In The Heat Of The Night Chapter 3

[talliw]

Title: In The Heat Of The Night Chapter 3
Author: TalliW
Characters: James Lester/Connor Temple
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Primeval is the property of Impossible Pictures. I write just for fun.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to the wonderful Fredbassett for beta duty.
Summary: Lester and Connor have to fight for survival in a future where a climatic catastrophe has drastically changed the world.

It hadn't been hard to convince the young man to switch quarters again with Connor. Now Connor was lying next to Lester with his eyes closed and thinking about the events of the day.

"They won’t leave us alone, will they?"

"That's not very likely. Not after today's events. I have undermined Johnson's authority."

"Then we should take off before they kill one of us."

"How? The fence is still active and the administrative building heavy guarded. The gate only gets opened when the lorries come through. Ben said the next delivery isn't expected before August."

"That’s two and an half more months," Connor gasped, horrified.

"I can count, you know,“ Lester snapped back, taking his frustration at the situation out on Connor.

Connor sat up and put his head in his hands. "We’ll never make it that long. We’re practically dead."

"Yes, you are, if you just sit there without doing something," Mattie said from the entrance.

"Then tell me, what can we do?"

"Move in with me and Beacher. Then you’ll be safer. The gang won't dare mess openly with the chief administrator."

Beacher's house had two bedrooms, a living room with real furniture and even a bathroom with a sink and an earth drop, sparing him the unpleasant affair of having to use the communal bathroom and the long drops in the open.
The companies took good care of their executives, knowing how important they were to keeping everything under control.

Lester stared with envy at the low futon bed in Beacher's bedroom and the old oak wardrobe. Their assigned room, although clean, didn't offer any of this luxury. As usual, he and Connor would have to sleep on a mat on the floor.

For a moment, Lester considered building a makeshift bed with the table and the two chairs from the living room but then dropped the idea as he noticed Beacher's look.

The man was clearly not happy about them invading his house, raising the question in Lester’s mind how Mattie had managed to convince Beacher to agree to it.

"Good night!" the burly man in his late 30s whose hair was already thinning out at the top muttered before he retreated to his bedroom.

Lester and Connor used the remaining daylight to set up their beds for the night. Knowing they were safe from Johnson's gang for now, as well as the prospect of sleeping without the snoring and huffing of eight other people in the room, was raising their spirits considerably.

Hours later, Lester was woken up by a breathy groan from Beacher's bedroom. Realising the price Mattie had to pay for their accommodation, he pulled his blanket up over his ears to block out the noises of a young man whoring himself for the safety of his friends.

When he heard Connor shift next to him, Lester slowed his breathing to make it appear like he was still sleeping.

"So you’ve found protection with the chief administrator," Johnson said to Lester as he encountered him on the way to the Counter two days later.

"It seemed to me that it was our only chance of surviving the next few nights."

"Clever move. A pity, really, that you rejected my offer. I might need more men with brains in my gang. But don't think you’ve won. This is far from over. Beacher's men won't be always around and accidents happen quite often in a working camp."

Lester felt the strong impulse to punch the arrogant sod right into his grinning face until his expression had turned into a grimace of pain. But that would only make matters worse.

"Well, then I’d better watch out," Lester said with forced calmless.

Johnson had been watching Lester carefully and was now disappointed with Lester's lack of reaction. He was used to inducing fear in people.

"If you would excuse me now. I don't want to miss the opening of the Counter."

With his head held high, Lester walked away. He could feel Johnson's eyes boring into his back, full of anger and a little bit of concern.

Connor had barely made it to the meal break. Now he stared morosely at the pile of food on his plate. Although he had been waiting all morning for this moment to come he now felt slightly nauseous.

Tentatively, he took his first bite from the piece of grilled chicken and began chewing.

Food at Interserve was a great deal better than at Garrard and Sotheby's but the work was also a lot more demanding.

It had got harder with every day for Connor to keep up with Lester and Ben's group. In the last days there had been a few times when Ripper had hissed at him in annoyance for slowing them down, fearing they would lose their chance of a bonus thanks to Connor.

