Saving Silas

  Saving Silas

  A Holiday M/M Novella

  By SJ Himes

  Saving Silas

  Copyright © 2016 by SJ Himes

  First Edition Published in Home For The Holidays Anthology

  Nov 29th 2015

  Second Edition eBook

  Released January 8th 2015

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by: Miranda Vescio

  Cover design by Kellie Dennis of Book Cover By Design

  http://www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  If you are reading a pirated version or a copy of this ebook that you did not purchase yourself, or was not gifted/loaned to you through allowable and legal means, please keep in mind you have effectively stolen this ebook. That means you have taken money directly from the author, making it harder for the author to continue to write.

  Please purchase your own copy, and remember to review.

  SJ Himes

  http://www.sjhimes.com

  Contents

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Other Books by SJ Himes

  Dedication

  A huge thank you to the first responders everywhere who selflessly put themselves in danger every day to save people in need.

  A huge thank you to my sister Nikki and my brother-in-law Shawn—for answering my questions, and thank you for being crazy enough to rush headlong into dangerous situations and raging infernos.

  And to my brother Tyler, who puts on his badge, gun and uniform every morning and patrols our streets. Stay safe.

  Author’s Note

  I have firsthand experience with how government agencies, from local to federal, respond to emergencies on a large scale. I have described that which is readily accessible to the public, and the rest of the emergency protocols in this story are variations of what may occur. Any inaccuracies in this story are deliberate, to keep from revealing too much to those who may decide to cause harm. I have moved and renamed many of the real-life EMS and Fire Stations in Boston as well for the same reason, and changed the interior layouts of those places.

  I have also changed the geography of Boston just a wee bit, to further facilitate the story. This is a work of fiction, and many places and procedures are equally fictitious, though I have done my best to maintain a level of realism.

  Enjoy!

  Chapter One

  His hip hurt. His feet hurt. He couldn’t feel his toes anymore, and it was only going to get colder. The sun sank below the skyline in a brilliant and short lived burst of orange light, and Silas blinked, eyes adjusting to the blinding shadows that chilled the space between the skyscrapers. He missed the scent of wet leaves and bonfires and pumpkin lattes. He missed it all, the blanketing and suffocating stench to be found in the alley choking his senses.

  It wasn’t even an alley. Too narrow for cars, and there was enough space for a person to walk with their shoulders almost touching the walls to either side. It was just wide enough for Silas to stumble on his numbing feet and keep himself upright.

  Feet frozen from splashing through countless puddles, he found a small dry spot made of accumulated garbage above the murky water. Silas huddled against the wall, arms wrapped around his torso, and he peered back the way he came, listening and watching. He couldn’t see that far, but the men after him wouldn’t bother checking down this stench-riddled strip of earth. Their expensive shoes would get ruined, and they’d never expect him to go down here either.

  There were a lot of things he was doing he never expected. Standing in a cold, damp, smelly excuse of an alley hiding from his father’s henchmen so he wasn’t dragged back into Hell kicking and screaming wasn’t in his plans a week ago. Or was it longer than that?

  He leaned on the wall, shivering. Arms wrapped tight around his torso, Silas closed his eyes, shoulders drooping. He was so tired.

  The roar of a large engine echoed down the alley, and Silas opened his eyes, stilling as he listened. It was hard to tell from which end of the alley it was coming from, and he didn’t want to end up walking into their open arms if it was his father’s men. The sound grew louder in the direction he’d come, and Silas winced as he pushed off from the wall, feet sinking to the ankle in the icy cold puddles as he went further away from the source.

  It was Thanksgiving night. Everyone else was at home, eating until they wanted to burst, watching football, and arguing with loved ones. He was hiding on the back streets of Boston, beaten, sore, and colder than he’d ever been in his life, and he was being hunted like an animal.

  All because he was caught kissing a guy.

  Silas crept to the end of the long alley, and peered around the corner of the brick wall. He heard voices, a lot of them, and saw a crowd of people lined up along the sidewalk. He narrowed his eyes, peering intently through the haze of headlights and glaring storefronts.

  People were lining up in front of the stores. Black Friday was tomorrow. There were easily a hundred people clustered in a ragged line down the sidewalk, behind a rope line, bundled up in jackets. Camping chairs and coolers and some random tents told him that these crazy people had been here for a while, instead of at home with their loved ones, all so they could save money on a few overpriced presents. Silas frowned, eyeing the nearby people in line, some of whom were sipping on steaming hot cups of coffee. He shivered hard at the sight, wishing he’d managed to escape with his wallet, the coffee card in there with more than enough room on it to keep him warm all night.

  His wallet was at home, in his dad’s study, presumably locked up. His school books, his clothing, boots, cell and laptop were all at his father’s place, held as collateral until Silas agreed to toe the line and denounce his orientation.

