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“What do you mean, improvised mortar?” asked Steve.
Wedging the phone between his shoulder and chin, Steve spun around to avoid tangling himself in the spiralling cord. Dustin had this magically habit of calling him at the most inconvenient.
Robin had handed him the store phone proclaiming ‘this is your circus’ and walked off to process the video returns. A panicked Dustin was on the other end, babbling incoherently whilst simultaneously yelling into the receiver. There were a few words he picked out from the rambling those being ‘Eddie’ ‘improvised’ ‘Mortar’ ‘Injured’.’
He was swamped at the video store. A massive backlog of videos had just been delivered as Hawkins tended to be the last town who got the latest releases. Parents were coming in for last minute Friday night entertainment. After a long week at work, they would rent a video, get a bucket at KFC and bask in the few hours of peace.
Even though he was scanning in countless chunky tapes the parents would come up asking very obvious questions which could be answered by reading the blurb or looking at the rating. Steve wondered if they could actually read.
Though he admitted Legend was a grey area. He’d watched it with Robin, the kids and Eddie. There were freaky moments in the movie Mike jumping out his skin at the witch emerging from the bog moment. Steve did admit younger kids might find it scary. Teenage girls were mostly renting it to watch that goofy newcomer from Risky Business.
Frankly, Steve didn’t have time for Dustins and Eddies antics since they liked calling to inform him of the cool thing they were doing whilst he worked. Dustin's ranting agitated the little patience he held onto for the countless parents' questions.
“Steve, are you even listening!!” shouted Dustin.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am trying, Dustin. But you keep shouting three different sentences all at once and I have no idea what is going on. Aren’t you hanging out with Eddie today?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!”
“Then say it slower!” Steve groaned.
Dustin sucked deep breaths. “We were bored. And then we found an old pipe when walking back from Big Buy. I think their building a gas station nearby or something.”
“The point, kid.”
“I’m getting there!! I said the pipe would be a cool improvised mortar. Eddie got hurt when we used it! He’s at Hawkins Memorial Hospital!”
A chilled wave pulsed from his heart and moved across his whole body. Ringing whined in Steve’s ears as his legs wobbled. He knew Eddie was reckless. And Dustin only egged it on. But he thought the metal head had enough sense not to land himself in the hospital. Panicked thoughts all jumbled in his head like people cramming themselves in a small car. He didn’t know which one to focus on until they all fell out his mouth at once.
“Why didn’t you lead with that!? Is Eddie alright!? How hurt is he!? Why would you talk about - never mind -,” rambled Steve, pulling on his hair.
“Steve, calm down. Eddie is awake. He had me drive him to the hospital. He’s pretty banged up but talking. Though he did seem a little out of it.”
“You drove him! Have you even had Drivers Ed!?” Steve practically shouted, leaning on the video counter for support.
His chest felt tight. The breath caught in his throat. Robin glanced over from helping the
“I’ve had a few lessons and Eddie was a good teacher. The doctors have seen him, he’s alright.”
Steve began slipping off his video store jacket. “I’m coming to the hospital.”
“No! Eddie needs you to stop by the trailer first. They aren’t letting anyone see him right now as they’ve got to run some tests, I don't know what for. He didn’t seem that hurt. He just needs… new clothes.”
“Why?” asked Steve, slowly.
“Um… his clothes were kinda wrecked by the explosion. Debris shredded his shirt and trousers.”
A blood vessel in his forehead pulsed. The worry building in him began battling it out with anger roaring to life. He was already at the hospital. Being seen too by doctors. His clothes were ruined. Of course this is when they decide to call him. Not when the actual accident took place and had a minor drive the van. How did Dustin even handle that thing? Steve struggled with that monstrous rust bucket.
“I will be there with a change of clothes soon,” said Steve, voice low, “and he was OK the last time you saw him?”
“A bit bloody but his usual self,” said Dustin, a little nervous, “um, I’ll see later.”
“Oh, you will. One of you is explaining how this happened.”
Without so much as a goodbye Steve hung up the phone. Tossing the video store jacket on the back of a nearby chair, he made his way towards the exit.
“Robin, call the part timers and see if they can cover me. I have to make a trip to the ER,” called Steve.
“Is everything OK?” Robin asked, brow furrowing.
“I’m sure it will be,” sighed Steve, angrily pushing open the door.
A vortex of conflicting emotions stormed inside him. Concern and dread, wondering if Eddie was alright, if he didn’t have a serious injury. Barging in was anger, proclaiming Eddie should be more careful. He was an adult after all, he should know better. Steve got into his car, gripping the wheel tightly for a few brief seconds and sucking in deep breaths, wrestling his emotions to a controllable level.
Either emotion wasn’t helpful right now. Gather the clothes, drive to the hospital and see what the damage was. A good plan. Steve gnawed his bottom lip. Turning the ignition key the car rumbled to life. Eddie turned up with the odd bruise or cut when they went out on a date. Whether it was falling off during skateboard race against Max or tripping over his perpetually untied shoes, there was always a bruise or two decorating his skin.
