| Nick Life's full of surprises, the little things you don't expect. And the big things. Like waking up in the morning, all warm and snug under the duvet, bright sunlight filtering in through the green leaves of the plants reaching for the sky from the windowsill, not opening your eyes just to enjoy those few minutes of oblivion before the world crashes in. And realising that there's a cold patch on your shoulder where someone's breathing on you, turning over slowly and opening those reluctant lids to see the short dark hair, long eye-lashes and relaxed features of your assistant and best friend, asleep next to you. Definitely unexpected. How the hell did this happen? # Dangerous creatures, dinosaurs. Pesky too. Despite their size, some of them, they can reach into places you wouldn't believe. Like through a basement window, snout first, breaking the glass and showering Stephen in it before opening its jaws, letting out a God almighty roar and fastening its teeth into my forearm. I lost my footing on the stepladder, scrabbling to find it again while I dangled from my bleeding arm from the dinosaur's mouth. I scream like a girl. I don't remember screaming before; yelling, yes, shouting, crying out, but not an actual, God's honest scream. Don't remember ever feeling anything like that pain before either. The vice grip with knife blades and needles seemed to be forever, the agony so intense I felt like I was drowning in it. I barely heard the shot from the tranquiliser dart gun that Stephen fired at point blank range straight into the eye of the as yet unclassified dinosaur's eye. I just know when the pressure started to ease, and then Stephen was with me on the ladder, prising apart the jaw, sliding the giant teeth out of my arm while I tried my level best not to bawl like a baby or, God forbid, to scream again. I'd already shot my reputation to pieces, I didn't want to make things worse. But it hurt like hell. The moment before the moment I could, I yanked my arm from the row of razors, slicing through skin, watching - mesmerised - just for a second as blood flowed from the wounds - ten puncture marks along the top, ten along the bottom, wide and deep in the centre, getting smaller and narrower out towards my hand and elbow. I began to lose my balance. Leaning heavily into Stephen's awkward arm around my waist, I was dizzy, light-headed and lucky for me he was thinking straight. He got me down, or helped me down enough so that I didn't break any major bones as I slid to the floor, landing with a jarring bump on my arse. Like a true hero he stripped off his jacket and his shirt, tearing the cotton into pieces, shrugging the leather back on and zipping it up. I imagine the last thing you want to be when running from a pre-historic predator is half-naked. Or maybe the second to last thing. Or third-to-last. Dead isn't good either. But then, you wouldn't be running. Delirium was setting in faster than I would have thought. I tried not to make a fuss while he dressed my arm, just like he tried not to show his abject panic when parts of the makeshift bandage turned blood red within a minute. We knew we needed to get out of there and I think I might have commented that this time I probably did need to get to a hospital. I think he agreed with me so bravely he moved to the heavy metal door we'd slammed and locked behind us to keep out the twin of what had taken a bite out of me. "Be careful." Pointless but it seemed I had to say it. My arm was already numb and I admit it, through the slowly rising hysteria I was starting to get scared. Scared for me. Scared for him; he was my only protection. How pathetic does that sound? I'm an expert in denial. My heart was racing as he slid back the rusted bolt and cautiously opened the door. I watched him breathe out slowly and took that to be a sign that the immediate coast was clear; plus he wasn't trying to shoot anything. He turned back to me - "Come on." 'Come on'? It took a second to get the signal to my legs to get up off the floor and the moment I was on my feet my stomach rebelled against the movement. I retched - I hate that feeling - but nothing came up for which I was eternally glad. Stephen was back with me, a hand on my shoulder, telling me we had no choice but to get out of there. I knew that, I just wasn't sure I could actually do it. So gun in one hand he hoisted his other arm around my waist and I leant on him for balance while the world tilted as he coaxed me away from the wall. As long as I could quickly learn to walk the constantly moving cakewalk of a floor I thought I might be okay. We stopped just outside the door - reluctant to leave the point of no return. And we listened for any sign that our Jurassic stalkers were somewhere close by. But there was nothing, nothing but that eerie silence that follows something so loud as a dinosaur attack. The stairs were at the end of the corridor. We knew that because we'd been chased down them less than five minutes ago. I knew something was wrong with me, something