Scavengers: August (4 page)

There was no
sound from the backdoors and James did not run after him. The
silence was almost eerie, with a zombie cage to the side of the
technical room. Even the undead man was quiet, as he had a muzzle
over his mouth.

“What the fuck
are ya lookin’ at?!” hissed Ira, storming through the corridor. He
couldn’t believe this sweet boy turned out to be such a bigot! If
only he didn’t suck cock so well...

The moment he
stepped out into the main corridor, he heard professor Fairfax
calling him by his last name. “Russell! We’re looking for one of
the visitors from the Parliament,” he said nervously. “We need to
be heading for another part of the university now. He said he
became nauseous in the morgue and had to leave, but now he is
nowhere to be found. Have you seen him? Young chap, long hair.”

Now, Ira
himself felt nauseated. “Nah, professor. I ‘aven’t,” he lied and as
soon as the man shifted his attention, proceeded down the corridor
with increasing nervousness.

Great. He just
fucked an important politician.

*

James had spent
yet another hour in his study, with his forehead touching the desk.
He felt useless and disgusting. He couldn’t keep his lustful
desires to himself and now he was paying for it. He got fucked by a
Jew from one of the worst parts of London and if that wasn’t
humiliating enough, the same guy who works at the university,
wrangling up zombies rejected him.

His forehead
hit the desk again.

His study was a
spacious room with rich, burgundy colored wallpaper. The two big
windows were mostly covered, as the view wasn’t pleasant, even
though they lived in a luxurious part of the city. That was one of
the disadvantages of having an apartment on the tenth floor. The
air was a lot cleaner outside, but he could see the city from above
- all the smog, steam and trains moving from station to station.
Lots of people were excited by the developments and technology.
Zeppelins were the new frontier since they seemed to offer safer
travel than trains, but James wasn’t very keen on all that. In his
mind, he would always come back to the times when everything was
simpler. To the mansion in Kent, where he spent most of his youth.
Walking in the gardens, horse riding, swimming in the nearby
lake... He taught Katherine a lot about horses and she loved it, so
it was sad for him to hear her reminisce about that time. He would
want to give her everything that was best in life. Little Henry
too.

Every time he
was here, in his office, secretly looking through the erotic
drawings he had recovered from the mansion and thinking of Ira, he
had felt he was cheating them in some way. The guilt almost made
him gag, but after what had happened today at the university, he
was more embarrassed than ever. He was treated... well... he wanted
the sex, but after Ira rejected him and left shortly after he
swallowed every last drop of his juices, he almost felt physically
ill! He was a man of good standing, a family man, people depended
on him, valued his opinions and he was an important cog within the
society! Why then was he cursed with the needs of a beast?!

Worst of all,
even though he was angry with that man, whenever he thought about
him, all he wanted to do was pleasure himself. For a month, a day
wouldn’t pass without James thinking about him. What they could do
if they met again and what they would talk about. The fact that his
fantasies were not purely sexual, made him feel even more
uncomfortable, as he would never get to satisfy that kind of
craving. They were never going to ride horses together, or go
swimming in the lake and he could never take him to a restaurant,
without being ostracized. James smiled at the thought of inviting
Ira Russell to the opera. He knew the notion was ridiculous and Ira
most probably wouldn't be interested.

The abuse he'd
received today made him envision Ira as someone who doesn’t really
care for silly affections. He considered searching for him in those
bloody docks he lived in! No one should treat him like that! He was
a strong, able man who willingly gave up fighting back to give Ira
pleasure. It was an intimate thing to do and the breach of a
certain trust hurt him most.

He assumed if
he tried to confront Ira he could probably manage some anonymity in
that district thanks to the gas mask. And then, maybe it was all
just a misunderstanding. He supposed not every Jew was deeply
involved with his religion. There might be something to work with
there... If Ira didn’t have any radical views, and James supposed
he didn’t, it could work out just fine.

Also, there was
the upheaval at home. Katherine wanted for Henry to have fun with
other children and often invited mothers with their sons and
daughters, which meant that every other moment there was some sort
of screaming and crying in the house. He wouldn’t openly admit it,
but staying in his study sometimes felt like hiding from the
constant racket. Katherine and Henry were the apple of his eye, but
there was always a point at which he had to draw the line. They
never talked about it, but as they hadn’t slept together for over a
year now, it was pretty obvious that Henry wasn’t having siblings
any time soon.

