Adermoor Cove: Atonement - 2. Chapter 2

Carlos laid in bed, watching the steady rise and fall of Lane's chest. The younger man was lying on his side so the sun was at his back and Carlos could see his face. His eyes were closed; he appeared to be at peace.

I could lay here all day and watch him sleep, Carlos thought, stretching. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a man in his bed - definitely not since leaving Boston. There had been plenty of men in the city, sure, most of them one night stands.

Carlos had tried dating: meetings set up by friends with other men they knew; website like OkCupid, Match.com, and Adam4Adam; uneventful outings at gay bars. He went out on dates. The closest he'd come to anything substantial was a man a few years younger than him named David. But after so many fruitless attempts Carlos came to the inevitable conclusion he sucked at dating. He wasn't cut out to be anything more than a bachelor.

Then he had come to Adermoor Cove. Since then it has been one nightmare after another as he began to recall the thing that had driven him away from the island on which he had been born in the first place. His best friend since childhood, Ramona, was presumed missing, and his father had just been killed. And he was sure he slept with the only person who could stop the entity causing it all.

Lane stirred, a small groan escaping his lips. He rolled over on his side and looked at Carlos. "What time is it?" he muttered sleepily. Like this he looked adorably boyish.

Resisting the urge to kiss him, Carlos glanced at the clock. "Almost noon."

"Shit." Lane threw the blankets back and sat up. Carlos could see the ridges of his vertebrae pressing up against the flesh at the back of his neck. "There's a ton of things I have to do today."

"Considering you got chased through the woods by a pack of killer wolves I think you can slow down long enough to have breakfast with me first."

Lane gave him an unusually sheepish smile. "Alright." Then to Carlos's surprise he leaned across the bed and kissed the deputy on the lips.

In the kitchen Carlos put a slice of bread in each of the four slots in the toaster. The pleasant smell of brewing coffee filled the kitchen. Lane had already grabbed the butter and jam from the refrigerator. Once the toast was done and the coffee poured, Carlos sat at the table across from Lane.

They ate in silence. Lane didn't speak until after he went to the sink to rinse his plate. His eyebrows were knitted together as if he wanted to say something but was trying to decide if it was better left unsaid. He said, "I think we should tell Moira."

Carlos set his half-eaten slice of toast down. "Tell her what?"

Lane gave him a look that told Carlos he knew exactly what Lane was talking about.

Carlos didn't feel like eating anymore. Within just a few short seconds Lane had shattered the perfectly good mood he was in. "Can we just go one day without talking about this crazy shit?"

"No we can't."

Lane was leaning against the counter, arms crossed. His display of calmness and understanding only infuriated Carlos more. "My father just died in case you've forgotten."

"Yeah I was in the car when it happened. I heard it. I saw it." Lane's voice had tightened, a warning to Carlos not to overstep his bounds. "My aunt died too. I'm still trying to figure out how to put a funeral together while her body slowly decomposes in a morgue. But that's not the point. The point is Moira thinks her partner is dead. But she's still out there - she's still alive. I don't know if there's anything I can do for her but I'm sure as hell going to try."

Carlos knew Lane was right but didn't want to admit it. "Don't you think she has enough on her plate to deal with? Don't you think we should give her time to catch her breath before we give her more bad news?"

"Let me paint you a picture," said Lane. "Maybe it'll help you pull your head out of your ass. First of all stalling and lying and leaving important bits of information out, especially in this town, gets innocent people killed. You know this and your father knew it."

"You leave me my father out if this…"

"It's the truth. Your father had me arrested and would've done God knows what if Ted hadn't intervened and you fucking know it!" Lane shouted back, pointing his finger at Carlos. "And there's another thing you're not thinking about. What if Ramona decides to go after Moira next and infect her and she has no clue?"

Lane cleared his throat. Despite this when he spoke next his voice came out as a croak. "This plague is spreading, Carlos. It’s not just just infecting people, its infecting the wildlife now too. Who knows what else it can do? We don't have time to grieve. So you can cry in your cereal all the fuck you want, I'm telling Moira because she has a right to know."

With a huff Lane walked out of the kitchen. He was just about to step out through the screen door when Carlos came up from behind and closed it on him. Lane turned to face him, eyes blazing with anger, hands clenched into fists. "What, are you holding me hostage now?"

"No, I just wanted to say you were right."

"Oh well then you're not the dumb ass I thought you were," Lane muttered sarcastically, but he was smiling now. "I'm sorry for what I said about your father."

"No, you're right. I'm just scared," said Carlos, and couldn't believe he was finally admitting it out loud. Like his father he'd never been good at expressing his own emotions. "I've dealt with the worst sort of human beings you could imagine, seen them do the most fucked up things to each other, and I'm scared shittless."

"I know," Lane said gently.

"Does it ever get easier?"

"No. But you do get to the point where nothing surprises anymore. Ever. I have to go."

"Want me to drive you back to the lighthouse? It's at least a thirty minute walk."

Lane rolled his eyes. "I can handle a thirty minute walk. Besides you've helped me out enough already. My manly pride can't take anymore."

"Can I have a kiss, first?"

"Yes, you can have a kiss." Lane stood on the tips of his toes and their lips met. The feeling of Lane so close always made Carlos feel less alone, like things would actually be okay and go back to normal.

But as soon as Lane was gone the sense of desolation and terror set in, suffocating Carlos from all sides and he felt like he was drowning.

