Date: Thu, 06 Jan 2005 14:17:57 +0800 From: James MacMannis Subject: Aboriginal Farmboy / aboriginal_farmboy-12 Aboriginal Farmboy 12 Author: James MacMannis Subject: aboriginal-farmboy-12 (adult-youth, interracial, rural) Archive; 'Aboriginal Farmboy #12'{James MacMannis}(BB, interr, rural)[] Homosexual, young male sex Adult-youth Interracial Rural setting ABORIGINAL FARMBOY - PART TWELVE Copyright 2004 by James MacMannis This document may be downloaded for your personal pleasure; however, you may not place the document on a website or reproduce the story for distribution in any media whatsoever without my permission. Please email me at james_macmannis@hotmail.com with constructive comments or criticism. You may also wish to join the Aboriginal Farmboy egroup at aboriginal_farmboy-subscribe@yahoogroups.com. Nick's tough feet skidded down the rocky terrain once again in his rush to get back to his brother. I lowered a 10 litre container of water tied to a length of rope to him once he reached the bottom, and he immediately took off through the remnants of the straggly undergrowth towards the upturned vehicle I could see a short distance away. It was about a 10-metre fall off from where I was standing to the creek bottom, the sides very rocky and the creek bed itself a collection of boulders and now mostly burnt scrub. I secured the rope to a solid part of the roo bar on my vehicle and left it dangling over the ravine as a handhold so we could use it to make our access a little easier. I quickly reached Nick who was at the mouth of a little cave. I had to passed Jimmy's wrecked vehicle, but spent no time assessing it because of my concern for Chris and the older man. "Chris and Jimmy are in here, Dad." Nick informed me. I wriggled alongside Nick and looked into the hollow. The cave was little more than a hollow formed under a few large slabs of natural rock piled up on each other, two or three metres deep, but obviously the only bit of protection in the immediate area. Chris was huddled back as far as he could be in the cleft, his shirt missing, his skin as black as night, his charred feet stuck out in front of him towards me at the opening. Cradled in his lap was Jimmy's head and shoulders, the rest of his body somewhere tucked in among the rocks. Chris was carefully sipping at the water. "He can't talk yet, Dad," Nick told me, concern etching his young voice. "I only found him because he threw a rock out into the creek bed when I was looking at the wreck. I have checked what I can of him and it looks like he is not injured. But I can't be sure if he is burnt or not. Jimmy is not well at all. The parts I can see of him are badly burnt and he has a bad injury on his head and the top of his chest is bleeding." The water helped Chris to find his voice. "That is the first drink I have had since last night some time. You wouldn't believe how parched you can get when you are stuck in a fire," he croaked, sipping a little more water before he continued. "Jimmy is wafting in and out of consciousness, so I cant give him any water in case he chokes on it. Can you wet a rag so I can dampen his lips?" I wriggled out of the hole and wrenched my shirt off, grabbed the water bottle and liberally soaked the cotton cloth. Nick passed it back in to Chris so he could wipe the face of the man. I wanted to know all that had happened, but the first priority was the safety of the two men. "Chris, can you tell me what injuries you have got and what is wrong with Jimmy? I need to call in some assistance. Fire control is waiting on the radio." It surprised me how rational Chris was. There was no ambiguity in his description and, now that he had lubricated his throat, his voice was clear and steady. "Jimmy hit his head on the windscreen of the ute when it went over the side. I think his chest impacted on the steering wheel rim. There is some bleeding, but it is not a lot. I can't see where it is coming from but I did probe his chest as much as I could and I couldn't feel anything unusual." He was becoming a little agitated in his speech, the sentences chopping off to a sudden end. He continued telling us of his assessment. "I used my shirt as a sort of pad in his chest. I guess he has some sort of concussion. I dragged him in here as soon as I could because I knew the car was going to blow up. I am okay I think. A bit burnt here and there, and maybe a few scratches. And very thirsty! Tell them to bring a jug of iced water, James." I sobbed with relief as I pulled my way back up to the vehicle. Not really knowing what to expect when I found Chris, I had begun to prepare myself for the worst possibility of him being very badly injured or even dead. Now, to find him well and rational was the greatest release for my self-imposed burden. By time I reached my car I was fully in control of my emotions and had whispered a prayer of thanks for the protection of my beloved. "Fire Control, this is Juliet Mike Zero Three. Sitrep, over." The Controller answered immediately and I passed on the information I had gathered, adding a request for a rescue team and an ambulance to come immediately to the location I gave him to lift out Jimmy Perkins and probably Chris. I told the Controller I would be mostly out of contact, because the radio