Hands of Clay Ch. 04

Hi Friends,

I hope you are getting into this story a little. It's a work in progress, and I'm sorry it's raw. However, I'm so happy I get to share it with someone. Sometimes my stories just end up under my bed collecting dust, but I figure the spiders like reading them.

Anyway, here is a bit more of Clay and Brice. When I first wrote 1:05 a.m., and Brice made an appearance, I wanted to give him his own story. I'm glad I did it. If you are here, thanks for reading.

Cheers,

M. From C.M. Moore

***

*Chapter 3*

(Clay)

Clay caught Abdul staring at him for the third time. In the elevator, his best friend kept giving him sideways glances.

"What?"

"Your face is fucking priceless." Abdul flashed his white teeth into a smile. "I can't get over it. It's like when we were little. I feel like offering you milk and cookies."

"I don't look that young." Self-consciously Clay rubbed his smooth jaw. Maybe now that he didn't have all the scars, he would grow a beard. "You're a douche cannon."

"Someone is crabby after getting a make-over. Do you need a lullaby and a nappy-poo?"

"When we start training, I'm going to whoop your ass in the ring."

"Bring it on, pre-teen." Abdul made a grunt-laugh as he pushed the button for the floor he wanted. "I'm going to grab Janis and head to the billets." The elevator door opened. "I'll see you in the barracks later?"

"No." Clay waved the paper that got him out of sleeping in the recruit's quarters. "I don't have to listen to you snore."

"Shit, I forgot about your free pass." Abdul inclined his head. "I'll see you at formation?"

"I'll be there." The door closed, and he stared at the numbers.

As the elevator began to rise, he didn't pick a button. Actually, Clay didn't want to head to the medical floor and sleep in a healing bay. He knew he should trim his too-long-for-basic-training-hair before tomorrow, but he didn't feel like doing that either. Honestly, Clay was restless. He didn't know what he wanted to do or where he wanted to go. Before he chose a new floor, the elevator stopped. The door opened to display a spat between two men.

"Please, Wykes." A shorter man gripped a taller man's forearm. "Don't leave."

They both got onto the elevator. Clay was positive that only one of them wanted to be there.

"Let go." The taller of the two stood next to Clay. They were the same height, but the man, presumably Wykes, didn't turn his head to acknowledge Clay. When the shorter man wouldn't let go of the tall skinny one, they got into a tug-o-war.

Clay scooted further away from the argument. Now he wished he'd taken the stairs. Testing out his new ankle would've been better than watching this. Talk about awkward.

Finally, the tall blond got the shorter man to remove his fingers. Wykes stood next to Clay like no one was speaking to him. The other man wasn't dissuaded by being ignored.

"You said we're done." Angrily, Wykes punched a number on the panel. "That means I can date whoever I want."

The other man stepped in front of the panel and pressed another number while offering a glance at Clay. He lowered his voice.

"I didn't mean it." The stranger's voice dropped to a whisper, but they were in an elevator. Clay could hear him clearly. "Don't do this. I can't take it. I love you. Ludlow and I both love you. Come back."

The declaration had both men staring at each other as if they were surprised that the words, I love you were as powerful as they were.

Before either one could speak again, the door chimed. Once more, everyone stared out into an empty hallway. The shorter man held open the doors with his foot.

"Please, Wykes?" the shorter man pleaded. "Please?" Again, his hands were on Wykes's arms. "I can't take the thought of you with someone other than us. We will..." He flashed a quick look at Clay. Quickly, Clay stared up at the ceiling like he wasn't listening. "Talk."

"I'll discuss it with you and Ludlow." The man next to Clay stepped out of the elevator. "But I'm not promising that I'll stay."

The doors of the elevator closed. Blankly, Clay stared at the metal as he continued to climb alone in the lift. So lost in thought about the scene he witnessed, Clay didn't pay attention to the floors.

When the ding came again, the doors slid to the side. Abruptly, Clay faced darkness. The room looked like the start of a horror movie. Curious as to where this was, he stepped into the blackness. Glancing around, he quickly figured out that he'd stepped onto the top floor of H.S.P.C. Headquarters. Since he didn't feel like going to medical and no one was waiting on him, Clay decided to explore.

Striding past a short hallway lit by a dim green exit sign, Clay moved into a substantial warehouse-type space. Even though there were no overhead lights, the moon was bright enough that he could see most items. The large expanse was surrounded by floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Dallas skyline... or at least what the ice and snow left of Dallas.

Slowing his steps, Clay meandered past stacked cots and old radio equipment. When he reached one giant window, he looked out at the city. The view was impressive. Surprisingly, a few buildings in Dallas were still lit from electricity run by wind generators. The elaborate H.S.P.C. campus and the massive rock wall around the compound had lights glimmering. In the distance, Clay recognized the train station's glow that was the central hub that led into the Northern Earth Dens. After staring out into the night, Clay wandered past bags and crates.

Right as he got to the other side of the elevator, Clay spotted the outline of a tall, muscular man with short hair and broad shoulders. His back was to the room, and he sat on unrolled sleeping bags. Clay guessed that he got the sleeping-sacks from a pile near him. A bottle of wine was on the tiled floor next to his coat. He seemed to be star gazing.

Immediately, Clay felt like he intruded on the man's solitude. Deciding to leave, he turned to walk away. As soon as he took a step toward the exit, Clay kicked something metal he hadn't spotted on the floor. The mystery item must've been a piece of a pipe. It clanked in the silence and then rolled to a stop. The sound was insanely loud in the quiet. Clay winced. So much for not disturbing the stranger. The man on the sleeping bags jumped up, turned, and then faced him. If he was surprised Clay stood there, he didn't look it. They simply stared at each other.

"It's darker than I thought."

Before Clay could agree or apologize for the interruption, the six-foot-stranger reached over and pulled a chain on a floor lamp to his left. When the light hit the man's face, Clay was struck speechless.

The grader.

Before Clay stood the man who'd kept him warm, he'd held Clay and taught him how to get water. The grader's dark-brown eyes warmed him like when they were back in the hut. His pale-peach skin and stony expression were much the same. The only changes were the dark red scar along his cheek, and the man's black-brown hair was a bit shaggy. But no matter those tiny differences, Clay would know his grader anywhere. The memory of this man licking Clay's face and chest rose like a tidal wave.

Taking a settling breath, Clay wasn't sure if this was a dream or a strange turn in his life, but whatever was happening, he didn't want this man to get ripped out of his hands a second time.