Blaze drank obediently while Gabe cleaned Blaze’s upper arm with something that stung but which made his arm go numb quite soon after that. Then Gabe cleaned the arm again and placed a large bandage and swathed the arm with an ace bandage.
“Can I do anything for the rest of you?” asked Gabe. “This split lip, and these ribs?”
Blaze looked down along his side, to where Gabe was pointing. He lifted his hand in the way so Gabe wouldn’t touch his ribs, which were now screaming at him.
“No. I don’t know,” he said, barely muttering this. He didn’t want to make a big deal about how his ribs had been hurting, and how they were now hurting more. This wasn’t the kind of attention he ever enjoyed, less so when it was coming from Gabe.
“No?” asked Gabe, sounding surprised.
He took out a tube of something and, with gentle fingers, he stroked Blaze’s ribs. Blaze’s whole body reacted with a shudder, up and down, as though in memory of being stroked in the right way.
Blaze had to put the soda down or spill it, then dipped his head, trying to keep still, trying his best not to lean into that touch. But Gabe was done. He wiped his hands on a paper towel, then helped Blaze back into his t-shirt. The long-sleeved shirt was a goner, so Gabe tossed that in the trash, then cleaned up the scraps from his first aid.
“We’ll get you a new shirt,” said Gabe, then he stopped and turned to the door.
Blaze could hear the angry, low growl of a truck’s engine. Which wasn’t for him, was it? He blinked as Tom and Wayne and Kurt moved out of the doorway, and then Leland stepped into view, looking tall and hard-eyed, his cowboy hat nowhere to be seen.
“Kurt,” said Leland, without moving a muscle. “Go get your stuff, then get in the truck. I’m taking you back.”
“Fuck you,” said Kurt without any fear.
“Don’t make me tell you again.”
There was no way Blaze would have ignored such a command and, evidently Kurt, suddenly docile, couldn’t either, and marched out of the first aid hut, Leland right behind him. After a few moments, there was the sound of a truck’s engine gearing up, a pair of doors slamming shut, and then the truck trundled off.
Blaze could admit only to himself that he was glad Kurt was gone. Kurt was like Blaze’s brother Alex, suddenly vicious for reasons known only to himself.
It could have been worse. He could have gotten shoved into the blades, and though he tried to remind himself that he hadn’t been, he was shuddering so hard, he couldn’t bring the can of Coke to his mouth.
“You fellows go on and get back to the chipper,” said Gabe to Wayne and Tom. “It’s almost dinner time, but you can use the scoop shovels to clean up any chips that landed anywhere outside of the dump truck. I’ll be right there. We’ll stack any wood, then we’ll cover the tools, make sure the chipper is all the way off and secured.”
Suddenly, the little building was empty except for him and Gabe. Who was leaning close as he tucked the edges of the ace bandage around Blaze’s bicep, his breath whispering across Blaze’s neck, feeling warm where Blaze was cold.
“I shouldn’t have turned my back on him,” Blaze said, wincing a bit as Gabe lowered his arm. “You never do in the prison yard, you know? Some asshole is always going to want to test you, so you have to keep your back to the wall. Which, in this yard, is a chain-link fence with a little roll of barbed wire on top of it—”
Blaze paused to take a breath, almost gasping with his desperation to let Gabe know, in no uncertain terms, that he knew how to keep the enemy in his sights at all times. That he’d fucked up. That he wouldn’t let it happen again, no, sir.
“You shouldn’t have to worry about that here,” said Gabe. “And I’m sorry I didn’t see the warning signs and get Kurt in check before something bad happened.”
“Leland didn’t see it either,” said Blaze, reaching for the can of Coke, swallowing a mouthful down, and then another, the sugar rushing into his system.
“What do you mean?” asked Gabe. He went very still, his eyes on Blaze.
“Leland had a Zoom meeting with Kurt, right?” Blaze nodded, because he already knew it was true. “Just like he did with the rest of us. Leland,” he paused to emphasize the name, wanting very much to reassure Gabe that it wasn’t his fault. “Leland’s the one who fucked up, if anyone did.”
“Hey, now,” said Gabe.
“All I’m saying is, you’re not a mind reader,” said Blaze with a shake of his head.
“No, I’m not,” said Gabe, his blue eyes sad.
He was close, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he stayed near, that warm hand on Blaze’s shoulder, those eyes watchful as Blaze finished the Coke.
The smell of Gabe’s sweat, the scent of his anger, all of this swirled around Blaze, unsettling him, bestirring him. Swirling feelings inside of him that he didn’t know what to do with.
“Thanks,” he said, looking around him for a trash can.
Gabe took the empty can and placed it on the metal counter below the cabinets of supplies.