  He found himself shaking his head, staring down at his soaked shoes, wondering how the hell he’d gotten into this mess. It was 2015 and he was in Boston, in the state that was the first to legalize marriage equality. And here he was, hiding out on the streets from his homophobic father who’d beaten him, locked him up, and threatened to send him to a pray-away-the-gay camp. And the very fact that he’d had to crawl out of the busted window of his childhood room to escape left him at a loss.

  Silas had gone to the police, finally fed up with his father’s behavior, the beating he received hours before still fresh on his body. He’d taken one step into the local precinct, and when he’d looked up into the face of Lt. Helms, his father’s golf buddy, the pinched and angry expression on his face told him he’d made a mistake. If it wasn’t for the drunkard who’d vomited all over the floor in the front lobby at just that moment and provided a distraction, Silas had no doubt he would have been dragged back to his father’s house in handcuffs.

  Two hours later, Silas was sleeping on the couch of one of his college friends, huddled under a blanket and getting fussed over by his friend’s mother, right up until a knock came at the door. A big man dressed in a suit barreled his way into the house, and dragged Silas off the couch with a hand about his arm. The spot was still bruised, even days later. Silas was th
rown into a town car, head banging against the window, stars dancing in his eyes from the rough blow.

  The only reason he wasn’t dragged back to his father’s house that night was because the man driving had accidentally hit the child safety lock when he tried to open the window to smoke a cigarette. Silas opened the door when he heard the lock release, and the fact that the car had slowed for a corner was why he wasn’t dead from jumping to the ground from the backseat. His hip and side were still on fire from hitting the pavement, and he was afraid he’d broken something when he landed. He was still able to move, and he ran, adrenaline holding back most of the pain.

  The line of people on the sidewalk moved ahead a few feet, and Silas blinked, realizing he’d blanked out for a while. Unsure of what he was going to do, Silas mournfully eyed the warm cups of coffee in the hands of those nearby. One man glared at him when he was caught staring too long, and Silas ducked his head and walked away. He heard the man muttering about homeless scum, and Silas winced.

  He was homeless. The dorms were closed for the holiday, and he had several days to go before he could even get back inside the dormitory, since the freshman hall was shut down for maintenance. All of the freshman had been warned to either go home or find other accommodations for the break. Never before had Silas been so frustrated at the thought of getting decent water pressure in his shower. He would gladly take the weak stream in his bathroom if it meant he could sleep somewhere warm and safe.

  Feet frozen and numb, Silas wandered down the sidewalk, coming to a real alley between a café and electronics store. A dumpster loomed in the shadows of the café’s wall, and the scent of warm bread baking and roast coffee drew him to the darkness. Silas leaned against the steel side of the dumpster, uncaring of the stench and filth.

  He was so damn tired.

  There was an exhaust vent from the café overhead, and warmth spilled down over the spot he was resting. Silas breathed in the aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries, stomach rumbling.

  Just a few more days, and he could get back into his dorm room. The semester was paid up until the end of the year. His father would probably find him, but he could always lock the doors and refuse to let him in the building. His father would never pay for the next semester, not after what happened. Silas had no doubt that his education was over, but at this moment, all he wanted was a safe place to sleep.

  Everything else would have to wait.

  …

  CRASH!!!

  Everyone in the firehouse froze, eyes wide. Gael stopped, one foot raised, as a plethora of Christmas decorations scattered across the floor. Glitter, tinsel, and fake pine branches floated down from the second level through the circular hole in the ceiling where the old brass pole once was. Gael gently lowered his foot, careful not to crush an ornament with his heavy duty work boot.

  Cautiously leaning over and tilting his head, Gael peered upwards, to see a red-faced rookie staring back down at him in shock, mouth open in dismay, the remains of a cardboard box still in his hands.

  “I said get the decorations down from the attic, not toss them over the balcony, Ramirez!” called a bass voice, the owner hidden on the other side of a 5,000 gallon tanker. “For fuck’s sake!”

  The rookie yelped and pulled back out of sight, obviously terrified.

  Chuckling, Gael shook his head and made his way through the debris field, heading for the back of the garage. He cleared the rear of the tanker and saw the man he was looking for—tall, built like the firehouse he ran with an iron fist and a lightning-quick smile, Captain James Riley of Engine 29 was an imposing figure. Gael was tall at six-one, and Jim towered over him at six-five. Thirty years of working as a fulltime firefighter had given him a rock hard body, an outlet for his Irish temper, and the wisdom to know when to use it. At forty-eight, Jim Riley was still a stunner.

  “Gee! My boy! What the fuck you doing here on Thanksgiving?” Jim called out in welcome, a broad smile evening out the few wrinkles on his face. Jim Riley was a handsome devil, and if he wasn’t so damn straight, Gael would have made a run at him ten years ago when he first met the man. Of course, Gael was fresh out of the army on a medical discharge at twenty-three, and he was strictly off-limits as a brand-new city employee working for Boston EMS.

