Assumed Dead, page 3
“I can take some of your chores. I know you hate doing the laundry. I could take a couple of your shifts there. Five of them. Ten if you…if you…with your mouth.”
Matt tasted bile in his throat. “I’m not a fucking whore, you know.”
“I didn’t offer money,” Rich protested. Of course not. What use was money in this time and place? He’d offered the only thing of value they all had—their labor.
“I said no,” Matt said.
“Be different if I was Lane, wouldn’t it,” Rich almost snarled. He took a step closer to Matt, who backed off and came up against the shelving unit. It was bolted to both floor and ceiling and didn’t budge. “If I was Lane, you’d be on your knees in a flat second, sucking him off.”
“Shut your mouth,” Matt snapped. He would not listen to Rich make what Matt felt for Peter sound sordid. He moved to get away, and Rich lunged at him.
Matt dodged, dropping the box he was carrying. Rich fell against the shelf and scattered some items on it. Matt hoped nothing broke open to spill on the floor. Rich grabbed his arm, and Matt stopped worrying about spilled food.
“Get your hands off me!” He lashed out and caught Rich a blow across the face. More a slap than a punch—he was no fighter. Rich let go and fell back, holding his face.
“You fucking hit me!”
Matt pulled himself together. No fighter he might be, but he was bigger and stronger than Rich. He had no reason to be afraid. He drew himself up, using every inch of his six foot height. “You touch me again, you’ll get worse, I promise you.”
“What’s going on?” Louise’s voice made them turn. She was standing up at the north end of the aisle of shelves, a mere dark shape. Matt must have missed hearing her come in the door. When Matt turned back to him, Rich was vanishing into the darkness. A few seconds later the south door opened and then banged closed.
“Matt?” Louise arrived at his side. She frowned down at the boxes and packets on the floor and started to pick things up, checking them for damage. “What just happened here?”
“That bastard Brooks!” The words burst from Matt, his adrenaline surge turning to anger. “Thinks he can put his hands on me. Thinks he can ask me for… I won’t share a bunk room with him anymore, I’ll tell you that. I want him out. Away from me. And from Stav and Ed. I wouldn’t trust him around any of them!”
She gaped at him, a box in her hand, forgotten. “He attacked you?”
“He…” Could he say “attacked”? Rich had lunged at him. That had been a lunge for sure. But Matt had hit him and… Shit, that was going to leave a mark, wasn’t it? And Matt didn’t have any marks or evidence on him. “He tried it on,” he finished a bit lamely. “Um, maybe I should forget about it. I dealt with it.” Still, the thought of being in the bunk room with him… Matt would never sleep.
“No way.” Louise slapped down the box onto the shelf with unnecessary force. “That creep needs to be nipped in the bud. He’s got handsy with me before—at least until I started seeing Edvin. He looks at Chandra like…” She stopped. Matt felt pretty sick at that. Chandra was such a slip of a thing, and timid. She couldn’t give Rich a black eye the way Matt probably had. And if the straight guy was desperate enough to start trying it on with the boys, Matt would bet he’d try with the girls—the ones not spoken for, that was.
“I bet the only reason he hasn’t tried anything with her is that he knows R.J. would kill him if he did.” Louise finished putting boxes on shelves, then took one off again, the onion flakes Matt had come in here for.
“R.J. has a thing for Chandra?” Matt boggled. “Why am I always the last to know these things?”
“Because you’re too busy gazing like an infatuated puppy at Peter. But I wouldn’t say a ‘thing.’ He probably knows he’s too old and too macho and intense and all that bollocks for her. But I think he’s more protective of her than of the rest of us. Never mind that. You have to make a complaint about Brooks. Get him moved out of the bunk room. You shouldn’t have to put up with that shit. I’ll back you up.”
“Lou, you didn’t actually see anything.”
“I saw enough. You made the accusation right away. Come on, Matt. Don’t chicken out and let the bastard get away with it.”
Matt bristled immediately. She knew how to push his buttons.
“I’m not a chicken.” She was right. He had to do it, for the sake of the others who at least needed a warning. “Okay. I’ll do it. Let’s get dinner on, then call a meeting.”
