Strain

by Amelia C. Gormley

  No answer. Darius squatted beside him, hesitating to reach out until he could control the instinct to pet and soothe Rhys. He couldn’t afford to coddle the kid, but that nagging sense of remorse reared up again.

  Shit. This was why they didn’t do civvies. Jugs were too strong, too dangerous. He should have been more careful. He’d meant to be more careful, but once he’d gotten a taste of Rhys tight around him, careful hadn’t been any part of his vocabulary. He didn’t think he’d been that brutal, but Rhys was acting broken.

  “Come on, talk to me, boy. You okay?”

  Slowly, Rhys’s eyes tracked toward him, wide and shocked. He stared for a moment, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the question, then he nodded slowly.

  Darius breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  The crease between Rhys’s eyebrows deepened, and his mouth pulled down.

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t think how new you are. I—”

  “Why are you sorry?” Rhys’s voice rasped, and he cleared his throat. “It’s what we have to do, right?”

  “Right.” It was Darius’s turn to be confused as Rhys collected himself with visible effort.

  Not broken, no. Not even close.

  There was an aloof dignity about the way he pushed himself to his feet, a detachment that Darius wasn’t sure he liked. It felt too much like that eerie lack of emotion he’d exhibited when staring at the remains of his family the previous day. Like he’d just shut down.

  “Then you shouldn’t apologize,” he said, no inflection in his tone, and he left Darius behind on the floor of the shower. Unsettled and at a complete loss as to what to make of the reaction, Darius watched him go.

  He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have rather actually broken the boy.

  The Jugs gathered in the kitchen for breakfast, but Rhys couldn’t bear to go in. Not knowing they must have heard him, must know how he—

  He decided to skip breakfast. It didn’t matter. He’d lost the ability to feel hungry a few years ago as his rations had become leaner and leaner, especially once he’d begun giving some of his small share to Cadence when she became pregnant.

  He tried to avoid the Jugs as they went about their duties. It felt like they were all staring at him. They weren’t, of course. Not really. They were all too busy ransacking the monastery for salvageable supplies. There weren’t many, but with it getting into late summer, some of the plants in the garden were starting to yield.

  No, the only one taking notice of him was Jacob, whose sneers damn near had physical weight.

  “How’s your new boyfriend, faggot?” he hissed as Rhys passed him in the hallway.

  “How’s yours? Or should I ask, who’s yours? Did you even get his name?”

  Some of Jacob’s disdainful swagger faded, and Rhys smiled tightly at having scored a hit. It took Jacob a moment of bluster to get back into his well-rehearsed riff of insults and accusations. “I wouldn’t have to do this if you had distracted the revs like you were supposed to, you sick freak. You did it on purpose. You wanted us all to die. How’s it feel to have murdered your own sister?” Rhys fought not to show any hint of the pain that shot like a spear through his chest. “You let Cadence die because you wanted them to get me. Don’t think you won’t pay for that.”

  “Better watch out. Without Daddy here throwing you on top of little girls because he’s too old to get it up himself, you just might find you like it.” Rhys smirked. He’d learned long ago never to let Jacob see him wince or cry. “Maybe you already do. That would explain why you’re always after me about it.”

  Sudden impact with the wall drove the breath from Rhys’s lungs. Ow. His headache from the concussion awoke with a vengeance as he thudded against the stone. Jacob’s features loomed so close Rhys could feel Jacob’s breath slashing across his face with each word he spat. “You’re going to hell, you perverted little shit, and before this is over, I’m gonna be the one to send you there. You did this to me, and don’t think I won’t take the Lord’s vengeance on you. The moment I can arrange for you to have an accident, you’re dead.”

  “You know, you’ve been threatening to kill me since I was thirteen.” Rhys tried to push away from the wall, but Jacob slammed him back. Ow again. “One of these days, I’m gonna start to think you don’t mean it.”

  “There a problem here, guys?” Rhys’s head whipped to the side to see Xolani coming down the hall.

  “No problem, ma’am.” Jacob backed off, smoothing Rhys’s new shirt and pasting on a charming smile. He was a good-looking man, Rhys thought bitterly. Pity he was such a prick. “Just making it clear to my brother-in-law that I won’t tolerate him creating trouble for you folks the way he’s always done for the rest of us here.”

