turned left down a nameless gravel lane bordered by tall solid wood fencing which made him claustrophobic. At the lane's end he fished a key ring from his jeans, selected a brass key and unlocked double garage doors that groaned on seldom used hinges.
Musty currents attested to the basement's dank condition and, like a recently unearthed and possibly cursed tomb, scraggy remnants of dust-festooned cobwebs lent an eerie ambiance to the cavernous environment.
In the limited light the black SUV's shadowy silhouette blended into the gloom. Duo following close at his heels, Heero opened the rear hatch and secured the duffels and case.
The pair parted. Heero headed towards the driver's side. Duo took the opposite route. Just as Duo reached the passenger's side, a beady-eyed gray rat scampered up the wall and vanished somewhere in the water-warped rafters.
A shiver slithering up Duo's spine prompted a quick slide into the seat and an even quicker slamming of the door. Shifting his weight he squinted through the window at the dusky crevices overhead.
Heero fastened his seat belt. The Glock was concealed on the seat under a month old discolored newspaper. Displaying an irksome smirk he inquired of the uneasy Irishman, "Something go bump in the night?"
Duo never averted his watchfulness. "I hate rats." was declared with another sturdy shudder added for good measure.
*********
The SUV merged into the chaos of assorted vehicles all vying for maneuvering room on the crowded boulevard. Concentration divided between the erratic traffic flow, jaywalking pedestrians and frequently checking the rearview mirror to make sure he wasn't being tailed, Heero managed only momentary glances at Duo.
"You all right?" he wondered as his passenger had gone quiet.
"Yeah, just thinking."
"I won't get mad if you change your mind." was offered as a viable option should Heero's breakout partner come to his senses.
Duo pivoted at the waist. Again there was no evidence of doubt in either his body language or tone. "I ain't changin' my mind. Besides I'm so far behind on the rent my ass is gonna be kicked out on the street."
Twelve blocks. The contemplative silence was interrupted twice by Duo giving directions and once more by Heero spewing profanities when a taxi ran a red light.
"Over there." Duo pointed to a three story, red brick building with weather-pitted cornices, a tattered brown canvas awning decorated with pigeon poop and security bars guarding the lower windows.
Heero guided the Escape into a parking space midway from the flophouse identified by a busted neon sign as South Hill Apartments, switched off the engine then evaluated the immediate vicinity.
Sharing a liquor bottle, three Latino men in their twenties loitered on the rickety fire escape's second floor platform. An old man swathed in an oversized gray overcoat, petting a tan mutt with soulful eyes, lounged on a metal chair beside a concrete planter sprouting weeds.
Two middle-aged black women chatted in front of the Clip & Curl Beauty Salon advertising a ten dollar discount on weaves. A gaggle of teenage girls laden with shopping bags waited at the bus stop and a brown-uniformed United Parcel Service driver rushed to deliver an armload of packages.
Perceiving no threat from the anonymous people with mundane lives Heero made certain he had Duo's attention. "Get your things. Don't take too long."
"Ya coming with me?"
"I'd better stay with the car."
Duo opened the door but his hand lingered on the handle. "Gonna be here when I get back?"
"Yeah, I'll be here."
"Okay. I'm trusting you."
"You can." Heero promised fully aware, at that moment, "I" had truly become "we".
From the SUV's observation site Heero watched Duo set a straightway route. Gradually, as the Irishman's hip-length braid swayed with each step, his precautious scrutiny shifted from scanning for nonstandard activity to ogling perfect buttocks encased in body-hugging denim.
"Get your mind back on point." Heero chided the amateurish distraction while wiggling to ease the tightness in his crotch.
*********
Street smart vigilance in force, Duo focused on his destination. Senses alert and muscles coiled for action, dexterous footsteps steered him through the muddled maze on the sidewalk.
Pausing at the entrance, a glimpse of the old man and his dog fluttered in Duo's peripheral vision as he looked back over his shoulder at the Escape. When the visual search verified Heero hadn't vanished like dragon's breath, he pushed the steel security door and stepped inside.
South Hill's lobby had fallen into a piteous state of disrepair. Tracing a central path to the stairs, black and white floor tiles bore cracks with some sections missing altogether. Defaced by graffiti, walnut panels had lost their luster. The only reminders of a once grand era were the embossed tin ceiling and tarnished brass chandelier with six dust-encrusted glass globes shielding low-wattage light bulbs.
A lone man occupied the dismal foyer. Sitting among spectral shadows on a shabby red velvet sofa, Bill Olsen was in his thirties however, after years of alcoholism, he looked like a haggard fifty. Curiously, the rare times when Bill was sober he'd discuss sports and debate politics with the intellectual fluency of a college education.