* * * *
Everyone gathered in the rec room after dinner. Matt had said at the table that he had something to talk to the group about. He didn’t elaborate, but Peter had seen Rich Brooks immediately becoming nervous. Rich with the black eye that he wouldn’t let Peter take a look at. Peter sat next to R.J. but leaned over to talk to Vicky, who had Hope on her lap. The baby snoozed peacefully.
“No more colic?” he asked. Hope had been up half the night with it, keeping Vicky and Kasper and Peter up on and off too. Whatever this meeting was about, Peter hoped it would be over quickly so he could get to bed.
“No, she’s fine,” Vicky said. She looked as tired as Peter felt. “I think we’ll all get some rest tonight.” The baby opened her eyes, then made a soft mewling sound. Peter smiled at her and touched her hand when she thrust it out of the blanket wrapped around her, stretching, yawning. Her tiny pale fingers circled his thumb and held it tight. She’d have that palmar grasp reflex for a few months yet. Then he told himself to stop thinking about reflexes and enjoy the moment as the life he’d helped enter the world made contact with him, with her hand and her eyes. She looked right back at him.
“Can I get everyone’s attention?” Matt had stood up and come to the middle of the room. Louise stood too, close to Matt. The chatting died down in the room. Peter gently extracted his thumb from Hope’s hand and sat back in his chair. Matt looked nervous as hell. He glanced back at Louise, who gave him a reassuring nod.
“Speak up, kid,” R.J. said. “We don’t have all night.”
Technically they had nothing but time. But Peter still wanted that early night.
“Um, I want to ask that one of the unused bedrooms be opened up and Rich Brooks moves in there. If he won’t, then I’ll move into it myself.”
Everyone stared at Brooks, then back at Matt.
“I’m guessing this is something to do with that shiner he’s sporting,” Jay said.
“He… Earlier in the storeroom,” Matt said. “He made a…a sexual advance to me. When I turned him down, he…tried to grab me.”
“He’s a damn liar,” Brooks said. “Why would I make an advance to him? I’m not gay. He’s gay. He came on to me!”
“I did not,” Matt protested. “As if!”
Brooks came to his feet, and Matt dropped back a step, defensive.
“Sit down, Richard,” Dr. Crawford snapped in the old “head of expedition” tone rarely heard these days. Brooks obeyed, retreated, glaring at Matt. Peter looked down at himself and saw he’d clenched his fists without realizing it. He uncurled his fingers.
“I won’t share a bunk room with him,” Matt said. “And I don’t think it’s fair on Stav or Edvin to have to either.”
Stav looked as if he agreed. Edvin, whose English was still limited, was getting a translation from Kasper, and his reactions came slower than everyone else’s. But he looked angry and nodded vigorously. Neither of them seemed to have any objection to sharing with Matt, who they knew was gay. But clearly they trusted Matt. Not like that hypocrite, Brooks. With his homophobic cracks, and secretly wanting sex with Matt. How dare he? How fucking dare he?
“Matt,” Dr. Crawford said. “Do you have any witnesses to this?”
“I came in right after,” Louise said. “There’d obviously been a struggle. There were boxes and things knocked off shelves. Brooks went scurrying out when he spotted me. Matt told me right away what had happened.”
“But you didn’t see it happen?”
“No,” she admitted, sounding reluctant. “But Matt told me right away, and it was obvious there’d been an altercation of some kind.”
But she hadn’t seen it. That made a difference. Especially to these scientists. Empiricists to a man and woman. So was Peter, but he trusted his instincts too. Matt was telling the truth. He was an open and honest kid.
“I’m not gay,” Brooks said, “or bi, or anything like that. So why would I ask him for sex?”
“Because you have before,” Matt said. “And got it—once. You know why I always said no after that.”
Matt was red in the face, looking mortified, but angry enough to keep him going. Vicky was frowning and looking ready to take Hope and get out of there. Chandra appeared deeply embarrassed and as if she was pretending to be anywhere but here.
“You led me on,” Brooks accused Matt. His expression grew slyer. “Does Marinos always return the favor when you jerk him off?”
