Chapter Six: Strange Disturbances

The sound of Talan's motorbike dwindled into the distance. Chance remained stock-still, staring at the wooden kitchen floor. He was torn up inside. The greatest of all his hopes had blossomed in Talan's embrace. In one short moment of pure bliss the flame within him he carried for Talan burnt into a ferocious blaze. All his longings and yearnings for his new friend were finally being realised. Then swiftly his hopes wilted. One minute he was the happiest guy on the planet and the next he only wanted to jump off a tall building. When Talan looked into his eyes and saw into him, he felt his friend was seeing into his soul. He thought Talan was understanding how special it was to explore intimate feelings with another man. He was mistaken. It was more than likely that Talan reacted to their deepening friendship in the wrong way. Chance knew he had no one else to blame but himself. He turned his charms up to the fullest around Talan, trying to be as friendly as he could. On some level he wanted Talan to see how great a guy he was, then maybe eventually take the plunge and consider a more personal relationship with him. Well it worked, and it backfired.

Chance fell to his knees. The solid wooden floor was jarring and painful but it barely registered in his mind. He brought his hands up to his face and cried into them even harder than he had before. He was really falling for Talan. Like a whirlwind, the man had come into his life and showed him that true goodness still existed in this world. Everything about Talan was a rare treasure to be cherished and appreciated. Now he would never know to what extent those treasures could be uncovered. He knew he shouldn't be feeling a great loss over something that was never his in the first place.

He couldn't be like this. He was not going to let this one thing take control of his emotions. Taking a deep breath he exhaled it out slowly. Shakily, he stood up and straightened his back. He was determined to get on with his life.

Making his way to the backdoor he peeked outside. Sky raised her head and looked up at him from her kennel. Her head tilted to the side with curiosity while her tail wagged furiously against the cushioned bedding. She was a Labrador-Border Collie cross. Her coat was short, predominant in Labradors and the colour was a black and white typical of Border Collie's. It shone in the moonlight.

"Come here, girl," he called to her.

She shot up and out of her kennel in an instant and stood by the open door. His dog was well trained and disciplined. From the moment he brought her home from the pet shop, he had dedicated a lot of time training her. She could do countless tricks on command. She was also very obedient. They had a lot of fun together too, he spent as much time playing with her and taking her out for walks as he did in her training.

He opened the door wide enough to let her through and said, "Come on girl."

She did so, waiting inside by his feet as he closed the door and locked it.

"We're going to have to be quiet because Jon is asleep," he said to his dog.

Chance walked into the lounge room with Sky following him. He dropped himself across the couch and patted the space in front of him for Sky to jump up on. Her ears flattened back. She looked at him as if he was an alien. He laughed softly. She wasn't used to being allowed inside the house.

"It's okay girl," he said patting the space again.

After sniffing the sofa, probably to ensure there was nothing nasty lying in wait - whatever that may be in the mind of a dog in doggy world, she gingerly jumped on the sofa to lay along the ample space in front of him. Sky rested her head below his, she looked at him contentedly, happy to be with him. He stroked the back of her head and softly scratched behind her ears. Many people may believe that dogs aren't capable of conveying facial expressions. He believed otherwise. Right now, as he gently scratched behind Sky's ears, she was smiling.

"How simple things are for you," he said to his dog.

His canine friend smiled in agreement.

Chance closed his eyes. He let his mind wander, careful not to let it slip to thoughts of Talan. As soon as he tried not to think of Talan, inevitably he did. He imagined the softness of those lips, felt those strong hands tenderly combing through his hair and caressing the back of his neck, pictured the look of guilt written on his friends face, remembered how hurt he felt when he realised it was all too good to be true. No. He'd be damned if he was going to keep dwelling on something that should never have happened. He would forget it ever did. Resolved to that decision his thoughts drifted off and slumber took him.

* * *

Chance awoke with a start. His heart was racing, beating at high-speed. Fear gripped him to the spot, paralysed. He couldn't move. The brilliant glare of daylight blinded his vision and he quickly blinked the brightness away. When his vision cleared he didn't immediately recognise where he was. Then he recalled that he'd fallen asleep on the sofa in the lounge room. The lingering feeling from his dream, of being pursued by something dangerous, dissipated with the slowing of his heart rate. He raised a hand to his forehead and felt a wetness. Bringing his hands in front of his face he saw clear fluid on his fingertips. He'd been sweating. He lifted his head up slightly to see his dog, Sky, with her head on his chest looking at him. She whined with concern.

Glancing at the clock on the wall he groaned at the time it displayed. It was almost nine-thirty. Sleeping in was not a usual practice for him. Even after a night on the drink he liked to wake up early.