would not transmit or receive down in the steep sided gully and I would have to leave it in the car. When I had completed the report I scrounged around the vehicle for anything I thought might be useful to make Jimmy and Chris more comfortable until skilled help arrived. I threw blankets and a tarpaulin over the side of the canyon and lowered myself back down to the creek bed. "Can we get Jimmy out of the cave, Chris?" I asked him when I was back at the hole opening. Nick answered first. "I had a look at how they are fitted in here. Chris can't remember exactly how he got Jimmy in here, but I think he must have got in first and pulled Jimmy over top of himself somehow. We could drag Jimmy out over Chris's legs if we had something to put under him." I passed in the two blankets I had retrieved from the car. "These any good?" I asked. "It would be better with something stronger. These rocks are sharp and will wear a blanket to pieces before we get him out," Nick gave as his assessment. I told him I had the tarpaulin and went out to fold it into a narrow strip, very thick because of the number of layers and extremely strong. Nick, trained in first aid at his school running club, checked Jimmy for back and neck injuries or any other anomalies that Chris may not have been able to detect. Between us, Nick and I managed to ease Jimmy off Chris in the close confines of the cavern and get the canvas underneath his body. Chris was not able to move because there was nowhere for him to go with all of us working around and over him, so he sat in the position he had occupied all night and told us some of the story as we worked. "We were working our way along the ridge above the waterfall, damping down the embers of the fire. I was walking alongside Jimmy's ute most of the time with the fire hose, spraying the fire as I went. Sometimes, if there were too many coals and it got too hot for me to walk comfortably on the ground, I would climb in the back of the ute and spray the hose over the top of the cab. We saw a burst of flame down in the creek and started making our way along the side of the bank up there so we could get closer to where the blaze appeared to be. The smoke was rolling in thick and I told Jimmy to be careful. I got out of the ute and was walking along the track so Jimmy could follow me; neither of us could see the track at all from inside the cab. I kept just in front of the headlights so he could see me, but we got into a spot where there was a huge amount of smoke billowing out of the canyon. The smoke was coming in from somewhere else, not here, but we didn't know that. I got smoke in my eyes and couldn't see a thing. Next thing I knew Jimmy's car was turning away from me, the headlights swerving off to my right. He couldn't see me and I stepped back a bit towards the ute, hoping he would pick me up again in the beam of the lights, but he just seemed to keep on going the wrong way. Before I could reach him, the wheels had gone over the edge. The rock is pretty crumbly up there, so I guess he could not have done anything to stop the whole ute going over." Nick and I had been slowly easing Jimmy out of the cavern while Chris spoke. Jimmy's head was out in the open now and I could see the lump on his brow where he had struck something. Now that this much of him was out, it took less effort to bring the rest of him all the way clear of the cavern. He was too heavy for the two of us to pick up, but with me holding his head clear of the ground and Nick lifting the canvas at his boots, we dragged him to an overhang where there was good shade. I prised Jimmy's shirt open and eased up Chris's padded shirt he had stuffed there as a bandage. The blood on his chest was not fresh and I didn't think it was worth our while disturbing him anymore to investigate it, so I buttoned him up again. Using one of the blankets rolled up as a pillow, I made Jimmy as comfortable as possible before we went back to retrieve Chris. I was concerned that Chris had not moved since we took Jimmy out. "What's wrong, Chris?" I anxiously asked him. "Pins and needles!" he told me. "I can move my legs yet because the blood is just starting to come back. Give me a minute or two, will you." I had forgotten that Chris had been in the one position for hours with a heavy weight pushing on him, cutting off the circulation to his legs and feet. With quick movements I felt down his legs to make sure there was no injury. Like us, he was only wearing shorts, so the inspection of his thighs and lower legs was easy. There were no more than a few scratches there. His feet, however, looked awful. At first I thought his feet were badly burnt, the skin seemed heavily charred, but, on closer inspection, I found that it was just a collection of ashes and dirt. I brushed off the loose adhesions, expecting to find worse damage on the soles of his feet, but the tough skin was totally intact. He seemed to be uninjured. Nick and I helped him through the small opening and out into the fresh air. We sat him down again near to where Jimmy lay and gave him some water to sip. When I looked properly at Chris, now in the open light, I couldn't help but laugh, Nick joined me spontaneously. The fire had burnt off his hair and he was as bald as the day of our