Stav looked horrified at the words. He gave Chandra a desperate look. She jumped up and ran out of the room. He rose to follow her, but Edvin yanked him back down, maybe thinking the boys had to band together for a Brooks-free bunk room.
“Never mind about Stav,” Matt said. “We’re talking about you.” He turned back to the long couch where Dr. Crawford, R.J., and Peter sat. His eyes locked on Peter’s for a long moment. “I can’t share a bunk room with him. I won’t.”
“We can’t spare the fuel to heat another bedroom,” R.J. argued. “We should be cutting down where we can, not using more of the rooms.”
“Then why aren’t you in the bunk room too?” Brooks demanded of R.J., who was one of the two people who had their own rooms, Peter being the other. “You merit your own room, and Lane does, but not Dr. Crawford? What kind of sexist crap is that?”
“Don’t derail the conversation,” Crawford said. She turned to Matt. “Mr. Warner, you have to appreciate the fuel situation. You know we are short of wood to burn for the underfloor heating.”
“I know,” he said. “And I do appreciate that. But I want something done. I’m a member of this group too. I want its protection.”
“Can you wait outside a minute,” Crawford said. “You too, Richard.” She pointed at the door to the dining area. “In there. Do not go and talk to Mr. Warner.”
Rich bristled, like he was going to demand why he should take her orders. But he gave in and rose with exaggerated dignity and left through the door into the dining room. Matt watched him go suspiciously, then gave his bunkmates and Peter meaningful looks, before he went out the door into the corridor. The message was clear. He expected their support.
Chapter Four
When the door closed behind him, R.J. scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair. “Shit. Something like this had to happen one day. I’m only surprised it took this long.”
“Do we assume it went down the way Matt said?” Vicky asked. “Rich is the one with the bruises.”
“No way Matt did that in anything but self-defense,” Louise insisted.
“But you didn’t see it happen,” Vicky replied.
“I didn’t need to. I know Matt.”
“He says they’ve had sex before,” R.J. said. He shrugged. “Brooks might have assumed—”
“If he assumed he could do what he liked because of that, then he’s in the wrong,” Louise said. She gave Peter a glare that suggested he might want to speak the hell up here. Peter cleared his throat.
“She’s right that Brooks has no right to assume privileges because of things that have happened in the past,” Peter said. It made him queasy, the thought that Matt had done something with both Brooks and Stav and who knew who else. That bothered Peter. Those guys were straight. If it was for tension release, then a guy didn’t need another guy for that. Peter didn’t like it, but that wasn’t the point. Brooks certainly had no right to expect it because it had happened before. Especially as Matt seemed definite that there was a specific reason he’d stopped it with Brooks.
What was that reason? What had Brooks done to him? That bastard. Let him get sick or injured and need Peter’s care and see what a doctor could do if you pissed him off. The thought shocked him. As if he’d ever violate his professional ethics that way. He shook himself from his fantasies of revenge as the conversation continued. Crawford asked Stav and Edvin if they’d ever been bothered by Brooks. Neither had.
“Well, I have,” Louise said. “He’s put his hands where he shouldn’t before. Suggested things. I told him to fuck off.” There were a couple of winces at her language, including one from Vicky, which was ironic, as Peter had heard some choice swearing from her during labor. Maybe she didn’t like Hope’s delicate young ears hearing this kind of talk. Though the baby seemed to have gone to sleep again, opting out of this horrible conversation.
It took a second for the translation from Kasper, and then Edvin was on his feet, rage on his face. “When?” he asked Louise. “When he says these things? Ask things? I will…” He gave vent to his feelings in Norwegian. Louise shushed him and patted his arm. Whether she was pleased to see him getting so angry in her behalf, or glad that he’d become an ally in the “get Brooks out of the bunk room” campaign, Peter couldn’t tell. R.J. sighed, perhaps seeing the latter.
“That doesn’t help,” Crawford said. She leaned in to R.J. and Peter. The group didn’t really have leaders. They voted on most things. But the three of them tended to be the de facto leaders, everyone still respecting their positions of authority. “Clearly we have to do something. We can’t expel Richard out into the snow to die. So what do we do?”