"Good morning Duo." Bill greeted with slightly slurred speech as he perused the Wall Street Journal in light so dim it was going to ruin his eyesight.
"Mornin' Bill. How's it hangin'?"
Bill shrugged. "Can't complain. Wouldn't matter anyway." was mumbled as an afterthought.
Grateful the tyrannical property manager Allen Jennings was no where in sight, Duo ascended the wooden staircase. Each tread, protected by threadbare carpet runner woven in a Fleur de Lis pattern Bill insisted was French, squeaked which made sneaking in almost impossible.
Second floor.
Halfway down the hall a baritone voice made Duo cringe. "Hey bumfuck!"
"Damn." was grumbled as Duo turned to face Jennings aka "Big Al" who was barely tolerated by South Hill's transient tenants.
Broad-shouldered and greasy-haired, the unkempt man, whose notion of haute couture was ragged jeans and a sweat-stained tank top stretched across his protruding beer belly, sauntered up the hall like he owned the fucking building.
Soggy stub of a smoldering cigar clamped between yellow teeth, Al inquired not-so-politely, "Got my money?"
Duo mustered his most sincere smile. "Not yet. Soon as I change into my cruising cloths I'm back on the street. There's some kinda salesman convention over at the Hilton. Shouldn't have any trouble gettin' enough dates to pay ya later."
Al cocked his head at the shorter Irishman. Gray ashes snowed on the floor. "What about the meeting I set up last night for you and Akira?"
The Cheshire cat smile faded away into a perturbed frown. Another lie bolstered the effortless deception. "I hung around the docks freezing my ass off for over an hour and the bastard never showed."
Al's beefy hand grabbed a fistful of Duo's tee shirt. Tobacco-fouled breath hissed. "Better not be you that skipped out." was stated with an unmistakable threat of violence.
Feigning absolute innocence, Duo raised his hands in mock surrender. "I ain't fibbin'. Track down your friend and ask him."
The shirt was released with a rough shove. "Get my money tonight or you'll be choking on your balls."
*********
Once bat-shit-for-brains disappeared down the stairs, Duo flipped the middle finger salute then rushed to unlock room 207. Once inside the door was bolted to ensure his hurried packing wouldn't be interrupted.
The room's compact confines were scarcely brightened by a small window facing the alley. Always depressing, this morning's cloud-shrouded sky made the cramped space even duskier.
A bare bulb suspended on a frayed cord cast long shadows as Duo opened his secondhand suitcase and laid it on the mattress on the floor. Cloths from the phone booth size closet and underwear and socks from a chest of drawers were stuffed into the case.
A pair of scuffed boots was slipped in a plastic grocery bag. A second bag safeguarded toiletry items, including two pilfered bath towels, and half a bottle of cheap Scotch whiskey.
Lastly he knelt in the corner furthest from the door and rolled back thin carpet reeking of vinegary cat piss. The blade of a butterfly knife glinted when he pried up loose floorboards to exhume his secret stash of cash encased in a zip lock freezer bag.
A final inspection. The only remaining mementos from his three month tenancy was fuzzy black mold behind the toilet, brazen cockroaches and six expired-date Trojan Rough Rider condoms in tattered foil.
Duo checked the vacant hall, shut the door and left the key in the lock. He wanted to say goodbye to Bill but a parting farewell was too risky. Wisely he'd avoid the lobby and any chance encounter with Al, 'cause the suitcase and bags would be a bitch to explain.
Instead, on the first floor landing, he veered through the furnace room and bugged out the side exit into a steady drizzle.
There were three eyewitnesses to the covert departure---a pair of pigeons roosting on an adjacent rooftop and some creepy guy urinating on a dumpster. Duo took little notice as none of the trio would be creditable informants.
On the sidewalk, old man and dog had abandoned the metal chair for a drier location. No umbrella to ward off the chilly moisture made Duo shiver or was outfoxing the sadistic manager who'd hinted at trading sex for money owed the shudder's source?
The Irishman's meager belongings safely stowed away, Duo fastened his seatbelt.
Before starting the engine Heero inquired again. "You sure about leaving with me?"
Duo gazed at raindrops polka dotting the windshield. "Got nowhere else to go." acknowledged his self-imposed nomadic status.
"I can take you somewhere safe and give you enough money to start over."
"I wanna to stay with ya." Duo insisted. A sigh. "Please don't ask again."
*********
A deluge of polka dots fused into rivulets to distort the cityscape. Wipers sweeping back and forth with a rhythmic thump, thump, thump lulled both driver and passenger into pensive silence.
Each mile traveled encouraged expectations for a successful getaway, yet Heero was not about to lower his guard. The Escape's GPS System had been deactivated. He'd also rerouted to secondary roads to boost difficulty factors for the henchmen inevitably assigned to his retrieval.
