"Close" (starker)
30 Dec 2023 12:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elisheva_mA short story. Comments welcome.
This is a partial return to an earlier, starker version. Something has been lost in adding more detail.
Now that I've had some time away from this story, I find something very curious each time I come back to it - my experience of reading it is markedly different on first and third re-readings. Somehow something shifts, like I'm settling into the rhythm of this part of their lives.
Two men enter an abandoned industrial building. One leans heavily on the other, unable to bear his weight on an injured leg.
The other man looks around and sees stairs in the corner. "Over there." He keeps his voice low. Together they make their way across the floor and slowly climb.
He guides his companion to a closed off area on the upper floor and helps him sit. The injured man grimaces in pain but remains silent.
"Wait here. I'll find somewhere more secure." He leaves the space and walks warily around the open area, scanning the room, all shadows and the white blue glare of industrial lighting filtering through the grime on the windows. He picks up a metal pipe.
In a dark corner he spots a ladder bolted onto the wall. Some rungs are damaged by rust but he finds enough are sound he can climb to a hatch in the ceiling.
The hatch sticks briefly before it opens. Two more rungs and he's able to look around the space above it. The only light comes through vented windows. The air is stale and close but it will do. He lays the pipe on the attic floor.
He gingerly makes his way back down and across the open area to his companion. "Come," he says. "One more push and you can rest." He kneels next to him and puts an arm under his shoulders to help him stand. The injured man nods weakly, then leans against him for a moment before rising.
"It's in that corner." The healthy man nods in the direction they need to go. "You can do it." They cross to the ladder, their progress slowed as they negotiate their way around accumulated debris. "Up there. We'll be safe." Then, "lean against me. I'll brace you." He moves behind the injured man. They both take hold of the ladder. The injured man hauls himself up, rung by rung, his companion steadying and lifting him.
A rusted rung gives way. "I've got you," he says.
"Won't be doing that again," the injured man pants as they complete their climb and he collapses on the floor of the attic.
His companion holds onto him. "We'll be ok," he whispers.
The man lowers the hatch back into place and moves a large heavy box over it. He hopes it and the broken rungs will be enough deterrence if anyone comes looking.
He works quickly but quietly to clear a small area in a dark corner far from the hatch, piling the debris which had been there around it.
He returns to the injured man and helps him stand again. "This is it. You can do it." He looks at the low haphazard barrier of debris he's made. It's small camouflage but perhaps it will be enough.
The injured man is too weak to walk. His companion gathers his own strength, then lifts him on his back to take him there.
In the corner, he lowers the injured man to the ground near the wall. He sits behind him, holding him against his chest. "Water. You need to drink." He takes a small bottle from a pocket of his jacket and helps his companion sip from it. It is all they have, the contents of his hip flask sacrificed to clean his companion's wound.
They sit quietly in the darkness. "We're safe," he whispers, "we're safe."
He is exhausted and depleted too but for now he'll be the one who holds strong. There is no other choice.
His companion slumps and nods as he surrenders to the deepness of his fatigue. The man helps him lay down and folds his jacket into a pillow, easing it under his head. He lays next to him, close enough to touch. He reaches a hand out for reassurance. His companion is already asleep.
When he wakes the next day, shafts of sunlight come through the window vents. He guesses that it's mid day. His companion's breathing is shallow in the stagnant air. He checks the makeshift bandages on the injured man's leg. Everything seems to be in place. He lays back down to rest and wait.
The angle of the sun shafts indicates it's a few hours later. The injured man wakes and watches his companion sleeping fitfully. They have been through so much together.
His movement rouses the other man. They look at each other for a long moment in the dim shadowed light of the corner.
"How do you feel?"
"Been through worse." His voice is rough and full of gravel.
"I'll get you painkillers when I go out."
"Don't take the chance, I'll manage."
"We need food and water. I'll go. When it's dark."
He crawls back to lean against the wall and cradle his companion against himself, hands over hands. They watch the sun shafts in silence.
The white blue glare of the industrial lights has returned when they wake again. The healthy man checks for his wallet in his back pocket. "Don't go," his companion says quietly.
"I have too. We've not eaten since yesterday," he replies. "I might be a bit of time. Better to go to a shop farther away." He does not take his jacket. It's not a disguise but it's the only difference he can make to his appearance.
At the hatch, he finds the pipe he had placed there before. He glances back at his companion. He won't be able to defend himself anyway. Best to leave it there. He's scared enough already.
The man starts to descend. He pauses briefly and climbs back up a rung. He hides the pipe under some debris. There's no point in leaving a weapon handy.