“There isn’t much snow out there anyway,” R.J. said. She glared at him. “Okay, so it’s going to lead to trouble trying to make Matt or Ed share with Brooks. But I’m not having him sharing with me, if you were going to suggest that.”
“Nor me,” Peter said quickly. He might be tempted to do something terrible to the guy as he slept.
“Then since we’re so squeamish, we bite the bullet and look at rearranging the rooms,” R.J. said. “We can’t afford the fuel to open another one up. We have to work with what we’ve got.” He nodded at Edvin and Louise. “Maybe those two could share. Chandra moves in with Jay and Dr. Crawford, and Brooks has the room the two girls share. And…no, damn, that still doesn’t give us a spare room.”
“You’re making a big assumption about Lou and Ed,” Peter said.
“You don’t fancy swapping with Brooks and moving into the bunk room, do you?” R.J. asked Peter.
“My frat-house days are long behind me.”
“Could we divide the bunk room?” Crawford said. “Build some kind of partition? Keep Richard on one side and the three boys on the other.”
“It’s only got one door,” Peter pointed out.
“A door is easy,” R.J. said. “The walls are thin wooden panels. I could cut out a door space in five minutes and use a door from an unused room. Won’t have much in the way of draft proofing. That can be Brooks’s side.”
“We’ll have to rearrange the bunks too,” Peter said. “And it cuts down the space for them drastically.” He felt briefly guilty about his room. But it was a tiny space too, originally intended as sleeping quarters only in an emergency, when the doctor had to stay close to a patient overnight in the infirmary. When they closed down as many of the bedrooms as possible to conserve fuel, Peter had opted for that small but private space rather than sharing with anyone. R.J. had done the same, setting up an area in the station manager’s office as a bedroom. Nobody had argued with either Peter’s or R.J.’s choice. Everyone preferred a well-rested doctor, and people mostly didn’t dare argue with R.J.
“Okay,” R.J. said. “Let’s put that to the boys. And caution Brooks to stay well away from…I’d say all of them at this point. After that I’ll have a short word with him. A little man-to-man chat.” He cracked his knuckles in an alarming manner, and Crawford stared at him, looking shocked. Peter doubted R.J. meant to beat Brooks up—not that he’d have minded. He’d known R.J. for five years, summers only for the first two, then living here since. He’d never seen the man hit anyone, or even restrain them. But with his military background, he certainly could. He’d use that presence of his to intimidate Brooks into behaving. It was primitive, almost savage behavior. But it was the situation they were in.
They called for attention and brought both Matt and Brooks back in. Louise went and retrieved Stav, who’d gone off while Peter, R.J., and Crawford were talking. He returned with Chandra in tow, so they had everyone again.
R.J. put the proposal to the group, that they divided the bunk room to keep Brooks apart from the others.
“What do we divide it with?” Matt asked, looking dubious. “We can’t spare any wood.”
“It will have to be canvas,” R.J. said. “We have plenty of that. Doubled up, it will form a good screen. We can spare enough wood to make a frame. Just don’t lean on it.”
Not exactly soundproof, though. You’d be able to hear everything on the other side. Peter doubted they were happy. None of them looked happy. But happiness was rarer than pink polar bears around here. One by one the residents of the bunk room nodded.
“Then it’s settled,” R.J. said. “We’ll build that in the morning.”
“Meanwhile, Richard might find it more comfortable sleeping out here in the rec room tonight,” Crawford said, spearing him with a gaze as stinging as hail in a storm. He looked like he wanted to speak, but thought better of it and nodded meekly.
The meeting broke up. Peter was one of the last to go. Not quite the last. He closed the rec room door on R.J. and Brooks, about to have the promised man-to-man talk.
He went into the kitchen and poured himself a mug of cocoa. Made with powdered milk and no sugar, but beggars, or people trapped on islands in the north of Hudson Bay, could most assuredly not be choosers. He chatted for a few minutes with Kasper, before Kasper left with two mugs of cocoa. Jay wandered in, filled a plastic carafe of water.
