Chapter Thirty-Nine #3
“Dascha, baby, please let me help you.” Kemper takes him by the waist, pleading. In his eyes and his tone, he’s broken, and it’s just gut-wrenching.
Seeing someone as strong as Kemper breaking for the man he loves, helplessly praying for a way to fix something that can’t be fixed.
Dash’s hands slip away from his face, his chin lifting slowly to look up at his fiancé. I can see his bottom lip trembling from here, and it’s nauseating me with guilt.
“I wanted it to be you,” Dash whimpers to Kemper. “My Officer…”
“It was,” Kemper rushes out. “Even if it wasn’t, baby, it was, I promise you.
I am your Officer Kemper, and you’re my Dascha Luscious, remember?
I got you back, baby… I’m so fucking sorry I left.
I fucked up and I’m sorry, but I got you back.
We’re here, Dascha, on this island, together. Like we were supposed to be…”
Tears tumble down Dash’s cheeks, his fists clutching onto Kemper’s shirt like he’s terrified he’ll be ripped from his grip.
His throat dips, lips quivering as he mumbles, “But it was me, Kemp. I think… I was Callum.”
“Baby, there is no Callum.” Kemper lines his face with Dash’s, struggling to get through to him.
“There was, though,” Dash cries softly. “It was me…” He tips his face in Angel’s direction. “Wasn’t it?”
Angel’s lips part, but nothing comes out. He looks like he’s fighting to hold something back because he’s unsure of what revealing it will do.
The same knowing guilt that’s on many of our faces right now.
Angel fidgets awkwardly, pained himself as he rasps, “I’m… sorry.”
“What’s… going on?” Kemper frowns, looking between Dash and Angel. “What does that mean…? Dascha?”
Dash’s round, glassy eyes shift from Angel to me. And he whispers, “Shadowman.”
Fuck.
My heart falls into my gut. I shake my head, like a reflex, because I can’t do this.
Denial is easier. It’s safe.
But seeing the anguish on their faces, has me muttering, “Yea… Yea, that was me.”
There’s a sudden wave of heavy silence. I hadn’t noticed until the words left my lips just now, but the gunfire has stopped completely, an eerily quiet suspense enveloping us. Nothing to be heard but our collective breathing and the whirring of an engine from somewhere in the distance.
“Wait a second…” Kemper’s tone is fraught with worry. “Dascha, what are you talking about??”
“Okay, hang on,” Luthor steps in. “This is… complicated.”
“Lexington…” Ren grumbles admonishingly. “Now’s not the time.”
“Time for what?!” Kemper snaps.
Something comes over me, like a burst of either adrenaline, or confidence, or maybe, like this war, it’s the desire to fucking end this, once and for all. To put Dash out of his misery so he can finally start to heal. So that we all can.
From the rubble, we can rebuild.
“We hooked up,” I gag up the words, shame burning up my neck into my face. “Me and Dash… in solitary.”
“You what?!” At least four different people bark, maybe more.
Kemper’s head cocks, and I can’t tell if he’s going to break down or attack me.
“The Ivory drugged me,” I add as my only line of defense. “He drugged me and brought me there, and we…” I clear my throat and say the only word I can think to say. “Proxy.”
Realization dawns on many faces throughout the room.
“Ah…” Ren nods. “Say no more.”
“Uh, yes, say more,” Kemper barks. “What the fuck does that mean??”
“Wait, what do you mean The Ivory drugged you??” Velle hisses, finally on his feet again.
Dash blinks hard, shaking his head, “Shadowman…”
I’m about to crawl out of my skin until Angel stutters, “M-me too.” We all stare at him. “I wasn’t drugged, but it was also a… proxy.” He backs up slowly.
There’s some shouting in Spanish coming from outside… Too far away to make out.
“Velle!” Peters calls from the doorway.
Velle’s forehead lines as he staggers over.
“I’m sorry,” Dash whispers to Angel. “I was… Callum.”
“I… I know,” Angel rasps. “I’m sorry I was… you.”
“What in the fuck…” Kemper looks like he might pass out.
“Something is going on,” Peters is grumbling to Velle. “I think they’re retreating…”
Angel’s attention is stolen by their conversation.
“Dash, there are things that you just don’t… remember,” Luthor says, eyes bouncing between Dash and Kemper.
Kemper’s expression is one of distressed confusion, while Dash is just nodding, remorsefully.
“The Officer again…?” Dash rubs his eyes.
He seems like he’s coming to a bit, but it’s not a relief. Because he’s clearly still miserable.
Luthor is quiet for a moment before whispering, “Yea.”
“Fuck my fucking life.” Dash bends at the waist, struggling to breathe.
Kemper is holding him, rubbing his back, despite the anguish he’s clearly suffering himself, not understanding what this all means, but slowly piecing it together.
What in the hell is happening right now?
So it wasn’t just me… Dash hooked up with all of us while he was in his psychosis trance??
“Are they regrouping??” Velle hisses, scope aimed into the woods. “Why are they just standing around?”
The roaring engine sounds like it’s getting louder…
“Anyone see anything?” Peters barks into his walkie.
“This is so fucked…” Kemper croaks. The dude sounds like he’s a breath away from either erupting or crumbling to pieces. “Dascha, baby, just breathe. It’s okay, we’ll figure this all out…”
“I see a car! Speeding up the coast,” Jasper shouts from somewhere outside. “I think it’s a… Rolls.”
“Oh… shit.” Velle slowly lowers his rifle, gaze shifting to Joy and Rook.
“Officer Chevelle!” A panicked voice comes crackling over Velle’s walkie, lying on the floor between us all.
It’s very familiar, though it’s never sounded so… frantic before.
All of our faces fall to the walkie by our feet.
“Jonathan…” The Ivory gasps like he’s out of breath. “Please… Let’s talk.”