more than blood loss and shock. I was starting to feel like someone had cranked the heat up, as if I was being dragged through a desert and not a corridor in the basement of some derelict factory. It was a fight to keep my legs from giving way, to keep my knees supporting me, to keep my breakfast inside me. How long did it feel since Stephen and I shared those Lattes at the café by the river this morning….? "Nick!" I was dropping to the floor, sliding from Stephen's grasp on my hip, and surprised I straightened myself, realised I should be concentrating on staying alive, on getting out of there. I was going to get out of there - we both were. And it wouldn't be thanks to me - because in my state I was starting to worry I might get us both killed. As we reached the base of the wooden stairs there was an almighty crash behind us, like a massively strong dinosaur knocking over a cabinet full of rusted tools and tins and God knows what else. It sounded close and we weren't about to investigate. Half-carrying me, Stephen got us up the first step, then the next and the next, every slight rise making my brain pound against my skull, turning my stomach over so that by the time we reached the top I had to stop. I pulled hard away from him, getting a couple of feet before my legs went out from under me and I collapsed on all fours, the pain in my arm spiking as I put weight on it, violently throwing up breakfast and anything else that was inside me, including - it felt like - a couple of major organs. The stink made me retch, nothing but acidic bile following the little food and coffee I'd managed to consume before that day's madness had begun. Nick's hand settled on my back, and I turned to glance at him. He looked terrified - I've never seen him look like that before and it made me wonder what I looked like. Then I swallowed. And tasted it. That copper tang of blood was in my mouth and when I dared to look at the mess I'd made it was more than tinged with it. I backed up, sat on my folded legs, cradling my arm, in more pain than I'd ever been in before. From the base of the stairs came that sound - somewhere between roar and a scream - like death on our heels, and this time it was in stereo. They were too close. "Get out of here." My throat felt like I'd swallowed a jar of sulphur. "Absolutely not." Stephen wrapped two solid arms around my waist and yanked me to my feet, movement which brought tears to my eyes. I retched again, struggling to lean forward, to miss his sleeves, but there was nothing left to come up. "Come on. Move!" He dragged me off along the dark corridor and I could only hope he knew where he was going because my vision was blurring, the little light there was hurting my eyes. Half-blind I tried to walk on my own but at the pace he was going I must have made one step to his three. I could feel the sweat under my clothes, on my forehead, felt so hot inside but somehow cold - getting colder - on the outside. Like the sweat was turning to ice on my skin. "Almost there, Nick, don't give up on me." I didn't feel like I had much of a choice any more. If he let go I knew I'd drop and then I would die, seconds later, mauled by the monsters that were chasing us. I didn't want to die, especially not like that. I forced myself to do more, to meet him one for every other step, to take some of my own weight on my trembling legs. I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat, blinked sweat and tears from my eyes so that I could see where we were going. And I saw sunlight. Blessed sunlight, streaming in from the end of the corridor, barely touching the dim darkness but still I was almost certain it was real. Stephen seemed sure too, because he sped us up, craning his head once to look back. I was sure the ringing in my ears wasn't some unspecified alarm bell, which was what it sounded like, but it stopped me from hearing anything and I couldn't turn my head because if I did I was seriously worried it might fall off. Or explode. Neither option was good. Not wanting to sound clichéd, we headed for the light, and it turned out to be as blessed. An exit. A fire door, and not one of those trick fire doors with the chain preventing it from opening, but one of those beautiful, real fire doors, with the push bar that sends it springing open and lets the panicked escapees exit the building. Of course it sets off the fire alarm too, but that was a small price to pay, and over the noise already in my head, it hardly mattered. My feet hit concrete, then grass, and after two soft steps forward, Stephen suddenly and without warning dropped me. I stopped and fell like an idiot in a movie chase scene; face first, no time, no strength in any case to put my arms out to break the fall. My head hit soft, damp ground moments after my knees, and my hips followed. My numb arm folded under me, trapped between my heaving stomach and the grass. And that's where I stayed, unable to move, while my body felt like it was disintegrating. I heard the smash of a force in motion