Date: Sat, 22 May 2010 17:55:05 -0600
From: Katya_Dee <concertoind@gmail.com>
Subject: The Year of the Salamander, chapter 31

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All the resemblances are completely
coincidental. All the characters, situations, and everything else in the
story is owned by myself beloved. Contains descriptive sexual scenes between
males. If you are not supposed to read it, do not read it! Feel free to
e-mail me.

   This is a sequel to Specter'Gamble.
You don't have to read the first one in order to get this one, but it would
make it easier to understand the characters in this story.


- XXXI -



          *  February 14th, 2:03 AM.*



            Sam moaned and peeled his eyes open. Everything around him was
pitch-black and it was beyond cold. He tried to figure out where in the
world he was. He got up, shaking uncontrollably from cold, wrapping his arms
around himself. He had no idea what time it was, and he had no idea how he
got here. He also had no idea where `here' was. He could hear water
splashing somewhere below him, and the wind was merciless.

   He shoved his hand into his pocket, hoping to find his phone. The pocket
was empty. He tried the other one, but the result was the same. He lowered
himself into a crouch, trying to make his body to wrap around itself, to get
at least an illusion of warmth. Finally, his eyes adjusted to the darkness
somewhat, and he could see an outline of some building not too far from him.
He got up shakily, his teeth clattering from cold, and walked towards that
building.

   He knocked on the wooden door loudly, waiting for an answer. When he
didn't receive any, he wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and turned it
slowly. The door creaked open with restrained complaint, and Sam looked
inside. It was dark and he couldn't see much.

   "Hello...?" he called carefully. "Anyone here? Hello...?"

   The only answer he got was silence. He bit his lip and glanced around
once more. Finally, he shrugged to himself and stepped over the threshold,
shutting the door behind him. He had no idea what to do, so he decided to
wait until it gets lighter outside. He would try and make his way back when
he could see where the hell he was.

   "How did I even get here?" he muttered, carefully making his way farther
into the dark room. "Did I sleepwalk or something? God..."

   He hit something rather hard with his knee and he swore softly, bending
down slightly, extending his arms, searching for whatever it was. It felt
like a small table, so Sam let out a sigh, sat down onto the wooden floor,
thankful for the absence of the wind, and pressed his back against the
table. It was still cold, but not as bad as it was outside. He was positive
that he wouldn't be able to go to sleep, but several minutes later, his left
shoulder blade splashed with unbelievably warm wave, and a few seconds after
that happened, Sam was asleep again. He didn't wake up until the sun was
high in the sky. The next time he woke up, it was one in the afternoon.



****



   *6:30 AM*



   Desmond felt like beating his head on the steering wheel. His shoulder
ached mercilessly but he ignored that. He's been driving around since six in
the evening. Right now, it was six-thirty in the morning, and he found
nothing. He realized that his hands were shaking from hunger and gritted his
teeth. Finally, he sighed and glanced around. He drove for ten more minutes
until he saw a small diner with an `Open' sign. He sighed again, parked next
to it, and got out of the car.

   Half an hour later, after he almost finished his breakfast, his phone
rang.

   "Yeah," he said shortly.

   "Anything?" Rayhe's voice was tired and desperate.

   "Nothing," Desmond said quietly. "Bloody nothing... Have you talked to
Blair?"

   "Not yet," Gabriel said tightly. "Decided to call you first... He never
called, so I guess he didn't find anything as well."

   "I am eating right now," Desmond downed the rest of his coffee. "Gonna be
done in five minutes. Then I am going to get some gas and drive around some
more. Where are you?"

   "West 53rd," Gabriel said, and Desmond coughed.

   "Rayhe, it's almost seventy miles from our house, not forty-five!"

   "Yeah, well... There is nothing but a bloody field forty-five miles away,
so I figured maybe you took a shortcut of some sort..."

   "Rayhe..." Desmond closed his eyes. "Gabriel, there is no shortcut in the
world that could turn a distance of seventy miles into forty-five... What's
in the field?"

   "Cows," Gabriel said gloomily. "Lots and lots of cows... Unless it's some
sort of a cow conspiracy, I don't think Sam is anywhere in the west. Maybe
you should've kept the tattoo. I mean, it could lead you to him somehow..."

