Decoy and Retrofit: Chapter 3

“Ugh,” Noel said, “I think we need to change the tire.”

Griffin blinked and sat up blearily. He had dozed off. But they couldn’t have been on the road for more than two hours–the sun was still high in the sky.

He stared out the window. They were in a dead town, with dusty buildings and dead traffic lights and potholes in the road. He wondered where they were before a jolt of memory coursed through him.

Griffin whipped around, searching for the wardog.

“Tiny’s in the fridge bit,” Noel said without being asked. “Cooler back there.”

It wasn’t particularly warm, but Griffin wasn’t going to argue with an alien monster. “All right,” he said, turning back around, letting his head rest against the seat. How Griffin had managed to fall asleep with a murder machine in the backseat was beyond him. If it had left the cab willingly, Griffin wasn’t going to fight it.

“Where are we?” Griffin asked, letting his legs stretch outward, rolling his ankles around in his boots.

“Penticton,” Noel grunted.

“Oh.”

He should have been able to tell right away, this was familiar territory. Scraping around the edge of Lake Okanogan, Penticton was a ghost town on a beach. Surrounded by scrubby, sun-bleached hills, carcasses of golf courses, and motels with dead shrubs out front, it hadn’t ever been a destination town as much as a cozy community. Suburbs with dead lawns, gas stations with stagnant numbers. Griffin could still remember how it had looked before the fallout from Kelowna came through, seeping down the lake, leeching life from the town as its people fled.

Kelowna.

Griffin curled against the smashed window, holding Noel’s jacket around his shoulders.

He wondered what it looked like now. He hadn’t gone back, there was no reason to go back, or even travel through. The bridge that connected the sides of the lake was gone. There was nothing left but a blast point, overgrown and dusty. Griffin would think about it sometimes, the people, the city. Getting drunk and cannonballing into the river. Running through the vineyards looking for bugs. Going to movies at the old theater. Careening down the mountain on their bikes, the view of the lake falling under them.

The nest of a community that had been his home for fourteen years.

“Penticton’s looking different,” Noel said idly as they drove through.

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry,” said Noel. “For yelling at you.”

Griffin glanced over. Noel was staring out at the road, fisting the gearstick, something working in his jaw.

Noel kept talking. “It’s weird being in the Outlie, you know. You get people’s emotions in your head. You forget who you are sometimes.”

People. They’re not people. “Oh,” Griffin grunted, staring out at the desert. “Okay.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Noel murmured. “I’m sorry for yelling.”

Why are you pretending to be a good guy, Noel? “It’s okay,” Griffin said.

There wasn’t much for Noel to apologize for. Griffin hadn’t been scared. Momentarily horrified with a healthy mix of horny wasn’t the same thing as scared. Besides, he had lied to Noel’s face. He didn’t deserve an apology.

But he wasn’t going to mention that anytime soon.

Griffin didn’t see Noel’s hand coming this time. His hand shifted over Griffin’s head, weaving fingers through Griffin’s hair, patting his head.

Griffin pressed his mouth into a line, hiding the bubbling frenzy in his stomach as Noel combed his alien fingers through Griffin’s hair. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh from between his lips, allowing the black emotions swirling in his mind to numb as the world shrank to the size of the truck.

It felt nice. Quiet, safe. Soft.

Which was when the truck busted a tire in a pothole the size of a beach ball.

***

They stopped at a rundown Super Save Gas down the road, and Griffin got to work.

He had years of this shit under his belt, repairing ATVs, trucks, old cars. The tire was just a simple fix. Nothing was broken or dented, and there was a spare tire in the chassis, if Brand had remembered to actually replace it after the last time the truck tire had busted.

Noel had gotten out of the truck to watch him, standing off to the side awkwardly, like he was on standby if Griffin needed help. Griffin didn’t know when it became obvious that he was fine on his own, but Noel wandered off sometime after Griffin jacked the truck up.

Griffin didn’t mind too much; he didn’t need company while he focused, loosening lug nuts and wrestling with the wheel. The new wheel was thinner, a temporary replacement, but it went on easily enough. Griffin kept at it, feeling the sun beat against the back of his neck and through his thin shirt, focused enough that he didn’t notice the dog was out until something cold and wet gently touched the back of his thigh.

