Sui Generis – 5

 

Four hours later, when they were back at the house, Brand went upstairs to change clothes. He came back down dressed in a pair of old jeans and a black tank with a well-worn blue work shirt over it, his old backpack slung over his shoulder. He was surprised when, five minutes later, Mag joined him, dressed in comparable clothes, although he was wearing a T-shirt rather than a tank.

"You're not coming with me," Brand stated firmly.

"Then I'll just follow you," Mag retorted. "Now that you know where he is, more or less, having me along might give you an edge if you find him."

"You have no idea what you'd be going up against."

"Not because I haven't asked," Mag pointed out caustically. "All you've said—and it wasn't much—was that he grabs guys like us—well, like we used to be—off the street and puts them to work as part of his stable of whores."

Brand nodded. "That pretty much covers it," he agreed, adjusting his backpack so he didn't have to look at Mag. "If he got his hands on you, I don't think you'd survive."

"You did."

"I'm… stronger than you."

Mag stepped in front of him, looking up at him. "When are you going to tell me what really happened?"

"Never," Brand spat out angrily. "So drop it. I got out and that's all that matters."

"That's up for debate."

"That I managed to escape?" Brand asked, a tiny smile playing over his lips.

"No. Escaping was good, but he destroyed something in you before you did, Brand. He turned you into someone I wasn't sure I wanted to be around the first time I saw you after you came back. You're hard now and… and dangerous."

"Only when it comes to him," Brand protested.

Mag shook his head. "No. With everyone. Think about it. How many of the people you used to be friends with are still your friends? I'd be willing to bet I'm the only one. You pushed the rest away and you tried with me, but I wasn't about to let it happen."

Brand chuckled softly. "Given that we're sharing this house, and made a pact about school, I'd say that's true."

"It wouldn't be, if I'd listened to you."

"Why did you?" Brand cocked his head in question.

"Because we were friends—before—and I thought… no, I knew you needed someone to help you stay focused on what's really important, above and beyond stopping Fedor." 

"So you decided to take on that role, and have for the last two months. Although why…?" He shook his head in bewilderment.

"Because I care," Mag replied softly. "Even though I barely know who you are anymore, I still care." He moved away, eyeing his friend. "I spent half a year wondering if I'd ever see you again. Got off the streets, worked two jobs to save enough money to be able to rent this place—as ratty as it is—so you'd have somewhere to come home to if you… Well, you know." 

"You still are working one of them," Brand pointed out. He sighed then. "You're better than me. I should find a job to help out."

"You will, once you get over this obsession with finding Fedor." Mag held up one hand. "Before you get mad, I understand why but still it is an obsession. So, back to what started this whole conversation, I am coming with you tonight. Tomorrow is Saturday; I don't have to work."

Brand scrubbed one hand over his face. "All right," he said with a small smile. "If you insist."

"I do."

 

Sui Generis – 4

 

After getting home so late and then studying before going to bed, Brand slept until five that evening. His dreams were filled with scattered but distorted visions of his time with Fedor. When he woke, he felt drained. A long, hot shower, followed by a cold one, helped to restore some of his energy.

When he got downstairs, he found Mag was home from work and had prepared supper, for which he was profoundly grateful. He needed sustenance if he was going to make it through his classes. And the rest of the night, once I figure out a way to home in on Fedor's hunting ground, so to speak.

If last night was any indication—and he thought it might be—Fedor had shifted from the uptown area to lower downtown, farther away from the central business district. He didn't find that too much of a surprise. With the cops clearing the streets and even the alleys, of all the homeless people around the retail shops and restaurants, they would naturally migrate closer to the train tracks and the creek. 

Where they go, so does Fedor.

At least he hoped that was the case.

"Did you study?" Mag asked, turning from the stove where he was putting the finishing touches on the chicken Marsala.

"Yep, though I almost fell asleep over the nutrition book."

Mag chuckled. "Not your strong point I know, but necessary. You should be doing this—" he tapped the skillet, "—not me."

"Tomorrow night, I promise."

With a laugh, Mag replied, "Uh-huh. Which means you'll call our favorite Chinese restaurant and have them deliver."

Brand just shrugged, pouring coffee for Mag and getting one of the insulated containers that held his drinks from the fridge, before setting out plates and silverware on the small kitchen table. They ate quickly since they had to get to school, washed the dishes, and headed out.

Sui Generis – 3

 

Magnus Larsson, nicknamed Mag, woke with a start when he heard the door open. He was sitting up on the sofa where he'd fallen asleep while studying much earlier in the evening. "Cutting it close, aren't you, Brand?" he asked, frowning.

"Not close enough," Brand muttered to his housemate. "I almost had him. Would have too, if I'd been more careful. Just after I spotted him I knelt on something sharp. I should have kept quiet but it hurt." He smiled ruefully.

