by Alison
xalison@excite.com

Feedback:  Yes please:  xalison@excite.com
Website: http://netjeru.ma-at.net/SurrealArts/Annex.html
Category: Stand-alone Gunmen fic
Archive:  Ephemeral, Gossamer, LGM Bunker,
Countermeasures;  anywhere else, just ask.
Disclaimers: Not mine
Summary:  "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers;
for thereby some have entertained angels unawares."

Note:  I wanted to do a story showing the guys from
the point of view of a complete stranger.
 
 
 

Sometimes it seems like a dream, that night when the
four strangers turned up on my doorstep asking for
my help.  Help which they had no right to ask for, yet
which I gave without a second thought.

I suppose if you live alone in a little shack by the
road, fifteen miles from the nearest town, you're gonna
get the occasional traveller needing help.  Of course
there are a lot fewer travellers now than there used to
be in the days before the Crash.  Gas is scarce, and
expensive, and there are lots of different ways for
the government to discourage people from travelling.
It seems incredible to me sometimes, that only a couple
of years ago people thought nothing of driving fifty
miles to go visit friends for lunch, or just picking up
the phone and ordering a pizza from town fifteen miles
away.  I did it myself, in the days when I had a job,
and money, and security.  But times have changed.

Times are certainly a lot more dangerous, and maybe I
ought be more worried about living way out here by myself.
I tell myself that I'm safe enough;  anyone who knows
about me, knows I haven't got anything worth stealing.
I've made sure everyone knows that, and cultivated a
reputation as a slightly eccentric but harmless divorced
ex writer scraping a living on a little patch of land left
me by my grandmother.

So I have enough to live on with what my grandmother
left me, (which is a bit more than people think) plus the
occasional alimony check from Pete when he remembers
I still exist.

Truth is, though, I'd be more worried about living in town,
the way things are now.  Daily shootings, stabbings,
kids running wild, drugs being sold on every street
corner ... there's not much that passes for law and order
in my town any more, and I'm better off out of it.  But
even so, it reaches out and touches me sometimes.
Like that night.

It was a night just like tonight, cold, wet and windy.  I
couldn't sleep, and around 1 am I was curled up in my
big armchair with the cat on my lap, watching a late
movie and trying to ignore the wind whistling round
the house.   When I heard a bang outside, at first I
thought it was a branch falling off the tree in my front
yard.  Then I heard it again, louder; someone
knocking on the front door.   I went to the front
door and peered out cautiously through the peephole.
These days, you can't be too careful.

A man stood there, short and stocky, with one of those
faces that are so ugly you can't help but trust them.  I
called without opening the door.  "Yes?"

He hesitated.  "Uh, lady, sorry to bother you this late, but
... my friends and me, we need help and we were told that
maybe you could help us?"

My heart sank.  When did I get this reputation for helping
waifs and strays?  "What's wrong?"

"Well, we had a little trouble in town back there ...."

Oh shit. That could only mean one thing. "Yes?"

"... we had a run in with some kinda unfriendly people
and my friend got cut up badly, he needs stitching."

"Who told you about me?"

"Guy at the gas station, between here and town."

Shit again.  Thank you, thank you Mickey for dumping me
in it again.  One time, I helped him when he had a run in
with what passes for the law in town and he seems to
think I'm some kind of Mother Teresa.  I should probably
never have told him I had some medical training.  Every
time he or one of his friends gets mashed, he sends
them to me to be patched up.  Well, when the alternative
is the hospital in town, and everything that happens in
town gets back to the guys who run the place now, you
can see his point.

So if this guy had got caught up in any kind of trouble
there - well, what's the saying - "my enemy's enemy
is my friend?"

I opened the door cautiously and looked at him closer.
Close too, he was smaller than I'd thought, and older
too.  He spread his hands in a "don't worry" gesture.
A movement in the dark behind him startled me, and
I jumped.  As he turned, another man loomed up
out of the dark behind him.  Tall, this one, dark haired,
clean-shaven.    He spoke to the short guy.  "Any luck?"