  Xolani regarded him with a level stare. “Thank you, but if there’s a problem, we can tend to it ourselves. Today, you help our people gather what we can carry of your provisions. There’s no sense leaving them behind. We’ll be here another day, maybe two, then head out at first light. Pack up your gear. I see you’ve got a few changes of clothing you’ll want to bring.”

  Oh yes. Jacob had clothes. He’d brought quite a bit of it as they’d crossed Montana and Idaho on their way to Oregon.

  “Of course.” Jacob smiled again. “Can I also say just how kind it was of you to get my brother-in-law some new clothes? He outgrew all his, and mine wouldn’t have fit him.”

  “He’s smaller than you,” Xolani observed, looking Jacob up and down.

  Jacob beamed at her. “Exactly.”

  “So, he could have worn yours. They just would have been too big. I’m surprised no one thought of that when he was reduced to wearing rags.”

  Jacob’s broad smile fell.

  “Haul ass to the courtyard. Darius needs to explain some things to the men, and I got better things to do than breaking up schoolyard fights. After that, get to work. We all help out where we can in this unit.”

  “Of course, ma’am.” Jacob was considerably more subdued as he sidled past Xolani with a polite bob of his head, giving her an uncertain look, which Rhys unconsciously mirrored.

  Had she just taken his side?

  Once Jacob was gone, she clapped Rhys on the shoulder. “You can breathe now.”

  Rhys swallowed, blinking rapidly. No one had taken his side against Jacob and Father Maurice since Gabe had left and his mother had died and Cadence had lost the will to fight pretty much everything.

  He didn’t want to discuss that, though, so he sought for something else to say, and failed miserably.

  “So, how are you holding up, kid?” Xolani asked. Her tone was neutral, but her gaze was searching. “Sorry. Rhys.”

  He fell into step beside her as she led him downstairs. “Well as can be expected, I guess.” He shrugged, trying not to blush. She, of all people, knew exactly what he’d been up to since last night. He had no secrets, right? Certainly not after the way he’d moaned and yelled in the showers that morning.

  “You know, Darius is a blunt guy, and he can be pretty tough, but he’s not bad.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “If he’s agreed to look after you, you’ll be okay.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then why am I detecting a bit of a sulk?”

  He tried to push away the surge of bewildered shame that threatened to undermine the air of dignity he was striving for. “No, no. I’m not. I just don’t like everyone knowing.” He dropped his voice. “Darius seems bound and determined that they’re all gonna see or hear. Why can’t we keep it, you know, private?”

  Xolani sighed and closed her eyes. “Oh shit. Did you think . . .? Jesus.” She swallowed and laid a firm hand on his shoulder. “Look, Rhys, it won’t be just—”

  “Hey, come on!” One of the other Jugs, whose name Rhys didn’t know yet, jogged past them. “Darius is about to begin.”

  “Fuck.” Xolani shook her head, muttering. “I don’t have time to explain this. Dariu
s wants to introduce you to the squad. Let’s go.”

  Well. Whatever she’d been about to tell him sounded ominous. Wondering what he’d gotten wrong, Rhys couldn’t even be excited over the fact that in a couple days, he’d be leaving the place that had been as much a prison as a refuge these past seven years. He didn’t know what the world was like now. Were there still packs of revenants hunting everywhere? When they had fled to the monastery, revenants had been so plentiful that Gabe’s dad had hot-wired an armored bank truck and simply mowed over any revs that got in their way between Bozeman and Portland. They would never have made it in weaker cars. Obviously, there were still enough revs that Darius’s people needed to track them down. The thought of traveling in the open on foot, even surrounded by armed soldiers, filled Rhys with an instinctive terror that not even the allure of escaping the monastery could overcome.

  Shuddering, Rhys followed Xolani out to the courtyard. Darius looked around. “I think most of you have met Cooper and Houtman by now?” The Jugs nodded. “They probably don’t have all your names yet, so feel free to introduce yourselves when we’re done here. As you know, these guys are dead men if we don’t manage to infect them with Bane Alpha ASAP. Now, what that means for our recruitment policy in general is for me and Luis to decide when I talk to him back on base. Until further notice, assume these two are an isolated case. That means you still don’t get to touch any other civvies we find, got it?”

