A Shift in Sands

by A. Phallus Si

  It was just one moment.

  Before he could do anything, everything shattered. Glass and wood flew outwards like deadly petals shed in a gale. Shards hurtled toward him, and Jake threw his arms up just before he felt the concussive blast push him back.

  On a Dime

  All he could hear was beeping, he tried to move his arm to shut off the alarm, but couldn’t. He struggled to open his eyes. Everything was bleary, and he couldn’t rub them no matter how hard he tried.

  “Stop it, Jake.” A hand griped his forearm.

  “Julian?” he croaked.

  “Yeah. Hold on.” He heard shuffling and then sliver of ice slid between his lips. Cool, delicious, he groaned for another.

  “Easy does it,” said his brother. “Slow down.”

  “How long?”

  “Two days.”

  “Wha—t happened?”

  “Sshhh… stop trying to talk so much. You just woke up. The doctor will be here any second.”

  Julian wasn’t wrong. A nurse swooped in and ushered him out, and before Jake could protest his brother’s exile his doctor appeared.

  “About time you came around, we were just beginning to wonder, Mr. Sands.”

  His doctor was young, efficient looking, and humming as she reviewed his chart. After the prerequisite series of questions about his name, the date, and where he was, she detailed his injuries. He had been concussed by flying debris from an explosion at the Fronds, had some nifty new stitches, and a coterie of people waiting to see him including several FBI personnel.

  “Anyone else?” The doctor looked at him blankly. “Was anyone else from the resort admitted?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have any details.” She returned the chart to the foot of his bed after making some notes. “Up for some company?”

  Jake nodded. Might as well get the debriefing over, and get the details on what happened.

  Jake made a statement. He told them about the memory stick and the events on Ziehe’s boat. Relaying what happened to Reynolds was a relief. Johnson looked pale, but nodded that he’d contact ATF and inform them about their agent. Jake did not divulge his role or their interactions. If everyone was gone, then he was free.

  “Agent Sands, your account seems to be missing some time frames. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Johnson looked concerned, and not precisely suspicious, but doubtful that Jake had told him everything.

  Rather than try to make up some explanations Jake just went along with the ready-made excuse. “I am feeling tired. Maybe tomorrow I’ll remember more.”

  Johnson smiled and patted his hand. “Rest. I’m going to send an artist over to do a sketch of Ziehe.” After all, Jake was still the only one to have seen him. “Call me when you’re ready to submit a final report, for now we’ll work with this. Good job, Agent Sands.”

  Johnson hadn’t told him of any other casualties, but the scene was still under investigation. But Jake swore he saw Wallace and another figure’s shadow as he approached Carlyle’s villa just before the detonation occurred. Fuck. Carlyle… it was over.

  Jake had just been praise for a job well done, and yet, he felt like he failed. Miserably. He closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them again things would be different.

  Lounging on the sofa listening to Julian play Brahms wasn’t a bad way to recuperate. Curled up in the corner, dozing—he woke up again last night—watching white tufts floating against the blue sky. The poplars were releasing their seeds to waft on the breeze, find a new place, a place to grow. And Jake was feeling just a bit jealous of those fluffs.

  “He’s recovering, not a four-year old,” Jared shouted up the basement stairs.

  Save him. What did his well-meaning brother have in mind this time? From the dusty box and the big grin on his face, Jason looked pleased with himself.

  “Guess what I found?”

  “No clue.” Jason hadn’t bothered to wait for Jake’s reply and was rummaging inside oblivious to the cloud of dust swirling around. He heard plastic being bounced around, before a victorious howl.

  “Got it!”

  Julian stopped playing the piano—finally. It seemed like since he’d come home from the hospital Julian had been playing nonstop unless they were eating or sleeping. People paid hundreds of dollars to listen to him play, but if Jake had to hear anymore Mozart he was going to go insane. “You idiot!” Julian said getting up.

  “What?” Jason looked confused. “It’s a brontosaurus. Jake’s favorite.”

  “It’s a brachiosaurus,” Jake whispered, grabbing it. He thought they were gone. He’d thrown them out.

  “How can you tell the difference?” Jason asked.

  “The forelegs are longer.” He dropped it on the floor and left the room. Julian was yelling at Jason as he slipped past Jared emerging from basement. From the sounds of it, a battle royal was beginning.

  “Are you that stupid or did you actually forget?” Jake wanted to laugh at Julian’s question to their brother. The screen door bounced shut behind him. Who could forget the single day that everyone in the family marked as the worst? He couldn’t deal with this right now. Not now.

  “Sure… me finding the dinosaurs was a stupid idea, but hide ‘n seek is fine?”

  “You say the D word one more time—” threatened Julian.

  “Ow,” whined Jason. “Why’d you do that, Jack?”

  The door creaked open. Jake just waited, not like he could escape. Slumped in the corner he saw Jason was still rubbing his head behind Jack. Julian pushed through, walked over and sat next to him.