own fire a few months before. "Bloody fires!" Chris swore when he worked out the source of my amusement. "That must have been when the fuel tank exploded on Jimmy's ute. I got him out of the ute as quick as I could because there was too much risk of the tank going up. I nearly fell in to that little cave, it was pitch dark down here and I couldn't see a thing, all I wanted to do was find a safe place to protect him and me from the blast. I pulled him in as far as I could, then lay over top of him so he would be safe. It didn't take long for the fuel tank to go up. After that I just looked after him as much as I could until daylight. When I found that I couldn't move I thought that it wouldn't be long before someone would come to look for us. I was so glad when I heard Nick out there, and even gladder to see his silly face in that hole." Chris broke off as his voice became ragged. Now that it was safe for him to relax, the strain and shock of the night's events eventually caught up with him. Nick and I held him tightly between us, letting him sag into our arms and quietly cry the horror and fear of the night away. We experienced a different relief and wept with him, tears leaving distinct streaks down our faces as they washed away some of the black dust collected there. It took quite a while for the rescue crews to arrive. We had been able to perch the portable radio on the edge of the ravine and could listen to the radio traffic, so we knew they were busy with a lot of other tasks. It was not a problem for us, except that our water supply was not going to last very much longer. We had been able to make everyone fairly comfortable in the shady part of the watercourse. Chris was able to get up and walk around, stretching his legs to get rid of the cramps he had endured and enjoying the returned circulation. Strangely enough, after all the fire and smoke, Chris asked for a cigarette; but we had not bought any with us. Nick sat with Jimmy, mopping his face with the damp shirt and keeping his lips moist. About half an hour after we had settled in the shady nook Jimmy regained a sense of awareness and we sat him up so he could have a drink. He complained of a terrible headache and nausea, but wanted to know if Chris was all right. He drank a little more and, a few minutes later, nodded off in a fitful sleep. I was kept busy maintaining the radio sitrep that the Controller insisted I broadcast on the 15-minute schedule, climbing up to my car each time to make the report. When the rescue team arrived on the rim of the ravine it did not take them long to rig a lifting device and haul Jimmy, securely strapped to a stretcher, up to the waiting ambulance. Chris argued that he was okay and did not need to go to the hospital, but I insisted he needed to be thoroughly checked out. I told him we would be in to pick him up as soon as we had finished at the fire, so he reluctantly went with the ambulance. The rescue team then turned their attention to the wreck of Jimmy's vehicle but, as I pointed out to them, it was his older vehicle and there was hardly anything worth recovering from it that had not either been damaged by the fall or burn when the fuel exploded. It was fortunate that the fire had already swept through the creek bed or else Chris and Jimmy would have been burned by fire in the undergrowth. The little cave Chris had found was the only bit of protection in the nearby area, so Chris's action had undoubtedly saved Jimmy's, and his own, life. All of us left the creek bed at the same time, the rescue crew continuing on to another job that awaited them elsewhere and Nick and I deciding to drive on to the boys' home to make sure everything was in order there. More burnt countryside confronted us as we drove slowly uphill, in some places the devastation complete and in other places a quirk of the wind or terrain had preserved a pocket of undamaged bushland. We came out on Railway Road just a few hundred metres from the Kouros house and called the Fire Control to let them know we were now out of the fire zone. No fires had reached this part of the countryside, so it was a simple matter of checking the watering system and having a quick look over the property for any problems. Nick went in the house to put on a kettle and make some coffee while I finished checking the new hothouse we had built for raising seedlings and then turned the watering system on. "Thanks Dad for everything," Nick said, grasping me in a tight hug as I came in the back door of their house, scraping the black sand off my feet on the doormat. "I am so glad Chris is safe and that we could get Mister Perkins out of there. I was really worried that we might find something worse when we went looking for them." "Me too," I admitted. "Looks like Chris is a regular hero saving Jimmy like that. He is a quick thinker, I am so proud of him." Nick ran his hands down my naked back. "Why don't we have a shower, then we can change into some clean clothes to go and get Chris? You've got ashes and muck all down your back and on your chest. I suppose I am a mess too." Nick quickly removed his dirty shirt and shorts, grabbing my discarded shorts and putting them all in the laundry. I had begun running the shower water when he came back to the bathroom. When