#drakecest

Nate stopped, panting under the strain of practically having to carry his brother, who was nothing short of 6’3” and not exactly a lightweight. He hadn’t wanted to risk Sully coming into the mix, but now he lowered Sam onto one of the Shoreline crates, holding onto him so he wouldn’t slump forward into the yellowing grass, and fiddled with his phone until he got the old man on the line.

“Hey, can you drive up to the building? I got Sam but I don’t think we can make it all the way over there.” On his path to the rundown building, Nate had made his way over tilted over wagons and rickety train lines and he was dreading making his way back with a nearly unconscious Sam.

“I don’t like this,” Sully said when he brought the Jeep to a halt in the brothers’ vicinity. “This is too easy.”

“I know,” Nate agreed, “But we don’t have another way to go right now. We need to get outta here.”

He was one hundred percent with Sully. Rafe might be a psychopath but he didn’t do things without a reason, whatever that reason may be. And he wasn’t in the habit of going to lengths of effort without payoff. Whether Nate liked it or not, he had no illusions that this was going to be last they’d seen of Rafe.

A grunt to his right spurred him into motion because they were still out in the open and regardless of whether Rafe’s men were still around somewhere, Nate didn’t like how vulnerable it made him feel. Especially since his brother was more of a liability than any help right about now.

“Come on, big guy,” he prompted as he nudged Sam toward their rented Jeep, still supporting most of his weight. Whatever was still coursing through his system made him wobble on his feet.

“What’s the matter with him?” Sully inquired as he jumped down from the driver’s side of the vehicle, surprisingly nimble.

“Think the asshole drugged him. Gets his rocks off or something. Shit if I know,” he said, watching Sully’s jaw set in anger, and, weirdly enough, it was reassuring. The old man and his brother had never gotten along, so much so that they would have been content to go their separate ways, were it not for Nate who insisted to get them together on occasion. To witness Sully’s indignation on Sam’s behalf made Nate feel less lost.

With combined forces, they managed to wrangle 210 lbs of uncooperative big brother into the Jeep, and by the end of it, Nate had sweated through his T-shirt. Now, it was sticking to his torso uncomfortably and he badly wanted a shower and more sleep. He suspected he was still running a fever, even if he had felt better this morning.

Somehow, that felt ages ago. It was almost unfathomable that he had lost and found Sam in the same day when it had felt like eternities stretching between Sully’s return to the bungalow, Rafe’s phone call, and the train yard. Through it all, Nate had barely felt the infection his body was still battling. No doubt that would come to bite him in the ass later.

Right now he was purely running on adrenaline.

“Back to base,” Sully announced as he started the engine and rocketed the car forward.

Nate had briefly considered staying in the back seat with his brother but there was really only so much room and most of it was currently occupied by Sam sprawling across the seat. He had his eyes closed and Nate had to check every few seconds that his breathing was still solid and even. For his own peace of mind.

“You know,” Sully began slowly, “there’s the very real chance that Rafe is following us, right?”

“Crossed my mind.” Nate didn’t like the thought any more than Sully did. “But what option do we have? We can only hope that Rafe doesn’t want to expend the energy to actively hunt and kill us.”

Sully grunted. “Wouldn’t wanna bet my life on it.”

Nate turned to look behind them but he hadn’t expected to actually be able to spot anyone in pursuit. “I’m afraid we’re gonna have to.”

Once they had made it back to the bungalow, they brought the Jeep around the side of the building so it wouldn’t be too obvious, even if one of Rafe’s goons were to make their way to this part of the island.

He shook his brother’s shoulder gently. Apparently not gently enough because Sam’s head lolled to the side and he made a small, pained sound. Nate snatched his hand back, swallowing thickly.

“Hey, Sammy, we gotta get you inside.” He brushed his knuckles along his brother’s temples, watching Sam’s lashes flutter. “A little cooperation would be helpful.”

Sam muttered something that didn’t make sense. Nate only caught the words ‘Rafe’ and ‘stupid’ and his own name, deciding it could not be that important. He sighed and grabbed Sam around the torso, readying himself to carry his brother’s weight in its entirety despite feeling the exhaustion in his own body all too clearly now.

But then, Sam sat up and righted himself so suddenly that it nearly knocked Nate backward. “‘athan?”

“Yes, I’m here.” Nate scrambled closer, spreading his palm against Sam’s chest as an anchor, a point of warm contact. “Right here, buddy.”

“Rafe knows,” Sam said, blinking rapidly. His eyes were glassy, pupils huge and black, “He knows.”

The revelation washed through Nate, hot and cold at the same time. “Knows what, Sam?” The possibilities were endless and Nate’s mind spun, attempting to follow Sam’s disjointed train of thought.

He startled when Sam’s fingers clawed into his henley, sweat-damp fabric twisting in his fist. On instinct, Nate’s hand came up to cover the back of Sam’s but he didn’t manage to free himself of the vise-like grip.

“Sam–“

“Libertalia.” It was barely more than a breath. “Rafe knows where it is.”

Nate blinked. “Sam, what? Liber– Sam!”