“Always something, huh, Doc?” she said. “Always something.”
Matt tasted bile in his throat. “I’m not a fucking whore, you know.”
“I didn’t offer money,” Rich protested. Of course not. What use was money in this time and place? He’d offered the only thing of value they all had—their labor.
“I said no,” Matt said.
“Be different if I was Lane, wouldn’t it,” Rich almost snarled. He took a step closer to Matt, who backed off and came up against the shelving unit. It was bolted to both floor and ceiling and didn’t budge. “If I was Lane, you’d be on your knees in a flat second, sucking him off.”
“Shut your mouth,” Matt snapped. He would not listen to Rich make what Matt felt for Peter sound sordid. He moved to get away, and Rich lunged at him.
Matt dodged, dropping the box he was carrying. Rich fell against the shelf and scattered some items on it. Matt hoped nothing broke open to spill on the floor. Rich grabbed his arm, and Matt stopped worrying about spilled food.
“Get your hands off me!” He lashed out and caught Rich a blow across the face. More a slap than a punch—he was no fighter. Rich let go and fell back, holding his face.
“You fucking hit me!”
Matt pulled himself together. No fighter he might be, but he was bigger and stronger than Rich. He had no reason to be afraid. He drew himself up, using every inch of his six foot height. “You touch me again, you’ll get worse, I promise you.”
“What’s going on?” Louise’s voice made them turn. She was standing up at the north end of the aisle of shelves, a mere dark shape. Matt must have missed hearing her come in the door. When Matt turned back to him, Rich was vanishing into the darkness. A few seconds later the south door opened and then banged closed.
“Matt?” Louise arrived at his side. She frowned down at the boxes and packets on the floor and started to pick things up, checking them for damage. “What just happened here?”
“That bastard Brooks!” The words burst from Matt, his adrenaline surge turning to anger. “Thinks he can put his hands on me. Thinks he can ask me for… I won’t share a bunk room with him anymore, I’ll tell you that. I want him out. Away from me. And from Stav and Ed. I wouldn’t trust him around any of them!”
She gaped at him, a box in her hand, forgotten. “He attacked you?”
“He…” Could he say “attacked”? Rich had lunged at him. That had been a lunge for sure. But Matt had hit him and… Shit, that was going to leave a mark, wasn’t it? And Matt didn’t have any marks or evidence on him. “He tried it on,” he finished a bit lamely. “Um, maybe I should forget about it. I dealt with it.” Still, the thought of being in the bunk room with him… Matt would never sleep.
“No way.” Louise slapped down the box onto the shelf with unnecessary force. “That creep needs to be nipped in the bud. He’s got handsy with me before—at least until I started seeing Edvin. He looks at Chandra like…” She stopped. Matt felt pretty sick at that. Chandra was such a slip of a thing, and timid. She couldn’t give Rich a black eye the way Matt probably had. And if the straight guy was desperate enough to start trying it on with the boys, Matt would bet he’d try with the girls—the ones not spoken for, that was.
“I bet the only reason he hasn’t tried anything with her is that he knows R.J. would kill him if he did.” Louise finished putting boxes on shelves, then took one off again, the onion flakes Matt had come in here for.
“R.J. has a thing for Chandra?” Matt boggled. “Why am I always the last to know these things?”
“Because you’re too busy gazing like an infatuated puppy at Peter. But I wouldn’t say a ‘thing.’ He probably knows he’s too old and too macho and intense and all that bollocks for her. But I think he’s more protective of her than of the rest of us. Never mind that. You have to make a complaint about Brooks. Get him moved out of the bunk room. You shouldn’t have to put up with that shit. I’ll back you up.”
“Lou, you didn’t actually see anything.”
“I saw enough. You made the accusation right away. Come on, Matt. Don’t chicken out and let the bastard get away with it.”
Matt bristled immediately. She knew how to push his buttons.
“I’m not a chicken.” She was right. He had to do it, for the sake of the others who at least needed a warning. “Okay. I’ll do it. Let’s get dinner on, then call a meeting.”