he came up behind me he hugged me again, this time I felt the pronounced lump of his erection between us. "Didn't take you long to get your strength back!" My comment to him was one of surprise but suffused with thankfulness that he was feeling fine and in need of a higher level of gratification. We shampooed each other's dusty, smoky hair, letting the water rinse off the grime before we soaped each other thoroughly to clean the rest of the fire residue from our bodies. There was a graze on the outside of Nick's right foot, probably from where he had slid down the rocky canyon wall, and I washed it carefully for him, observing that there was no more than a tiny abrasion. Facing him, I found his stiff penis looking at me, so I leant over and kissed it lightly since I happened to be in the vicinity. When I stood again, Nick ducked down to deal with my now-rigid penis. He had become a very skilful at demonstrating his passion to me and I signalled my anticipation of his dexterity with several involuntary throbs of my penis. Using his tongue to tease the sensitive underside of my rod, he ran it from the head to the root, flicking here and there as he traversed the throbbing muscle, bringing a variety of rich sensations to me. His tightly pursed lips found the tip of my head and parted fractionally to slide effortlessly over the hard glans, tightening again as they circled my shaft and continued their journey without hesitation until he had reached the final obstacle of my pubic bone. The head of my penis was firmly wedged in his small throat and I could feel the rippling constrictions of his pharynx as he swallowed. There was no preliminary action: Nick wanted my semen and he wanted it quickly. I could not resist his demand, and gave to him in rapid bursts, that required no thrusting or movement on my part, all that I had to offer. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the day's activities, perhaps an accumulation of mixed emotions ranging from fear to absolute relief, perhaps it was just Nick. Whatever the cause, I poured out an immense load for him. Nick took it all in, working his throat to stimulate more and more of my juices. I sagged at the knees, unable to stand after this massive discharge, and still he stayed with my penis deeply in his mouth. Crumpling on the shower floor I was sure I could not possibly pump out more of my semen, but Nick relentlessly maintained his determined onslaught on my manhood, drawing me even deeper into his throat when he found another angle of approach. I looked at his beautiful head impaled on my phallus, lifted my hand and stroked his wet hair, and continued squirting out my load, jet after jet of it suctioned from me into his oesophagus and onward till it reached his stomach. It seemed like forever, although it was probably only a few seconds or, at most, a minute. I just could not stop the sheer volume of the discharge that Nick had brought forth from me. With each successive shot I felt a little more drained, yet so wondrously alive and aware of the moment. Nick has been wanking himself steadily all the while he had be nursing my penis, and now his own eruption occurred. He lunged at me all the more, determined to take more of me into his oral cavity despite the physical limits that had been dictated by our body shapes. He shuddered and lurched with the impact of his orgasm, his white fluid squirting out of the dark whorl of skin where his foreskin collected together and from between his fingers, landing sometimes on my leg and at other times elsewhere in the shower stall. Nick, too, was gripped by an almighty discharge, stream after stream of his ejaculate cascading over me and also on the floor. At some time it stopped. Nick let go of his penis and eased himself off mine, sitting alongside me on the floor of the shower, letting the water rinse off the residual semen that still eased from our penises. We fell into a loving embrace, allowing the pores of our skin to absorb the other till we felt as one. The warm shower water completed the job of cleaning and rinsing our bodies, restoring also the strength we needed to eventually shut off the water and dry ourselves. Nick held me tightly again in a remarkable embrace, a manifestation of the love he had learned to give to me. I felt his warm tears on my skin and lifted his beautiful face to me. "What is the matter, Nick?" I asked. "Nothing at all," he sobbed. "That is why I am crying. Because, at last, nothing is the matter. You have made everything right for me. Oh, Dad, I love you so much." We dried ourselves and retired to the kitchen where Nick's coffee had gone cold. He quickly made a fresh pot and dug some tobacco and papers out of somewhere so we could enjoy a cigarette. It was heading towards late afternoon and we had not eaten at all since the previous night at the Salvation Army canteen, yet neither of us felt the desperate need to eat. Nick used the phone to call Connie on his mobile and passed on to him the events of the night. Connie was keen to leave Perth immediately and come home, but Nick steadied him with reassurance that everything had been done that needed to be done, so he should look after Wayan's interests first. When the call was finished we tidied up the house, turned