   "Uh huh," Desmond shoved the empty plate away and put some money on the
table. "Or maybe I would fall asleep again and murder you and the `fire
guy'... Would you seriously be willing to take that risk?"

   Gabriel let out a desperate sigh.

   "I am going to drive back," Desmond got up. "I need to stop by the school
and let them know that I won't be coming in today."

   "Can't you just call them?" Gabriel asked irritably. "Des, we are running
out of time!"

   "I know that," Desmond said shortly. "The school is on the way to the
south, might as well..."

   "South?" Now Rayhe sounded puzzled. "Blair said..."

   "I remember what Blair said," Desmond got into his car and shoved the key
into the ignition. "But there is nothing here, there is nothing on the west,
and apparently, there is nothing on the east as well, unless the stubborn
bastard decided not to call us and ended up getting killed..."

   "We could just call him, you know..."

   "Yeah," Desmond threw his car into gear. "You do that, and I am going to
go south. Call me if..." He thought for a second. "If anything," he
finished.

   "I will," Gabriel sighed deeply. "Des..."

   "We'll find him, Rayhe," Desmond said quietly. "I don't care if I have to
cut my own head off to do that, but we'll find him..."

   "Call me if anything," Gabriel said as quietly, and then the line clicked
dead.

   Desmond threw the phone into the passenger's seat and floored the gas
pedal.



****



   *9:00 AM*



   Desmond made it to school at nine in the morning, since he decided to
give the north part of the city one last chance. Finally, he gritted his
teeth, realized that he was wasting time, and turned around. When he got to
school, the first person he ran into was Richie Zabrowski. He stood next to
Desmond's office, glancing at his watch every several seconds, deep frown on
his forehead.

   "Zabrowski!" Desmond said when he got closer. "What are you doing here?"

   "Waiting for you," Richie said quickly and handed Desmond the key to his
office. "I had to give it back to you..."

   Desmond rolled his eyes and took the key.

   "Zabrowski..." he said while sliding the key onto his keychain. "You
could've left it in my mailbox in the main office. Don't you have a class to
go to?"

   "Yeah," Richie shrugged. "It's math, nothing big. Not everyone sees
through my excuses, you know..."

   "Those are called lies, Zabrowski," Desmond rolled his eyes again.

   Richie grinned.

   "That's exactly what my Granddad used to tell me," he said. "He would
read me like no other... Not as well as you, of course," Richie shrugged.
"Hell, nobody could read me as well as you... But Gramps was good though,"
he nodded thoughtfully.

   Desmond started walking towards the main office and Richie followed him,
telling him something about his Grandfather. Finally, Desmond rolled his
eyes again and turned towards him.

   "Zabrowski," he said. "I don't care..."

   "...watchtower," Richie finished something he was saying. "Oh..." he
blinked. "Right..."

   He looked uncomfortable.

   "Well, I'm gonna go to class..." he said finally and turned around.

   Desmond frowned the second he heard the word `watchtower.' He tried to
figure out what it was that he felt. He had no idea.

   "Zabrowski!" he yelled when Richie was almost by the door leading to the
stairwell.

   Richie stopped and turned around. Desmond walked towards him quickly.

   "What was it that you said about the watchtower?" he asked sharply, and
Richie blinked several times.

   "Oh," he said finally. "My Granddad used to work there while it was still
operating... But they shut it down thirty years ago... The reason I said it,
is because he used to keep an eye on the criminals, you know? So he was
pretty good at telling if someone was lying or not... Then they built a new
prison and demolished the old one, so they..."

   "Where is it?" Desmond interrupted his blabber impatiently. "The
watchtower... Where is it?"

   "Oh," Richie said again. "Do you know the bowling alley? There is a cool
deli place across the street from it..."

   "Pure Luck, I know," Desmond nodded. "I've been there but I have never
seen any watchtowers..."

   "Oh, that's because you have to take your last left turn right before you
hit the main intersection," Richie explained. "It's kinda easy to miss,
`cause it doesn't even have a street name or anything... Plus, nobody ever
goes there now anyway," he shrugged. "And then you have to drive up... Like,
way up, you know? There is that snaky road and it goes all the way up...
It'll take you right to the watchtower. That road is nasty though," he
added. "They don't even clean it anymore, so it's kinda hard to see the edge
of it, which sucks, `cause if you manage to drive off the edge, you'll end
up falling into the water..."

