Halloween Rage

Complacent, that's the right word, complacent. The citizens of Pittsburgh as well as most of the Northeast had become complacent. Mother Nature was having a senior moment and forgot about Autumn.

The summer seemed to drag on. September found temperatures into the seventies and and many eighty days as well. October arrived with only a minor dip in the thermometer. When Halloween came around, parents all over Pittsburgh assumed the worst, a very long night of, "ding dong, trick or treat."

No one thought twice about going out Halloween morning to work or school with the lightest of jacket or sweatshirt, it was too damn hot.

Brian had a full day at work ahead of him, clients to see, ad campaigns to devise. Justin had early classes then the lunch shift at the diner. Phone calls, plans rearranged, Justin standing for Brian at the GLC Halloween party that Lindsey was taking Gus to before starting the nights foray into sugar overload and tummy aches.

No one took notice of the news, very few paid attention to the weather report. Weatherbug was ignored. The sun was shining. By five in the evening everyone in the Northeast took notice. An Arctic blast, Canadian high, Noreaster, whatever the fuck it's called, hit. The temperature plummeted by thirty degrees, the wind kicked up to nearly gale forces and it was starting to snow.

Brian had just dropped off his client at the airport to catch the last flight out before the storm socked him in. Before leaving the curb he called Cynthia and ordered everyone home and Kinnetic locked up. He gave his assistant strict instructions to split the employee roster between she and Ted, Brian wanted everyone home and accounted for. He'd check in with her later to confirm.

Next Brian called Lindsey, she and Gus were already on their way home and she'd make sure Justin got home too. Brian winced as he heard his son crying in the van because he wouldn't get the chance to trick or treat around the neighborhood. A quick word from Dada about snow angels quelled Gus' storm. Not so Mother Nature. She decided that we all had enough of t-shirts and roller blades. She'd rather see parkas and snowblowers.

Adjusting the hands-free mike, Brian pulled away from the curb and into the traffic heading for Tremont.

"Mikey?"

"Hey Bri."

"It's shitty outside, why are you still at the store?"

"Closing up now."

"Make sure your Mother goes home."

"Yeah, I'm going to the diner now. Ben and Hunter will meet us her house. We'll stay the night."

"Good. You want help persuading her that no one will need coffee or lemon bars during a blizzard?"

"Wouldya? She wont listen to me."

"Will do, later Mikey."

"‘K, Brian, call me when you get home."

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"Debbie?"

"Hiya kiddo."

"Start packing it up, your baby boy is coming to get you and you will go home. I guarantee no one on Liberty Avenue is that desperate for lemon bars."

"Asshole."

"I'm serious Deb, Mikey'll be there in a minute. Kinnetic is already closed, now go home. You wouldn't want me to worry about you, get a grey hair, wrinkles then blame for for my blue ball cause I can't get laid."

"Brian Kinney your concern underwhelms me."

"Debbie."

"I'm here Brian, she closing up, wait, hold on; Ma, we don't need that many lemon bars. Alright, okay. Jeez. Bri, I gotta go."

"Give me that; Brian, honey, you home?"

"On my way there, had to drop a client off at the airport."

"You be careful, call me when you get home."

"Yes, Maw."

"Bye, honey."

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"Helloo, Novotny and friend residence."

"Emmett."

"Brian? To what do I owe the honor?"

"Mother Nature."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, listen, Mikey and Deb are on their way, Ben and Hunter should be there soon. So start cooking, you have a Halloween snow storm party to plan."

"You know me, any excuse for a party. Don't worry big guy, I'll take care of them. Get home safe."

"Later, Emmett."

"Bye sweetie."

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Brian was about half way home when he had this sinking feeling that all was not right in the world. It was nearing six, the traffic was lighter but it was very slow going. He silently cursed himself for giving up the Jeep. Built for speed but not for snow and ice, the ‘vette and Brian were crawling home.

Justin stood at the bus stop waiting. The cab he called never came and he flatly refused Lindsey's offer to drive him home. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to her or Gus. So he high-tailed it out of there before she convinced him to change his mind. The extra sweatshirt she gave him helped to keep him warmer than just his grey hoodie but storm was intensifying. He wouldn't stay warm for long. With the hood up, hands in his pockets, messenger bag slung across him, Justin started walking.

Lindsey's apartment was close to the gallery and not all that far from Liberty Avenue. Justin wasn't really lost but the biting wind forced him to keep his eyes cast downward. He was about fifteen minutes into his trek when he realized the stores were all wrong. Muttering to himself, Justin turned around to head back in the right direction.