  “Are we taking after Bravo Company now?” The question came from the only other woman Rhys could see in the company.

  “I guess you could say that, Gina.” Darius’s eyes landed on Rhys. Even just catching Darius’s gaze made him blush. Great. “Xolani says the more people try to pass the virus to them early on, the better their chances of being infected are. So our recruits here are gonna be real friendly to anyone who’s in a sharing mood.”

  Rhys’s jaw dropped in perfect sync with the bottom falling out of his stomach. Horrified, he stared at Darius, willing him to mean something other than what he’d just said.

  Darius glanced away. “Be sure you mind yourselves. Hopefully, these men are gonna have your six someday. Any of you decide this means you get to mistreat them, you’ll be hearing from me.”

  “And I’ll dispose of what’s left.” Xolani favored the courtyard at large with a glower. Rhys turned his disbelieving stare on her, and she met his eyes briefly, offering a nod she probably meant to be encouraging.

  “Bottom line,” Darius continued. “They’ll be our brothers. Treat ’em like it.”

  Another man, a guy with a dark complexion and a perpetually smiling face that suggested he or his forebearers hailed from the South Pacific, chortled. “Oh, is that how it works in your family, Big D?”

  “Only a lucky few know, Kaleo.” Darius bantered with them easily, obviously unaware of Rhys’s mortification. More people called out questions, and Rhys ducked back into the monastery the moment no one seemed to be looking at him. He darted from one dusty, abandoned chamber to another, seeking a hiding spot, someplace to wait until they were all busy with other things. Once they were distracted, he’d run away. If he was sick, he’d kill himself quietly and no one would miss him. Better that than face the degradation they had in store for him.

  “What do you think you’re doing, boy?” Rhys turned, his heart drumming painfully hard. Darius was standing in the doorway, dark eyes narrowed in irritation.

  Shaking down to his very bones, Rhys mustered the last ounce of defiance he could find after all the blows of the past two days. “I won’t do it. You and Xolani didn’t say it would be like this. Not with all of them!” His face burned in the darkened chamber, humiliation at the very idea of what they proposed dragging at him, making him want to crawl into a hole and never emerge.

  “You said you’d do what I told you to do. No questions.”

  “I didn’t know you meant—”

  Darius went still, and his expression shifted, his eyes growing cold. He was a huge, looming presence, blocking out the light. If he’d seemed to be God for a few moments yesterday, today he was Satan instead. Rhys thought he’d never been so terrified of anyone in his life, even if some part of his body still burned in the most wonderful way with the memory of what Darius had done to it.

  “You backing out on me?”

  Swallowing hard, Rhys watched Darius’s hand drop to his hip where a sidearm hung in a snapped holster. Too late he remembered Darius’s warnings of what would happen if he tried to refuse.

  “I told you: I don’t flinch, boy. Not ever.”

  Strange how his determination to face death if necessary fled when he thought of Darius blowing his brains out right here, right now, before he had a chance to prepare himself for it.

  “I didn’t know!” He screamed in a whisper, hoping the shadows of the unused bedroom kept Darius from seeing the way he fought to blink back desperate tears.

  “Well, now you do. Get it straight in your head, then get to work. Now.”

  As he slunk down to the garden to begin harvesting whatever was ripe enough to be of value, he hung his head to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. If they were leering at him, thinking filthy thoughts about him, he didn’t want to know.

  By the time Rhys had finished working in the garden and returned to the monastery with his bucket of beans, there was a large fire burning in the courtyard with slabs of meat roasting on a spit above it. While he’d worked, he’d seen the blond Jug Darius had called Gina go out the gates and return with a deer. Except for the occasional squirrel or rabbit they’d managed to snare, meat had been an unheard-of luxury at the monastery. If not for beans and the filbert trees in the orchard, they all would have been severely protein deficient. The unaccustomed scent of fat sizzling on the flames sent Rhys fleeing into the monastery. It reminded him too much of the bodies burning yesterday.

  He sat on a ratty chair in what had once been Father’s Maurice’s office. Here, Rhys had felt a cane across his knuckles or shoulders or backside more times than he could count, often with Jacob holding him down. And if he wasn’t being held down for the cane, it was for the scissors as Father Maurice brutally hacked his hair almost down to the scalp.