“Ah,” Griffin breathed, turning around. “What th–”

He came face-to-face with a massive jaw. A lolling tongue dripping spittle on the ground. A mouth that was still red with blood from the deer, teeth stained a dark brown.

Griffin froze on the spot and swallowed. When he was on his knees, the dog was taller than him.

“Noel,” Griffin called, gripping the spanner in his hand, not taking his eyes off the creature. “Noel.”

No response. The dog cocked its head, sitting back a bit.

“Oh,” Griffin breathed, his heart fluttering. “What do you want?”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Yeah, I know you don’t like me, ugly. Sorry,” Griffin bit out. “We can’t all be fucking heroes in this life.”

The dog growled.

Although it wasn’t much of a growl. To imply it was a growl meant the dog was like a dog. This growl was guttural but high-pitched, full of a clicking noise that seemed to pick its way into Griffin’s ears and shudder into his nerves.

Griffin breathed shallowly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t have a choice. NOEL!”

Noel didn’t respond.

Griffin glanced between the truck and the dog, and stood up slowly. Very slowly, every muscle tense as a bowstring as he eased himself up to his full height. Then, as quietly as he could manage, Griffin stepped backward, his boots lightly scuffing the concrete as his pulse raged in his ears.

His back hit the hot metal of the ice cream truck.

Then the dog snorted. As if it was bored with him, it turned and walked out of the gas station, lumbering toward the road.

Griffin felt all the air gathered in his lungs whoosh out at once. He staggered back, grasped for the truck door, and hauled himself into the cab.

Noel was the first thing he saw. Noel, splayed out across the cab bench, narcoleptic as ever. Just lying there, bundled up in the coat that Griffin had slept in, his head lolling on one shoulder, his blue hair scattered across his face.

Griffin made himself breathe slowly, in through his nose and out through his mouth. He closed his eyes, fighting down the rising panic in his chest. Noel was just sleeping. He had been sleeping this whole time.

Idiot. What an idiot.

Griffin moved before he could think about it too much. Shuffling by his bruised knees, sliding himself against Noel’s sleeping body. Griffin propped himself up by his hands, loomed over Noel’s face, and leaned down into him.

When he drew back from the kiss, Noel was watching him.

“What are you doing?” Noel asked, his voice thick with sleep.

Griffin smirked. “Waking you up, idiot,” he breathed.

“You done with the tire?” asked Noel.

“Yeah, it took me like four seconds,” Griffin growled. He slid his hand up to Noel’s face, cutting his fingers through his hair. “Why are you sleeping?”

Noel frowned, staring off into something beyond Griffin’s shoulder. Griffin moved his face there, raising his eyebrows as Noel’s brow furrowed deeper.

“Tiny?” Noel asked.

Griffin shrugged, and leaned down for another kiss, pressing his lips against the corner of Noel’s mouth. “You tell me, you’re the one with a psychic link to it.”

Noel still looked faded when Griffin drew back, hazy in the eyes as he lay there in the truck. It was a familiar expression, the stare of someone drugged-out on a plane of reality that Griffin would never have access to.

It made him want to destroy something.

Griffin kissed him again, harder, longer. He licked his lips and let them slide slickly across Noel’s, warming under his breath as dry softness unfolded into wet heat. Wide mouths, smooth presses of tongue, heavy breath lingering between them as Griffin pushed deeper against Noel.

And then he broke away, and took in the sight.

Noel was staring up at him, his pupils blown wide, breathing out of his mouth, his cheeks flushed dark and soft. Griffin drank it all in, trying to keep his head knowing that the more he pushed Noel, the more he would get to see this face.

“I’m sober now,” Griffin breathed like a threat. “I want it.”

Noel blinked. “Griff–”

He wasn’t paying attention. Griffin slid down Noel’s body, shaking fingers snapping the button on Noel’s fly, dragging his zipper down.

“Griff,” breathed Noel. “You’ve grown up.”

Griffin grunted, scrambling at the zipper, yanking it down. Black underwear. “Stunning observation,” he growled.

“I mean it,” Noel whispered. “You’ve become a handsome young man.”