  Gael took a few more steps and ended up on the receiving end of a bear hug that made his ribs creak in protest, and he laughed, trying to break free before the Captain snapped him in two. He pushed back, hands on the taller man’s shoulders, grinning up at his sparkling eyes, Gael realized he still had small crush on the older man, and Jim knew it. A big hand gently slapped his cheek before cupping it for a brief moment, and Gael laughed again when the captain pushed him away, grumbling under his breath.

  Gael caught the wide-eyed stares from some of the assembled firefighters nearby, and he sent the flabbergasted men a sly grin before returning his attention to the captain. “Well, boy, you going to tell me why you’re here, when I know damn well and good you have the holiday off? Why you in uniform?”

  “Covering for Moynihan. Wife had that baby of theirs a few weeks back, and I figured they should have the holiday together as a family,” Gael reasoned with a shrug, not mentioning the fact he had nothing but an empty house to spend time with on his vacation. He had hundreds of hours of annual leave built up, and he’d only ever taken off three days in the last ten years. His captain at the EMS garage next door had finally strong-armed him into taking the holiday week off, but he figured he could get away with giving up one of his days so the new dad could be with his baby.

  “Too soft, that’s what you are,” Jim grumbled, and Gael laughed again, glad he’d come over to say hello before the start of his shift. Soft was never a word he’d heard to describe himself before.

  Six-one, two hundred pounds, tattooed and looking as lethal as the day he got discharged from the army after getting shot in Iraq, Gael Dominic routinely frightened the shit out of the rookies at both the EMS garage and the firehouse in the next lot. He was a lieutenant for the last few years now, and he took all the Basic-BLS new hires out on calls until they had their feet under them, and any that weren’t cut out for the job of being a first responder in a major metropolitan area quickly realized that fact and left.

  “Why are you in here? Come to ask me out at last?” Jim asked with a grin, big shoulders moving as he laughed.

  “If you weren’t so damned straight, I’d have asked you out years ago,” Gael replied, winking. He knew how devastating his winks could be, and even the definitively straight Jim was no match when he plied the Dominic charm. Jim’s face got red across his pale cheeks, his Irish complexion flushing from his fierce blush reflex. Laughter came out from the men nearby, and Jim’s scary-as-fuck frown sent in their direction quelled the amusement. Gael wasn’t worried—he saw the mirth in Jim’s eyes.

  “Didn’t answer my question. When does your shift start? Or you done for the day?”

  Gael could hear the unspoken invitation to Jim’s house for the holiday. Even though it was late, dinner long over, Gael knew he’d be welcomed at Jim’s house for leftover turkey and pie.

  “I’ve got the overnight,” Gael replied, catching Jim’s frown.

  “Crap. All that Black Friday craziness is going to be in full swing when you get out. That’s what being soft will get you, boy,” Jim drawled, shaking his head. “Sleep deprived housewives crashing minivans into storefronts and stabbings as people wait in line in the fucking cold. If last year was any indication, tonight is going to be a clusterfuck.”

  No point in worrying about jinxing anything, since Thanksgiving was the busiest day of the year for both EMS and Fire. Heart attacks, house fires, and domestic assault were the top three calls on Thanksgiving, without fail. Followed closely by suicides, though those ratcheted up around Christmas.

  “I was going to ask if I could crash in your office here in the firehouse afterwards. I didn’t want to bunk down at EMS since Michael and Simon are working, too.”

&nbs
p; Michael was his ex-lover, and Simon, another medic, was his new boyfriend. Fraternization was frowned upon in the EMS, but it happened. As long as it didn’t interfere in getting their jobs done, the EMS Captain could care less who they fucked. As a lieutenant for Boston EMS, Gael was technically their superior, and it left all three of them, not to mention their coworkers, uncomfortable when they all worked the same shift. That was why Gael was glad when the shifts came up for bid a few months back and Michael and Simon went to the overnight shift, leaving Gael in peace on the dayshift.

  “Sure thing, boy,” Jim said with a sigh, putting it together for himself. Jim pulled out the key to his office upstairs and handed it over. Gael put it in a secure pocket of his uniform paints with a few pairs of sealed nitrile glove packets. There was a sofa bed in Jim’s office, and the thing was the most comfortable bed Gael had ever slept in. He’d crashed there a couple years ago after the Marathon Bombings, after hours of working straight through hell and havoc. His mind shied away from the memories of fire and smoke and blood, and he gave Jim a smile and nod in thanks.

  The radio strapped to Gael’s thigh squawked with a loud crackle, and both men froze, automatically turning their attention to the radio as the dispatcher began relaying calls.

  “Multiple 911 calls…..Active shooter situation…EMS await all clear from BPD. Numerous casualties… all units respond.” The dispatcher relayed the address, and Gael’s heart thumped hard, again. That was in his sector. Only blocks away, in the local shopping district. The streets were already full of people waiting to get into the stores once they opened for Black Friday.

  “Shit!” Gael swore, heart thumping, adrenaline kicking in.

  “Go!” Jim ordered him, giving him a solid push on his shoulder with one bear paw of a hand. “And for fuck’s sake, don’t go in until the cops clear the threat!”