  He hated this room almost as much as the chapel, but the kitchen had too much traffic from the Jugs, and Rhys’s bedroom now had unwanted memories of Darius. No one was likely to come looking for him here, so Rhys could huddle in on himself, sick, aching, and exhausted.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been hiding when the door opened. He looked up to see the guy Darius had called Kaleo grinning at him.

  The churning in Rhys’s gut began anew.

  “Darius says we’re supposed to make you feel welcome. Well, I got no problems playing the welcome wagon.” Kaleo sauntered toward him.

  Rhys nodded, hoping his expression looked less miserable than he felt. Trying to beg his way out of his obligation wasn’t an option. He could see all too clearly the look in Darius’s eyes as his hand had moved toward his sidearm. “Yeah. Um, where would you like me to go?”

  Still smiling, Kaleo sat on the desk, his thighs parted, swinging his feet with all the bouncy energy of a little kid. “Anything wrong with here?”

  Oh God. Just what he needed. Someone else doing something painful and humiliating to him in this room.

  “Guess not.” Well, if he was going to be miserable, it might as well be here as anywhere else. He tried to ignore the shaking in his legs as he rose to approach Kaleo. He pressed the back of his hand to his nose as he realized Kaleo’s clothing had absorbed the odor of smoke and roasting meat. It took an effort not to gag. Instead, he concentrated on forcing his reluctant feet forward.

  Kaleo frowned as Rhys drew nearer. “You okay, cutie?”

  “Just tired.” Rhys attempted a shaky grimace he hoped would pass for a smile.

  “You know, I’m not a bad guy.” Kaleo reached out to stroke Rhys’s jaw just above the line of his patchy beard. “Just wanna help you out, have a good time.”


  Rhys’s eyes darted away. “I-I know. I appreciate it, sir.”

  “Sir?” Kaleo hooted, sliding off the desk. “Jesus, call me anything but that!”

  Rhys ducked his head, blushing. “Sorry. I just—”

  “Call me Kaleo. Or, you know, do like everyone else. ‘Asshole,’ ‘shithead,’ and ‘numb-nuts’ are all valid alternatives.”

  A small laugh bubbled up from Rhys’s chest, short-lived and unexpected. “Sounds like you’re real popular.”

  Kaleo gave a tragic sigh. “Just misunderstood. No one gets my sense of humor. Philistines.”

  Another laugh and Rhys found some of his tension ebbing. Kaleo beamed, looking pleased with himself.

  “You’re especially cute when you smile.” He trailed his finger down Rhys’s neck. It should have felt good, but Rhys fought not to flinch from the touch. It would be easier, he thought, if Kaleo wasn’t trying to be so nice. It made him feel like he had to respond encouragingly. Or at least it made him feel guilty for not wanting to respond encouragingly.

  Kaleo slid off the desk, and his hands came to rest on Rhys’s hips. Rhys’s breath quickened at the look in his eyes. The teasing had bled away to lust, dark and intent upon its purpose. Kaleo leaned forward, nuzzling Rhys’s ear, and his hands found the buckle of Rhys’s belt.

  Rhys swallowed again and stepped back, his hands replacing Kaleo’s. He didn’t want Kaleo to see the full extent of his reluctance, not when he was trying to be nice. Rhys turned his back and pushed down his jeans and underwear, then leaned over the desk in a position he’d been in far too often, hiding his face in the cradle of his arms.

  At least Kaleo didn’t say anything about the bruises on his thighs like Xolani had. His fingers were wet and chilly as they wedged between Rhys’s cheeks, and Rhys bit his lips to keep from hissing at the sting. His hands balled into fists, and he squinted his eyes as Kaleo worked his fingers inside him, stretching and twisting as Darius had, only now he was sore and he wasn’t sure he could endure it again. Not like this, not hating it.

  But when Kaleo’s other hand snaked around his hip, his cock was at half-mast. Rhys groaned at its betrayal and again at the lurch it gave when Kaleo’s fingers brushed that spot Darius had touched inside him. He grunted, trying to shrink away, grateful when Kaleo withdrew both the hand wrapped around Rhys’s dick and his fingers. The burning stretch of Kaleo’s cock was both better and worse. Better because it did away with that unwanted arousal, and worse because it simply hurt.