Digital numbers on the dashboard clock read 8:47 a.m. "We're stopping for breakfast." Heero announced.
Despite Duo's need for sustenance, the urgency for more distance overruled stopping to eat. "Shouldn't we keep going?"
"I'm hungry. You are, too." Heero stated the refutable fact. "I don't want you getting sick again." clarified his raison d'¨ētre.
Two miles off State Route 15, the Redwood Diner was a rectangle wood paneled building reminiscent of the Sixties. Large plate glass windows, sheltered byhunter green awnings, flanked the center door.
Front counter supported a vintage cash register, a basket of complimentary peppermint candies and a donation jar to help the Centerville High School Band Boosters purchase new uniforms for the Marching Eagles.
Five booths upholstered in burgundy faux leather lined the windows. Six square tables with wood grain tops attached to pedestal bases, each ringed by four chairs with matching burgundy cushions, were crammed into the rear section.
Out of habit Heero paused just inside to scrutinize the sparse patrons. A young couple and four year old son occupied the first booth. A middle-aged man sporting an Old Milwaukee baseball cap sat at the third table sipping coffee and reading USA Today. Two forty-something men wearing navy blue shirts imprinted with Earl's Plumbing were heading to the register.
Heero chose the fifth booth which provided minimum window exposure while still being able to observe the Escape. Since the statistical probability of tangling with Syndicate goons was low he'd opted to not to carry the Glock however, facing the door for continual surveillance, he mentally planned an alternate exit should a hasty retreat become necessary.
Duo sat on the booth's opposite side. Pondering a framed picture on the wall of dappled horses gazing in a wildflower-carpeted meadow, he imagined warm sun on his face, a fresh dewy breeze and twittering birds as an alternative to diesel fumes, horns and sirens, hostile streets and callous people.
"How are you two doing this morning?" busted the daydream.
A motherly waitress with "Ronda" on her nametag handed out menus. With adept slight-of-hand an order pad and pen materialized from her multi-pocketed apron. "The special is a ham and cheddar omelet. Need a few minutes to decide?"
Heero nodded affirmatively.
While Ronda settled the check for Earl's employees, the breakfast selections were studied. "Get anything you want." Heero encouraged since he wasn't certain of their future mealtime schedule.
Noting the ample supply of sugar packets, artificial sweeteners, individual containers of liquid creamer and margarine plus strawberry and grape jelly adorning the table, Duo asked, "Anything?"
"I got money." Heero confirmed.
Ronda reappeared, pad and pen at the ready.
Duo went first. "Three eggs, scrambled, bacon, biscuits and coffee."
"I'll have the same." Heero ordered then figuring extra Vitamin C would be beneficial, "And two large glasses of orange juice."
Table laden with more food than Duo had seen in forever, he resisted the urge to wolf down the bountiful meal. For ten minutes eggs and bacon were consumed with delight. Biscuits were slathered with margarine and strawberry jelly. Orange juice was savored.
While Duo appreciated a full stomach, his constant case of nagging anxiousness was impossible to ignore. Laying down the knife and fork, "What's gonna happen now?" was asked with obvious apprehension.
Heero chewed, swallowed then silently berated his insensitivity. Although he was well versed in the cat and mouse game of stealthy evasion and proficient in eliminating all obstacles, human or otherwise, Duo was totally out of his element.
Even since Duo witnessed Akira's gruesome death and had been unexpectedly salvaged from the Grim Reaper by the penitent assassin, he'd put up a gutsy facade but now, homeless and on the run, his eyes mirrored trepidation.
Heero waited until the Old Milwaukee man strolled out of audible range. Reverting to mission mode, he leaned close and lowered his voice. "We'll move around for a while until the trail gets cold then leave the country."
Stunned, Duo titled his head at an inquiring angle. "What?"
Heero explained. "Two years ago I established an offshore Credit Suisse account in the Bahamas so the Syndicate couldn't trace the funds. There's enough money to get us to Nassau and arrange somewhere to live. We'll have to find work for the daily expenses but it'll give us a good start."
"Nassau." Duo repeated, "You want me to go with ya?"
"I'd like that very much."
"But how---won't I need a passport? Hell, I got no valid ID, not even a birth certificate."
A rare smile graced Heero's lips. "No problem. I know a computer whiz who can replicate any document. I have three passports under various aliases." he stated matter-of-factly like everyone has multiple fake credentials. "Fredrick can cook up a new one for me too."
*********
Windshield wipers took leisurely swipes at intermittent raindrops. As pale shafts of sunlight sliced through cotton ball clouds, Heero set course towards the western horizon. He and Duo had no unrealistic expectations for an unhindered departure but they pitied the fool who tried to stop them.
TBC...
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