Hunt and Pray (5 page)

Drew closed his eyes as he got lost in his memories. “When I told Katherine, she just patted my hand and told me she loved me. She said what the hell did it matter anyhow? I was still the same grandson she’d loved since I was born.”

He could hear Chance’s breathing hitch, but Drew kept his eyes closed. “Sally’s gonna take it hard, though. We lost my dad’s cousin Jackson a couple of years ago. He was a cop, and he was killed in the line of duty. He barely got to meet his son before he died. Another blow is going to be hard on her.”

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again, meeting Chance’s gaze once more. “So, Chance, if you’re looking for me to say that it’s okay, that I don’t blame you, well… I’m sorry, can’t do that. Not because of me… because of them.”

Chance stared at Drew for a moment longer and then nodded before he stood, grabbed the untouched tray, and left the room.

Drew stared at the closed door, wondering if anything he said had gotten through to Chance. He hoped so… even if it was just enough that he’d find some way for him to be found afterward.

Drew shuddered at the thought of being left to rot in these woods. He knew it wouldn’t matter once he was dead, but it still bothered him. He’d always expected to be buried in the little cemetery at his Grandma Sally’s church, where generations of Edwardses had been interred.

It felt so weird to be thinking about his death this way. He wondered if he should be saying a final prayer or something.

He smiled as he realized how much he’d been thinking about church and God. He hadn’t been since he’d come out. He didn’t want to risk being rejected and causing a scene there, seeing as how it was so important to his grandma.

He figured being this close to death made it all right for him to contemplate what would come after. He didn’t believe God hated gays. He didn’t think a God who was supposed to be so loving and forgiving really cared who Drew slept with, as long as he was a good person.

He wasn’t ready to die yet. He hadn’t had time to follow his dreams yet. He wanted the chance to win a Pulitzer Prize or write a best seller or two. He’d never even been in love.

The thought made him angry. He stood up and started to pace, putting the precious picture in his pocket.

It wasn’t fair. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was a stupid one, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t deserve to die because he preferred cock. It wasn’t something he’d asked for, but he wasn’t ashamed of it either.

Drew walked over to the bed, tore off the sheets and blankets, and threw them onto the floor. He tried flipping the bed over only to discover it was bolted to the floor. For some reason it made him even angrier.

He walked over to the chair and started to kick it, screaming in rage.

When the chair gave a satisfying crunch of broken wood and came loose from the floor, he smiled.

It probably would have made sense to sit and wait for someone to come and investigate so he could hit them and make a run for it, but Drew was past any kind of reason. And in his heart, he knew he didn’t stand a chance anyway.

He picked up the broken chair and started beating it against the wall until it splintered in his hands.

Holding up a jagged piece of chair leg, he briefly considered plunging it into his chest and making his death his own. At least that way, he’d spoil their fun.

As he stood there contemplating suicide, his chest heaving with exertion, strong arms encircled him from behind, holding him fast.

While he’d been throwing his tantrum, Chance had apparently come to see what was going on. Drew struggled against him, but it was no use. He couldn’t break away.

“Are you going to stop if I let you go?” Chance’s deep voice in his ear sent shivers down Drew’s spine, and he nodded before letting himself go limp and dropping the broken chair leg on the floor.

Chance set him back on his feet and swiftly bent to grab the potential weapon. He looked at the remains of the chair and then back at Drew.

Drew flushed, almost embarrassed at his outburst, but he could have sworn there was something akin to respect evident in those cool blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, Drew, but I can’t let you do that. If you did, he’d just go out and pick up someone else. Do you understand?” Chance looked at him and waited for the words to sink in.

Drew nodded. Chance was telling him if he killed himself, he’d be condemning some other poor gay man to death. Drew wasn’t that selfish.

He walked over to the bed, grabbed the sheets and blankets from the floor, and started to remake it, ignoring the other man. By the time he was done, Chance had cleaned up the broken pieces of wood and made sure there was nothing else Drew could destroy in the room.