Short looked back at me, questioningly.  I stepped back.

"Come in."

Tall walked back out on to the porch, and beckoned.

Up the path came two young men, one leaning on the
other for support.  Two tall young men, much of an age
but in every  other way as different as it was possible
to be.  The first as blond as a Viking, thin and lanky,
with a narrow beaky face framed by amazing long
bright blond hair.

The other ... dark.  Dark and beautiful.  I felt my jaw drop.
He was quite simply the most beautiful man I'd ever
laid eyes on.  Dark, thick chestnut brown hair shot
through with highlights of bronze and red,  a short,
meticulously trimmed reddish beard, and heart-stoppingly
intense blue eyes.  Eyes that were at present confused
and full of pain. The two men paused in the doorway
and he leaned even more against the blond, and I
could hear his harsh breathing.

Short went to his other side and took his arm.  "She says
she'll help."

Blond looked doubtful.  "Are ya sure?  Man, I have a really
bad feeling about this.  We don't know her - uh, no offence,
lady, but we don't know you, and -".  His voice was harsh and
grating, but it might just have been that he was afraid.

Dark spoke for the first time. His voice was soft and slightly
husky.  "You're right, guys ... this is too dangerous, we
shouldn't be here.  Miss" ... looking at me ... "we don't want
to cause you any trouble.  We'll go."

Short jumped on that immediately.  "Shaddup, buddy.
Do youwant to pass out on us halfway home?  We
need to get you fixed up, and quick.  Now if this lady
says she can help us, we take it, right?  None of your
"it's too dangerous" self sacrificing crap, okay?"

Dark turned to Tall for support, but he didn't get any.  The
mystery man shrugged.  "Don't expect any help from me."

Dark shook his head, smiling ruefully.  He caught my eye,
and my heart melted.  "See what I'm up against?"

How could I resist that smile?  But I had been lost since
the moment he walked through my door.  I took his
other arm and guided him through to the kitchen.  Once
there I made him sit on the long bench against the wall,
while I fetched my medical kit from the bathroom.  It was
pretty basic, all kinds of medical supplies are almost
impossible to get now unless you have contacts, which
I don't.  But I had enough for basic first aid.

Blond slid on to the bench beside him and helped him
get out of his sweater, working with extreme care and
gentleness, at variance with his abrupt manner.  Dark
winced and bit his lip when he had to raise his arms, but
he didn't complain.  Underneath he was wearing a
white teeshirt, ripped across the chest and soaked with
blood all down the front.  There was a bloodstained
makeshift bandage around his left arm.   I took my big
kitchen scissors from the dresser drawer and cut the
teeshirt off him.  Someone had stuck a large field dressing
across the top left side of his chest, a couple of inches
below the collar bone.

I carefully peeled the dressing off, trying hard not to hurt him.
Underneath was a very nasty sight, a large, jagged cut that
looked as if it might have been made by a broken bottle.
It had begun to bleed again as I removed the dressing
stuck to it.  I looked at it carefully without touching it.
"What was it, a bottle?"

Dark nodded tiredly.  I wasn't surprised.  I've seen that
kind of wound several times before in the last couple of
years.  It's the trademark of the hired muscle of the guys
who run things now.  A "warning", they call it.  Dark had
been lucky.  These guys only give one warning.  What
the hell had they been doing?  I wanted to know - but it
was probably safer not to ask.

I looked from one of them to the other.  "I've seen this
before.  I can guess who did this to you."

Short shifted uneasily but shut his mouth like a trap.
I went on.

"It's okay - I'm not going to ask any questions.  I already
know all I need to know.  You said this happened in town.
I'm guessing you had a close encounter with Stanton's
people.   I don't need to know how, or why.  I don't need
to know your names or what you were trying to do.
I think it's probably safer for all of us if I don't know."

Blond and Short exchanged another glance, and Short
nodded.

I touched Dark's hand gently.  "I can deal with this. But I'm
going to have to clean it out.  There might be glass in it."

