Page 51 of Torch Songs

And he realized that Guthrie wasn’t going anywhere, not tonight. As darkness washed over him and he tried to sink below the shivering fever and the pain of his wound, he heard himself humming.

I will follow you into the dark….

He knew in his heart that for the man who would bring him kindness, bring him comfort, through all the madness the day had entailed, he would make the promise and keep it, even if he had to wait the rest of his days.

THE NIGHTpassed in a blur of fever, of pain, of Larx’s quiet comfort. At one point he’d awakened with a throat full of broken glass, thinking April was under the tree and he couldn’t get her out. Then he dreamed that Guthrie was there with her, falling down the canyon, falling farther, faster, like Larx had done as Tad and Aaron had watched helplessly. He woke up crying Guthrie’s name.

“It’s okay, son,” Larx said softly. “He’s here.”

And Tad couldsmellhim on his shirt, against his skin, and for a moment, he calmed down.

The morning dawned bright and chill, and Tad knew he didn’t have long left. He’d spent the night wrapped warm and tight in what was essentially a summer night in the mountains, and he’d been sweating and shivering with cold and fever so badly he’d barely registered the body heat of the two men trying to keep him safe. They’d put him in the rescue basket, tucked him in tight, andhauledhim to where the coupling links were to hook the basket up again.

Larx gently covered his face with a cloth and told him to close his eyes—the end of the ride was scary.

Tad was so out of it, he only recalled a feeling of weightlessness, of rising instead of falling. For a while he heard the rasp of the bottom of the basket on gravel, and then felt a slither as it hit plastic of some kind, and then—oh God, he wasflying, like on an amusement park ride, hauled up and dangling in the air before being tugged backward and gliding along the ground.

Was he dead? This was like the dead guy inGladiator,he thought muzzily, but if he was dead, shouldn’t his bodyhurt less?

Finally the basket came to a rest, and someone uncovered his face. There were EMTs unpacking him from the eggcrate and the sleeping bags used to make him secure under the straps of the basket, and then he was on a backboard.

And then a stretcher.

Somebody said, “Let them through. They know Detective Hawkins.”

Chris? That was Chris’s voice, but that wasnotChris’s rough hand in his grimy one, and definitely not Chris’s sweet, sweet voice in his ear. The face over his was in shadow, thanks to thestrong morning sun through the trees and a fall of greasy blond hair, but Tad knew him now, knew his smell, knew hisfeel.

“How you doin’, son?”

“Guthrie,” Tad croaked. “God. You’re here.”

“I’m not the only one,” Guthrie told him, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. “C’mere, darlin’. He needs to see your face.”

And there was April. Oh God, that eternity of a night when he’d dreamed of her in withdrawals, trapped in his worst memory of both her and himself, and she was here. She washere, clean in all the ways, weeping softly as she held his hand.

“April,” he breathed.

“Oh, big brother,” she sobbed, “you havenoidea how glad we are to see you.”

He smiled, and he would have told her the feeling was mutual, but the EMTs had enough, and he was lifted into the back of the bus, and the world became a white blur of antiseptic after that.

Bridge over Troubled Waters

“IT WASpart of Ms. Hawkins’s agreement with the halfway house that—”

“I get it,” Guthrie snarled. “She broke the rules. She broke the rules, and apparently going to see her brother during an emergency means she needs to be flogged. That’s great. I’ll take the lashes, okay? She needed to come here and be with him—”

“We have no verification of an emergency—”

“Turn on the fuckin’ news, darlin’. It’s fuckin’ everywhere!”

There was a pause. “I’m at my computer now. What should I be looking for?”

“Local Sheriff rescued in Colton County.”

“That? But there wasn’t a….”

Oh good. The bitchy robot woman on the other end of the phone could fuckin’ read. Wasn’t that a fuckin’ blessing? Guthrie scowled at the phone in his hand and glanced around the hospital corridor to see how many people were running for the hills.

---