“It was kind of pointless, you know.” Chance’s quiet voice broke the silence.

Drew shrugged. “Would you sit and just quietly accept your fate, if it was you?”

Chance looked at him for a moment and then shook his head. He didn’t say anything else, and after a moment more, he turned and left the room.

Drew sat on the bed, totally worn out from being so angry, and finally maybe a little hungry.

As if on cue, the door opened again, and Chance came back in carrying a tray. He put it on the bed and looked down at Drew. “You gonna eat that or throw it? I don’t feel like scrubbing it off the walls.”

Drew looked at the plate and found that there was thick, cheesy lasagna and garlic bread, and it caused his stomach to growl loudly.

He looked down and smiled shyly. “I guess I’ll eat it.” He picked up the plastic fork and dug in, moaning in appreciation at how good it was.

He finished four bites before realizing Chance was still there, watching him. “Did you make this? And the other stuff?”

Chance nodded.

“It’s good. You’re an awesome cook. Some woman is going to be lucky to have you someday.” He said it without thinking, then mentally smacked himself.

Chance just sighed. “I think we both know I’m never going to have a wife. It wouldn’t be fair to her.” When Drew really looked at him, he could see the man was clearly exhausted.

“I’m sorry.” Drew wasn’t sure why he kept apologizing to Chance. It just seemed to spill out before he could stop it.

Chance looked at him in surprise. “Why would you say that?”

Drew looked him in the eye. “No one deserves a father like him.”

They just stared at each other as Drew waited for the other man’s reaction. He wasn’t surprised when Chance turned and left the room.

Drew looked down at his supper and then started to eat again. When he was done with the lasagna, he downed the cold glass of milk that had come with it before setting the tray back on the floor.

He got up and walked over to the window to watch the sun set for what was probably the last time in his life. When it was dark, he looked at the stars for a while and then walked back over to sit on the edge of the bed.

Putting his elbows on his knees, he clasped his hands and lowered his head before beginning to quietly pray.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there when the door opened once again.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?” Chance’s voice was even lower than before. Drew nodded, and when he got closer he could see a ring of finger-shaped bruises on the other man’s throat. Without thinking, Drew reached up to touch but stopped himself before he could.

He looked up and caught Chance’s eye, but he just shook his head and gestured to the bathroom. Drew kept his mouth shut and did what he needed to before walking quietly back to the bedroom.

He walked into the room and turned back to look at Chance once more. Their gazes locked, and Drew could see so much conflict in those blue eyes, it hurt to look at it.

“Good night, Chance.”

Chance didn’t respond, just reached down and grabbed the supper tray and then left, closing the door and locking it. Drew walked over and lay down on the bed. He didn’t want to sleep and waste what little time he had left but the darkness and emotional exhaustion overcame him. He faded off with the image of stormy, sea-blue eyes in his head.

Chapter Five

D
REW
awoke to the sound of arguing out in the hallway. He sat up quickly and backed against the wall when the colonel marched in.

“Good morning, faggot.” His tone was crueler than his words.

Guess the civilized part is over.
The thought hit him at the same time as the colonel’s backhand hit his face.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to my son, but rest assured… he
is
going to kill you.” The man’s eyes shone with a kind of lunatic madness.

Drew stared at him quietly for a second before speaking.

“I have no doubt about it, Colonel. I don’t think he has much of a choice.” He brought his hand up to his mouth to check if he was bleeding. He was proud he’d managed to contain the whimper of pain that threatened to break through.

The man smiled and patted Drew on the head. “You’re right, of course, he doesn’t.” The colonel walked over to the window and looked out, smirking to himself for a moment.

“I have every confidence that once he becomes engaged in the hunt, he’ll forget all about this overly developed sense of humanity he seems to have about you. You aren’t much better than an animal, after all.”