Whilst the other two companies were looking for gems and anything else of any value, the employers of Interserve were digging deep into the ground for construction materials.
Every time people of a shift stumbled across the intact remains of a solid brick house, the company was giving away a bonus. Another bonus was due if the shift managed to dig the highest amount of reusable bricks out afterwards.

"Still trouble with your injuries?" Mattie asked compassionately.

"Not much. The old ones are as good as healed. But I received a few mean punches last week at Sotheby's and then of course the one in my kidneys from Johnson."

"Shit. And I had particularly begged the Sotheby's workers to leave you alone."

"Most of them did, too. It were just the same two idiots not getting the hint that I'm not easy prey."

"Mitchel and Laurie, I assume. Oh man, mate, you really know how to pick them. I'll see what I can do for you, okay?"

Mattie had then moved over to the free seat next to Blevins, the foreman, and had talked quietly to him.

After meal break Connor had been removed from the diggers and seconded to the brick cleaners.

"Connor, hurry up. There’ll be apples in the shop today. Real apples from Canada. Beacher told me last night."

Mattie was excited like a child on Christmas Day, showing Lester and Connor what a rarity fresh apples must be in Mattie's life.

In the shop, Mattie had inspected every apple behind the latticed shop shelf carefully until he'd finally chosen one he considered worth spending almost a quarter of his weekly wage on.

Watching Mattie chew every bite of the apple with an expression of utter joy, Connor had felt a lump forming in his throat. Back at home apples had been such a daily occurrence that often a few had ended up in the rubbish after rotting away for weeks. He had never cared much for fresh fruit.

Now Connor looked at the stem Mattie had tossed into the bin after even eating the apple core and felt bad about all his former food waste.

"Here, enjoy," Lester said as he held two luscious apples out to Mattie.

"But... They cost £12 each. I can't... "

"Please accept this as a small token of thanks for everything you have done for Connor and me."

Tears gathered in Mattie's eyes and he took deep breaths to keep his emotions under control.

"I was just helping a friend," Mattie mumbled. "I wasn't doing it for any sort of repayment."

"I know. That makes your help even more precious. Come on, take them. We bought them especially for you."

"Can I share them with someone else?"

"Of course. They’e yours," Connor declared. "You can do anything you want with them."

"Thank you. No one has ever given me a pressie like th..."

Matties voice broke completely. He just smiled at Lester and Connor as he accepted the valuable gift.

"Did you see his face? How happy he was?" Connor asked with a sniffle. "And it was just two apples, two ordinary apples. What the hell has happened to our world?"

"Maybe we’re now seeing the result of all our predatory exploitations of nature," Lester replied quietly.

"I swear if we get back I'll start recycling. And stop using plastic bags. I'll also become a member of WWF. I’ll do everything I can to prevent a future like this."

Lester smiled thinly. He had noticed that Connor was using the word 'if' now instead of 'when'.

"Dafyyd said it was the best apple he’s ever eaten, although I suspect it was actually his first apple," Mattie said as he sat down on the free chair in the living room across from Connor, "You really didn't need to make such a sacrifice."

"Forget it, it wasn't a sacrifice. I don't really care much for apples. And Lester prefers bananas."

"Have you ever eaten a banana?" Mattie asked Connor with big round eyes.

"Oh yeah, quite a lot. When I was a child I got one in my lunchbox every day, together with a peach or a nectarine."

"Your family must have been very wealthy," Mattie mumbled, impressed. "I’ve never seen a banana or a peach close up. And I don't even know what a nectarine is."

Now Connor was ashamed. He’d bragged about eating things Mattie could only dream of.

"Oh, nectarines are like peaches, just not so hairy."

At that moment. Connor fervently wished that he could have back one of the dozen of peaches he’d thrown into the bin because he hadn't liked the hairy skin of the fruit tickling his gums. Just one peach to offer Mattie, so the nice young man could taste the sweetness of the juicy fruit at least once in his life.

"What happened? I mean with your family. Why do you have to work here? Did they run out of money?"