  “Hey.” He grabbed Jake’s hand and held it, interweaving their fingers.

  It was quiet, too quiet. Four of the Sands’ brother in one place and he could still hear the crickets. Family bonding via talking wasn’t their forte and he really hoped they weren’t going to try. Jack stepped inside and crouched before him.

  “Come on,” he said holding out a hand. “Jared’s finishing up the chili and the cornbread just came out of the oven.” Jake dropped the desiccated bulb he’d been trying to identify back into the bin. He should really come out and clean up the potting shed.

  “Okay.” They’d found him and as much as Jake wished he could run again, he knew better. With any luck, everyone would just shut up, eat, and pretend the last hour didn’t happen. He took Jack’s hand and he and Julian pulled him up.

  We’ve Got Company

  Along the drive a dust cloud billowed. The big pickup truck making the last turn meant that at least Jake didn’t have to deal with his father. Yet. Jake wandered inside to wash up, leaving the trio to redirect the lost or greet their guests. He splashed water on his face. Cool and clean. He still looked rough: bruises, scrapes and the bags under his eyes from not sleeping well. Julian kept trying to get him to take the pills the hospital prescribed, but Jake hated how he felt in the morning when he’d eventually get up. He dragged his wet hands through his hair, fingering it back into order.

  The creak of the screen door and the sound of boots on the floor heralded company. Not lost, and from the mumble of voices, friendly. Jake took a couple deep breaths; he could do this. Company meant his brothers would be distracted. Get out there, eat dinner, go to bed—Do it.

  What he didn’t expect was the figure standing in anteroom. “Carlyle?”

  “Who the heck is Carlyle?” Two of his brothers piped up. Jack and Jared were looking between the two of them confused.

  “Jake.” Carlyle moved towards him.

  “Avery, how do you know Jake?” Jack demanded trying to step between them. He was looking concerned.

  Jake just started laughing, short and harsh. Fucking perfect. He should have known by their training. Hell, the way Carlyle moved wasn’t much different than any of his three older brothers. Fucking SEALs. He was not doing this. No way, not now, not today, never. He turned and walked straight into—Wallace.

  “Watch out.” He tried to go around him, but Wallace caged him in. “We needed to see
you, baby boy,” he whispered. Jake shook his head even as the arms enclosed him, pulling him in.

  “Wyatt, what are you doing with my brother?” Jack voice rose, and he had his best Admiral voice going, acting Dad when the real thing wasn’t around—like always.

  No one answered. Carlyle—Avery had come up behind him until he was completely surrounded. If he didn’t get out here quick, he was going to fall apart, and that was one thing Jake definitely didn’t want to do in front of his brothers.

  “Why don’t you three talk in the music room,” Julian suggested. “Everyone else, the kitchen—now.”

  Jake didn’t even get to walk there, Wal—Wyatt picked him up, cradling him against his chest and carried him. He released him onto Avery’s lap while he grabbed Jake’s abandoned blanket from the end of the settee, and settled down next to them enclosing them both in his arms. They were like a set of nesting dolls.

  Wyatt’s hand sifted through his hair tracing the stitches while Avery’s catalogued the bruises and scrapes on his arms.

  “You okay?” Avery asked quietly.

  How was he supposed to answer that? Jake was still reeling from the fact that they weren’t dead, that his lover had a secret identity—his own injuries seemed so irrelevant. Guess he should have figured out that they were too nice to be bad guys, but why hadn’t they told him the truth when they uncovered his?

  Wyatt tugged Jake until he lay across both their laps and tipped his head up. “Come on, baby boy. Talk to us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we care,” said Avery.

  “No. Why didn’t you tell me?” Jake huffed, his irritation evident. “How the hell did SEALs get involved in the Ziehe investigation?”

  Wyatt sighed deeply. “I told you we should have told him.” He started petting Jake’s head. “He wouldn’t have been early if you had.”

  “He’s okay, Wyatt,” said Avery.

  “This is O-Kay?” Wyatt ran his fingers along Jake’s scalp and then his arms. He kept lightly touching each scab and bruise, almost as if he were counting them. “It could have killed him, Avery.”

  Ignoring Wyatt, Avery answered Jake. “Retired SEALs. We work for a three letter agency, now.” Wyatt cuddled him a bit as his partner continued. “We were too close to blow it. The two of us had been undercover for nearly three years when you stumbled into my office,” Avery stated. “Finally, we had what we needed to take down Ziehe and SeaQuest Investments. We weren’t going to do anything more than send you on your way after a quick lesson.” Avery shrugged and managed to look the slightest bit contrite. “We never thought you’d agree, that anything would happen. But you surprised us.”

  “I surprised myself,” Jake snorted. Rolled in the blanket, he couldn’t move much besides his head. He looked right up at them. “But you knew and you didn’t tell me. You didn’t trust me.”