It was all Griffin could do to not throw up in the truck. He settled for staring at Noel like he was from space. What the fuck. Griffin was fully aware that he was doing this dressed as a teenage girl, in the front seat of a hijacked ice cream truck. Heartwarming remarks had absolutely no place here, so Noel could fuck off with the romance. Griffin wasn’t here for sweet words, just for nostalgia, dick, and condescendingly dismissive attitude.

He grabbed Noel’s hand, glowing and blue, and pushed it against the back of his head.

“Shut up,” Griffin breathed, leaning in and showing his teeth. “Pull my hair.”

“Wait, Griff–”

Griffin didn’t wait for Noel to wax poetic about his eyes, and went straight to getting Noel’s dick out of his pants. Unsurprisingly, it was right where Griffin had left it. He glanced up at Noel’s face above him with a smirk.

Noel looked like someone had punched him in the face. He let out a breathy moan. “Griff, wait–”

Griffin ignored him and took him into his mouth.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the warmth of Noel’s stomach, digging his nails against the skin of Noel’s thighs. His free hand scrabbled for Noel’s fingers, pushing his hand harder against the back of his head.

“Griff, Griff.”

“Harder,” Griffin gasped, coming up for air, looking at Noel down the plane of his stomach, directly into his eyes.

“Wh–Griff, no, I can’t–”

“Come on, Noel, don’t be a fucking pussy.”

Noel let out a strangled yell as Griffin grabbed his wrist and pinned his hand against his head.

“Griff–”

Griffin ignored him and choked. Yep, this was what he was here for.

“Griff–” Noel moaned, his fingers twisting into Griffin’s hair, the pain shooting right to Griffin’s dick. “Oh my god, Griff.”

Griffin looked up. Noel looked like a fucking wreck, staring down at Griffin like he was the only thing in the world worth living for.

And then Noel finished, and Griffin inhaled roughly.

“Oh my god, Griff. Jesus.” Noel gasped, blinking his eyes, tears streaming out the sides. “Sorry. Sorry.”

Griffin just shrugged, and when he was done, pulled his mouth off and sat back on his ass, staring up at Noel through tear-blurred eyes.

Noel lay there, red and sweaty and incoherent. His shirt was dark and damp with sweat, his face flushed and hair slicked back under the grip of his fingers. He looked up at Griffin, sitting between his legs, and Griffin felt a spike of power surge through him, tightening his chest and curling in his gut.

Griffin didn’t bother glancing down at the situation tenting the front of his skirt. He already knew how it looked. He kept staring at Noel’s heaving, sweaty chest as he slid his boxers down until they fell around his ankles.

“Wait, Griff.”

Griffin ignored him, staring hard as he reached for himself, back hunching as he became overwhelmed by the stimulus. “Fuck, Noel, fuck.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, grip tightening, when he felt the familiar calluses of Noel’s hands on him. Running fingers through his hair, down his thighs, sliding under Griffin’s skirt to join his own hand.

And then Griffin was pushing himself through it, crying against Noel’s chest as he came undone.

They lay there for a solid moment, saying nothing between them. Griffin let his noises out, hoarse coughs and rough sobs, as warm hands drew circles across his back, rubbed against his skull, soothed him down from his high. He shuffled, wiping his hand against the seat cushion, rubbing the wetness on his face with his sleeve. But before he could move, warm hands moved over his chin and pulling his face up.

Griffin blinked. Noel was looking at him, wiping the tears away from his eyes, the spit from his mouth, the snot from his nose.

“Don’t,” Griffin murmured hoarsely, trying to bat him away with a hand. “Noel, don’t.”

Noel ignored him. He tucked Griffin’s hair behind his ears and stared at him like he was the most precious thing in the universe.

“Griff,” Noel whispered, overwhelmed. “Was I always in love with you like this?”

If there was a statement that could cut through the haze of orgasm like a lightning bolt, it was that one.

Griffin, caught in the nest of Noel’s hands, stared at Noel like he had grown a second head. It was a suspicion that he had been harboring for a long time, one that he hadn’t had much time to think about, but now that it was staring him in the face, Griffin couldn’t ignore it.

“Noel,” Griffin asked, his voice cracking. “How much can you actually remember about me?”

But as soon as Griffin said it, he knew he wasn’t getting an answer.

Noel had passed out.

***

Lake Okanogan was as cold as it normally was in October.