He makes his way to the door of the building and listens. It seems still and quiet. He slides out and quickly darts into the alley, hiding in the darkness. He waits, but no one shows himself. He decides it's safe enough to leave his companion alone and slips down the alley. He takes narrow back lanes and side streets until he has to emerge to enter a shop. Inside he buys food, water, toilet roll, antiseptic, bandages, painkillers and two brimmed baseball caps. The bored clerk barely looks up from his phone as he shoves the goods into two carrier bags.
Back in the alley outside the abandoned building, the man waits and listens before entering. He looks around the ground floor again and considers the pros and cons of leaning a piece of wood against the door as a makeshift alarm. They wouldn't hear it in the attic, he decides, and it might raise suspicions. He leaves it alone and returns up the ladder.
"It's me," he says as he lifts the hatch. He moves the heavy box back over it and picks up the pipe.
The injured man is weak. He helps him sit up. "This will make you feel better," he says, giving him a painkiller and helping him with the water. "Food too."
"I'm glad you're back." His companion's voice is ragged.
He holds him close in the faint white blue light.
They wake earlier the next day. The healthy man goes to the window vents and looks out. He decides it's worth the risk to move his companion to the better light to dress his wound. He breathes the fresher air. This will help.
The injured man is looking at him from the corner.
He goes back over to him. "Are you up to walking?" he asks. "Some movement will do you good."
"Yes. I've not seen your face clearly since we came here."
Together they walk to the window vents. The man helps his companion sit and lean against the wall under them. His companion reaches out to touch his face, slats of sunlight across it. "It's good to see you again."
He holds his companion's hand there. He wants to be weak, just for a moment, but there are still things to do. "I'm here," he says.
He goes back to their corner to get the carrier bags with the rest of the food, water and medical supplies. They need to eat, to drink. He examines the bandages on his companion's leg before he unwraps them. He hopes it didn't bleed through to leave a trace to their hiding place.
His companion is watching his face, trying to read his worries. "It looks alright. Let's get this sorted properly," he tells him.
He carefully cleans the wound and dresses it with the supplies he bought. "There you go."
He looks at his companion. They smile gently at each other through the dusty haze of slatted sunlight. Maybe this will be alright after all.
The day is spent mostly in silence, observing the sun move and listening to the sounds on the broken edge of the city and each other's breathing. It is enough to be together and to rest here awhile. The injured man lays back down, his head in his companion's lap. From here he can watch his partner's face as he strokes his hair. It is enough.
This is a partial return to an earlier, starker version. Something has been lost in adding more detail.
Now that I've had some time away from this story, I find something very curious each time I come back to it - my experience of reading it is markedly different on first and third re-readings. Somehow something shifts, like I'm settling into the rhythm of this part of their lives.
Two men enter an abandoned industrial building. One leans heavily on the other, unable to bear his weight on an injured leg.
The other man looks around and sees stairs in the corner. "Over there." He keeps his voice low. Together they make their way across the floor and slowly climb.
He guides his companion to a closed off area on the upper floor and helps him sit. The injured man grimaces in pain but remains silent.
"Wait here. I'll find somewhere more secure." He leaves the space and walks warily around the open area, scanning the room, all shadows and the white blue glare of industrial lighting filtering through the grime on the windows. He picks up a metal pipe.
In a dark corner he spots a ladder bolted onto the wall. Some rungs are damaged by rust but he finds enough are sound he can climb to a hatch in the ceiling.
The hatch sticks briefly before it opens. Two more rungs and he's able to look around the space above it. The only light comes through vented windows. The air is stale and close but it will do. He lays the pipe on the attic floor.
He gingerly makes his way back down and across the open area to his companion. "Come," he says. "One more push and you can rest." He kneels next to him and puts an arm under his shoulders to help him stand. The injured man nods weakly, then leans against him for a moment before rising.
"It's in that corner." The healthy man nods in the direction they need to go. "You can do it." They cross to the ladder, their progress slowed as they negotiate their way around accumulated debris. "Up there. We'll be safe." Then, "lean against me. I'll brace you." He moves behind the injured man. They both take hold of the ladder. The injured man hauls himself up, rung by rung, his companion steadying and lifting him.
A rusted rung gives way. "I've got you," he says.
"Won't be doing that again," the injured man pants as they complete their climb and he collapses on the floor of the attic.
His companion holds onto him. "We'll be ok," he whispers.
The man lowers the hatch back into place and moves a large heavy box over it. He hopes it and the broken rungs will be enough deterrence if anyone comes looking.
He works quickly but quietly to clear a small area in a dark corner far from the hatch, piling the debris which had been there around it.
He returns to the injured man and helps him stand again. "This is it. You can do it." He looks at the low haphazard barrier of debris he's made. It's small camouflage but perhaps it will be enough.