Arriving at the trailer park, Steve parked near the trailer, already seeing the carnage scattered around the scene. A thick pipe around six feet lay amongst burnt grass, its body dented in the centre. The tip was pitch black with slithers of metal unfurling like petals. Steve shook his head, noting that he couldn’t see large splashes of blood. At least that showed some promise.
Strolling along the scene, Steve saw little debris bits despired across the ground. Bending down, he plucked a piece out from amongst the carnage and inspected it closely. Squeezing it between his index and forefinger, it was spongy but crispy around the edges. It vaguely smelt of toast.
“Bread?” he whispered, confused.
Tossing the bread back on the floor, he gazed at the damage on the trailer. A sooty streak crested up the side like a permanent shadow affixed to the wall. The small bathroom window was shattered. Steve glanced at the trailer then the open field behind it, scratching his head. They aimed the improvised mortar at the trailer. He thought Dustin would be sensible enough to point out they shouldn’t aim the weapon at the projectile at home. Wayne would not be pleased.
Trailed by a weary energy, Steve approached a pot plant by the window under the kitchenette. A very dead plant sat within, the remaining stems crisped, the corpse entirely brown and dried out. The poor thing never stood a chance. Lifting up the base, he fished out the key waiting beneath. Wayne placed it there after finding Steve one to many times waiting in the car for his constantly late nephew. The older Munson didn't say much but he seemed to be supportive of them, showing it in his own way.
Entering the trailer, he first visited the bathroom, grabbing the broom on the way there. He didn't want Wayne to deal with the mess after a long shift. Broken, misty glass sat glistening along the peeling limunom floor. Steve checked and made sure no errant pieces hid the small space, thoroughly sweeping it up. Wayne liked this about Steve. Though not an outright messy person, the older Munson couldn’t keep things as clean as he liked due to his shift hours. Whenever Steve visited, Eddie at least attempted to keep things clean, even if it meant shoving things in the sink out of sight.
Wrapping the pieces in an old newspaper left on the coffee table, Steve carefully discarded them and went to Eddie's room. The usual chaos greeted him. The clean clothes were usually stacked on the broken desk chair, anything else on the floor could be assumed dirty. Grabbing a set of clothes, he just gathered a full outfit, unsure what Eddie needed. For all he knew, Eddie could be stark naked.
Steve scribbled down a quick note in case Wayne arrived home before Eddie was discharged, not wanting the man to find everything when he got home.
Eddies at the hospital. He sounds fine. Going to pick him up. Bathroom window was broken. Steve.
The bathroom window was a small one, so the only thing getting in would be very determined wildlife. Squirrels from the nearby woods did have an obnoxious habit of breaking and entering if they believed humans weren’t around. Steve once found one munching a cracker after getting up in the night to use the toilet. When waking up Eddie and informing him of the unexpected guest, he just shrugged it off like it happened all the time.
Double checking everything else was locked up tight, Steve hid the spare key once again before setting out towards the hospital. He hoped Wayne wouldn’t worry much. The note was vague but at least he added that Eddie injuries didn’t seem serious. Of course, he could be wrong.
Naustating concern bubbled in his stomach. The worst case scenario reared its ugly head. Steve turned on the radio in the hopes the songs created some form of distraction. He arrived at the hospital, his nerves ramping up the closer he got. The reality of the situation began weighing on him. Was Eddie actually fine? Finding a spot in the lot, he hugged Eddie’s clothes close to his chest, breathing in the scent of smoke and cheap deodorant. Only Eddie could pull off that smell. He hated it on others.
A rather nice but frazzled ER nurse pointed him towards the waiting area, stating he would be called once the doctors were finished running tests. Steve found Dustin sitting in the corridor, rolling a coke can between his hands.
“Oh, great, you're here!” said Dustin, smiling.
“Tell me what happened,” said Steve, skipping the pleasantries.
The smile dropped. The coke can crinkled in his grasp. “I said what happened on the phone.”
“You said what happened, you didn’t say how it happened.”
The coke can crumbled in the centre. “Oh, yeah, are you sure you don’t want to hear this from Eddie?”
“Eddie isn’t here right now.”
Dustin glanced up and down the corridor as if debating whether he could swiftly escape the awkward conversation. Steve took a step forward, not boxing in Dustin but making sure he knew the conversation was continuing. The younger boys shoulders slumped. He placed the abused coke can on the nearby seat.
“You know we found the pipe at the construction site, right?” said Dustin, staring at the ground.
“Yes,” said Steve.
“It was just being thrown out. And Eddie said we could do something fun with it. I said maybe an improvised mortar and he loved the idea! He had some fireworks left over from July 4th. We used the powder and he got some old fishing weights. We propped it up on some bricks and lit it with a trail of powder going to the pipe.”
Steve’s hands curled into fists, staring at the ceiling as praying for more patience he didn’t have.
“OK,” said Steve slowly, “and what was with the bread?”
“We used it as a stopper. So the projectiles wouldn’t go everywhere and had something to aim at. You have to do that with mortars,” explained Dustin as if it were obvious.