It wasn’t much of a surprise, but Griffin didn’t have many options. He stripped down to nothing, pulled his fingers through the knots in his hair, rinsed stains out of his skirt and off his skin. He was covered in sweat and fluids from various sources, and he wanted nothing more than a heated tub to sink into, to let his hair float along the surface like seaweed while his mouth bubbled at the water line.

But they were in Penticton in October, so he stood in the lake as far as his groin would allow and splashed water on himself. He was too distracted to care about the temperature.

Something was wrong with Noel, and Griffin didn’t know what.

Griffin didn’t know what had happened to Noel over their five years apart, but it was enough for him to wonder how much of Noel was even left in there at this point. And now, while Noel was passed out in the truck, Griffin couldn’t even get reassurance. He couldn’t listen to Noel talk about life when they were kids, doing stupid things, playing the guitar, and hanging out with Apollo.

He could just stand here, naked in a lake, staring at the black dot moving across the horizon.

Griffin squinted.

He had been watching it, assuming it was a bird. But it was a bit bigger than a dot now, more like a smudge against the blue sky. A growing black smudge.

Griffin stared at it for a second longer before charging out of the lake.

He yanked his drying socks on wet feet, slid his soaked underwear and skirt and shirt against his skin as they chilled him straight to the core. Griffin barely noticed. He was kicking his boots on, tucking in the laces as fast as he could when he heard a sound far-off in the distance, thin on the breeze.

A dull roar.

Griffin scrambled up the sandy dune and charged toward the gas station where he had left the truck and Noel, his boots catching against the cracks in the pavement and the sand and shrubs cutting across the road. He ran, fire in his lungs, throat raw with panic, as the roar rose in volume.

He reached the gas station. The truck door was still open where he had left it, Noel splayed out in the driver’s seat. “Noel,” Griffin yelled, leaning over him. He could see slivers of white under Noel’s eyelids; he was dead to the world. “NOEL.”

Noel didn’t move.

Something was wrong, something had been wrong this whole time. Why hadn’t he noticed until now? Noel’s narcoleptic sessions were more than just sleepiness. Griffin pushed the thought away, his chest tight as he glanced around the dead gas station, fighting for an idea while the roaring grew louder and louder in his ears.

Then his eyes landed on the dog.

It was walking toward Griffin, toward Noel and the truck. Loping through as carelessly as a wild animal. It stopped between the gas station shop and the truck, its teeth pointed toward Griffin as he pulled Noel out of the truck.

Griffin froze, and swallowed the panic building in his throat.

“Don’t call them,” Griffin breathed. “Please don’t call them.”

The dog didn’t move.

Griffin stared at the dog, swore, and hauled Noel out of the truck. He hung limply against Griffin’s shoulder, face pressed against his neck, useless as a bag of potatoes. Griffin grunted under the strain and fumbled under the seat for his gun, slung it around his free shoulder, and began to trudge in the direction of the gas station store.

It was too much. Griffin stumbled at the last pump, his knees buckling with strain. Noel was too heavy, too tall, too muscled for Griffin and his twiggy arms to handle. He collapsed to a knee, cursing to himself, when he saw the dog move from the corner of his eye. The dog loped to Noel’s shoulder and opened its mouth.

For a horrible second, Griffin thought it was all over, until the dog bit down on the fabric of Noel’s coat to drag him off Griffin and toward the gas station store.

Griffin opened his mouth, and then closed it. The roar was almost on top of them. He sprang to his feet and ran the last few steps, diving into the dark, carved-out interior of the gas station convenience store.

Tiny had propped Noel up against the counter, where he lay snoozing, dead to the world. It settled down to lay at his side, curled up and silent next to a cigarette warning poster.

Griffin took the spot at Noel’s other side. He pulled his wet hair back, and with shaking hands, reloaded his rifle.

The roaring increased.

“You’re not in Kelowna anymore,” Griffin hissed to himself, snapping the munition in place. “Get it together.”

The windows began to shake. The sunglasses rack trembled, shaking dust into the air, fogging his vision.

Griffin didn’t let himself close his eyes. He kept them trained through the cracked store windows, staring at the blue and white, focused hard on the alien ship as it moved across the sky to blot out the sun.

To be continued in Chapter 4.