   "Zabrowski..." Desmond breathed. "The mid-term...?"

   "Yeah?" Richie said very carefully.

   "You get a hundred," Desmond nodded and walked away, leaving Richie alone
by the door. Richie looked as if he was trying to figure out whether Desmond
was joking or not.

   ...Desmond stormed out of school building fifteen minutes later, after
cancelling all his classes for the rest of the day, and dealing with the
grumpy secretary who kept grumbling something about filling out one form or
the other. Finally, Desmond's patience was gone for good, he leaned closer,
and said in a very quiet, dangerous voice:

   "Loretta, you are going to fill out all those forms and leave them in my
mailbox, and you will not say anything else about it, do you understand me?"

   She blinked at that, and opened her mouth to unleash some very righteous
fury on Desmond's head, but then she looked into his eyes, shut her mouth,
and nodded rapidly.

   "I will be back tomorrow morning," Desmond said after he straightened up.
"I'll sign everything then."

   Loretta nodded again, but he wasn't looking at her anymore. By the time
she finally drew a quick shaky breath ("Good God, he looked murderous...!"),
Desmond was out of the building.

   ..."Rayhe!" he said into the phone sharply after he was driving towards
the highway. "Get your ass down to that deli!"

   "Which deli?" Gabriel sounded beyond tight. "Des, did you find..."

   "I think so," Desmond threw the wheel to the right without even bothering
with the turn signal. "The deli, Rayhe! Pure Luck, remember?"

   "Okay..."

   "Don't go all the way to the deli, though," Desmond slammed on his brakes
and swerved to the left, avoiding a collision with some slow-moving car in
front of him. He flew around that car, cutting it off in a most obnoxious
manner, and not giving a damn about it. "Take a left turn right before the
main intersection," he said without even glancing into his rearview mirror.
"It's easy to miss because it doesn't have a street name or anything. Go up
that road, it'll take you to the watchtower..."

   "Are you there?"

   "No," Desmond switched lanes again. "I just left school..."

   "School? Goddammit, Des..."

   "Believe me, Rayhe," Desmond muttered after he cut off someone else.
"It's a very good thing that I stopped by the school, otherwise I wouldn't
have any idea about the watchtower... Just get your ass there as quick as
you can," he said impatiently. "Call Blair!"

   "Yeah," Gabriel said quickly.

   "And Rayhe...?"

   "What?"

   "For the love of God, don't drive the way you usually do..."

   "Don't worry," Gabriel muttered. "Right now, I could leave you in the
dust..."

   "See you there," Desmond said without a smile and snapped his phone shut.

   He threw it into his passenger's seat and pressed the gas pedal even
harder into the floor, seeing someone trying to get ahead of him. He flew
into the highway-turning lane without even bothering to slow down, and shot
straightforward, ignoring screeching of the tires, angry honking, and all
those gestures he got as a result. Then, half an hour or so later, he
started swearing wildly, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. There was
some sort of an accident on the highway, and everything was blocked.

   "Goddammit...!" he yelled for probably thirtieth time, glanced into his
side mirror, and jerked the wheel to the right without lifting his foot off
the gas pedal. He flew into the nearest exit right before he managed to miss
it and hauled down the road, maneuvering through the cars and trucks with
desperation of someone who has minutes left to live.

   He crossed the intersection right before the light turned red and locked
his jaw tight, his inner map drawing a hasty picture in his mind. He made
his way through the labyrinth of small, back streets, and finally, he was
able to get to the unblocked part of the highway. As soon as he got there,
he grabbed his phone from the passenger's seat.

   "Rayhe!" he barked into the phone a minute later. "Take the exit 75, and
try to figure out how to get to the exit 79 through the back streets... I
don't have time to explain it right now, just use your brain, okay...? There
has been an accident on the highway," he grimaced impatiently. "Some
huge-ass truck crashed in the middle of the road, and it's blocking
everything...! So yeah, take 75 and figure out your way to 79, okay? The
road is clear there... Tell Blair...! It took me almost an hour and a half
to get through the damn labyrinth, so it will probably take you two at least
a couple of hours... I am nothing like him...! Shut up, Rayhe!" he grimaced
once again. "Just remember, exit... Yeah, that one... Uh huh... Okay, see
you," he snapped the phone shut and threw it onto the passenger's seat.



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