He nodded.  "Whatever it takes ...."  Blond moved closer
and put an arm round his shoulders, pulling him back
against his chest, and Dark relaxed back against him.
I scrubbed my hands with soap and hot water and
unpacked my kit, sterile tweezers, suture kit and
dressings, poured antiseptic into a bowl and put on
one of my last pairs of disposable surgical gloves.
"Ready?"

The other two guys had come in behind us and spread out.
Tall stayed by the window, peering out through
the blinds and then round the room, his eyes never still.
He missed nothing.  Something about his bearing said ...
what .. cop?  soldier?  I don't know.  I didn't ask.  He had
that look that you get with cops or soldiers, of a man who's
seen  more suffering and grief than most.  You get the
same look with priests - although I was pretty sure that
this one wasn't a priest.  But he was different, somehow
from the others - with them, but not of them.  I have good
antenna, and I'd picked up straight away that the other
three had a deep, strong bond. This one though - he
had a look of set-apartness in his eyes, as though he'd
seen things no-one should have to see.

Short just sat on the bench opposite.  He never said a
word, but he never took his eyes off what I was doing.
Whenever I looked up, there he was.  There was
something about him that warned you against under-
estimating him.  He might have looked like an elderly
bullfrog, but I would rather have approached a crazed
pit bull than messed with that man.  I knew exactly what
he was telling me without words;  if I hurt Dark any
more than I had to, my life wouldn't be worth living.

I've been told I have gentle hands, and I worked as
quickly and carefully as I could.  Dark shut his eyes
and clenched his jaw when I began to search the wound.
He only cried out once, when I had to probe deep after
one small piece of glass.  He screwed up his eyes and
flinched, but got himself quickly under control, only
trembling slightly.  Blond's hands tightened on his
shoulders and he whispered in his ear.  Dark let
his head fell back on Blond's shoulder and he
swallowed hard.  After a few seconds he opened
his eyes and looked at me apologetically.  "Sorry."

I touched his arm.  "It's okay, sorry about that."

He shook his head slightly, grimacing.  "I'm such a wimp..."

Blond looked at him almost angrily.  "Joh .. "  He broke
off abruptly. "Buddy, you know that's not true.  You're
the bravest man I know."

Short leaned forward.  "Amen to that."  He shifted that
gimlet gaze to me.  His eyes seemed to go right through
me.  I shook my head.  "I didn't hear anything."

He leaned back and his eyes softened, just a bit.
Judgement still reserved.  I would hate to have this
man as an enemy.

I turned back to my patient.  Blond shifted a little and
murmured something to him again, and he leaned
back against him with a sigh.  Blond's face twisted
in distress;  he looked like this was causing him as
much pain as his friend.

Finally I'd got all the glass out and irrigated the wound.
I got out a pad of clean linen and got Blond to make
firm pressure over the cut till the bleeding stopped,
while I got out needles and suture thread.  This would
be the hard part.  "I'm sorry, I don't have any local
anaesthetic."

He whispered "Okay ..."  Blond squeezed his hand and
addressed me directly for the first time.  "Just get on with it."

I worked as quickly as I could, putting in eight stitches in
the jagged wound.  Dark was trembling slightly, breathing
raggedly.  Blond was whispering in his ear all the time, his
hand running reassuringly up and down Dark's arm.  I
taped a new dressing over the wound and looked
carefully at my patient.

He had his eyes shut now, and his face had got paler,
if possible.  His skin was cold and slick.  I told Tall
where he would find blankets on the bed in the spare
room upstairs, and he went without complaint.  When
he came back I tucked the blanket round Dark's shoulders
and he leaned back against Blond again with a murmur of
thanks.

I turned to the second wound, the one in his arm.  That
turned out to be a straight, long slash the length of his
bicep, bloody but not too deep.  "I think we can get away
without stitching this one."  He opened his eyes (such
long lashes he had) and gave me a little grateful smile.
A lovely mouth too ... I caught myself, aware I'd been
staring, and saw the end of a knowing look between
Blond and Short.  Well, I don't suppose I was
the first woman to fall for this guy at first glance.