Suddenly, the
double door swung open as Henry stormed in wearing a cowboy
costume, shouting and running around.

“No, Henry! You
can’t do that!” insisted his mother who came in with the boy’s
nanny.

“Dieee!”
shouted Henry, getting into one of the armchairs.

James sighed
and stood up. “Now, now darling,” he smiled at his wife, “let him
play a bit. I was thinking of going for a walk anyway,” he
said.

“Oh,” Katherine
said, straightening her back. She was truly beautiful, even in a
simple day dress. “Well... it’s a shame you couldn't go with
us.”

“Maybe next
time,” he said, patting the boy on the back and picking up his gas
mask from the desk. “I won’t be long.”

His wife
sighed, shifting nervously. “Do you need company, darling?” she
asked, her hazel eyes following his every move.

“No, thank
you,” he smiled, “it’s just a few business matters.” They all went
to the corridor, where James donned his elegant dark coat.

Henry started
to cry and his nanny immediately carried him away, so as not to
disrupt his parents’ peace. Katherine studied him in meaningful
silence.

“I’m sorry
darling. I promise I’ll be back soon,” James said, looking into her
eyes. “Did I do something?”

“I don’t know
James,” she answered in a calm, clear voice, “did you?”

“I certainly
hope I didn’t!” he laughed, but cringed a bit on the inside. He
hated lying to her and avoided it as much as he could.

Katherine was
silent for a long few seconds and asked: “Do you like working with
that woman, Lady Shelley?”

“Lady S...” He
furrowed his brows in surprise. Now he understood what his wife
could have meant. She must have been worried that he had had an
affair with Lady Shelley. “Oh Katherine! No! I avoid her as much as
I can. She’s boring, annoying and I can never really have a decent
conversation with her.” He leaned in to kiss Katherine’s cheek, but
she moved a step back.

And then, with
a sigh and a relieved smile she looked away. “I’m glad. Enjoy your
walk, darling.”

*

The only thing
James knew was that Ira lived in the dock area, which had a
reputation of being far from safe. He deduced that the least
dangerous would be the way by the Thames. He walked past the drunks
lying on the sides of the passageway. Groups of men who studied him
from head to toe as if he were a walking purse and prostitutes who
looked even worse than those from Soho. Naturally, he wondered what
the more secluded streets looked like. This area at least had the
advantage of free access to light and air. It was not popular among
the wealthy due to the smell of fish and constant noise of modern,
steam-powered cranes. And certainly, the river was no fresh
mountain spring.

The buildings
were mostly huge granaries or freehouses, which were popular among
sailors visiting the city. When he passed a large pub he suddenly
heard screams when a bottle of gin broke right beside his face.
Only then did he realize that two men had gotten into a fight and
were too drunk and angry to mind the passer-bys. Something like
this would never happen in any of the better districts. He hurried
along the street, passing singing men, beggars as well as people
selling food, snacks in wooden boxes, ready to eat. Unfortunately,
he didn't know anything about Ira’s exact whereabouts. He knew, he
would have to eventually ask someone. Then, walking along the
river, lost in unpleasant thoughts, he almost bumped into a large
sailor who emerged from a narrow street, arm in arm with a tall
prostitute.

“Thanks, love,”
he he said to his companion with a smile, letting his gaze loom all
over James. The harlot chuckled, patting the man’s bottom.

James
momentarily took a step to the side, but from behind his mask,
looked at the sailor nervously. Maybe he would know. “Excuse me,
sir?” he said in a voice more meek than he would have wished
for.

Both the sailor
and his companion looked at him attentively. “Yeah?” asked the
former, after another gliding look at James.

“You see sir, I
am looking for a man of the name ‘Ira Russell’. You wouldn’t happen
to know where he resides, would you?” James asked, straightening
his back to appear taller and more confident. Much to his surprise,
the looks his interlocutors gave each other were quite
unsettling.

