Rider (Chapter 1)

When Ryan’s hand slipped out of Kane’s and he fell with a suffocated gasp at his feet, Kane stood like an Edvard Munch painting, staring, as thick, dark blood seeped around his shoes. He was brought to his knees as Ryan’s bloodied hand wrestled with his leg, crimson liquid everywhere, Ryan’s chest a weeping sore, a mouth gaping to the world. His dilated eyes fixed on Kane’s and a question formed on his bloodstained lips: what had happened?

The squeal of car tires burned on the cold ground and an engine choked in the distance. And then Ryan’s ragged breathing—like an old man on a respirator—consumed him.

He gargled, blood oozing from his mouth to stain his chin and neck, his eyes wide in horror and pain.

His dark lashes flickered over his green eyes as he stared up at Kane, his lips parting and a coughed sorry escaping before, with a quick and rasping breath, his body limped against the stone paving, one arm draped out over the kerb, fingers curled, uncurled.

Kane’s knuckles were white as he gripped Ryan’s hand and pulled it to his face, fresh blood smearing his cheek like war paint. He wanted to say something, but when he opened his mouth he had nothing to say. He choked on a sob as Ryan’s vacant and lifeless eyes rolled up in their sockets to stare, unseeing, at the new moon. There was blood in his mouth as he clenched his lip between his teeth, tears blinding his eyes.

‘Ryan?’

Kane pulled Ryan towards himself, his back rising from the ground, and he hugged him, rocking, embracing, crying. He was dimly aware of their surroundings, the club’s doorway swinging open, the people crowding round, the screams—his screams?—that punctured the night.

His chest constricted, a cold fist crushing his lungs. ‘It’s okay, Ryan,’ he whispered, his wet lips caressing Ryan’s hand. ‘It’s okay. I’m here. It’s all okay.’

And as he began losing his mind and his soul, as he began believing it was all okay, a hand touched his shoulder like the hand of God, a shivering tingle coagulating under his skin, and a distant voice pursed a desolate question. ‘Are you all right?’

‘It’s okay. We’re okay. It’s okay,’ he kept repeating.

‘Are you hurt, honey?’ the voice persisted.

He licked his lips with a parched tongue, tasting sweet warm blood, and looked up at the painted face of a drag queen covered in glitter like stars.

‘Are you okay? Oh, God…Somebody call an ambulance.’

‘I…’ he began, but he said no more. He just looked at that face, his lips trembling, shoulders hunched to support the weight of Ryan Cassidy against the burden of his own pain. He closed his eyes and could feel the hot tears on his cheeks. ‘I think he’s dead,’ he said; a revelation. ‘I think he’s dead.’

* * *

‘Now listen, Kane…Kane?’ The stocky paramedic nudged him and smiled. Kane blinked and looked at him. ‘We’re just going to run you over to the hospital; get you checked out, okay? You’re suffering from a bit of shock. Do you understand?’

Kane looked at the mole on the paramedic’s cheek that was edging through his stubble, his lips numb. What was he talking about?

‘Are you on any medication? Have you taken anything?’ He paused. He took Kane’s elbow in his hand. ‘Come on, let’s get you into the ambulance and some place quiet, okay?’

Kane nodded stiffly and looked around. A couple of paramedics folded Ryan into a black rubber body bag and zipped it like a winking eye. There was blood on the ground. There were people on the other side of the police tape. There was a blinding camera flash. ‘What happened?’ someone asked. ‘Keep rolling,’ someone said.