I cleaned up his arm and  bridged the cut with skin closure
strips, putting another dressing over the top.  "All done."
His whispered "Thanks" was almost inaudible.

Short picked up the tattered remains of the teeshirt
and the blood-soaked sweater off the floor.
I held out my hands for them.  "He can't put those back on
again, they're ruined.  Give them to me, I'll get rid of them."

"Burn them."  That was Dark, in a desperately tired,
pain-filled voice.  "They're evidence, if anyone comes
looking for us and finds them, they'll incriminate you."

"Yeah, but we haven't got any spare clothes." Blond
objected.

"I'll find you something."  I pointed towards the wood stove
in the corner of the kitchen.  "You can burn them in there.
And all that too-"  indicating the mess of bloodstained
dressings and wrappers on the kitchen table.

"-and make some tea, you'll find everything in the cupboard
over the sink."

Dark shook his head.  "No, you've done enough for us.  We
should be on our way as soon as we can."  He got to his feet,
too quickly because he swayed and almost fell. Blond caught
him and pushed him back down, wrapping one arm round
his shoulders.

I left them to it and went upstairs and dug out a baggy
teeshirt I never wore because it was too big, and the
Navy sweater that had belonged to my brother.  He was
never going to need it again.

Coming downstairs again I could hear a low murmur of
voices from the kitchen - the only word I could make out
was "Stanton".  That confirmed what I had already
guessed.  Stanton Chemicals.

It used to be an ordinary,  family-run company that
employed most of the people in the town - the sort of
place where families work there for generations,
grandfather, father and son.  The trouble started two
or three years ago, after the stock market Crash.
The firm was taken over by an international conglomerate.
 It was then that things started to go wrong.

They started a programme of massive expansion - at the
same time as turning out most of the long established
employees and bringing in their own people.  The whole
place was put under massive security, and no-one knew
what was going on in there anymore. They had a pretty
good idea though, when fish in the local streams all died,
then livestock in the pastures nearest the rivers got sick
and died.  Then the children started getting sick,
unexplained fevers and constant allergies.  The town doctor
had been "encouraged" to leave shortly after all this began,
and the replacement was a company doctor.

It soon became pretty clear they'd bought not just the
company, but the whole town.  Anyone who complained
was subjected to intimidation;  threats against their
families, damage to their property was just the start.
The town sheriff, a fit man in his fifties, unaccountably
took early retirement due to "poor health".

It got worse.  One guy who tried to take the story to the
local TV station ended up dead in his car in the river.
Two mothers tried to lead a protest march on the plant -
one had her house burn down, the other disappeared
without trace.  Since then the town has been in a state
of fear.  If these guys had been messing with Stanton -
they were lucky to be alive.

They broke off as soon as they heard my step on the
stairs.  Short turned to face me, stepping in front of the
other two like a wolf protecting its young.

I raised my hands reassuringly.  "I told you, I already
guessed.  Stanton."

"We owe you  ... an explanation if nothing else."  Dark
spoke from the corner where he was still sitting.
He looked exhausted.  Blond was holding a mug of
tea for him, trying to get him to take a sip.  He leaned
forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was
soft and hoarse.

"We're ... investigative journalists.  You were right, we
were trying to get to the truth of what's happening at the
plant."

"You're not the first, not by a long way.  Just tell me one
thing.  Did you get what you went for?"

Their silence confirmed what I had feared.  They all shifted
uneasily, all except Dark, who hadn't moved except to bury
his head in his hands.  Blond rested a hand on his back,
rubbing gently.

"We ... no, I ... screwed up again.  We nearly had it, and
we lost it. Dammit, it happens every time.  We get the
evidence, we have it in our hands and we lose it.  I'm
sorry guys, I fucked up again.  If I'd been more careful,
I hadn't walked straight into those security guys ..."

Tall spoke from behind us, making me jump.  He'd been so
quiet, I'd almost forgotten he was there.  "Bullshit."