[Shit, what an idiot, can't fight my way out of paper bag. Stay on Liberty, stay on Liberty. I can duck into Babylon or Woody's and wait till this lets up or to call Brian. He'll come for me, he always does. Stay on Liberty, stay on Liberty. Head for Tremont, head for Tremont. Walk, walk, walk. Call Brian, call Brian.]

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About an hour longer than the usual ride, Brian finally made it home. The snow wasn't that deep, yet, but the wind made vision difficult and it drifted into high piles. Safe in the lobby Brian shook the snow off his suit and bound up the stairs. As he flung open the loft door that sinking feeling hit again and harder.

"Justin, Justin?" [Shit, where is he? Check messages.]

"Brian, it's Cynthia. Ted just called, everyone's home and safe, call me later. Bye." *delete*

"Bri, we're all at Ma's, Emmett's cooking up a storm, call me." *delete*

"Brian, it's me, Lindsey. Gus and I are safe but I'm worried about Justin. He left almost two hours ago and I haven't heard from him. He promised to call me as soon as he got to the loft. Call me, okay. Bye."

"SHIT!" *delete*

"Hi Bri, it's me. I couldn't let Lindsey drive me and there weren't any cabs and I think the buses stopped running so I'm walking. I'm on Liberty not too far Babylon, can you come and get me? It's really cold. I'll call back."

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"

"Lindsey?"

"Oh Brian, it's awful outside, you home?"

"Yeah, but Justin isn't."

"But he left a long time ago."

"Yeah, well the twat couldn't find a cab, the buses stop running and instead of going back to your place the idiot started walking. He left a message about an hour ago. He's on Liberty, I'm going to go and find him."

"Brian, please be careful. Do you want me to call the guys?"

"No, don't call anyone. They'll all go flying out in this and instead of one lost boy they'll be five. I'll find him but I need you to keep calling here, I'll leave a note but if he gets here and I'm not, note or no note, he'll go back out in this. If you call him, he'll stay put. Okay?"

"Yes, I will. Don't do anything foolish. I, I love you, you know."

"I'll be okay, Linds, but I have to find him and I know, I love you too."

"Check in with me."

"I will, later Linds."

"Bye Brian."

Brian threw off his flimsy suit, put on thermals and started rummaging through the back of his closet.

"I know it's in here, I know it is. Yes!"

In his mis-spent youth or rather back in his college days, Brian and Michael had decided to do the trendy thing one winter and go skiing. They really didn't have the money but Brian Kinney never did anything half-assed. So he planned, cajoled, maneuvered, in other words, worked his butt off to buy the best two damned ski suits he could find. Before they could break anything vital, the boys decided that these two little gay boys were best suited for the wiles of Babylon and not the slopes. So after barely one use, the ski suits found themselves in packed in storage bags and at the back of Kinney's closet.

Proud of his ‘girlish' figure, Brian easily fit into the warm gore-tex suit, completely insulated from the cold. Finding one of Justin's old backpacks, Brian stuffed the smaller suit in to it along with gloves, socks, hat, scarf and the booties from the ski boots.

Ready to brave the storm, Brian stuffed his wallet, keys and phone into his pocket and threw the backpack on his back. He looked around the loft, ‘call him.'

"Justin, answer, damn you. Justin when you get this, stay on Liberty. I'm coming for you. Understand? Stay on Liberty."

After locking up the loft, Brian marched down the stairs. He briefly considered taking the car. He sighed his best drama queen sigh knowing it would be a hindrance and possibly more dangerous than walking. Wrapping his scarf around his neck and up over his nose, Brian put on his gloves and pushed himself out of the door.

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Back on Liberty, Justin's spirits began to rise, he made it to Babylon. But something was not quite right. Where was the line? No gaily outfitted men and women clambering to get in and strut their Halloween stuff. No burly bouncers trying to maintain order. No one. Carefully touching the cold door, locked.

[Locked? This early?]

Locked. He banged on the door. Nothing. Dejected, Justin left. He'd try Woody's. He knew someone would be there. At least he could get coffee, maybe a sandwich while he waited for Brian.

Justin approached Woody's, he glanced up at the awning. Woody's, Justin was almost home. The awning confirmed it. He felt safe. Safe, until he looked at the windows.

[Why was it so dark? The street lamps are on, so no power failure. Why is it so dark in there?]

Using the end of his sleeve to protect his freezing fingers, Justin tried the door handle. Locked.

[Oh, god, now what am I going to do?]

