Dangerous Savior

by Wulff, Carson

  Tom towers over them both, as strong and imposing as he was the first time Ethan ever saw him.

  Relief washes over Ethan. Comfort. Precarious safety he should have never trusted in the first place, but hasn’t failed him yet.

  Ethan lets his body fall back against the sopping grass, his head splashing as it hits the ground. His chest heaves. It feels like he’s drowning with the rain pelting his face. He looks up through the treetops to see the dark sky, clouds roiling like a school of fish striking the surface for insects.

  Ethan pays no mind to the wet thuds, the scuffle going on beyond him. The slippery smacks of wet fists striking wet skin. Puddles splash as boots scramble for purchase. A succession of blows—and then something else. A tearing, carving sound all too familiar to Ethan. The same sound Ricky’s body made when dismembered. The same sound Ethan expected to come when Jed was straddling him, knife in hand.

  Ethan turns his head.

  Tom is leaning low over Jed’s body, which is sprawled vulnerably. Jed’s doubled over, a knife in his sternum. Tom’s fist on the hilt.

  Unwanted flashes of memory spill through Ethan’s mind: Tom leaning over him, lust in his eyes. Tom between his legs, fist on the hilt of Ethan’s cock. Tom carving Ricky up on the metal table. Tom hoisting Ethan onto the same table, drawing pleasure from Ethan in waves.

  Back in reality, Tom pulls away. Stands, leaving the knife protruding from Jed’s chest. Tom’s shoulders are squared, his back straight. Imposing and frightening and comforting all at once. His attention hasn’t flashed to Ethan a single time.

  Tom lifts his boot and places it on the hilt of the knife in Jed’s chest. He pushes with his boot, forcing the blade to carve deeper into the man's body, twisting at an unnatural angle. Blood flows from the wound, soaks into Jed’s filthy shirt. Vibrant red washes to translucent pink in the rain.

  Tom keeps pushing on the blade with his boot. Jed gasps, body jerking and twitching as he groans, blood gurgling up his throat and spraying out of his mouth. He tries to speak. Can’t. Eventually Jed falls back, unmoving. Unconscious or dead. It doesn’t matter which—he’s not waking up from this.

  Tom kick’s Jed’s limp body aside. Doesn’t reach for the knife. Doesn’t look at Ethan. Hasn’t this whole time. He just stands there, eyes on the ground, breath heavy and expression almost blank… except, there’s an anxiety there. A restrained fury. A biting of his tongue.

  Ethan manages to push himself up onto his elbows, feeling more vulnerable than he ever has, mud and blood-soaked skirts pooling around his legs. Half-lying in the mud and rainwater. Guilt washing over him harder than the storm.

  He tried to escape.

  He tried to escape and Tom knows it.

  He tried to escape without telling Tom.

  What would have happened if he had told Tom? Would Tom have stopped him? Became angry and violent? Ethan has no idea. He hopes not, but… he doesn’t know. He honestly doesn’t know.

  “Tom,” Ethan says, because that’s the only clear thought racing through his mind right now: Tom, Tom, Tom. His chest ties itself up in knots, gut twisting like a wrung cloth.

  He likes this man.

  Genuinely.

  He likes Tom.

  He needs Tom.

  Needs Tom to not be angry with him.

  Needs Tom to understand that Ethan felt things, felt everything—that none of this was a ruse. It would have been easier if it had been. That wouldn’t hurt so much. That wouldn’t hurt now.

  “Please,” Ethan pleads, strained and raspy from all the screaming, from the emotion welling up inside his sinuses. “I had to. You know I had to.”

  Tom turns to him sharply, eyes narrowed.

  “Your family wanted to kill me. I have no idea what they were going to do to me next, but I know what they’re capable of.” What Tom’s capable of.

  Only silence from Tom.

  “I had to keep myself alive,” Ethan whispers, small and barely audible. His voice cracks. “Don’t you want me alive?”

  Tom’s expression softens at that, then sinks to something far away. Something defeated. “Didn’t tell me. Didn’t warn me.”