against unyielding metal, heard the strengthened glass in the doors break, fly outwards to land in an arc around the exit. I felt the vibrations through the ground as something heavy too two thudding, quick steps to reach me, felt hot breath on the back of my head, my neck, on the small of my back where my jacket and T had ridden up as I'd fallen. I knew I was going to die. I knew the next thing I'd feel was those razor sharp teeth sinking into my thigh and the last things out of my mouth would be a girly scream and a stream of bloody bile. Tears swam in my eyes but I couldn't do anything about that either. I didn't hear the shots, the rifle, despite it being so close by. But instead of teeth I felt something heavy and hard hit my back, knocking the breath from me, leaving me gasping, choking, fighting to get oxygen into my lungs. But not dead. Not at that moment at least, although I had a distant inkling that if I gave up struggling I might be. Whatever it was that had landed on me was lifted off and a gentle hand touched my face. I forced my eyes open, saw a blurred shape that might have been Stephen's knees, and closed them again. It seemed strange to me, but he started to gently comb his fingers through my hair. I wondered what he might be saying, if the words I couldn't hear were important enough to get him to repeat them if I ever got the chance. But it seemed like an okay way to go, with Stephen stroking my hair, and the gentle vibrations of the world underneath me. I managed a deep breath, let it out, and the pain was slowly pushed aside by the sticky darkness around the edges of my mind. At the very last moment the calm was blasted apart by a single, determined thought, one that sparked panic in every nerve - there were two dinosaurs behind us. Stephen! There were two! # Stephen I could honestly say I'd had the worst day of my life. Ironic when it had started out so well. Nick had picked me up in the morning, suggested we get breakfast as his favourite café down by the river, and when I'd pointed out how late that would make us to the Home Office, he smiled wickedly. Anything he could do to make Lester's life that little bit more awkward. It was a glorious morning, good too to be sitting out in the sunshine with Nick - that old easy friendship back between us, strong roasted coffee, freshly baked croissants, the light turning his hair to spun gold…. Such a terrifying difference between that and where we ended up at the end of the afternoon. It's not something I'll ever forget - kneeling on that grass outside the old plastics factory, the damp soaking the knees of my jeans, a dead dinosaur on one side of me, and Nick dying on the other. He was ashen grey by the time I dropped him to run to the truck - exactly where we'd left it - grab the rifle from the passenger seat and shoot the dinosaur in the head before it took a bite out of my best friend. Kneeling next to him I touched his face and could feel the chill of his skin despite the sweat on his forehead and cheeks. There was blood on his lips - he'd coughed it up when he'd been sick at the top of the stairs - and that's never a good sign. Whatever that dinosaur's bite had done to him, whatever poison or venom it had injected into his system, it was quickly killing him. And there was nothing I could do. My mobile was gone, lost somewhere along the line. There was no means to call anyone and I just knew he didn't have the time for me to leave him to fetch help. I didn't want him to die alone. I started to stroke his hair. What else could I do? Tears welled up in my eyes, streamed down my face, and I just kept up a soothing rhythm, watching his face slowly relax. He was dying, right there, right in front of me. We all know this is a dangerous job but none of us expect to have to watch one another die. And not Nick - definitely not Nick. He's the heart of us. He's my heart, my soul. How I was supposed to live without him I had no idea, I couldn't even contemplate it, couldn't imagine it. Yet somehow I watched him take his last breath and let it out so slowly, his body deflating, pain leaving him. A harsh sob broke from my throat, a sound of denial, of disbelief. My heart breaking. Then suddenly his eyes snapped open, the panic and fear back in one paralyzing moment. And his lips moved, no sound being made but I could read the shape of what he was trying to say - 'Stephen' - my name in his final words - 'there were two'. Fuck! I grabbed up the rifle, turned back to the gaping exit through which we'd run, the twisted metal of the emergency doors through which the first dinosaur had smashed its way. Into the yellow reptilian eyes of its twin. For one insane second it looked at its fallen comrade - sibling - partner? - and I saw it tilt its head. Was that sight as terrible to it as the one of Nick lying next to it was for me? Where had this humanity inside me come from? Not like I had to ask. For two seconds we were both still, it paused in its attack, me on the ground with a rifle aimed at its head. Then