"Did you cut yourself?" Mag, asked in concern. When Brand shook his head, Mag added tartly, "You're supposed to be better than that."

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Brand dropped down on the sofa, running his hands through his too long, brown hair.

Mag studied him, seeing the self-disgust in his dark green eyes. "There'll be other times."

"Yeah, I know.

Mag's gaze moved down to Brand's slender but muscular torso and the sleeveless black T-shirt that covered it. He resisted, as always, the urge to lick his lips in appreciation. Not only was he so far out of Brand's league that it was ridiculous, he was also well aware that for Brand, sex was now a tool and nothing more. It hadn't been like that—once—but after Fedor had gotten his hands on Brand, that had changed. Why? Mag didn't know, but it had and now Brand was searching for Fedor with a passion bordering on mania.

Brand caught Mag's look and smiled slightly. "If you need some…"

"Naw. Even if I did, I'm too damned tired and you should be too. Besides which, I have to be up and moving too soon to get to work. Time and tide wait for no one."

Brand stretched casually, casting a sideways glance at Mag. "Maybe I'll pass on school tonight."

"Nope, not happening. We made a pact. We get our diplomas and make something of our lives. Neither of us is going to end up back to the streets again."

"True. But damn it, Mag."

"Brand." Mag leaned over to rest his hand on Brand's knee. "If you're supposed to find him, you will—one way or another. So you had a near miss tonight. Maybe it was meant to be."

"Going all fatalist on me," Brand grumbled, but he did smile at his friend. "Okay, point made. I'll get some sleep, go to class, and then I'll get back out there and keep looking." He sighed tiredly. "If nothing else, I know I was right about one thing, he's still here and still in the downtown area, if tonight was any indication."

"Just like…" Mag shook his head, snapping his book closed. "I'm going up to bed."

"You can say it. Just like when he got his hands on me."

"Yes," Mag replied softly. "You owe him for that."

"And I will repay him." 

Sui Generis – 2

 

As Brand moved down the alley, looking for a likely rooftop, he heard someone call his name. Turning, he smiled slightly at the middle-aged man coming toward him. He and John had become friends of a sort when their paths had crossed at a now defunct local shelter. They'd spent a few early evenings panhandling on the Mall then bedded down at the shelter, if there was room. When there wasn't, they'd find a safe place in some alley or down by the creek. John had considered himself Brand's protector, probably because he stood several inches taller than Brand's five-ten. Not that Brand needed a guardian—but he never said that to John. At that point in time, he was happy to have John's company. 

"Hey, kid, I swear you don't look a day older than the last time I saw you," John said, giving Brand clap on the shoulder before stepping back.

"I could say the same about you," Brand retorted, eyeing him.

John snorted. "A nice lie, but I'll take it. So what you been up?"

Brand shrugged. "Not much. You?"

"Same old, same old, kid. Keeping it together best as I can since my brief stint in jail."

"I heard about that. Sorry, man."

John waved his hand in dismissal. "A bed, three squares a day… made it almost worth it. Still…" He looked up and down the alley. "Guess the cops haven't been down this one yet tonight."

"They have," a voice piped up from behind a dumpster. "Came, kicked us out, but we're back." A girl about sixteen, if that, came out to stand in front of John and Brand. "Should be safe enough now, if you're looking for a place to crash." She grinned, introducing herself as Doll. "Too few of them, too many of us. It's a losing battle for the cops once it gets dark."

"Still, be careful, Doll. They see you too many times, they're gonna stop giving warnings and jail your pretty little self," John said.

"Yeah, I know. But I'm…"

Brand had moved away as the two were talking, so he missed the last of what she was saying. He liked John, but had other things he needed to be doing and having the man hanging around with him would make it that much harder.

Scurrying farther away, Brand slipped into an unlit doorway, pulling back into the shadows. John walked by a minute later, still chatting with the girl. Brand wondered if he was even aware it was just the two of them now. Probably not.

Inching forward, he watched the pair turn the corner out of the alley onto Eighteenth. Then, spotting a dumpster next to a convenient fire escape, Brand leapt onto it and from there made his way to the roof of what he knew was a restaurant popular with the baseball fans. He sprawled on his stomach, looking over the edge, watching as a pair of street kids sidled in off the street. They were obviously keeping a weather-eye open for the cops or trouble from anyone who had already taken up residence for the night. 

An hour passed. Things quieted down as the people who had come downtown for the Fourth of July fireworks made their way to the parking lots and from there, home. No cops visited the alley. Those stragglers looking for a place to spend the night moved on when they realized all the viable spots had been taken. One man came up to the roof, saw Brand and beat a hasty retreat when Brand scowled at him.

Best that you do. Brand smiled darkly as he continued his surveillance.