The injured man is too weak to walk. His companion gathers his own strength, then lifts him on his back to take him there.
In the corner, he lowers the injured man to the ground near the wall. He sits behind him, holding him against his chest. "Water. You need to drink." He takes a small bottle from a pocket of his jacket and helps his companion sip from it. It is all they have, the contents of his hip flask sacrificed to clean his companion's wound.
They sit quietly in the darkness. "We're safe," he whispers, "we're safe."
He is exhausted and depleted too but for now he'll be the one who holds strong. There is no other choice.
His companion slumps and nods as he surrenders to the deepness of his fatigue. The man helps him lay down and folds his jacket into a pillow, easing it under his head. He lays next to him, close enough to touch. He reaches a hand out for reassurance. His companion is already asleep.
When he wakes the next day, shafts of sunlight come through the window vents. He guesses that it's mid day. His companion's breathing is shallow in the stagnant air. He checks the makeshift bandages on the injured man's leg. Everything seems to be in place. He lays back down to rest and wait.
The angle of the sun shafts indicates it's a few hours later. The injured man wakes and watches his companion sleeping fitfully. They have been through so much together.
His movement rouses the other man. They look at each other for a long moment in the dim shadowed light of the corner.
"How do you feel?"
"Been through worse." His voice is rough and full of gravel.
"I'll get you painkillers when I go out."
"Don't take the chance, I'll manage."
"We need food and water. I'll go. When it's dark."
He crawls back to lean against the wall and cradle his companion against himself, hands over hands. They watch the sun shafts in silence.
The white blue glare of the industrial lights has returned when they wake again. The healthy man checks for his wallet in his back pocket. "Don't go," his companion says quietly.
"I have too. We've not eaten since yesterday," he replies. "I might be a bit of time. Better to go to a shop farther away." He does not take his jacket. It's not a disguise but it's the only difference he can make to his appearance.
At the hatch, he finds the pipe he had placed there before. He glances back at his companion. He won't be able to defend himself anyway. Best to leave it there. He's scared enough already.
The man starts to descend. He pauses briefly and climbs back up a rung. He hides the pipe under some debris. There's no point in leaving a weapon handy.
He makes his way to the door of the building and listens. It seems still and quiet. He slides out and quickly darts into the alley, hiding in the darkness. He waits, but no one shows himself. He decides it's safe enough to leave his companion alone and slips down the alley. He takes narrow back lanes and side streets until he has to emerge to enter a shop. Inside he buys food, water, toilet roll, antiseptic, bandages, painkillers and two brimmed baseball caps. The bored clerk barely looks up from his phone as he shoves the goods into two carrier bags.
Back in the alley outside the abandoned building, the man waits and listens before entering. He looks around the ground floor again and considers the pros and cons of leaning a piece of wood against the door as a makeshift alarm. They wouldn't hear it in the attic, he decides, and it might raise suspicions. He leaves it alone and returns up the ladder.
"It's me," he says as he lifts the hatch. He moves the heavy box back over it and picks up the pipe.
The injured man is weak. He helps him sit up. "This will make you feel better," he says, giving him a painkiller and helping him with the water. "Food too."
"I'm glad you're back." His companion's voice is ragged.
He holds him close in the faint white blue light.
They wake earlier the next day. The healthy man goes to the window vents and looks out. He decides it's worth the risk to move his companion to the better light to dress his wound. He breathes the fresher air. This will help.
The injured man is looking at him from the corner.
He goes back over to him. "Are you up to walking?" he asks. "Some movement will do you good."
"Yes. I've not seen your face clearly since we came here."
Together they walk to the window vents. The man helps his companion sit and lean against the wall under them. His companion reaches out to touch his face, slats of sunlight across it. "It's good to see you again."
He holds his companion's hand there. He wants to be weak, just for a moment, but there are still things to do. "I'm here," he says.
He goes back to their corner to get the carrier bags with the rest of the food, water and medical supplies. They need to eat, to drink. He examines the bandages on his companion's leg before he unwraps them. He hopes it didn't bleed through to leave a trace to their hiding place.
His companion is watching his face, trying to read his worries. "It looks alright. Let's get this sorted properly," he tells him.
He carefully cleans the wound and dresses it with the supplies he bought. "There you go."
He looks at his companion. They smile gently at each other through the dusty haze of slatted sunlight. Maybe this will be alright after all.
The day is spent mostly in silence, observing the sun move and listening to the sounds on the broken edge of the city and each other's breathing. It is enough to be together and to rest here awhile. The injured man lays back down, his head in his companion's lap. From here he can watch his partner's face as he strokes his hair. It is enough.