“I know him all
right,” said the sailor, “Though sugarpie here knows him even
better.” The prostitute chuckled again, giving James a funny
look.

“You do...?” he
asked. He didn’t know Ira also liked women. Maybe he just took
whatever came his way? He felt miserable at that thought.

“I do, kind
sir,” answered the prostitute with a surprisingly low voice,
lifting the hem of her rich, red dress and curtseying playfully.
Her hair was of a fake fiery red color and her make-up was
heavy.

James squinted,
to see better through the goggles of his mask. “Do you think it
would displease him if I visited?” he sighed, trying not to look at
the intimidating sailor.

“I am sure he’d
be delighted!” answered the harlot, who immediately grabbed James’
arm. She was almost as tall as him.

“You don't
mind?” he asked the sailor, just in case. He wouldn’t like to take
the prostitute without his consent.

“Oh, go ahead!”
laughed the other man. “There’s plenty of him to go around!”

James furrowed
his eyebrows and felt suddenly uneasy, when he noticed an Adam’s
apple under the prostitutes jaw. “Oh. Thank you,” he muttered.

“Very welcome,
sir!” the harlot said, winking at the sailor and yanking James into
the same narrow street they just came out of. She was definitely
too strong for a female. What was he getting himself into!? He knew
the docks where a wretched area, but a man in ladies’—harlots’
clothing!?

“So you say you
know him well?” he asked, now more and more curious.

“Very deeply,”
breathed his guide, smiling at him in a seductive manner as they
walked through unpleasantly wet and dirty streets, mud staining
their shoes. The low tenement houses and cheap brothels seemed to
lean over the rigid passageway.

“Are you saying
he pays for you?” James asked, not caring if it was blunt to put it
like that. For over a month now, he imagined what Ira could be,
what he might do, and that maybe it was all make-belief.

“Oh... depends,
really. Why... jealous?” his companion cackled, with obvious
amusement. James was pulled into yet another street. It was
slightly broader, but that didn’t make it any less intimidating or
ugly. At least, wearing a mask helped him feel somewhat
anonymous.

“No,” he said,
but knew it didn’t sound very convincing. “Does he take a lot of
lovers?”

“You ask’im
yourself, dove. I’m not gonna tell,” the prostitute said, stopping
in the middle of the street. “You see that house?”

James hesitated
but nodded. He was hoping for a bit more gossip. The house seemed
slightly bent forward, like a tired old man, but the roof was in
decent shape.

“Go up the
stairs on the left. He lives there.”

“Thank you for
your kindness,” James said, pushing a penny into his hand. All
tense and nervous he walked up to the house. He knew it might be a
gruelling and unpleasant talk, but it needed to happen. The
staircase squeaked with his every step, but he saw light in the
window, which meant that the other man was home. There was
something in the smell of the place that he didn’t appreciate, lots
of dust and dampness. After a deep breath, he finally knocked on
the door. Immediately, he heard some movement and it flung open,
revealing a handsome boy of about sixteen. He was shorter than
James, of a delicate posture, with a slim, elegant neck. His face
was quite angelic, with a narrow nose, large, pitch-black eyes and
a sensuous mouth that almost begged to be kissed. He kept his
black, curly hair long, but very tidy. Only after a moment, James
noticed that the boy was dressed in a white nightshirt so thin it
was almost transparent.

“Uhm...” James
cleared his throat. “Is this the apartment of Ira Russell?” He
asked weakly. Although he was handsome, he felt old and used up,
next to this young, fresh boy who seemed ripe as a peach.

“It is,” said
the boy, pouting, “Are you in need of his services?” he asked. The
question angelically innocent, even though James knew the services
Ira provided were drenched in blood.

“S...
services... yes. I think so. I need to talk to him,” he gulped.

“Well he ain’t
home,” said the boy, shrugging his arms. “Wanna wait?” he asked,
opening the door a bit wider. James saw a humble room, furnished in
dark wood and a crackling fire in a small metal fireplace. It was
cool outside, but the person responsible for feeding the fire did
their job a bit too well. The room was unpleasantly hot, which
justified the boy’s attire to some extent. The lack of any
decoration whatsoever made the interior resemble a cheap rented
lodging.