* * * *
Everyone gathered in the rec room after dinner. Matt had said at the table that he had something to talk to the group about. He didn’t elaborate, but Peter had seen Rich Brooks immediately becoming nervous. Rich with the black eye that he wouldn’t let Peter take a look at. Peter sat next to R.J. but leaned over to talk to Vicky, who had Hope on her lap. The baby snoozed peacefully.
“No more colic?” he asked. Hope had been up half the night with it, keeping Vicky and Kasper and Peter up on and off too. Whatever this meeting was about, Peter hoped it would be over quickly so he could get to bed.
“No, she’s fine,” Vicky said. She looked as tired as Peter felt. “I think we’ll all get some rest tonight.” The baby opened her eyes, then made a soft mewling sound. Peter smiled at her and touched her hand when she thrust it out of the blanket wrapped around her, stretching, yawning. Her tiny pale fingers circled his thumb and held it tight. She’d have that palmar grasp reflex for a few months yet. Then he told himself to stop thinking about reflexes and enjoy the moment as the life he’d helped enter the world made contact with him, with her hand and her eyes. She looked right back at him.
“Can I get everyone’s attention?” Matt had stood up and come to the middle of the room. Louise stood too, close to Matt. The chatting died down in the room. Peter gently extracted his thumb from Hope’s hand and sat back in his chair. Matt looked nervous as hell. He glanced back at Louise, who gave him a reassuring nod.
“Speak up, kid,” R.J. said. “We don’t have all night.”
Technically they had nothing but time. But Peter still wanted that early night.
“Um, I want to ask that one of the unused bedrooms be opened up and Rich Brooks moves in there. If he won’t, then I’ll move into it myself.”
Everyone stared at Brooks, then back at Matt.
“I’m guessing this is something to do with that shiner he’s sporting,” Jay said.
“He… Earlier in the storeroom,” Matt said. “He made a…a sexual advance to me. When I turned him down, he…tried to grab me.”
“He’s a damn liar,” Brooks said. “Why would I make an advance to him? I’m not gay. He’s gay. He came on to me!”
“I did not,” Matt protested. “As if!”
Brooks came to his feet, and Matt dropped back a step, defensive.
“Sit down, Richard,” Dr. Crawford snapped in the old “head of expedition” tone rarely heard these days. Brooks obeyed, retreated, glaring at Matt. Peter looked down at himself and saw he’d clenched his fists without realizing it. He uncurled his fingers.
“I won’t share a bunk room with him,” Matt said. “And I don’t think it’s fair on Stav or Edvin to have to either.”
Stav looked as if he agreed. Edvin, whose English was still limited, was getting a translation from Kasper, and his reactions came slower than everyone else’s. But he looked angry and nodded vigorously. Neither of them seemed to have any objection to sharing with Matt, who they knew was gay. But clearly they trusted Matt. Not like that hypocrite, Brooks. With his homophobic cracks, and secretly wanting sex with Matt. How dare he? How fucking dare he?
“Matt,” Dr. Crawford said. “Do you have any witnesses to this?”
“I came in right after,” Louise said. “There’d obviously been a struggle. There were boxes and things knocked off shelves. Brooks went scurrying out when he spotted me. Matt told me right away what had happened.”
“But you didn’t see it happen?”
“No,” she admitted, sounding reluctant. “But Matt told me right away, and it was obvious there’d been an altercation of some kind.”
But she hadn’t seen it. That made a difference. Especially to these scientists. Empiricists to a man and woman. So was Peter, but he trusted his instincts too. Matt was telling the truth. He was an open and honest kid.
“I’m not gay,” Brooks said, “or bi, or anything like that. So why would I ask him for sex?”
“Because you have before,” Matt said. “And got it—once. You know why I always said no after that.”
Matt was red in the face, looking mortified, but angry enough to keep him going. Vicky was frowning and looking ready to take Hope and get out of there. Chandra appeared deeply embarrassed and as if she was pretending to be anywhere but here.
“You led me on,” Brooks accused Matt. His expression grew slyer. “Does Marinos always return the favor when you jerk him off?”