the spell broke, it opened its mouth and screamed its grief or anger or whatever the fuck it was feeling and I shot it, five times, hitting the back of its throat, bullets tearing through its brain so that it fell like an expensive remote controlled model with the power cut. My heart was beating so fast I though my heart was about to explode. I couldn't move my arms, couldn't look away from the dead creature to see the dead human behind me. So I sat, lost, for as long as it took for them to find us. It was minutes, apparently, but it could easily have been hours. I heard the 4x4, heard the ambulance, and still I sat frozen in place, only the rifle having fallen forward, the butt still clutched in my aching hands. I heard my name called by Abby, his name called by Connor and I thought briefly of the terrible grief to come, but all with some strange sense of detachment. My tears had dried up. I couldn’t understand how I was still alive. I felt a hand on my shoulder, heard the activity around Nick's body behind me. Then like sunshine I heard three little words. "He's still alive!" That had me up on to my knees again and turning round so fast I heard a gasp of surprise from Abby standing next to me. I pushed passed one of the medics, said Nick's name but got no response. Why would they lie? Why would they say he was alive when he was clearly gone? But before it could crush me again I realised that they were forcing an IV into the back of his left hand - his good hand - they were putting an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Why bother if… so he wasn't…? Abby was the one to pull me to my feet, to drag me away just far enough so they could work to save Nick's life. They turned him over onto the stretcher and I saw the blood soaked shirt strips covering his right arm. As soon as they had him in the ambulance, as soon as we were underway, they removed the gruesome bandaging. Abby had loaded me up with him, with her and Connor following behind in the two trucks - theirs and ours. I couldn't have driven. I could barely stand up. I stared at the wounds on Nick's arm - the skin and flesh cut to gory ribbons by that single bite - and I wondered if they could ever heal. He'd be so scarred. Would that upset him? I thought probably not. He wasn't - isn't - a vain person. He'd probably enjoy showing them off at parties, not that he ever went to parties. Maybe university soirées - those events when professors were expected to play nice with businessmen in order to secure future funding for projects like ours. Okay, not exactly like ours. I watched them add a saline drip to the blood already being replaced through the IV line but I knew he wasn't out of danger yet. Whatever was in his bloodstream had poisoned him frightening fast. It was still there, still killing him. We had to find out what it was and find an anti-venom. Lucky that Connor and Abby had been thinking straight. Apparently without a second thought they'd hacked off the dinosaur's head at the base of its throat and brought it with them. ~ I sat for hours, days, waiting, watching the steady neon line of the monitors, the slow drip of the blood and saline IV drips, the even rise and fall of his chest. Nick's always been our strength and lying in the hospital bed with the wires and the nose cannula he looked small, vulnerable. But not weak. To have lived through what'd he'd lived through, he had to be as strong as they came and I knew he was. By some major miracle - and believe me when I say he deserved one - the venom in the dinosaur bite had so closely matched that of a modern day rattlesnake they were able to use the same anti-venom. At the time they'd administered it his life had been solely dependent on the life-support machines they'd hooked him to, but three days later, although still unconscious, he was breathing on his own. He was healing. All we had to do was wait for him to wake up. The first night I'd got some sleep, stretched out on the couch in the family room attached to the intensive care ward. I was exhausted, wiped out, couldn't stay awake if I'd tried - and I did try. Since then I hadn't been able to, had barely moved from the chair in his room except to take a piss. I hadn't eaten, I wasn't hungry, and whatever Abby and Connor said to me I felt sick whenever I thought about trying to. Every time I closed my eyes I saw him lying on the grass, face peaceful as he took his last breath. And I opened them quickly to reassure myself that he was alive, lying under wires and tubes but still… alive. I had no idea what time it was. It was dark outside, really dark. I finished my third novel, read the last word and closed it, dropping the leg I had pulled up under my chin, shoes kicked off to the floor, and stretching it out, stretching every muscle, popping my spine back into its original shape. On the bed, Nick pulled in a deep, deep breath and made a noise that sounded like it scratched the back of his throat. I was out of the chair in a moment, perched on the edge of the bed, hand