off the watering system and left for town to collect Chris. Using the roadway leading through the village allowed us to see some more of the fire damage in areas we had not previously seen. The fire had indeed burnt right up to the railway line and we drove past a few farms that had been razed to the ground. The fire had licked right up to the village store and post office, but neither building had been burned or appeared damaged. The railway station was undamaged as were most other buildings in the settlement. We continued on to town without stopping, making a mental note that we would see about giving assistance to the people from the ruined farms the next day. Chris was waiting for us in the outpatients' section of the hospital, freshly showered and dressed in borrowed clothes. I spoke quickly with the doctor on duty who assured me that Chris would have no more of a problem than some blistering on his scalp where the fire blast had burnt his skin. He gave me some cream to apply to it, assuring me that Chris's hair would quickly grow back and that the blisters would disappear in a week. Jimmy, he told me, was doing fine. He did have a concussion from where his head had struck the windscreen, but the chest wound was minor and he had no other problems apart from slight dehydration. The doctor asked that I did not go in to see Jimmy because he had been sedated to keep him calm while the concussion was being attended to. "Have you had anything to eat?" I asked Chris as we drove out of the hospital car park. "Not yet. Well, they did bring some afternoon tea in at the hospital, but it was only a biscuit. I really am hungry." We pulled in to a café we frequented and found table and chairs on their outdoor terrace in the shade of some old gum trees. The terrace looked out over a grassy area and sloped away to the river about 100 metres away. In the rosy glow of the late afternoon light it was a beautiful sight, a feast for eyes so recently assailed with nothing but blackness and burnt dust. The inevitable coffee and cigarettes helped pass the time until our food had been prepared, the three of us engaging in a light recounting of the events of the night as a means of therapy and release, allowing us to get a better hold on the present and prepare for the future. The boys got me to choose the wine for the meal and we had an excellent chilled Chardonnay, a wonderful accompaniment to the fine meal we devoured. When we arrived home I asked Chris if he wanted some olive oil rubbed into his dried skin. Nick agreed to help me, so that Chris would have two lots of hands working on him. Chris undressed and lay on a sheet I had laid on the floor of the sunroom, where it was cool in the evening breeze. At first he lay face down and I used the opportunity to apply the ointment from the hospital to his head blisters. Nick began pouring a little oil onto Chris's back and rubbed it lightly all over his shoulders and down his back. When I had finished Chris's head, I moved down to take his feet, one at a time, and anoint them with the fine yellow oil, massaging it deeply into his tough skin to soothe away the heat and pain of the coals he had trodden on the previous night. Working my way up his legs, it was not long before both Nick and I met at Chris's buttocks, our hands working the oil into Chris's round globes and between his legs. I was feeling the effects of a tumescence I had not expected and glanced at Nick, only to find that he, too, was sporting a tent in his shorts. Telling Chris to turn over was a short distraction, but only to reveal that he was also reacting to the contact of our hands on his body. His erection stood very stiff, pointing to some imaginary position above his head as he settled on his back. Nick immediately took it in his hands, applying a small amount of oil to stop any chaffing, and began a slow massage of the rigid penis. I worked my way from Chris's feet back up the front of his legs until I reached his thighs. "See that little scar there, James?" Chris asked me. "That is from the cut I got from the fence when I came to your house the first time. Remember?" How could I have ever forgotten such a remarkable event in my life! Chris continued, "The fence isn't there now because they cleared it away when they put those new roads in, but it used to be exactly where you found me in the creek bed. Strange, huh?" It was indeed strange that events had brought is in yet another of those mysterious circles the course of life seems to shuffle between. I thought back over the year past and how it had radically changed six months ago when these boys came in to my life. I began to wonder what might have been if I had not seen Chris at the petrol station that day. Stopping myself from the distraction, I realised that my hands had moved on and were now at his penis. Relieving Nick of his task, I began to wank Chris at the same slow, deliberate tempo that his young brother had introduced. Nick rubbed oil into Chris's chest, the front of his shoulders, down his arms and into the skin of his hands, then began gently rubbing a small amount of the oil into his face. Chris had lain quite still through all this attention to his body, but was now finding it difficult to refrain from declaring his interest. At