  “There wasn’t time,” Ethan says. And then, because honesty has gotten him this far, “And even if there was time to tell you, I don’t think I could have. I trust you despite how reckless that is. I want to trust you. But I know it’s not safe to trust you—I didn’t know how you would react. I can’t pretend I don’t know what you’re capable of.”

  The knife chopping through Ricky’s bones.

  The chainsaw’s teeth chewing through that first biker.

  Human meat stored in a freezer.

  Strength that Ethan could never hope to contest.

  “I was afraid you might hurt me,” Ethan admits. Afraid Tom might kill him. Stuff him in the freezer. “I didn’t want to believe you would. But I didn’t know for sure. I didn’t know.”

  Ethan covers his face with shaky fingers. Sobs outright.

  Tom’s still quiet.

  Ethan laughs humorlessly behind his fingers. He looks up at the sky, and then lobs his head towards Tom. “You know what’s worse than all of that? I think, most of all, I was afraid you wouldn’t like me anymore if I told you I wanted to leave.”

  Tom’s mouth falls open slightly, surprised. His brows knit in confusion, or maybe concern.

  “I’ve been thinking over and over about how I could leave this place and take you with me. A plan that had both of us leaving together,” Ethan says, dripping with self-hatred. “It’s insane, after what I’ve seen you do. I know it is. But I want it so bad. I can’t picture my old life with you in it. Hell, I can’t picture myself in my old life at all anymore. But I have to go back. Go back to the real world, not this hell your family made for you and everyone who crosses your path.”

  Tom’s stiff posture deflates just barely perceptively at that.

  “I don’t care if you belong in the real world with me or not. I don’t care that it’ll never work. I want to try. Please, come with me.”

  A long moment passes.

  Slowly, Tom reaches out to help Ethan up.

  Ethan flinches at first, something in his instincts bracing for a strike.

  It doesn’t come.

  Of course it doesn’t.

  Tom’s never hurt him like that.

  Ethan calms himself with a few deep breaths. The fear in his chest is replaced, unbidden, with warmth. He doesn’t care if it’s awful and wrong that he’s warmed by a man who makes him flinch. He just wants to chase the relief that comes after, sweet and flowing through his nerves like honey.

  Ethan accepts Tom’s hand.

  And, too tentative and gentle for a man of his stature, Tom pulls Ethan against his chest. Ethan falls against him willingly. He hadn’t realized how cold the rain had made him. But Tom’s arms are warm.

  Ethan stands on his toes and kisses Tom, rain getting in his eyes. He doesn’t care. The kiss tastes like sweat and rainwater and Tom, Tom, Tom.

  He kisses Tom’s face all over, claws his fingers into the back of his short hair, growls possessively when Tom tries to pull away.

  Tom chuckles, genuine and rumbling and with more amusement than Ethan has ever seen from the man. “I’ll go with you. I’ll go. Anywhere.”

  “Promise?” Ethan asks, heart flying in his chest, twisting painfully with emotion. He’s smiling and crying and pawing at Tom’s chest.

  Tom smiles, too. Toothy and bright. Brighter than Ethan thought possible. His blue eyes are soft, pupils blown wide as his gaze flicks over Ethan’s face.

  “Yeah,” Tom answers simply. Firmly. Sure.

  It’s a very Tom kind of answer, and Ethan can’t imagine trusting anything more than this man’s confident, quiet promise.

  22

  They decide the best course of action is to turn back. The family only owns one vehicle and Ethan’s van must be as good as lost in the blaze of the barn fire. If they can manage to procure the family’s truck,
they can drive away without worry of being followed, without the stress of surviving in the woods until they make it to the next town.

  Tom carries Ethan towards the farmhouse on his back. Ethan clings to him, both of their clothes uncomfortably wet. The storm is still raging. Tom loops around the tree line surrounding the house, right at the edge so that they’re obscured by the trees. They aren’t quite close enough to the edge of the tree line to make out what’s happening on the property.

  Are the fires still raging? Have the animals been contained?

  If the fires are still going, is it even possible to get help from firefighters this far into the country? If so, how long will they take to arrive? How will they know to arrive?

  Ethan has so many questions. He starts with a simple one.