"My father left us," Connor said quietly. "Suddenly everything changed. Mum had to go out to work again. Even with that there was barely enough money to make ends meet. She was hardly around any more and we started to drift apart. When I was old enough, I moved out. I didn't want to live off her any longer."

"At least she didn't abandon you like my mother did. I was found on the steps of the St. Michael’s monastary in Exeter," Mattie mumbled. "I grew up in their orphanage until I was 12. Then they said I was old enough to work in a camp. I've been here since then."

"I'm sorry," Connor said automatically, just to say something and fill the awkward silence that had followed Mattie’s story.

"It's okay. I'm over it now. For years I’ve told people - and myself - that I'm the oldest son of a wealthy family and was abducted as a baby. But that's nonsense. My parents just couldn't afford me and brought me to the monastry so I would survive. It's probably better I never got to know them. Dafyyd still misses his parents terribly. And he lost them 17 years back."

"Who's this Dafyyd?"

"One of the permanent Sotheby's workers. He's my boyfriend."

"And Beacher?"

"Beacher is my keeper."

Connor was a little confused by Mattie's relations. There were so many things in this world he didn't understand. Perhaps this was the opportunity to find out more.

"I heard you a few nights ago," Connor started to approach the quite delicate topic. "It sounded like you were... you know, doing it with Beacher."

"Oh that," Mattie said, a little flustered. "I was just blowing him. He always gets too excited when I give him head. But I don't let him fuck me."

"But you... suck him?"

"On rare occasions. Most of the time he just rubs off on me or I give him a handjob. Is Lester demanding more from you? Something kinky?"

"No. I don't... There isn't anything between me and Lester," Connor declared, shocked.

"Oh, come on, tell me the truth, Connor. I was honest with you."

"I'm telling you the truth. I'm not into men. Besides, Lester has a wife and kids at home."

"What has that got to do with anything?" Mattie asked. "Beacher is married too. His family lives in the Aldridge oasis. His daughter is at the university." Mattie huffed in exasperation. "She's going to become a doctor and I can't even read or write more than my name. But you know what, if I get enough money together I'll settle down in an oasis too. Perhaps in Lyon or the one in Germany where are still a few real deciduous trees left and not just palms. And then I'll learn to properly read and write."

"I could teach you," Connor suggested, glad to have found something he could help Mattie with.

"Really? You would do that? You aren't just saying it?"

"We could start right away if you want."

"Tomorrow okay? In ten minutes the basketball game’s starting between Corus' and Sotheby's morning shifts. Perhaps this time Johnson’ll get his face smashed."

With an impish smirk, Mattie got up from the chair and moved towards the exit. On the doorstep, he turned around again.

"By the way, Connor. Don't be ashamed about what you do in order to survive. Guys like us need keepers. Especially if there are men like Johnson around. People who can't understand that are idiots."

As soon as Mattie was out of sight, Connor dashed into their bedroom where Lester was taking a nap. "Lester!" Connor shouted to get the attention of the dozing man. "Lester, Mattie is going with us when we go back. I'll not leave him behind in this hell hole. Did you hear me?"

"Yes, yes, I heard you. Now let me go back to sleep. We can talk about your good intentions when the time comes."

Lester turned his back demonstratively on Connor, mostly to hide his relief. Whatever Mattie had said to Connor, it had been powerful enough to switch the 'if' back to a 'when'.

"One dead and four badly injured," Beacher yelled angrily. "The chairmen should forbid any sort of team games in the camps. Fucking hell, if Mayfield doesn't make it through the night we’ll be on the brink of a war between Johnson and the Sotheby's scumbags."

"Oh, that's bad. Mayfield is Johnson's fuck buddy," Mattie whispered to Connor. "I have to warn Dafyyd. He's in the Sotheby evening shift. I'm afraid Johnson won’t make any difference between the shifts if Mayfield dies."

"Where are you going, Mattie?" Beacher thundered.

"To Dafyyd."

"You’re not going anywhere. Lester, Connor, you see to it."

"But Dafyyd..." Mattie whimpered.