first Chris pushed softly into my hands. I almost didn't notice the movement, thinking that perhaps it was a spontaneous throbbing of his steel-like rod. Then, when it happened a second time, I felt the urgency of him in the thrust. Nick came back to sit opposite me and he put his hands above mine on his brother's pulsing shaft. With four hands surrounding it, Chris's penis did not have much opportunity for resistance even if he had been seeking to oppose our advances. I had my two hands firmly around the base of his penis, Nick around the top half, and we brought Chris to a streaming orgasm as he lay beneath us. It had been two days since Chris had last poured out his semen, and now he released the pent up supply he had created in the intervening period. Jets of his juice flew out from Nick's hands and landed high on Chris's chest. Nick bobbed down and quickly took his brother in his mouth, coaxing more and more of the fluid to discharge into his willing receptacle. Chris, by this stage, could no longer lie quietly, thrusting his pelvis upwards to maximise the stimulation and the rush of his orgasm. I was excited to be able to watch Chris's face while he was in the grips of his orgasmic state. His beautiful features showed the intensity of the climax, his face wrinkling and writhing as the various sensations coursed through him. Nick showed the same oral dexterity for his brother as he had so recently shown to me, and determinedly kept Chris bedded deeply in him until the very last pulse of the sibling organ. Finally Chris stopped heaving and Nick stopped siphoning the rich fluid. Nick released his brother and lay alongside him, savouring the creamy offering that had been given him. I reached over and tugged Nick's shorts down, revealing his rigid penis, wetly presenting the dripping folds of his taut foreskin where an accumulation of precum had surfaced. My own penis was equally hard and demanded gratification, so I released my own shorts and climbed above the two boys, my head above Nick's penis and my penis pointing at his mouth. We took each other at the same time - me from above, Nick from below - our penises knew the route they needed to take in order to find the urgent pinnacle of fulfilment. Chris, now, was the spectator as we raced to the edge of our sensations. Nick reached his hands up and grabbed my bottom, pulling me further into his oral cave. I pushed my mouth down on him to completely engulf his manhood, shoving it carelessly into the depth of my throat, eager to take from him the sweetness of his loins. Chris could not lay passively and joined in the foray, running his hands over us both, increasing the tactile senses we were already experiencing by joining with us. It was not long before he could not contain his own need for another release. He rose behind me and let his still hard penis find the crevasse of my anus. None of us had ever wanted to engage in anal sex, so at first I wondered at Chris's intentions. It soon became clear as he worked his penis along the crack, thrusting so that the head would push clear towards my back then pulling back to rub past my anus. The sensation of his rampant penis against my quivering buttocks was absolutely amazing. He still had sufficient olive oil on his penis to provide lubricant for the path he had chosen, and he thrust quickly in long movements. Again, the shocking impact of my orgasm hit me hard. My penis felt as though I had no control over it at all and pumped a massive load deeply into Nick. Moments later I was rewarded as he fired his volleys of semen at me, the warm fluid coursing up into my mouth and disappearing into my throat. Chris soon reached his second orgasm. I felt him shudder as the release began, then felt he warmness of his semen as it landed on my back. The first shots landed well up my spine while he thrust strongly, then the successive ejaculations stifled by Chris's own body as he sagged onto my back and embraced me from behind. He was the topmost of the three of us, Nick at the bottom bearing the greater weight even though I tried to keep myself up on my arms to stop crushing him. At last Chris stopped his lunging and collapsed fully. I moved so that we would topple off each other, letting Chris come to rest along one side of me and Nick the other. There we fell asleep, the gentle summer breeze gradually cooling our bodies and drying the copious fluids from us, blessing us with a deep and untroubled sleep. Sometime during the night it became too cool for us and we woke sufficiently to stumble into the bedroom where we completed the hours of slumber, erasing the fears and hurts and restoring our souls. Christmas came to us that week. We had been so involved in the events of the fire that it seemed the long-awaited event snuck up without us seeing it coming. On the Thursday evening I was making my final preparations for the midnight service at our church when a knock at the back door startled me. Standing there were two police officers, their dark uniforms highlighted by the lights on my veranda. They apologised for coming around at this time of the day and asked if this was the home of Chris Kouros MacMannis. I told them it was and asked them indoors. Nick made coffee while I sat the officers in the dining room