Cadet Murphy

Escape was the last thing on Calvin Murphy's mind when he woke up on the first morning after the end of his change. Breakfast, however, was paramount.

Cal edged his way out from under the blanket and the Russian's heavy arm, then slid his lower body over the side of the massive four-poster bed. His legs dangled above the floor like a child's, making him feel a bit lilliputian. The bed was ridiculously large - had it been custom built? Cal shrugged the question off and quickly glanced over his shoulder at his captor. The Bos was still asleep. Cal saw his opening and, making the most of it, slipped down to the floor and out of the room.

Bos had moved them back to the main house the day before; Cal guessed that the completion of his change had meant he no longer needed to be kept secret.
Cal padded down the hall, following his nose to the kitchen. Along the way, he took in the rich, dark woods, tapestries, and rich colorings of the large home's interior. It was a far cry different from leftover concrete blocks and splintery wood walls that you couldn't even drag your hand across. Cal contemplated. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad place to live - there was hot water all the time here, and so far he had not seen a single rat.

He found the kitchen with only a few missteps. Thankfully, none of the doors he opened led to rooms that were occupied; Cal seemed to be blessedly alone this morning. As he stood in front of the fridge (twenty times larger than the icebox they had at home), he contemplated this. Where was the rest of the house? Judging by the attendance at dinner, at least 8 other people lived in the house. Seven, he corrected, remembering the dead brother at the dinner table.
Where were they?

As if on cue, Cal heard a panicked, squealing sound and then the pounding of running footsteps. He paused, heart racing. Was someone looking for him? Was someone hurt? In trouble? Shot (again)? The footsteps got closer, and Cal mentally ran through his options. He could bolt, back up the stairs to the bedroom, jump under the covers, hide, and beg Bos for forgiveness for sneaking away. But that would require humility and non-hungriness, neither of which were traits he currently possessed. Cal thought about it some more. He could also stand his ground, show no fear to whatever came barreling around the corner, and defiantly face the threat. But that would require more courage than Cal thought he could muster, considering that his reserves had been deeply tapped by the events of the past two weeks. Cal thought again. He could hide. That sounded fair - hide, then reappear when whatever stampeding beast this was had passed by. Cal shut the metal fridge door and looked around him.

Unfortunately, he had spent too much time contemplating and too little time acting; before Cal could do anything at all, the beast appeared.
A lanky little brown-skinned, befreckled carrier wearing a too-big buttoned shirt (and apparently nothing else) came skidding around the corner, into the middle of the kitchen. He slid into the chopping island and stopped, panting to catch his breath and grinning ear to ear.
Cal stared at him.
The carrier cocked his head, gave a curious smile, and stared back.
"Hello!"
Cal was a little taken aback. This was hardly the situation he had thought it was. He needed a minute to reassess.
"Hello." he answered, cautiously. The carrier looked Cal over, taking in his hair, his poorly-dressed state. Then he grinned, obviously delighted.
"You're a carrier!" he stood on his tiptoes and leaned across the island, squinting at Cal. "I think I know you."
Cal nodded, shortly, then glanced awkwardly to the side.
"Uh, yeah. I was there the night your husband shot his brother."
The carrier slapped the island, startling Cal.
"Of course! I knew it! You're Bos's new friend!"
Cal was really starting to resent the possessive term that seemed to precede any statement of who he was. The carrier leaned onto his elbow.
"So you guys came back, then? Are you all done changing now? Are you going to be staying here? I live here! And so does Ami - we're the only carriers right now. It's kind of boring. But now there's you! So we can do all kinds of - "
Mid-sentence, the carrier looked up and broke into a scream, and Cal jerked his head up to the doorway, where the large, shadowy form of Miljan had appeared.
"No...no....no..." the carrier was whispering, trying to back away. In the doorway, Miljan laughed as the carrier struggled to get his feet underneath of him, attempting to bolt through the door on the opposite side of the room. Cal panicked - should he stop this? Should he step in? Was he going to be in trouble if he did - if he was Bos's, then surely this carrier belonged to Miljan? Cal glanced back and forth between the man in the door and the pretty young carrier trying as hard as he could to get away from him.
Suddenly, Miljan charged, roaring a vicious cry, and Cal leapt back to get out of the way. Nope, Cal thought, won't be a hero today.

The carrier screamed as Miljan caught him across the room, and Cal glanced towards his own room, wondering if he would be a witness to two murders in this house.
"Caught!" Miljan shouted, and the carrier shrieked, but then collapsed into something more plaintive, something more...like laughter? Cal stepped exactly one step forward to look a little closer. The two men appeared to be tucked tightly into a ball on the floor; the carrier was writhing, and Miljan was matching him movement for movement, his hands flush up against the carrier's sides and... tickling him?
"MERCYI'MSORRYYOUWIN!" the carrier cried, and Miljan grunted, released him, and then quickly snatched him up and threw him into a fireman's hold over his right shoulder. Cal put one hand to his chest, slightly perturbed. The carrier, however, did not seem at all disturbed. In fact, he was still laughing.

Miljan turned, with his bundle slung over his shoulder, slapped the carrier's bare ass (which made him jump, but laugh more) and began to happily march out of the room, singing some kind of song that Cal could only assume translated roughly to a victory march.
As they passed the refrigerator, the carrier on his shoulder wriggled and reached one grasping hand out towards the metal contraption.
"Wait! Mil! Hungry! Breeaaakfast!"
Miljan kept marching, unconcerned.
"Breakfast later! Sex now."
Behind his transporter's back, the carrier sighed a long-suffering sigh, then grinned and winked at Cal.
"OK, FINE. I guess."
They traipsed, still singing and still giggling, out of the kitchen and Cal listened to them pounding up the stairs.

When he turned away to go back to the fridge, Bos was standing in the room.
Cal stepped back instinctively.
"I'msorry." he blurted.
Bos looked him over.
"Were you hungry?"
Cal nodded; his heart was pounding too hard for him to talk.
"And you did not wake me. Did you think I would not feed you?"
Great. Now the Russian was offended. Cal swallowed and shook his head.
"No."
"Come here."
he hesitated just one second too long, and Bos crossed the room in seconds, snatching him up by the arm. Cal wondered how such a big man moved so quickly. The grip on his arm was tight, and Cal thought about trying to wrench free, but decided that would really be counterproductive. And would probably only exacerbate the lesson he by now understood Bos wanted to teach him.
"Please let go." he tried instead. The grip loosened, then released. Bos crossed his arms over his chest.
"Sit." he said, indicating one of the three small tables lined against the wall of windows in the kitchen. Rubbing his arm, Cal went.
Bos turned and began rifling through the refrigerator, withdrawing things occasionally and setting them on the counter beside him.
"If you are hungry, ask to eat."
Cal squeezed his hands together to stop them from trembling.
"OK."
Bos looked over one shoulder at him.
"Where did you get those pants?"
Cal glanced down.
"I, um - I found them on a chair in your room."
"Our room."
"Our room." Cal wondered if he was in trouble for this, too. "I just - you told me to cover myself and I thought - "
"Oh!" Bos's sudden cry of surprise startled Cal. The Russian turned, a wry grin on his face, and leaned against the counter to look at Cal. "So you do listen."
Cal's face reddened.
"Sometimes." he muttered, because saying it louder would have seemed too disrespectful. To his surprise, Bos laughed.
"Sometimes." he turned back to the stack of ingredients he'd collected. "Well. In that case, you may sometimes be rewarded."