In a daze bordering on hypothermia Justin descended the stairs and dug into his pocket for his phone. He could barely see the keypad through his icy eyelashes and his fingers weren't working well.

[Too windy, can't call in this wind. Alley.]

The alley, Justin could shelter in the alley and call Brian. The wind increased as Justin ducked into the alley. It felt better there. Without having to fight the wind Justin's brain and fingers began to work. He tried the loft, the machine picked up.

[Fuck! No, it just means he's coming for me. Cell, call his cell.]

"Brian!"

"Justin? Where are you? Justin? JUSTIN! Fuck!" [Connection lost.]

"Shit." [Shit, dropped the phone. Don't cry, don't cry. Call Brian, call Brian. Cold, too cold. Tired, so tired.]

Justin picked up his phone and began staring at it, he wasn't sure what to do with it. The despair and fog in his brain started to thicken.

Home, he had to get home. Woody's, he was near Woody's, close to home. He'd go back onto Liberty and walk home.

[Stay on Liberty. Find Brian. Stay on Liberty. Find Brian.]

Justin approached the mouth of the alley looking out onto Liberty. The wind whirled passed him carrying the remnants of the day. Garbage can lids, a super hero's cape, a princess's crown, a scarecrow and lawn ghost, all flying by. Justin staring out into the wind and snow, he never heard the tear; never heard the ripping away of the awning. Woody's canvas awning went flying with the ghost.

[The sign, when I see the sign, I'll know which way to go. Home. So close to home.]

Justin stepped out of the alley into the street, turned and looked up.

"Where am I?"

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Brian reached the diner. With the wind at his back he made good time. The drifting snow slowed his pace but he was relieved he made it this far. As he passed the door he let out a sigh of relief. The diner was dark with only the security lights on. It was a comforting confirmation knowing that Debbie was safe at home with the rest of his family. But he reveled in his comfort only briefly. He had to find Justin.

[Find Justin, find Justin. Keep walking, keep walking.]

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The alley seemed to grow darker.

[Warm, got to get warm.]

Justin stuffed the phone back into his pocket and walked back, deeper into the alley. Trash cans vibrated as the wind whipped around them. [If I could light a fire I could warm up and Brian would find me. I could...dumpster.] Justin's few unfrozen brain cells started working again.

[Dumpster, garbage, rotting garbage creates heat.]

Justin climbed into one of the dumpsters and closed the lid. He buried himself into the decaying garbage, his nose too cold to notice the odor. He was safe, for now.

So quiet. Brian never saw Liberty Avenue so quiet. Except for the wind and an occasional piece of trash that noisily sailed passed him, all of Liberty looked like a frozen deserted ghost town.

[Babylon, no Halloween fun tonight. Woody's. Woody's? No, that's not right. Something's wrong with Woody's. Snap out of it Kinney, the sign's just ripped away, that's all. It's Woody's, a dark closed Woody's.]

All that remained of the sign was a bit of canvas bravely hanging on to the skeletal frame.

"Justin."

Brian went up the stairs and tried the door knowing full well it would be locked.

[Now what? Babylon, could Justin possibly at Babylon.]

Brian still had a key to the place, a leftover from the spin classes. He started walking toward the club but something drew him back. Back to Woody's.

"What, what is it about Woody's? For fuck's sake, Justin, where are you?"

Phone, Brian tried the phone. It worked once, maybe it'll work again. He scurried into the alley, getting out of the wind to try Justin's phone .

[Answer it, answer it, damn you.]

"Brian." A tiny, squeak of a voice , all Justin could manage. "Help me, dark, cold."

"Justin! Where are you?"

"Dark, cold."

"I know baby, think, where were you before it got dark."

"Woody's."

"Inside Woody's?" Brian ran out of the alley and back up the stairs trying to look into the iced up windows.

"No, outside, the sign."

"Sign, what sign? Justin, think now, you have to tell me where you are."

"Alley."

"Alley? Justin, I was in the alley. Justin. Justin? Talk to ME!" Brian screamed into the phone, screamed over the wind, over his fear.

"Justin, say something!"

"Sleep."

"No, no, no! Don't you fuckin' fall asleep on me. Talk!"

"Dark, garbage."

Brian stepped back into the alley, searching, looking around the trash cans, kicking them over, shoving his way through the boxes and old wooden palettes. Along the wall Brian spied the row of dumpsters. He tried one, the lid frozen shut. The next was buried under bundles of tied up newspapers. The last one.

With Ragian strength, Brian lifted the near frozen lid and felt around inside. Too dark to see any detail but light enough to see the curled up form of a boy. His boy.

"God! Justin!"