Stav looked horrified at the words. He gave Chandra a desperate look. She jumped up and ran out of the room. He rose to follow her, but Edvin yanked him back down, maybe thinking the boys had to band together for a Brooks-free bunk room.
“Never mind about Stav,” Matt said. “We’re talking about you.” He turned back to the long couch where Dr. Crawford, R.J., and Peter sat. His eyes locked on Peter’s for a long moment. “I can’t share a bunk room with him. I won’t.”
“We can’t spare the fuel to heat another bedroom,” R.J. argued. “We should be cutting down where we can, not using more of the rooms.”
“Then why aren’t you in the bunk room too?” Brooks demanded of R.J., who was one of the two people who had their own rooms, Peter being the other. “You merit your own room, and Lane does, but not Dr. Crawford? What kind of sexist crap is that?”
“Don’t derail the conversation,” Crawford said. She turned to Matt. “Mr. Warner, you have to appreciate the fuel situation. You know we are short of wood to burn for the underfloor heating.”
“I know,” he said. “And I do appreciate that. But I want something done. I’m a member of this group too. I want its protection.”
“Can you wait outside a minute,” Crawford said. “You too, Richard.” She pointed at the door to the dining area. “In there. Do not go and talk to Mr. Warner.”
Rich bristled, like he was going to demand why he should take her orders. But he gave in and rose with exaggerated dignity and left through the door into the dining room. Matt watched him go suspiciously, then gave his bunkmates and Peter meaningful looks, before he went out the door into the corridor. The message was clear. He expected their support.
Chapter Four
When the door closed behind him, R.J. scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair. “Shit. Something like this had to happen one day. I’m only surprised it took this long.”
“Do we assume it went down the way Matt said?” Vicky asked. “Rich is the one with the bruises.”
“No way Matt did that in anything but self-defense,” Louise insisted.
“But you didn’t see it happen,” Vicky replied.
“I didn’t need to. I know Matt.”
“He says they’ve had sex before,” R.J. said. He shrugged. “Brooks might have assumed—”
“If he assumed he could do what he liked because of that, then he’s in the wrong,” Louise said. She gave Peter a glare that suggested he might want to speak the hell up here. Peter cleared his throat.
“She’s right that Brooks has no right to assume privileges because of things that have happened in the past,” Peter said. It made him queasy, the thought that Matt had done something with both Brooks and Stav and who knew who else. That bothered Peter. Those guys were straight. If it was for tension release, then a guy didn’t need another guy for that. Peter didn’t like it, but that wasn’t the point. Brooks certainly had no right to expect it because it had happened before. Especially as Matt seemed definite that there was a specific reason he’d stopped it with Brooks.
What was that reason? What had Brooks done to him? That bastard. Let him get sick or injured and need Peter’s care and see what a doctor could do if you pissed him off. The thought shocked him. As if he’d ever violate his professional ethics that way. He shook himself from his fantasies of revenge as the conversation continued. Crawford asked Stav and Edvin if they’d ever been bothered by Brooks. Neither had.
“Well, I have,” Louise said. “He’s put his hands where he shouldn’t before. Suggested things. I told him to fuck off.” There were a couple of winces at her language, including one from Vicky, which was ironic, as Peter had heard some choice swearing from her during labor. Maybe she didn’t like Hope’s delicate young ears hearing this kind of talk. Though the baby seemed to have gone to sleep again, opting out of this horrible conversation.
It took a second for the translation from Kasper, and then Edvin was on his feet, rage on his face. “When?” he asked Louise. “When he says these things? Ask things? I will…” He gave vent to his feelings in Norwegian. Louise shushed him and patted his arm. Whether she was pleased to see him getting so angry in her behalf, or glad that he’d become an ally in the “get Brooks out of the bunk room” campaign, Peter couldn’t tell. R.J. sighed, perhaps seeing the latter.
“That doesn’t help,” Crawford said. She leaned in to R.J. and Peter. The group didn’t really have leaders. They voted on most things. But the three of them tended to be the de facto leaders, everyone still respecting their positions of authority. “Clearly we have to do something. We can’t expel Richard out into the snow to die. So what do we do?”