“I’m the one locked in a cage, I suppose.” He tried to keep his mouth shut, but it wasn’t working. “Of course, there are some people who would consider kidnapping an innocent person and hunting him down in the woods kind of animalistic.”

The colonel snorted. “Your kind is never innocent, Mr. Edwards. You spread your filthy affliction wherever you go, turning good men into faggots with a touch of your disgusting hand.”

Drew almost laughed. The lunatic actually believed what he was saying… or he’d convinced himself he did.

“One of you almost got my boy.” The colonel paced and muttered. “I caught him, that pervert… touching… my son and trying to pass his disease onto him. I made sure he wouldn’t do it to anyone else.”

The maniacal glee on the man’s face was terrifying. Drew heard a pained whimper bitten off out in the hall at the colonel’s words. Apparently Chance hadn’t known his father had killed his friend.

So, that’s what this little vendetta was all about.
The man was worried his son was one of those things he hated so much. It all made a lot more sense now.

This was about more than just being bored and killing a few fags. This was about Chance. He was forcing his son to kill Drew as a warning, like his own little
Scared Straight
camp. The sad part was Drew didn’t even think Chance was gay. The touch had probably been a desperate attempt at some normal human contact.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Colonel. I wish for Chance’s sake you didn’t.”

Drew wasn’t surprised by the second backhand. Still, he didn’t regret saying it.

He was surprised, however, when the other man turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Probably had to go wash off the gay after touching me.

Drew sat there, head aching and ears ringing, until the door opened again. Chance wouldn’t look at him, just gestured toward the bathroom.

When he got there, he glanced in the mirror. It was a toss-up as to who looked worse, him or Chance. His throat had a cut from Ezra’s knife, whereas Chance’s was bruised. Both of them looked like they’d gone a few rounds with a professional boxer.

He wondered how a father could do that to his own child. He knew it happened to a lot of kids, but his own parents had never laid a hand on him, and God knew Drew had probably deserved it more than once.

He sighed and did what he had to—use the bathroom, wash his hands, and brush his teeth automatically before going to the door to wait to see what came next.

He was surprised when he was motioned back to the bedroom. The door closed as soon as he was through it, so he wandered over to stare out the window.

The door opened again a few minutes later, and Chance quickly set down a tray with coffee and toast on it before backing out of the room.

Drew looked up just before he closed the door, and their gazes caught, locking them together for what seemed to be an eternal moment. It was a look filled with pain and regret before Chance looked away and closed the door.

Drew sighed and sat down on the bed. He drank the coffee, grateful for the caffeine, and nibbled on the toast.

He hated waiting. He wasn’t sure why he felt he should be hurrying because the only place to go was to the end of his life, but it all felt so urgent somehow.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift, prayed a little more, and tried to be as rested as possible.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there. Looking down at his watch, he was surprised to find it was almost noon. He would have thought they would send him out in the morning so they could have some daylight to come after him, but he was sure the colonel had his reasons for waiting.

When the door opened, Ezra was standing there, smirking at him and holding a gun, with the colonel lurking behind him. Drew stood without being asked and walked to the door. If this was going to happen, he was going to keep his dignity as long as possible.

Ezra grabbed Drew and shoved him out into the hall toward a screen door. Drew pushed it open when he reached it and found himself standing on a big porch. The day was bright and sunny, and it struck him as wrong somehow. Shouldn’t the day he was supposed to die be rainy and dark?

Prodded from behind, Drew went down the steps and waited. There was nothing else he could do.

The colonel emerged from behind Ezra and dropped a backpack and a large knife in a sheath at his feet.

“You have six hours before Chance starts after you. If you’re smart, you’ll get as far from here as you can. Once he gets started, it won’t be long before he catches you. He’s an expert tracker and an excellent marksman. You won’t be much of a challenge for him, but it’ll be a start.”

The man’s eyes almost twinkled, but Drew ignored him in favor of looking around.