against Nick's face just like I had done out on the grass when he'd been dying on me. His eyes opened, blinked a couple of times before they locked with mine. "Easy. You're in hospital." For a minute or so he just took a couple more deep breaths, kept looking at me as if I was about to vanish. I found his hand, held it lightly, gently. "It's okay." It was okay. He was going to be okay. I couldn't help the smile but it was going to take a while to convince myself he hadn't died and this wasn't some kind of cruel dream. All I could remember was him dying…. His fingers tightened around mine. "Stephen." It was just a rough whisper but it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. "Yeah. You're going to be okay. We got the dinosaurs." Some part of me was insisting I alert the doctors, at least a nurse, but I couldn't bring myself to move. "You got the dinosaurs. No thanks to me." "You weren't all that well." "You saved my life. Again." "I think we're equal." Nick's other hand lifted and I reached over to push it back down, IVs and all, before he dislodged something he didn't really want to. "Please behave in here, okay. Do as you're told." He smiled, eyes already closing. With the drugs in his system - anti-venom and morphine - I wasn't surprised. I was still holding his hand and without meaning to, without planning to, I raised it to my mouth and pressed my lips to his knuckles. Don't ask me why. But he didn't resurface to consciousness, for which I was very, very grateful; right at that moment I'm not sure I could have explained why I'd felt the urge to kiss his hand. ~ Everyone was pleased to see him awake and talking to us. He sat up in bed, IV still in place but no longer attached to anything, smiling at his visitors like he was just glad to be alive. The venom had ravaged his system, and he tired easily for the first couple of days, but they released him after a week's observation and I got to be the one to take him home. I'd been his best friend longer than the rest of them had even known him and I used that fact shamelessly when Claudia, Abby and even Connor volunteered to give him a lift back. I dropped his bag in the hall and followed him through to the lounge. His right arm was still in a sling but his luck had turned and was holding; the bite hadn't severed anything that wouldn't mend in time and while he was going to be scarred, his pale skin and fine blond hairs would eventually hide the worst of it. He'd dropped into the sofa, eyes closing, the simple acts of getting dressed and riding home in the truck having utterly wiped him out. They'd said at the hospital that it could be weeks before he was back to his old self, that the venom was still working its way out of his system. He still needed a shot of the anti-venom on a daily basis, something he wasn't at all happy about and didn't want to administer himself. No problem, the nurse had shown me how. Another reason - excuse - to see him every day. I stood in the doorway of the lounge, awkward, wondering if I should stay or leave. "How about a cup of tea?" He surprised me. A cup of tea sounded such a normal thing, such a mundane thing. Such a simple thing, only the milk in the fridge had passed its 'use by' date over a month ago which meant I had to take a walk to the nearest shop, which was half a mile away, and by the time I got back he was asleep, snoring softly, arm cradled protectively across his chest. I made myself a mug of coffee and joined him in the lounge. The armchair was piled high with papers - dissertations waiting to be evaluated, course work from lower years waiting to be marked. So I carefully lifted his socked feet from the sofa cushions and dropped into the opposite corner to him, resting his feet on my thighs. I finished my coffee, ditched the mug on the floor and leaned back into the sofa, closing my eyes, hands coming to settle on Nick's feet, just keeping them warm I told that nagging voice in my head. No lines being crossed here. Just a casual touch between friends. When I opened my eyes again it was dark outside and Nick was watching me with an amused expression on his face. # Nick I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. I'd feel the same for weeks, according to the very patient doctor who'd looked after me in hospital; it would improve slowly, he'd told me, and eventually I'd be back to 'normal'. I didn't bother asking him what 'normal' was supposed to be. But it was good to be in my own home, good to be alone for a while. I knew the milk was off, knew Stephen would have to go out to get some fresh and it was one way to get rid of him for just a little while without hurting his feelings or meaning he wouldn't come back. Just the silence of the house, the complete privacy even if it was just for a quarter of an hour, was wonderful. I hadn't had that in a week and I cherished it. Within a couple of minutes of the front door closing behind him, I was asleep. When I woke my neck was aching, it was night outside the open curtains, and Stephen was