“There isn’t much snow out there anyway,” R.J. said. She glared at him. “Okay, so it’s going to lead to trouble trying to make Matt or Ed share with Brooks. But I’m not having him sharing with me, if you were going to suggest that.”
“Nor me,” Peter said quickly. He might be tempted to do something terrible to the guy as he slept.
“Then since we’re so squeamish, we bite the bullet and look at rearranging the rooms,” R.J. said. “We can’t afford the fuel to open another one up. We have to work with what we’ve got.” He nodded at Edvin and Louise. “Maybe those two could share. Chandra moves in with Jay and Dr. Crawford, and Brooks has the room the two girls share. And…no, damn, that still doesn’t give us a spare room.”
“You’re making a big assumption about Lou and Ed,” Peter said.
“You don’t fancy swapping with Brooks and moving into the bunk room, do you?” R.J. asked Peter.
“My frat-house days are long behind me.”
“Could we divide the bunk room?” Crawford said. “Build some kind of partition? Keep Richard on one side and the three boys on the other.”
“It’s only got one door,” Peter pointed out.
“A door is easy,” R.J. said. “The walls are thin wooden panels. I could cut out a door space in five minutes and use a door from an unused room. Won’t have much in the way of draft proofing. That can be Brooks’s side.”
“We’ll have to rearrange the bunks too,” Peter said. “And it cuts down the space for them drastically.” He felt briefly guilty about his room. But it was a tiny space too, originally intended as sleeping quarters only in an emergency, when the doctor had to stay close to a patient overnight in the infirmary. When they closed down as many of the bedrooms as possible to conserve fuel, Peter had opted for that small but private space rather than sharing with anyone. R.J. had done the same, setting up an area in the station manager’s office as a bedroom. Nobody had argued with either Peter’s or R.J.’s choice. Everyone preferred a well-rested doctor, and people mostly didn’t dare argue with R.J.
“Okay,” R.J. said. “Let’s put that to the boys. And caution Brooks to stay well away from…I’d say all of them at this point. After that I’ll have a short word with him. A little man-to-man chat.” He cracked his knuckles in an alarming manner, and Crawford stared at him, looking shocked. Peter doubted R.J. meant to beat Brooks up—not that he’d have minded. He’d known R.J. for five years, summers only for the first two, then living here since. He’d never seen the man hit anyone, or even restrain them. But with his military background, he certainly could. He’d use that presence of his to intimidate Brooks into behaving. It was primitive, almost savage behavior. But it was the situation they were in.
They called for attention and brought both Matt and Brooks back in. Louise went and retrieved Stav, who’d gone off while Peter, R.J., and Crawford were talking. He returned with Chandra in tow, so they had everyone again.
R.J. put the proposal to the group, that they divided the bunk room to keep Brooks apart from the others.
“What do we divide it with?” Matt asked, looking dubious. “We can’t spare any wood.”
“It will have to be canvas,” R.J. said. “We have plenty of that. Doubled up, it will form a good screen. We can spare enough wood to make a frame. Just don’t lean on it.”
Not exactly soundproof, though. You’d be able to hear everything on the other side. Peter doubted they were happy. None of them looked happy. But happiness was rarer than pink polar bears around here. One by one the residents of the bunk room nodded.
“Then it’s settled,” R.J. said. “We’ll build that in the morning.”
“Meanwhile, Richard might find it more comfortable sleeping out here in the rec room tonight,” Crawford said, spearing him with a gaze as stinging as hail in a storm. He looked like he wanted to speak, but thought better of it and nodded meekly.
The meeting broke up. Peter was one of the last to go. Not quite the last. He closed the rec room door on R.J. and Brooks, about to have the promised man-to-man talk.
He went into the kitchen and poured himself a mug of cocoa. Made with powdered milk and no sugar, but beggars, or people trapped on islands in the north of Hudson Bay, could most assuredly not be choosers. He chatted for a few minutes with Kasper, before Kasper left with two mugs of cocoa. Jay wandered in, filled a plastic carafe of water.
“Always something, huh, Doc?” she said. “Always something.”