and called Chris in. "We have reason to believe that you have been engaged in something quite strange," the older Officer, sergeant ranking showing on his arms, said in a stern voice. I was feeling somewhat confused, and I could see that Chris was also. The sergeant's face suddenly broke into a smile. "Yes, quite strange. You have been a bit of a hero! Old Jimmy Perkins has put you up for the Police Award for Citizens Bravery because you risked your own life to save his. We just have to confirm your address and get a few details so the Award can be processed. It is only a few weeks to Australia Day and, as you know, the Governor makes the awards that day." Chris could hardly believe his ears. He protested that he had only done what any person would do, but the officers were adamant that it was classified as bravery. The story of Jimmy had apparently circulated throughout the community and many others had come forward, including the Fire Controllers, to tell what they knew of the events of the night of the fire, corroborating Jimmy's story and providing absolute proof of Chris's heroic act. Chris gave the officers the information they requested and they, in turn, told him that further information would be sent to him as soon as possible. After they left, I gave Chris a great hug and kiss. "Well done, my love. I could not think of anyone more suited to the award than you are. You really did a brave thing to haul Jimmy in that rock hole and protect him. I am so proud of you." Nick, Connie and Wayan, who had also been at the house for dinner, gave their approval and showed that they also thought Chris to be the man of the moment. Time passed quickly and we had to leave to go to church. All the family came with me and we arrived at the church early so I could set up my music and prepare the organ for the service. There is a peal of bells at the church and it is usual for them to be rung on Christmas Eve for half an hour before the service. During the bell ringing I usually sit in an alcove near the organ to wait for when I am expected to begin playing the prelude. Chris, who was my page-turner and occasional stop puller, sat with me and we listened to the ringers completing their changes. When they were done I took my seat at the organ, Chris standing alongside me, and we played the prelude to the service. The usual procedure in our church is that the minister would commence with the Call To Worship, some sentences to draw the mind towards the focus of the service. He stood and began addressing the large congregation. "We have come tonight to celebrate the birth of love, hope and joy into the world. But we also celebrate another kind of love, hope and joy tonight: That love that is rarely expressed and demonstrated between fellow humans; That hope that we humans can sometimes share with one another; and that joy which comes to us collectively when a great thing is done among us. With us tonight is a man who has been recognised for bringing to the world of our community a generous portion of the love, hope and joy that this season of Christmas celebrates." The pastor continued, "I invite you to join with me in offering a special welcome to our very own hero. His bravery in the face of very difficult odds is a shining example to us all. Chris Kouros saved the life of a fellow fire fighter in the terrible fires last week and, I have just been told, will be receiving the Police Award." The church erupted with applause, members of the congregation jumping to their feet to show their admiration for Chris's unselfish act. The choir stood in their raised platform; the people in the gallery at the rear of the building stood, joining those already on their feet on the main floor. Chris was totally unprepared for this, although I had been pre-warned that the minister would make the announcement, and had no idea what he should do. My heart swelled in pride for my bald-headed boy and tears of joy sprung in my eyes. Chris nodded his head towards the people, acknowledging their acclaim in his own humble manner, and turned back to me. Through my own flooded eyes I could see the tears in his eyes, completely taken aback by the unexpected appreciation of his deed. The surprise was not yet complete, as Chris was to find out. An ambulance officer came through the doorway at the rear of the church wheeling a bandaged, but recovering, Jimmy Perkins down the aisle to the front of the church, right up to where we were at the organ console. Jimmy reached out to Chris, his face etched with the appreciation he felt, his eyes rimming with the emotion of acknowledgement, and shook his hand firmly, mouthing "Thank you." over the pandemonium. The ambulance officer took Jimmy to one side where a place had been reserved for him to attend the service and the minister regained control of the service. Christmas became a celebration of many kinds for many people that night. This story, along with supporting photographs, may be viewed by members of the Yahoo! Group Aboriginal Farmboy at: http://asia.groups.yahoo.com/group/aboriginal_farmboy/ Membership of the group is free and the group is a forum where members may contribute relevant messages and photos to share among each other. Please email: aboriginal_farmboy-subscribe@yahoogroups.com