"Dafyyd always boasts he can fight for himself. Perhaps tonight he gets the opportunity to prove it," Beacher said coldly before he stormed away to the infirmary.

Dafyyd turned out to be the arrogant guy who had wrinkled up his nose with disgust at Connor in the queue in front of the Sotheby's counter.

Now he sat shivering in Beacher's living room. His head buried in his hands, he tried to block out the memories of the last few hours whilst Mattie ran his fingers soothingly through his silky black hair.

Mayfield hadn't died that night but he would be crippled for the rest of his life.

In the wake of Johnson's anger, a lot of Sotheby's workers had received injuries but mostly minor enough that they could continue working the next day.

Connor couldn't help grinning as he heard Mitchel had been clubbed quite heavily and Laurie had received a shiner on his right eye.

Dafyyd had been agile enough to escape Kyles clutches with only a few bruises, but the shock was profound.

"If he wants he can sleep in the living room tonight," Beacher snarled at Mattie. "But you’ll spend the night in your rightful place."

When the loud groaning started in Beacher's bedroom, Connor curled up into a ball and pressed his hands over his ears.

Turning away from Lester, and with the door to the living room closed, Connor didn't see that Lester and Dafyyd had done exactly the same.

"Boy, he has a quick wit. A pity he hasn't got a good education. He would have excelled at anything he set his mind to," Connor declared after another lesson with Mattie.

Within a week, Mattie had learned to write his first sentence. Connor's eyes still got misty every time he remembered the askew letters Mattie had written in the sand, forming the words 'You are my best friend.'

"Well, some people have to work hard for their daily bread. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a monied father and be able to follow his interests."

For a number of reasons, Connor took Lester's words as a personal attack.

"What do you know?" he hissed. "Shall I tell you a little about my spoiled life and my great father? He always scolded me for my interest in dinosaurs, said I should apply my attention to a proper field like physics or chemistry. Secretly, I did a paper round and was delivering rolls for a bakery on Sunday mornings so I could buy my first dinosaur book. Because my wonderful father had forbidden the librarian to lend me one. Then two weeks after I had failed the test for a science-based school for highly-gifted children, he left us. My mother always said she was glad of it, but I felt guilty anyway. In the hope he would return to us I started to pay more attention in school and quickly became the nerd with the best grades. On the day I finished school, I found a cheque in the post together with a note from my father that he was glad I'd finally learned to value a proper eduction. I hope he was foaming with rage when I registered for paleontology with his money."

The last words were spoken with more venom than Lester had ever heard before from Connor.

In unease, Lester ran his fingers through his hair and searched for the right words to say. But before he could utter a word, Connor muttered spitefully, "Now tell me about your hard life, James Lester, only son of Sir Harold."

Feeling suddenly backed into a corner, Lester snapped, "Do you really think I' chose a career as a pen-pusher voluntarily? Oh yes, I wasn't lacking anything in my childhood and had access to the best schools money could buy. But I also was expected to follow in my father's footsteps."

"And of course you obeyed so he wouldn't disinherit you," Connor tossed in snidely.

"Wrong. I put no value on the inheritance. But I loved my parents. My father was an old, ill man so I fulfilled his wish and applied to the Home Office."

"Is he still around?"

"Not any more," Lester said with a whiff of sadness. "He died six months after I'd become a junior civil servant. I know I could have left the Home Office after his death. My mother wouldn't have held it against me. But I was already engaged at the time and was about to marry and start a family. It seemed wrong to give up my respectable job and start again from scratch."

Lester bit his lips, furious at himself for revealing so much about his life. Out of the corner of his eyes, he observed Connor, expecting another mocking remark.

But to Lester's amazement, Connor only mumbled, "I doubt respectable civil servants deal with dinosaurs and eccentric scientists on daily basis."

"Probably not." Lester answered with a glimmer of a wry grin. "After my divorce I even asked for permanent assignment to the anomaly project. My superiors thought I was insane..."

In the semi-darkness of twilight, Connor and Lester shared a conspiratorial look. Suddenly they understood each other a lot better than before.