"Bri?"

Brian shoved his phone back into his pocket and shrugged off the back pack. Turning his attention back to the dumpster, he stretched his arm back in and fished around for Justin. Finding the smaller hand with cold fingers still clutching his cell phone, Brian gently pried the phone from Justin's hand and stuffed it also into his pocket.

"Justin, do you hear me?"

"Brian."

"Justin you have to help me. It's too small for me to climb in, I'd step on you, you have to stand up."

"Can't, cold."

"Listen to me, I promise to make it warmer but we have to get you out of there. Come on baby, for me, sit up a little for me, it's too dark, I can't see you."

"Try."

"Good boy, little more, give me your hands."

Like a prisoner reaching up in surrender, two shaky hands emerged from the top of the dumpster. Brian grabbed for the hands and pulled.

"That's it, little more, I got you!"

Brian pulled, Justin found his feet. Brian dragged Justin up and over the side of the dumpster. A little more than dead weight in his arms, the two landed on the cold cement.

Jarred out of his fog...

"Brian?"

"It's me. Shit, you're nearly frozen. Got to get you dressed, we have to walk back."

"Walk? Car?"

"The ‘vette wouldn't make it."

"Oh."

Hugging Justin closely to him, Brian carefully opened the pack so that the wind wouldn't take away the preciously warm clothing. More by feel than sight, Brian swiftly but gently removed Justin's sneakers to slip on the booties. Justin sitting like a limp doll was desperately trying to fathom what was happening but with little success.

[Why is Brian taking off my sneakers? Why am I sitting in the dark? Where am I?]

"Brian, where are we?"

"The alley next to Woody's. Justin, stay with me. I have a snow suit, you're going to get in it, then we're going home."

"Home."

"Yes, home, do you understand? You need to help me. Booties first then into the suit, the sneakers over the booties, okay?"

"‘Kay."

"Good boy."

It was worse than dressing Gus but Brian managed to get Justin in the suit.

"Bag."

"What?"

"My bag."

"I have your precious bag."

"Asshole."

"Damn, guess not all of you is frozen. You still have your wit and your mouth."

With Justin dressed, Brian secured Justin's hat and scarf. Gloves on, messenger bag across his shoulders, Rage and JT were ready to battle the storm of the century and go back to the lair.

"Justin, we're going against the wind this time. You need to stay right behind me. Hang on to my belt, understand, stay with me."

Justin mumbled, an okay, through the scarf.

"Brian, where's Woody's?"

"Right here, the sign flew away. Ready?"

"Yeah."

Pointed in the correct direction, Brian and Justin began to walk.

[Keep walking, keep walking.]

[Going home, going home.]

[Stay on Liberty, stay on Liberty]

"Diner."

"What?"

"Diner."

"Closed. I promise to feed you when we get home."

"Take out?"

"No, baby. Soup, nice hot soup and hot cocoa. And you'll take a nice warm shower. Warm, dry sweats, thick socks and all bundled in a nice warm blanket. Okay Justin? Keep walking."

Tremont.

"Oh thank the gods, Justin look, Tremont."

"Home."

"Yes, baby, home."

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"See, Brian, I'm fine. I don't know why you brought me here."

"Shut up Justin. You were fucking lucky that you're not minus a few toes and your nose."

"All set Mr. Kinney, he'll be fine. Use this cream several times a day, it will help with the wind burn. I don't think he'll suffer any permanent damage, maybe a hypersensitivity to the cold."

"Oh great, he already complains it's too cold in the loft as it is."

"Get used to it Brian, I'm raising the thermostat."

"I'll raise your thermostat, little boy. As soon as I get you home. Thank you doctor."

"No problem. Justin, go home and rest for a few more days."

"Yes sir."

"Bye doc. Let's go home Sunshine."

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Snuggling up together on the floor cushions with steaming cups of cocoa warming their hands, Justin ponders his rescue.

"Brian? How did you find me? What made you go to Woody's?"

"Not sure. There's something about Woody's and you and me. You went there shortly after you first recovered from the bashing, looking for me. And you went there when you had that bit of trouble with the fiddler. We celebrated Stockwell's defeat there. It seemed the safest place, next to the diner."

"Oh."

"I was right, wasn't I. Or did you think it was all some psychic connection shit that some people think we have. That we can read each other's thoughts. That is what you believe. Okay, Mr. Psychic Hotline-smartie pants, what am I thinking?"

[Please god, don't ever take him away from me, I'd die with out him.]

"I'd die without too, Brian."

[I love you Brian.]

"Love you too, Sunshine."

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