  “We wanted to,” said Wyatt.

  “Clearance?” asked Jake. They both nodded.

  “Watching you give it all up to me, to us, and then want to run was the worse thing I’d ever done,” said Avery. “I made you trust someone you thought was a monster.”

  “Not a monster.” Jake fidgeted. “Morally ambiguous, maybe.” He grimaced. “Let’s not talk about that, it’ll make me fail my evaluation.” Jake glared at Avery. “It did make me wonder how weak I really was.”

  “You were never weak. Nothing about anything we did was weak, rather to the contrary, it showed how strong you are.”

  No one spoke. Jake refused to agree, and the silence lingered. Uncomfortably.

  “Speaking of surprises, it’s hard to imagine the Sands’ men relaxing in here,” said Avery as he smoothed the silk chintz.

  “It was our mother’s room. Her oasis from all the testosterone: muddy boots, frogs, military functions, and brawling.”

  “The piano?”

  “Hers. Julian was only three when she died; he’d barely even learned ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’.” Granted, considering Julian’s career and reputation it seemed a logical question. Their mother had started teaching them all, but it was Julian who was the most interested. Of course, the fact that he’d obsessed in the years after the accident, spending more time practicing than playing outside was the second reason he’d succeeded. Jake couldn’t even imagine their lives if the accident hadn’t occurred.

  There was a lot of extraneous noise in the hall and then knob rattling before Julian appeared with a tray laden with coffee. He kicked the door shut before anyone else could enter, and from the disgruntled sounds Jason was complaining.

  “Here we go.” He swept a clear space on the table and placed it before them. Not even blinking twice at their seating arrangement. Of all his brothers, Julian was the one he counted on to understand him the most, but still, his insouciance was surprising. “Shall I pour?”

  “You pulled out the china service,” Jake managed to get out from his blanket cocoon. The blue and gold lines of their mother’s Royal Albert set so crisp on the cream field.

  “Yes, well if we were sitting around the kitchen table, mugs would be fine, but in the music room, china is required,” Julian said matter of fact as he poured three cups adding cream and sugar as directed. “Just shout out if you need anything.”

  He bent and collected Jake’s brachiosaurus and dropped it in the box, which he hefted and started for the door. He turned and looked back. “You know, it was my fault, not yours, Jake.” And then left.

  Wyatt carried Jake upstairs like precious cargo. Jake felt both coddled and ridiculous. Miraculously, the hallway stood empty, but Jake knew that had more to do with Julian’s herding than mere fortune. With Jake dressed in pajamas and all tucked in, the guys sat on either side of him; a bit of squeeze on a full size bed. They’d toed off their boots, but hadn’t undressed. Jake expected an inquisition, but they just held him until he fell asleep.

  It must not have been long. He was still too tired to have slept for any length of time. He was panting and hot, his pajamas sticking to him. Ugh. Jake pulled off his shirt then noticed Wyatt staring at him on his left. He balled it up and threw it towards the closet.

  Carlyle wrapped an arm around his waist from behind and pulled him back down, cradling him against his chest. Quietly he asked, “Did your nightmare have anything to do with the case?”

  Jake groaned and tried to bury his head but he was trapped. “No.”

  Carlyle gripped his chin. “Don’t lie to me. This is important, Jake.”

  “Oh, my secrets—bad. Carlyle’s secrets—good.” Avery flinched. Served him right. Frustrated he rolled over; Wyatt frowned and gently cupped Jake’s cheek.

  “There are two ways this can go.” His deep voice lulled Jake. “Either we start over in truth or we resign it to the past.” Wyatt leaned in, gently brushing his lips against Jake’s.

  It wasn’t much more than a butterfly’s kiss, but it broke Jake’s resolve. “I’m not the only one with secrets… and I refuse to be an open book while you two share nothing.” Jake tried to keep the petulance out, but he still sounded one step away from a tantrum to his own ears.

  Avery snuggled into Jake’s back, kissing his shoulder. “Of course not. You still have to meet us, the real Wyatt and Avery.” Wyatt snorted. “All right, you met one part of our personalities, but you still have to get to know us.”

  Jake rolled onto his back so he could see them both. “Yeah?”

  Avery grinned. “Yep. Bet you didn’t know that Wyatt can actually have a conversation instead of subsisting off of sentences with five words or less and a range of vocalizations.”

  “I also have a find selection of gesticulations.” Jake laughed as Wyatt gave Avery the bird. “I never did thank you for my menacing and mute persona cover, did I? Oh, guess what—I won’t be.”

  “What are we doing?” asked Jake. This was all very confusing. He felt attached to Carlyle, needed him, but he needed Wyatt, too, for different reasons.

  Carlyle curled in behind him. “What ever w
e want.”

  “I don’t know what this is?”

  “Then, we’ll find out together. All right?”

  “Yeah,” Jake agreed, his head bumping against Wyatt. “All of us?”