                            …

Moira received the ultimate surprise when Lane Hardy, the young man who had visited her with Carlos at the hospital, showed at her doorstep around three o' clock in the afternoon. Her surprise must have been evident because he smiled apologetically.

"Sorry to show up like this," he said. "I found your name and address in the phonebook. I just wanted to come by and see how you were doing."

Moira floundered helplessly for a reply. One didn't come to mind so she just stuck with being honest. "I've been better. Would you like to come in?"

He frowned. "You don't have to do that…"

"Please." She stepped back. "Any friend of Carlos is a friend of mine."

"Alright." He stepped in, looking around at her studio apartment. Moira had been in the middle of looking through the photo album of pictures of Ramona and she together. Moira saw the photo album laying spread open on the couch. She tucked it hastily under the futon as if it was her dildo she'd left lying out and not an innocuous photo album. Lane, to his credit, pretended not to notice.

"It's nice," he said.

"It's not much."

"It's enough. It's home." She smiled at the young man who looked like a young goth punk rock wannabe and realized again that she liked him. "Would you like some iced tea?"

"Again, if I'm intruding…"

"Lane," Moira said more harshly than she meant to (she realized she was using the tone from the classroom, when her students were being rowdy, strong and authoritative), "if I did not want you to be in my apartment, such as it is, you wouldn't be." She switched to a more gentle tone. "Feel free to take off your coat. Put it anywhere you like."

The jacket was black like everything else he wore and made of real leather - it looked like it had to be expensive. "Isn't it still a little too warm to be wearing a jacket that heavy?"

He hung the jacket on the back of her office chair then sat down on the futon. "A good friend gave it to me. I rarely go anywhere without it - doesn't matter what season it is."

Moira sat beside him with a glass of iced tea in each hand. He sipped at it.

"Not too sweet?" she asked. "I like a lot of sugar in mine. I know it isn't good for your teeth but I'm a sugar fiend."

"I am too. It's perfect."

She nodded, waited a beat, and then asked, "How are you?"

"I just got finished setting up things for Vanessa's funeral. She's being cremated so it won't be anything major. The other Stantons have been buried in a family plot in the cemetery and it only seems right she be buried with the rest. I know I didn't know her very well but I want to make sure she has the best burial I can give her." Normally people who had been cremated were not buried in coffins but Lane supposed the people of Adermoor Cove had to keep up the appearance everything was normal.

"I'm sorry," she said. It was the thing people said to those who were grieving when they didn't know what else to say. Just like how people say pain is relative, she thought. Maybe with most things it is but not when it comes to death.

"It's alright," Lane said. "I didn't know her very well but she's blood. Still I didn't know her nearly as long as you did Ramona."

Moira looked down at her hands. "We'll be having her funeral soon as well." Already the tears were flowing down her cheeks. These days, all it took was for someone to say Ramona's name to remind Moira of the empty space in her heart. "No one knows if she's even really dead yet and her parents are already having her funeral. I had to help her mother pick out her coffin."

Lane said something in a low indecipherable voice. To Moira's ears it'd sounded like he'd said, She's not, but he had turned his face away from her.

"What did you say?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

He looked at her with a dark, tortured expression his face. "I saw her just last night."

The glass of tea she was holding fell from her hand onto the carpeted floor. Ice and tea spilled everywhere but neither one of them seemed to notice or care. Moira grabbed his arm before without realizing she'd done it. "You saw her? She's alive? How was she? Where did you see her? Did you tell the police?" All the questions came out in a breathless jumble. She sat back, fighting for breath now.

"No," he said.

Her eyes widened. "Why not?"

"Because they wouldn't be able to do anything for her."

She shook her head feeling as confused and unknowing as a young child. "I don't understand."

"Because the thing that infected the bear that attacked you is inside her now." Lane gulped down the rest of his tea as if saying this had greatly dehydrated him.

Moira got him another glass of iced tea. When she was seated again Lane told her what had happened the previous night: How Ramona had broken into his house and knocked him unconscious; how he'd been chased by a pack of wolves which were also infected. To Moira it sounded like something straight out of a horror novel or a nightmare. She found herself believing him - and wished she didn't.

"She came out of the cave," he said after taking another sip of his tea. Ice clinked against the side of the glass. "Carlos and Ted Magyer have seen it too. They were on the search party with me. The last time I went to look for it, it was gone. Then it was back when the bear took Carlos. And then again last night. I'm not sure how or why but I think the cave is where the plague comes from. I know it sounds crazy."

"No it doesn't. Before the bear took her I would have said you lost your fucking marbles but there was something wrong with that bear. Not just because of the way it looked but how it behaved. It wasn't natural."

"I'm sorry if it's not the news you wanted to hear," said Lane, "but I figured it was better than not knowing and being left in the dark."

"I appreciate you telling me. Can Ramona be saved?"

"I don't know." He looked down at his hands. "I'm going to try...but Moira I don't want you to get your hopes up. The person who gave me this jacket was taken by the plague too and I couldn't do a damned thing for him."

Now tears were filling his eyes and Moira was afraid he might start crying. And if he started crying she would start crying again. To her relief he turned his head away and looked back at her again when there were no tears in his eyes. Young people were funny like that Moira knew. They didn't want people to see how truly vulnerable they were.

"Will you show it to me?"

"The cave? I don't even know if it's there. If I take you all the way out to where it was and it's gone you'll just think I'm nuts."

"I don't. I believe you and I believe Carlos," she assures him. "I truly do."

"Okay," he said.

"Just let me change into a more suitable pair of pants since we're going on a hike."