"I know it's been a long time since you've had any action, but I didn't think you'd sink to that level of desperation." Jon stood at the archway shaking his head.

"What?" Chance asked slightly confused.

"I feel sorry for the dog," Jon said, "She's lost all her innocence now."

"You dirty bastard." Chance threw a cushion at Jon and he caught it putting it under his arm.

Jon knelt down on one knee and patted the other, he said, "Hey girl."

Sky hopped off the sofa and scampered towards him. She was an attention junkie. Doggy world must be heaven for her.

"See, she's trying to get away from you already," Jon went on, scratching Sky behind the ears. "But you know what this means then?"

"No, but you're going to tell me," Chance said sardonically.

"It means that you're turning straight," he said, "Although I'd advise that next time you try something a little closer to our species, maybe monkeys, then gorillas then ease your way to humans."

Chance threw another pillow at him, being careful not to hit his dog. This time it hit Jon on the shoulder, however, he caught it on the downfall. He said, "You're sick dude, your mind is filthier than all the toilet bowls in the public toilets of Sydney combined."

Jon grinned. "I guess you'd know about that wouldn't you? That is how you usually meet your men? In a toilet cubicle?"

Chance laughed, he'd walked into that one. He said, "I swear, you talk so much shit it's not funny."

After administering some more TLC to the back of Sky's head his friend looked at him. Pensively, Jon said, "Something's wrong isn't there?"

Being as close as they were, they usually knew when something was up. Their friendship and bond was that strong, they couldn't hide much from each other.

He didn't know whether he should tell his friend about Talan or the threatening note he received.

Jon guessed one of them anyway. He said, "You dig your lawyer friend don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Chance said.

Sky turned her head at him and made a cute little doggy whine.

"Now who's full of shit," Jon said. "Even your dog thinks so."

"Hmmph, right."

"I know you like him, you were staring at him with lust all night."

Chance's jaw dropped, he looked at Jon incredulously. "I was not! I have no idea what you're going on about!"

"Come on! You know you wanna get into that blondish, blue eyed hunk's pants, or maybe get him in your pants, whatever floats your boat."

He had no more cushions to throw. Chance would have liked to give his friend a boot in the rear end. Instead he said, "In your dreams you closet queer."

"No, my friend, in your dreams!"

Attempting to keep himself from grinning Chance failed. He admitted finally, "Talan is pretty hot."

"Yes, he is a handsome man." Jon ruffled the fur on Sky's head. "And he's probably the nicest guy I've ever met. Genuine. You know what I mean? If I were gay I'd be into him too."

"Sometimes I think you're gayer than me, like how you spend more time on your hair than I ever would," Chance said.

"I'm just a bit metrosexual," Jon stated, "But Talan doesn't appear to be gay, and his fashion is kinda outback country style, but it suits him, being so big and all. So I'm getting the feeling that something happened and it went bad."

He couldn't hide anything from his friend. Staring at the ceiling, he tried not to think of what happened last night. Absently he said, "Talan kissed me."

"You're shittin' me!?" Jon exclaimed. "You sure you didn't kiss him first?"

"I think I know how to restrain myself dude."

"Well then, that's a bit of a twist," Jon said.

"Yeah, and I thought he liked it, but then he backed off, apologised and practically ran out," Chance recalled painfully.

"You have that effect sometimes," Jon joked.

Chance glared at his friend.

"Okay, I deserved that," Jon said, "But he's got a girlfriend doesn't he?"

"Yeah," he said.

"He's a nice guy and even if he was exploring his sexuality, kissing someone else, guy or girl, would probably be like cheating to him, or anyone with a bit of decency for that matter," Jon tried to explain.

"You're probably right," he agreed. "Hey, I'm the psychologist here, I should be better qualified to assess this situation."

"Matters of the heart can blind us sometimes," Jon said insightfully, "A hairdresser doesn't cut their own hair."

"Yes Dr. Phil," Chance said sarcastically, "Thank you so much for the advice."

Jon stood up and grinned. He said, "Anytime my gay little grasshopper."

Chance rolled his eyes, "Don't you have work today?"

"Indeed I do, Master Day, but unlike some people, I don't sleep in like a bum bludging on government welfare," Jon said pretending a didactic stance.

"Please, I was on government payments for a year, that doesn't make me a bum for life," he said sourly. As an afterthought he added, "Idiot."

"Some habits are difficult to kick, but I won't think any less of you," his friend said.

"Idiot," he repeated.

"Now, now, no need for name calling," Jon said as if chiding a little kid. "I'm off to work dude, don't forget to feed your dog or I'll have to call the RSPCA on you."