sitting in the other corner of the sofa, sleeping, snoring, hands wrapped around my feet. Slightly odd. Not that I minded. Stephen's been my best friend for years - what was a warm touch between two people who'd seen what we'd seen, who'd experienced what we'd been though together? He'd saved my life, dragged my out of that factory and killed the monsters before they killed me. Disable the prey, then eat it alive, that was the idea. I wondered if those dinosaurs had ever come up against someone as determined as Stephen before, determined that we were both going to make it. I'm such a lucky son-of-a-bitch, to have had him there, to have him here. It wasn't a huge surprise to me that I had these feelings for him, to realise that he'd wormed his way into my life, into my soul, as deeply as he had. I was happy to lie there, comfortable and warm, and watch him sleeping. I needed to pee but I could wait, I didn't want to move. A little part of me wanted him to wake up with his hands on my feet so that I could see what his reaction would be. Ever the scientist. And I had to wonder if the drugs in my system were at least partially to blame for it. It was a good twenty minutes before Stephen did wake. Probably my fault, wiggling my toes slightly against his loose fingers. He turned his head along the back of the sofa and mirrored my smile with one of his own. Then he glanced down at his hands on my feet but didn't shift them, and when he looked up at me again there was something else in his eyes, something heated and heavy. Experimentally I wiggled my toes again, and he rubbed the underneath of them with his thumb, not hard, just a gentle touch but firm, meaning it. Something in my stomach uncurled. "Is there anything you need? Anything I can get you?" It was an innocent question and I knew he was talking about anything other from what my delusional body thought it wanted. I moved my head, left to right, still smiling. "I just need sleep, and by the looks of it, so do you." He looked faintly disappointed and I knew why, but he admitted, "I didn't sleep at the hospital." "You didn't have to stay with me." "Yes, I did." Nothing I could say to that. Reaching out, I offered him my hand and pulled us both to the centre of the sofa, although to be fair he was the one doing most of the pulling. "Bed upstairs is big enough for us both to get some rest." I couldn't believe how innocent I'd made it sound, how easy it had been to say it. It was worth the look on his face and he nodded. He didn't have to say anything. ~ I woke up all warm and snug under the duvet, bright sunlight filtering in through plants on the windowsill. It was a minute or two before my arm started to hurt and at about the same time I realised that someone was breathing on me. Carefully I turned over, getting my arm more comfortable, so that I could admire and enjoy the sight of Stephen's relaxed face while he slept. Events of the previous day came back to me slowly and I remembered what he was doing in my bed in just his thin white sweater and boxer shorts. I was still wearing the clothes I'd come back from the hospital in - sweat pants and a T-shirt - my arm still in its sling although by now the cloth was wrapped around my throat threatening to strangulate me if I moved once more in the wrong direction. Stephen's eyes opened and widened, awake in a second, and I thought he was going to move away, back up at best, get out of the bed at worst. But he didn't. He stayed put after that initial moment of uncertainty, his face inches from mine and I suppose we both knew what was going to happen next. I started it, I made the first move, but only by half an inch. He met me more than half way, mouth sealing over mine, tongue skimming my lips before delving into my mouth. Nothing shy about him now, and I knew his only cautiousness was coming from an awareness of my injuries rather than any reluctance to be with me like this. He scooted closer, one hand pressing flat against my stomach, the other curling around the back of my throat, thumb teasing the short hairs at the nape of my neck. It was better than good, it was perfect. When I finally broke away, I got my free hand between his neck and the pillow and nipped his bottom lip playfully. "Wanted to do that for a long, long time," I admitted. He nodded against my fingers. "Me too. Can't believe you almost had to die for us to tell each other." "I'm fine, Stephen." "I thought… out there, outside, I thought I'd watched you die. And I couldn’t… can't imagine any of this without you." "What we do, it's so dangerous. There's never any guarantees we'll both come back." "I'll make sure we both come back." Ah, the optimism of youth - who was I to destroy that? "But if we don't, I want to make sure we can look back on life and smile." I thought at that moment I might be a little bit in love with him. "So how about another kiss before I have to jab a needle in your thigh and you change your mind about me?" Not just a little bit. A lot. A lot in love. So I kissed him again. |