  “How did you know that I left?” Ethan asks, quiet. His throat is sore from the screaming. Luckily, riding on Tom’s back, his head is on Tom’s shoulder, face close to his ear. “How did you find me?”

  “Went looking as soon as they told me the house was on fire.”

  “Oh.”

  “Searched the house best I could. Thought you might be trapped inside. Didn’t give up looking.”

  “Oh no,” Ethan breathes. He hadn’t even thought about the possibility that Tom would rush into the burning house to go looking for him. “Tom, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to put anyone in danger, especially not you—”

  Tom snorts, shakes his head. “Don’t worry so much.”

  “But—”

  “Stop. You worry too much.”

  Ethan swallows his protest. Nuzzles his cold nose against Tom’s warm neck. “How did you find me in the woods?”

  “Saw a glimpse of you running into the trees through the window,” Tom answers. “Would have kept searching the house if I hadn’t.”

  “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Hush,” Tom scolds, and then, “Wouldn’t have found you in the trees, neither, if it weren’t for hearing your voice.”

  “My screams?”

  Tom grunts in confirmation.

  Ethan almost laughs an angry, humorless laugh. Somehow he manages to staunch the dry amusement before it manifests. Ethan had accepted his fate when he thought Jed was going to kill him. He wasn’t going to scream, not until Jed forced a visceral reaction from him with a threat of sexual assault.

  If Jed hadn’t been as awful and disgusting as he was, Tom may have never found Ethan in time.

  Ethan was wrong. Wrong to give up when he did. Wrong to accept his assumed death at Jed’s hands. He should have fought. Kept trying. Trying, trying, trying to survive until the very end. Isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time, with Tom? Trying to survive no matter the cost?

  Wasn’t it worth it?

  Isn’t he free?

  He sure as hell feels free, even as he lets himself depend on Tom.

  Even with Tom still here, Ethan feels free.

  And he can’t bring himself to care if that’s wrong.

  Tom finally edges towards the perimeter of the expansive field the farm rests on.

  Ethan perks up a little to get a look at what they’re walking into.

  The house is spewing flames, smoke made thicker by the rain. Ethan caused that. The death of a home. All the family heirlooms stored in the basement. Family photographs.

  He hates himself for the guilt that writhes in his gut. He shouldn’t feel bad if this family loses everything—their possessions, their home, their farm. Those are just things. Objects. At least they have their lives. It’s more than their victims can say.

  “Truck’s gone,” Tom says, a thread of concern in his voice. He’s almost never concerned—always so stoic and strong-willed. Is he stressed about making sure they escape together smoothly, or is it the possibility of being found betraying his family that scares him?

  “What about my van? Are you sure the fire got to it?”

  “Not sure. Fire was almost out in the barn when I dropped the hose and went looking for you,” Tom replies. “We can check.”

  It takes a few minutes to make their way around the tree line to get close enough to the barn to justify exiting the trees. There’s no sign of Tom’s family, but there’s a large stretch of field between the trees and the barn. They’ll be completely visible the whole way to the barn.

  “I’m going to run,” Tom says, and then, “hold on.”

  That’s all the warning Ethan has before Tom sprints across the field, Ethan clinging for dear life on his back, legs wrapped around Tom’s hips, gripping him tighter. He doesn’t know how the hell Tom’s able to carry him when everything is made slippery by the rain—their clothes, their skin, the grass beneath his feet. And yet Tom can not only carry him, but run while doing it.

  It would be exhilarating fun if it weren’t for the circumstances. Ethan has to blink the rain rapidly from his eyes to frantically scan their surroundings.

  Still no sign of Ethan’s family, even as they round the front of the barn.

  They’re nowhere to be seen.

  They must not have stayed to watch their house burn down. That explains the missing truck.

  The barn is still smoking but the fire appears to have mostly died out. Tom urges Ethan to slip from his back, gently coaxing him onto his own feet.

  “Wait here,” Tom says. Before Ethan can protest, Tom takes off into the smoldering barn.