They all turned as one and looked at him.  He walked over
and squatted on the floor in front of Dark, looking up into his
face.  "Will you stop beating yourself about this?  It could've
been any one of us.   It comes with the territory, man.
You know it.  You made that decision when you set out.
You believe in what you're doing;  you know
you're gonna lose more than you win.  But you keep going.
You keep the faith."

He squeezed Dark's shoulders and after a while Dark
nodded and gave a small smile.  "Yeah."

I turned away from the tableau, feeling an intruder in my
own house.  Short was standing next to me.  "Does this
happen often?"

He snorted.  "Well, usually he just gets himself beaten
up, but yeah, it happens."

"And you?"

He smiled.  "Sometimes."

"But you go on doing it?"

He shrugged.  "Someone has to. Specially now."

We stood watching as the two others helped Dark to stand
and put on the clothing I'd given him. Tall came over to us.
"We'd better be going."

"Have you got transport?"  I hadn't seen how they'd arrived.

Tall nodded.  "Yeah, I parked round the back."

I pointed towards the back door.  "Go out that way, it's quicker."
I opened the door for him, and as he passed me he looked
closely at me.  I realised that the gold crucifix I wear, usually
hidden under my shirt, had slipped out.  He pointed at it.
"Are you a Catholic?"

"No, just a Christian.  You?"

"Nope.  But I have a friend who is."  He smiled at me.  "I'll
ask her to pray for you."

"I'll pray for you all, too."

He grinned and was gone.

===000===
 

I went with them to the front door.  Blond had his arm
round Dark's shoulders, guiding him real slow and
careful. I opened the door for them and they stepped
out on the porch.  Dark held out his hand to me.
"We can never thank you enough, for what you've done."

I took his hand.  Part of my mind noted with relief that it
was warmer now.  He'd be all right.  I looked up at him.
God, he was beautiful.  I couldn't pull my eyes away from
his.  Blue, beautiful eyes that could drag your soul right
out of your body.  On impulse I leaned up on tiptoe and
kissed his cheek.  He put his hands on my shoulders
and patted gently.  Blond cleared his throat ostentatiously,
and he smiled.  "Okay, Blondie, let's go."

I turned to Blond and smiled at him too.   He grinned kind
of awkward, leaned down and kissed my cheek.  His long
blond hair tickled my neck.  When he straightened up he
was grinning even more, like a big kid.  I patted his face
and nodded sideways towards Dark.  "You take care
of him, now."  He went a little bit pink and nodded.

They walked down the front path away from me, Dark
leaning heavily on Blond, with my blanket still wrapped
round his shoulders.  Just as they got to the gate a beat
up old van pulled up at the gate, Tall driving.  He got down
and opened the doors, and the two of them helped Dark
into the back.

I realised Short was still standing beside me.  He took
my hand, gently, and just looked into my face.  Then he
kissed my hand.  Properly, bending low over it with a
courtly bow. His lips just brushed the back of my hand,
and his bristly stubble grazed my knuckes.  When he
straightened up - he was only a little bit taller than me -
I realised for the first time how kind his eyes were
behind the spectacles.  He held my hand a little longer.
"Thank you - for everything."

I didn't know what to say, any more than he did.  This
shouldn't happen, that people blow into your life and
out again like a dream in the middle of the night.
Ships that pass in the night - what can you say in a
situation like that?  "Take care, all of you."

He nodded, squeezed my hand one last time and turned
away.  At the gate he turned again, raised one hand in a
half salute, and climbed quickly into the back of the van.
The last thing I saw was Blond's face looking out of the
window, just a pale blur for a second before it pulled
away and disappeared into the windy dark, and they
were gone.

===000===
 

All that happened nearly a year ago.

I never heard from them.  And no-one ever came looking.

I think about them often.  Who were they?  Where did they
come from,  and where were they going?  I could have
gone into town and asked some questions, someone
surely must have known what happened.  But I'm not that
dumb.  So I guess I'll never know, now.  But I wonder.

I hope they got home all right.
 

END