"Do me a favour mate," Chance asked.

"What?"

"When you're at work, think of me relaxing here watching some DVD's."

"Sure, I'll think of you lying there like a swine," Jon smiled with self-satisfaction at his witty comeback. Jon threw the two cushions that were under his arm at Chance, but Chance punched them away. Immediately after, he made a quick exit like he usually did before someone could get the last word in and he called out behind him, "Someone also left an envelope under the front door for you, I put it on the hallway table, it's probably from Mr. Blue Eyes, your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend you idiot!" Chance said loudly, but Jon was already out the door. Quietly to himself he said, "He probably never will be."

Sky ambled to the sofa and lay her head on the edge, staring at him, she looked like she was pitying him.

"I'm not a bum," he told her.

She whined at him in disagreement.

"If I feed you, promise me you won't look at me like that again," he said.

Sky wagged her tail and barked at him softly in acceptance of his offer.

"Alright then."

He got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen. Sky followed, tail wagging.

He grabbed a can of healthy gourmet dog food and after washing Sky's food bowl in the laundry sink by the back door, he scooped half of the can in with a fork. Placing the bowl of dog chow by her kennel, he said, "Bon appétit."

He chuckled at the enthusiasm with which his dog consumed the food.

If only humans were more like good dogs, wanting more of the simple things, enjoying the company of others, rather than struggling for money and power. A vision of people greeting each other by sniffing each other's butts came to his mind. Shaking his head at his own lame thought he returned to the kitchen, covered the can of dog food with foil and placed it in the fridge.

Yawning loudly, Chance stretched his arms above his head to loosen the muscles in his arms and upper body. He still felt tired and groggy. There wasn't much else for him to do today. The chores were all done the previous day. He wasn't even the slightest bit hungry so he wouldn't bother with breakfast yet. There was nothing for him to do. He had his hobbies, like reading, playing video games and painting, but he just didn't feel like doing anything. There was an empty feeling inside him that made him demotivated. Trying to forget something meaningful had ever happened between himself and Talan was harder to do than he expected. If he wanted to continue their friendship he would have to. He couldn't let what happened destroy a relationship that could possibly gain him another best mate for life.

Tiredly, he made his way back to the lounge room and threw himself heavily on the sofa. Chance didn't want any complications in his life, he figured he'd give Talan some time before he called to see how the man was faring. He reminded himself not to bring up a certain sticky subject. At least he wouldn't mention it first.

Feeling happier, he closed his eyes and instantly dozed off.

* * *

Chance bolted upright and he stared wide-eyed at his surroundings. Sleep quickly left him as his ears twitched, seeking the source of some unknown disturbance. His heart was racing again. He forced himself to take deep breaths instead of the short rapid ones his body wanted to. He didn't need the excess oxygen in his brain at the moment. He needed to think clearly.

Maybe he was going crazy, because this irrational behaviour and thinking wasn't normal. For anyone. Waking up ready for the fight of his life was a first for him. Perhaps his body was responding to something in a dream, but he couldn't remember any dreams like he was able to earlier.

Then he heard it. Soft thumps like footsteps coming from the kitchen or one of the rooms where the flooring was wooden. He couldn't tell, the sounds were too quiet, barely audible. A chill crept up the back of his spine and settled on the nape of his neck. Rubbing that area to dispel the creepiness, he got off the sofa as quickly and as quietly as he could.

He delicately lifted the fire poker from its holder and crept towards the archway to the hall. Tip-toeing in his socks, he vaguely remembered kicking his shoes off sometime during his nap. He was grateful for that convenience which allowed him to take quiet steps.

Chance lifted the poker like a baseball bat ready to swing. Listening carefully for any other strange sounds was difficult over the heavy banging of his heart. The rushing blood to his head sounding like wind in his ears didn't help either. The house remained quiet. Carefully, ready to whip his head back, he looked around the corner into the hallway and towards the kitchen at the back of the house. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. No one waited to jump at him wielding a knife like a crazy lunatic pumped up on a bad LSD trip, red-veined eyeballs popping out with dark rings underneath.

Still wary, he decided to do a sweep of the house just in case. He wasn't going to be caught off guard if whoever was threatening him decided to attack.

The nearest room was his, across from the lounge room. The door was slightly ajar. Peering through the gap, he couldn't see anything amiss. Still, it wouldn't be a good idea to be hasty if there was an intruder. Silently, he waited. At least he hoped he was silent. The booming drum beat of his heart seemed loud enough to be heard by his next door neighbours. He was surprised he didn't have a heart attack yet. After what seemed an eternity but in reality was doubtlessly only a few minutes, he pushed the door open further and quickly but soundlessly sprang inside his room, his makeshift baseball bat ready to swing and knock someone's head for a homerun.