  Ethan does as he’s told. He waits, barely able to stand on his own with the beating he took from Jed. He’ll definitely have to seek medical attention as soon as possible. He has no idea how that will pan out with Tom along for the ride. Will Tom try to convince him to keep this ordeal quiet? Dissuade him from going to the cops, or the hospital, or his family—anywhere that people might ask questions?

  Ethan can’t let that happen. He’ll reassure Tom if that happens. He’ll convince him that whatever steps they have to take next, they’ll be the best choice for both of them.

  God, what is Ethan doing? The future is more terrifying than those first nights in Tom’s basement.

  He’ll get through it. They’ll both get through it. Ethan wants to get through this with Tom.

  Tom. It’s been an excruciating few minutes since Tom disappeared into the barn. Ethan can’t see him through the lingering smoke. He’s just about to limp inside to see if Tom needs help when red brake lights pierce through the smoke and Tom backs Ethan’s van out of the barn.

  Ethan could just about cry with relief at the sight of his van. His heart swells with elation. It’s real. It’s finally real. He’s really getting out of here. He made it. He’s alive and he’s leaving this awful place.

  Ethan hobbles up to the passenger side and climbs clumsily in. Tom grabs his arm and helps him into the seat. Somehow, Ethan gathers enough strength to pull the door shut behind him.

  He never thought he would be so happy to get out of the rain.

  Ethan throws his head back against the seat. Squeezes his eyes shut and breathes. It’s all he can do—breathe.

  Tom doesn’t wait for any direction, he backs the van up through the field, swerving to turn onto the road.

  Ethan cracks his eyes to check Tom’s intentions once and for all… and he finds them genuine. Tom hasn’t pointed the car in the direction of the gas station down the road—where Ethan assumes Tom’s family is gathered. No, he turns the other direction on the stretch of road.

  Away. Running away. With Ethan. Just as he promised.

  It’s all the reassurance Ethan needs to rest. To leave his fate in Tom’s hands.

  Tom peels off down the road, water splashed so high by the tire that it arches upwards on either side of the van, looking like dripping angel wings. Tom turns the heat up, warm air gushing audibly through the vents. The windshield wipers are a familiar, steady noise as they beat the rain away.

  Ethan reaches towards the dashboard, warming his hands gratefully on the heat vent. He’s shivering and wet and still wearing the fucking dress.

  “I was almost
out of gas,” Ethan remembers. “Fuck. I was running on empty. What are we going to—”

  “Filled it,” Tom replies, cutting him off. “Days ago. Beth wanted to drive it far away. Dispose of it. She never got around to it.”

  Ethan relaxes again. He wishes he had an unwashed outfit to change into somewhere in the back of the van. But, no, Beth really did make him burn every last one of his possessions. Besides this van.

  It turns out that’s the one thing Ethan needed to escape. The van is his saving grace, even as battered as it is from the rocks the Bikers threw at it. The broken driver’s side window allows Tom to get pelted by the wind and rain. But his van is here. Working. Not even the barn fire managed to destroy it.

  He loves the stupid, beat up thing.

  Eventually, Tom turns down a fork in the road, and then another.

  They’re starting to get far enough away from Tom’s farm that Ethan truly begins to breathe easier.

  Tom keeps sneaking glances at him. Glances that Ethan returns, because he’s seldom taken his eyes off Tom since the moment he first saw him.

  When they meet each other’s eyes, Tom is always the first to smile, small but genuine. Like he has no regrets about what he’s giving up to save Ethan’s life, to run away with him.

  Ethan leans across the gap between the seats to rest his head on Tom’s shoulder.

  They keep driving until they hit the edge of the storm. The rain stops abruptly. The sun comes out, making the wet road glisten, the plants and trees sparkling with droplets of water.

  The storm has already passed through this area.

  Ethan wonders if that’s how his life will be, someday. If he’ll ever get to the point where the storm has passed through and he’s left washed and clean, glistening in the sun, gentle birdsong tentatively reappearing throughout the trees.

  He looks at Tom. Squeezes his arm.

  Ethan doesn’t know what the future holds, or how hard it will be to traverse. But he’s never felt more optimistic in his entire life.

  * * *

  Thanks for reading!