Forty minutes later he spotted his prey. A tall, blond man came into the dark alley. He was dressed in slacks, a dark blue shirt, and a battered leather jacket. The build, the pale blond hair… The man's head turned right and left as he surveyed the area, the streetlamp highlighting his features for a moment.

It's him.

Brand kept his gaze locked on Fedor while he reached for his backpack. When his knee came down hard on a sharp bit of debris, he hissed softly in momentary pain.

Fedor must have heard him because he looked up. His thin, aristocratic lips curved in a grisly smile as he started toward the fire escape.

Suddenly, the headlights of a police cruiser flooded the area when it pulled into the alley. For a moment Fedor froze, then, giving Brand a mocking salute, he turned, walked swiftly to the corner and vanished from sight.

Seconds later, backpack in hand, Brand was jumping from the bottom rung of the fire escape to the alley floor. Ignoring an officer's orders to stay where he was, he raced to the street but it was too late. Fedor was nowhere to be seen. Not that it surprised Brand all that much. The man was as slippery as an eel, as Brand's mother used to put it. Most predators were and Fedor was on the top of the food chain when it came to preying on the innocent and not so innocent.

With a sigh of disgust, Brand hoisted his pack over one shoulder and continued his search. It was close to dawn when he finally gave up and headed back home. Tomorrow is another night, to paraphrase some movie line.

Sui Generis – 1

 

(This story was previously published, twice, over ten years ago. Both publishers are now out of business.)

Brandon 'Brand' Huxley whirled around when he heard footsteps behind him. A man stood at the top of the fire escape on the far end of the roof, silhouetted by the ambient city lights. Given that Brand was wearing tattered jeans and a well-worn, sleeveless black T-shirt, he had the feeling he knew what the man was and why he was there.

"Move it, kid. It's illegal to sleep or store personal possessions on public or private property without permission. I'd really hate to have to arrest you."

Hissing in a breath between his teeth, Brand nodded. "I know, officer. I was just enjoying the view." He pointed to the flare of a firework as it lit the night sky.

"Uh-huh. Well enjoy it somewhere else. Okay?"

The officer stood there, obviously waiting for Brand to get moving. So Brand did, hiking his battered backpack over his shoulder then walking quickly past the cop and climbing down to the alley.

"Psst."

Brand looked around, spotting a kid about fifteen, maybe sixteen, peering at him from between two dumpsters. Brand held up one finger, pointed to the cop who was on his way down the fire escape, and then touched his lips to warn the kid to be quiet.

Moments later, the officer walked by Brand, saying, "Find a shelter. It's your best bet. That or hike it out of the city."

Brand nodded, resisting the urge to tell him the shelters were always full. He was certain the officer knew that.

When the man was out of sight around the corner, the kid stepped into view. "I know a safe place," he said.

"Thanks, but so do I. I was just having a little R&R up there watching the fireworks." Brand pointed to the roof of the building.

The kid shrugged and wandered away, calling back over his shoulder. "Don't say I didn't offer."

Brand chuckled. "I won't," he muttered, while going down the alley in the opposite direction.

Five minutes later he was on another rooftop. From his vantage point, he had a clear view of the alley running off in either direction between Fourteenth and Twenty-second. A pair of bicycle cops came down it, checking darkened doorways and around dumpsters, shooing off any transients they found. That didn't sit well with Brand. Not because of why they were doing it, although he found the law repressive at best. Even the homeless had the right to find somewhere to sleep, if they could—like the rooftop he was on at the moment. He pulled back as the cops got closer, not wanting to be rousted again.

When they had passed, he checked the alley one more time, cursing the cops under his breath for clearing it of its human denizens. "Go after the rats and the stray dogs," he muttered. "They're more dangerous than a street kid or a man who's lost his job and his home."

He chuckled softly. "Maybe I should get a job as a homeless advocate, handing out food and advice to those who need it. God only knows I'm out on the streets every night myself. Might as well do something useful while I'm looking for Fedor." He pondered that idea for all of a minute. No, I need my freedom to move around when and where I have to. I'll never find him otherwise.

Resting his hands on the low parapet at the back of the roof, he leaned over again, his gaze searching the length of the alley. The bright flash of another firework eerily lit it up in shades of green and blue. It was—as far as Brand could see—empty, except for the ubiquitous mangy dog sniffing around a dumpster two blocks down. 

Time to move on. Fedor's not going to come down here. Not when he'd be the only person in the alley, thanks to the cops. I'd see him before he saw me. That is not his intention, I'm sure.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulders, Brand made short work of getting off the roof. From there he moved to the alley between Lawrence and Larimer. It was quickly apparent the police had been along it as well, so he kept going. Three blocks later he found an alley that had either been missed in the cops' sweep, or where the people who regularly used it as their 'home' had returned once the cops were well away from the area.