No LSD crazed psycho awaited here either. There weren't many hiding places in his room. The bed was an ensemble; someone would have to be anorexic to fit under there. He crept around the bed to make sure no one hid behind it. The door to his walk in closet was open, he couldn't see anyone among his clothes and shoes, but he took a closer look anyway. Holding the poker like a sword ready to stab a nasty bruise into someone, he quickly poked his head into the closet, glanced left, no one, glanced right, no one.

The adjoining en suite bathroom still remained unchecked. He tip-toed across to the door. With one hand hovering above the doorknob and the other hand raised, tightly clenching the poker, poised for a battering, he steeled himself. Throwing the door open he jumped inside appearing like the madman he imagined he was defending against. The instant he went through the bathroom doorway, his eyes did a quick survey even before his first step hit the ground. Nothing. The walls of the shower stall was made of clear glass. There was nowhere else in here anyone could hide.

Chance was beginning to feel really stupid. If an intruder was in the house, they would have revealed themselves when they cracked up laughing upon seeing his paranoid antics.

Paranoid or not, he felt justified acting this way. Someone had sent him a threatening note just a couple of days before. After first receiving it, he contemplated taking it to the police, but he realised that the note didn't contain any direct threat to his life, only a return promise of pain he'd allegedly caused them. He wasn't a violent person. He abhorred violence. His aversion to violence most definitely arose from the physical abuse he suffered at the hands of his father growing up. He could not have hurt anyone. He'd never hit anyone in his life, he would have remembered if he did. That could only leave psychological pain. But he'd never mentally abused anyone either, he believed he wasn't capable of it. Chance was always mindful of other people's feelings. He was at a loss at how he could have caused anyone pain, psychological or physical, at any point in his life. The note remained in the desk of his bedside table.

Nevertheless, just to be safe, he continued to check the rest of the house and every possible hiding place. Cautious still, yet not with the same leap-through-doorways gusto he exhibited previously. The house was empty. He really was crazy. Hearing things and reacting like a paranoid freak.

Shaking his head he went to return the poker he was ready to do physical harm with for the first time in his life. He was halfway down the hall when he heard it again. A scuffling sound. Like someone hurriedly walking across a wooden floor. This time he knew he wasn't imagining it. The sound clearly came from his room.

Heart racing again, hair on his arms standing on end from goosebumps, he raised the poker ready to swing it once more. He'd left the door to his room wide open and it was in the same position. Once more, Chance waited with his back against the wall beside the open doorway. It was impossible that someone could be in the house after searching it so carefully.

When he didn't hear anything, he charged into the room, fear and adrenalin pumping through his veins. Searching the room more swiftly this time, poker at the ready, he found no intruder. He was sure he'd heard someone in his room.

A slight breeze ruffled the curtains of the window facing the neighbours house. He swore he didn't remember the window being left open. Now they were raised up completely.

Something on the bed that wasn't there before drew his attention. It was an envelope. The same familiar small envelope. There was something different this time. His full name was printed in ink across the front. Apparently so no one could mistake who it was for. With trepidation he picked it up and opened it. Another small card awaited. With fear he read it.


Soon, Dr. Day, you will no longer cause any more pain.


Before he could react to the note, the phone rang. The envelope and note dropped to the floor as he became airborne. He jumped so high he was surprised he didn't hit the ceiling. There were four cordless phones in the house, one in the lounge, one in the kitchen and one in each his and Jon's room. The phone was capable of twenty-two different ring tones that worked concurrently with caller I.D. They each assigned ten different ring tones to delegate for work, family and friends. One ring tone played when the number calling showed up on caller I.D. but wasn't on the personalised ring tone list, and the other ring tone played when the number was private. It was the latter ring tone that played. They rarely ever received calls from private numbers.

Hand trembling, Chance picked up the phone and put it to his ear. He took a gulp before he said weakly, "Hello?"

Silence greeted him.

With more force he said, "Hello?"

There was still no reply, he'd made himself clear enough to be heard. He decided to play chicken, he'd be damned if he was going to let this freak intimidate him. His skin crawled as the minutes ticked by, then the sound of a deep breath being drawn, followed by words in a whisper that chilled him to the very core.

"Some words of wisdom; sleeping in makes you lazy, and playing with fire pokers can be dangerous."

The line suddenly cut off and then all he could hear was the busy tone. Terror seeped into every part of his body. The phone slipped from his hands, dropped to the floor and bounced several times. The fear he now felt was insurmountable.