Of course! Why wouldn’t that be the answer!? Steve honestly thought he worked out how the gears in Eddi’s head turned. Only for the metal head to once again surprise him despite Steve’s reluctance.
“And how did this lead to Eddie in the hospital?”
“Well…” Dustin slowly said, wringing his hands. “Eddie was the one lighting the fuse. So he was closer than I was. We thought we calculated the blast correctly and he would have enough time to get away. But then one of the bricks propping it up slid and the blast went off too early. Eddie wasn’t far enough so the broken parts hit him and the blast ended up flinging him in the air.”
Steve paced up and down the seated area, shoes squeaking along the shiny floor, jaw set in a hardline. They had committed some stupid acts but this one rocketed to the top of the list. Improvised mortar!? What sane person would think that!?
“Steve, please sit down,” said Dustin, worriedly glancing around the sterile corridor.
“Sit down! Sit down! After what you just told me! I thought you had the brain cell, Dustin!
How could you both be so stupid!? What happened to common sense!?” Steve hissed, trying to keep his voice low so he didn’t disturb other people.
Dustin glanced guilty at the floor. “I thought we had it under control. If it hadn’t slipped off the stand, we wouldn’t be here!”
“The stand was two bricks Dustin!”
“OK, OK. I get it. We messed up,” said Dustin, holding up his hands.
Steve was ready to continue lecturing Dustin about safety and maybe this was the dumbest thing he’d ever done when a nurse exited a nearby home.
“Are you here for Mr Munson?” she asked, clearly knowing the answer.
“Yes,” answered Steve.
“We’re all finished with tests. You can go see Mr Munson if you like,” said the nurse.
“You see him first, I’ll wait here,” said Dustin, shuffling defeated to a plastic chair.
Steve powered towards the room, mad, worried and upset all at the same time. The feelings quelled as he saw his wayward boyfriend. Sitting on the hospital gurney smiling like he wasn’t covered in scratches and various bandages, Eddie spotted Steve. His eyes lit up, lifting his right hand in an enthusiastic wave before visibly wincing. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, his already torn jeans had extra holes and blood splatter. Steve placed the change of clothes on a nearby chair.
“Stevie-boy, you made it!” he said, “I knew the runt would get you here. Sorry for calling on a Friday, I know it's busy at the store.”
Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you know how insanely worried I’ve been? And then Dustin explained what happened. How could you be so stupid? You could have been really hurt!”
Eddie’s goofy smile didn’t waver. “But it’s fine. I only have a few stitches. Look, the one on my ribs might become a gnarly scar.”
Eddie pointed at a large cut stitched up along the middle of his ribs, proudly displaying it as if it were a grand price. From the looks of things, it was the biggest one he’s earned.
“I’m not impressed, Eddie. This could have been a lot worse. I can’t believe you thought this was a good idea. What’s Wayne going to say when he sees the window!?”
Eddie changed tactics from his carefree attitude. “I’m hurt. Hug me?” said Eddie, big brown eyes going into puppy mode, holding out his bandaged arms. He was borderline sticking out his bottom lip in an effort to gain more sympathy.
The temptation to fall into his arms and hold him close tugged at Steve’s heart but he resisted. Folding his own arms to act as a barrier between himself and his idiotic boyfriend, Steve gave him a hard stare.
“Eddie, we talked about this,” said Steve, “you can’t just avoid the uncomfortable topics. Especially when you have a boyfriend tearing out his hair with worry wondering if you were critically injured.”
“Like you’d tear out the mane,” grumbled Eddie, leaning back on his pillows.
“Eddie,” said Steve.
The metal head sighed. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be a cool thing to do and I didn’t work out. Sorry for making you worry. I did tell Dustin to say I was fine.”
Steve sighed, unfolding his arms and stood closer to the bed. He reached forward, delicately running his hand over Eddie’s curls. The metal heads cheeks were dusted a light red as Steve offered a small comfort.
“Being in the hospital doesn’t mean you're fine. You needed stitches, you're covered in cuts. Have they given you anything for the pain?”
“Am I pretty numbed up right now. It’s somewhat awesome,” admitted Eddie.
Steve rolled his eyes. “That’s not going to last is it? Who’s going to be the one making sure you don’t tear your stitches? That you’re taking your medication? Waiting on you hand and foot as you recover,” said Steve, gently squeezing Eddie’s hand.
“I got a bit banged up. I’m not dying, Harrington. You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot,” scoffed Eddie.
“Yeah, say that when the painkillers wear off. No more improvised mortars, OK?” said Steve, tenderly kissing his cheek.
“How do you feel about an improvised trebuchet?” asked Eddie, stealing a light kiss on the lips.
“Eddie…”
“Alright, alright. No more improvised weapons. I’ll keep it to the D&D campaigns. Fake and safe.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Steve smiled, delicately holding cradling Eddie’s hands in his own. Now he’d seen Eddie hurt but alive, the worry and anger faded away. He was happy, calm even though a thought nagged in the back of his head.
“Can I ask something?” said Steve, gently running his thumbs over the soft bandages.
“Sure, what is it?” said Eddie, grinning.
“You had a whole field and you aimed at the trailer?”