Chapter 32 Crawl
Crawl
Ilook at the guy sitting next to me on the couch. He turns his head toward me at the same time. I can barely make out his masked face, but I can tell he looks confused. But then again, so am I. Did he just answer when Twyla and Fatima called the name “Nash”?
So many new questions have entered my mind. First of all, is this guy Nash? If so, why was he going to jerk off two dudes? Is he gay? Is he bi? Is he pan? Does he know it’s me? If he does, what’s his plan here? If he doesn’t, what will he do if he finds out?
This is on top of all the other questions that remain unanswered.
What has Nash done with Alessandra’s body?
Has he done anything yet? Did he plant my shoelace or anything else that belongs to me onto Alessandra’s body or in her car or apartment?
Was he the one who deleted all of my video files?
How? When? Did he take all my money? Where is it?
Does he know that I know what he did? Is he doing drugs?
Is he some kind of drug dealer? Is he really doing badly at school?
Why is he such a big deal at Perpetual Sunset? And so on and so forth.
But the biggest question I have right now is: would he hurt his own brother?
I spring to my feet. The guy grabs my wrist. It’s a firm grip, as if to tell me, “You’re not going anywhere.”
I try to yank my arm away, but the guy pulls on me violently, causing me to stumble and fall onto the floor, onto my side.
“Hey!” I hear the girls scream.
The guy grabs my shoulders and tries to pull me up. I elbow him in the chest. He expels a gust of air, as I crawl towards the girls.
I feel hands wrap around my leg and pull.
Twyla and Fatima rush past me and start kicking the guy.
I crawl into the hallway and manage to get onto my feet and run.
But because of the commotion, I don’t end up exiting Perpetual Sunset like I intended to.
I’m back in the classroom-sized space known as “Scorching Heat,” which means I have to turn around and go back the other way, past that guy, in order to get out.
When I turn around, I see a tall figure in the hall, coming towards me. It’s not a friendly stride.
To my right and left are security guards, who look suspicious of the way I ran in here. They take a step forward.
I move away—from the guy, from the guards—and I cut into the fog. I quickly head to the other side of the dark room with great difficulty. Bodies are my obstacles, and the pulsing light gives me minimal guidance.
As I go forward, I’m served a kaleidoscope of images: a woman yanking at a man’s nipple with her teeth, a girl with her head buried in between another girl’s legs, a dude dropping his load on another dude’s face.
Soon, I slam against the corner of the room. I spin around.
When the lights pulse on, I see, at a distance, the guy coming at me from the right and the two security guards coming from the left.
When the lights pulse off, I notice that the white button-up shirt I’m wearing kind of has a glow-in-the-dark effect, and I realize that just about everybody at Perpetual Sunset is wearing dark colors, except for a few men wearing plain white T-shirts and a few women in tight white dresses, all of whom apparently want attention drawn to them.
Basically, right now, because of my shirt, I’m a visible walking target. If I want to get away, there’s only one thing I can do.
As I feel my way along the wall to get to the other side of the room, I start taking off my shirt. Then, everything else: my pants, underwear, socks, and shoes.
The guy and the guards are looking for someone wearing clothes, so they won’t suspect, at least at first, someone who’s naked.
I’ve got my clothes in a bundle in my left arm, hopefully hidden enough by the darkness and the fog.
When the lights come on, I see my pursuers standing near the center of the room, looking all around. Their eyes scan past me.
However, when they start moving again, they come in my general direction.
I have no idea where the door is. I take a few steps forward and hit another wall. I back away from it and stumble upon the circle of ten naked guys getting blown by the one guy on his knees.
I need to hide, and I need to hide now.
I duck and squeeze in between two of the naked guys who are standing, so that I can get into the center of the circle. Suddenly, I am surrounded by ten hard cocks.
I feel like for some gay dudes this must be a dream come true, a sexual fantasy fulfilled. But for me, my heart is pounding out of immense panic.
What will happen if that guy gets a hold of me? Are those security guards going to beat me like they did with that man earlier? Simply, what are the consequences of getting caught?
The guy on his knees (wearing a mask, of course), who looks twinkish from down here, stops sucking to push his hand against my chest.
“Get out of here,” says the twink. “I’m the bukkake boy, not you. Not you!”
“I’m not gonna suck any of your dicks,” I say. “I’m just hiding.”
The twink elbows me in the side. “I said go!”
“Shhhhh.” I hold my finger up to my lips.
One of the men above me says, “All right! We got another cocksucker who wants in on the action.”
A few other men chime in with some “yeahs!”
“This new one’s got a real pretty mouth,” says one man.
And yet another: “Those are dick-sucking lips.”
It smells like old sweat down here. Two erect penises suddenly jab me on both sides of my face. My cheeks now feel damp. When I shuffle back a little, the palm of my right hand squishes onto something sticky.
“Get out!” yells the twink.
He uses both hands to push me completely out of the circle of dicks. I land on my back, releasing my heap of clothes onto the floor next to me.
I grab the clothes and crawl on the floor, trying to navigate through various people and their body parts. But then I bump into a pair of legs.
Before I can look up, a foot slams into my stomach. I roll over onto my back in pain.
The guy who was chasing me kneels down. “Who are you?!”
He reaches for my mask. I grab hold of his wrists and push back against him.
I sweep his leg, and he falls onto his side. Now on the floor, he lunges toward me.
But before he can make contact, a security guard pulls him away and holds him back.
The second security guard jumps onto me and pins me down. His body crushes my exposed balls. He smacks me across the face with an open palm. My mask slips halfway off, but I manage to turn my head away from the guy.
The guard on top of me reaches behind himself and pulls out a nightstick. He raises it in the air and positions it so that it looks like he’s going to smash it against my skull.
I try to writhe away, but the guard is too big and strong. I close my eyes.
Then I hear: “Yo!”
I open my eyes, and I see Oscar (from my vantage point, he’s upside down) standing in front of me and this security guard. Oscar is holding in his hand what looks like my survival knife. It’s unfolded and ready to go.
Oscar says to the guard, “Put that nightstick down, bitch!”
All of the clientele who are near us stop what they’re doing and back away.
The guard assesses the threat level. Oscar has the right amount of crazy in his eyes. The guard decides to put down the nightstick.
“Now get off of him!” commands Oscar.
The guard climbs off of me.
I grab my clothes and cover my crotch.
Oscar looks at me. “Let’s go, bro.”
Once I’m on my feet, Oscar and I run. We rip through the fog, go past bodies, fly down the hallway, run through the lobby, and speed down the stairs of the building.
While we hop down two or three steps at a time, all three stories, I ask, “Where’d you get the knife?”
“Your glove compartment.”
“You went out to get it just now?”
“Nah. It’s been hiding in my underwear all night. That’s why I was acting all uncomfortable and shit when that security guard was patting me down before. I had to act all stupid, so he would stop touching me before finding the knife. It worked.”
“But why’d you bring it?”
“‘Cuz, bro. At the start of the night, when I was sober and not so horny, I knew my job was to protect you. Sorry if I fucked things up.”
“No, man,” I say. “You saved me.”
We burst out of the building and instinctually head towards my car, which is parked a couple blocks away. As we hurry down the sidewalk, jagged rocks slice into my bare feet. I feel like I’m walking on broken glass. I know I’m bleeding down there.
Suddenly, we hear a loud noise behind us.
While running, we both turn our heads and see the bright lights of a menacing SUV speeding our way.
But before we can even decide what to do, the vehicle smashes into both of us, causing us to fly forward, slam onto the pavement, and roll violently until we crash into a chain link fence.