Page 12 of Survival Game

Deacon huffed angrily. “Those wankers don’t know a good idea if they saw it. Look how many ideas they’ve turned down and the person goes on to make a mint.” His voice grew sulky. “I thought you were my best mate.”

Eric chuckled. “It’s because I’m your best mate and Chrissy is your long-suffering wife that we are the voice of reason when you go off on one of your fad phases. Someone has to keep you from spending all my godchild’s money. How long does Chrissy have to go now before I get to meet him or her?” He knew any talk of their first child would take Deke’s mind off investing in silly ideas.

“She’s due in four months, so still a while to go.” Yep. Deacon had turned all proud papa in an instant, cucumber toppers forgotten.

Eric felt a tinge of envy and sadness. He and Linc had talked about one day having a child of their own. He swallowed the unbidden picture of his boyfriend’s smiling face and spoke quickly.

“Chrissy still feeling all right though, not sick anymore? You know you need to call me if you have any concerns, right?”

“Yes, Doctor. I’m aware you’ll come running down here like a mother hen should we need you.”

Eric grinned. “You do know I’m not a doctor, don’t you? Just a paramedic.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘just a paramedic’,” Deacon growled down the phone. “If I’m ever in some sort of accident, you can bet your balls you’d be the one I want looking out for me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eric leaned away from the wall. He needed to get on the tube. “Anyway, I’m freezing my nuts off here outside the tube station. Can I call you back later when I get home?”

“Well, you can, but if you’re not interested in my cucumber idea, then I’ll have to find someone else to take your place.” Deacon teased. “When I make a fortune, you can bet I’ll be shoving my naked arse out of the limousine mooning you as I drive by—OW! Hell, Chrissy, those are my balls you’re crushing. You need those to make more babies. Don’t go man- handling them like that.”

Eric winced in sympathy. “I’ll leave you two to your marital discord. I’ll give you a buzz later, Dekes. Losing signal now. Heading into the tube station.”

The air roared with all the power the world could gather, and around him, earth crumbled and split into crevasses that loomed dark and never ending. Eric cried out in fear as Lincoln went sliding toward one of the dark abysses. He scrabbled desperately for something to hold onto, finding a rock, which barely met his fingertips.

“Linc, grab my hand and hold on.” Eric lay sprawled across mounds of dust and rocks, cold snow seeping into his skin, which broke and bled as shards of the injured earth sliced into him. His arm was flung out toward his boyfriend; he was trying to grab Linc’s hand to stop his slow but interminable slide into dirt and deathly white. All he could see was Linc’s panicked, bruised and dirty face as he tried to reach out for Eric’s hand to anchor himself.

“Come on, baby, you can do it. Grab my hand.” Eric slid further into the crevasse, and behind him someone tugged at his hiking boots, strong hands wrapping around his ankles, grounding him.

“I got you, Eric,” shouted his colleague, Anton.

“Not going to reach,” Linc panted, looking as if his arms were wrenching out of their sockets with the agonising stretch to clasp Eric’s fingers. “I’m too far down to reach up and I can’t stop sliding. I’m losing my grip.”

“Eric,” Anton’s anguished voice permeated through Eric’s dread. “I’m losing you. I can’t hold onto you much longer.” The fingers around Eric’s ankles were slipping. He was gradually making his own inexorable descent into the seething mass of dust and white powder below.

“I’m not letting him go,” Eric screamed against the earth’s roar. “You fucking hold on to me, you tosser. Don’t let me go until I’ve got him.”

Lincoln shook his head and smiled sadly. “We’re not both going.” Deep blue eyes gazed into Eric’s with love and regret. “Time to save yourself. I love you, baby.”

Eric awoke sprawled across his bed, body slick with sweat. His heart ached from loss as fresh as if it happened yesterday. And, for a while, he was right back in Nepal trying to save the love of his life.

He punched his pillow, sobs racking his body. “Fuck. Fuck.”

It had been a while since he’d had that nightmare. It had been two and a half years since he’d lost Lincoln but grief had no respect for time. It lurked deep within, ready to strike at whim.

“Fucking triggers,” he muttered as he stood and walked naked over to the window of his small mid-terrace house not far from Shoreditch ambulance services. “Sometimes I hate this job.”

The daily stress of attending to people in trouble, injured, or even dead, had been steadily wearing him down since he got back from Nepal.

He’d been through therapy after his return—his boss had insisted on it—but he really didn’t want to go back to it now. It’d been gut wrenching enough before.

His passion for his job had deflated—losing people on the job did that to you—but he still prided himself on being the best medic he could be. The trouble was he wasn’t sure that was enough when his heart wasn’t in it.

Eric made himself a cup of tea in his tiny, compact kitchen and sat in the dark, sipping while scrolling through his phone. It would take some time to get back to sleep so he might as well see what was going on in the world.

He couldn’t help checking out Kyle’s Facebook profile. Most of his public posts were articles about making cocktails, Club Delish, snippets about music he enjoyed —IAMX being one, a group Eric enjoyed too—but there was no personal profile picture of him, only a random image of a deck of cards. In fact, there appeared to be no photos of Kyle out at dinner, with friends and none of those abominable selfies Eric hated with a passion.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Kyle seemed to be a man who preferred to keep his identity a secret. Intrigued, Eric debated whether to send a friend request. His fingers hovered over the Send button. Kyle probably wouldn’t see it until tomorrow anyway, and no pain, no gain.