PERILOUS JOURNEY - 11
Copyright 2012 by Carl Mason
All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. However based on real events and places, “Perilous Journey” is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at email@example.com
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This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, please respect yourself and those around you by practicing safe sex.
(Revisiting Chapter 10)
OH, MAN! Feeling his muscles up against the kid's strongly developed body felt just plain... awesome! Before he suddenly fell asleep, he even pushed a bit more tightly against that rounded, heavily muscled butt. He wasn't completely sure - for he was on the very edge of sleep - but he thought he might have heard Grant softly moan. "Ah fuck!" the brawny jock breathed. "That feels so . . ." At that point his voice slowly faded into the dark silence. Realizing that one more opportunity had been lost, Rob just groaned as he felt himself sliding into the arms of Morpheus.
(Continuing Our Story: North by Northeast!)
Rob continued to drive with the utmost care on that cloudy morning that followed that terrifying night before. True, he often chose routes that seemed roundabout to his teenaged passenger, as well as roads that were sometimes little more than cow paths. Nevertheless, there was a feeling of accomplishment once it was clear they were working their way out of the foothills on the far side of the Alleghenies.
Oh, yes, lest we forget, the lads had awakened to a scrumptious country breakfast. As regards the night before, nothing more than fleeting, somewhat embarrassed grins were exchanged. After offering vigorous thanks to their warmhearted hosts, they were ready (well...almost ready) to be off on the next portion of their trip into the wilds of the Adirondacks. True, it took the better part of an hour to dig up a couple of promising bushes, and replant them among similar plants that pushed in on the relatively narrow entrance to the Masterson's access road. But what are friends for? (A grateful John Masterson said they he knew of another way off his property, use of which would cause no great problems, at least for the time being.) As soon as a few shovelfuls of dirt had been scattered over tire tracks in the entrance, they resumed their journey.
Returning to the present, Robbie hoped that the journey would be easier once they had crossed the mountains and headed for the far-northeastern corner of New York State, but that was not to be. First, their meandering route had resulted in their entering New York some distance to the west of where he had hoped to be. Secondly, more than cars and people were crossing the mountains as the dimensions of the coastal tragedy became apparent. That very day, for instance, growing hostility and fear became visible on every side. Welcome mats were withdrawn from the stoops of home after home in the southern tier of New York counties lying against the Pennsylvania state line. Driving down a street in a small town became an increasingly uncomfortable experience, let alone stopping at a small Mom-and-Pop grocery or a fast food outlet. As the popular mood darkened, the men suffered a car jacking attempt in one town and were verbally hassled by a mixed mob of teens and young adults in another.
Isn't it strange how a vicious downpour can be followed by a glorious rainbow - or a clear morning sky can give way to swirling black clouds that promise heavy weather? Yeah, life is often like that...as it was that late morning on the way to Ithaca.
It was time for "heavy weather". For the first time they began to get a relatively clear radio transmission, viz., an "emergency networks" broadcast from Syracuse. Grant, who was riding shotgun, had been playing with the radio since they had left Pennsylvania that morning. Suddenly, a loud alert tone gripped their attention and an announcer said,
"This is an official broadcast of the Emergency Alert System. Listen carefully for news and information necessary to your safety."
A second voice came over the speakers. "Ladies and Gentlemen, This is Governor Morton of New York State. Be advised that the terrible destruction of Friday visited on the East Coast from Washington to north of Boston was a natural disaster. However tragic the loss of life and the damage to property, our country has not been attacked. Americans are asked to render all possible aid to their brothers and sisters who are fleeing coastal regions in the Northeast. As soon as conditions allow, help will be sent to the region and affected citizens evacuated. Many countries have offered their assistance. The Government has thanked them and accepted several offers. Even now foreign specialists, equipment, and rescue dogs are arriving in the United States.
"Briefly, an immense meteoroid some miles in diameter was discovered weeks ago on a possible collision course with Earth. With the support of the United Nations, China and the United States launched two powerful nuclear attacks on the meteoroid. Despite its size, there was good reason to hope we could divert it, if not destroy it. The attacks were only partially successful. Discernable cracks appeared in the object, but it held together and remained on course. On entering our atmosphere, it broke into five major sections. These sections remained on the same course, but developed different speeds.
One after another, the segments headed up the East Coast in a northeasterly direction at approximately five miles above the coastal plain. The first segment exploded in the air above Providence, Rhode Island; the second, above New Haven, Connecticut; the third, above the Raritan River at the beginning of the metropolitan area in northern New Jersey; the fourth over northern Delaware, and the fifth, equidistant between Baltimore, Maryland, and the District of Columbia. Cornell University reports that the shockwave from each blast measured 7.9 on the Richter scale. Thus, our Eastern littoral between Washington and Boston has been subjected to massive shockwaves equivalent to several major earthquakes. Physical damage and the loss of life have been extreme.
"Again, our country is not under attack. The world has rallied to our aid. Take care of our fellow citizens - and maintain the public order! Stay tuned for further broadcasts as conditions permit."
Grant's long-drawn-out whistle didn't cease until he had run out of breath. Robbie's hand remained lightly planted on the lad's shoulder
Given a major warehouse fire, not to speak of their desire to maintain a low profile, it was fairly late as they approached Ithaca from the southwest. Desiring to avoid going-to-work traffic in the morning and large numbers of locals at all times, they immediately worked their way over to the eastern side of the city. Quickly - not all that far from the Cornell campus and older, but well maintained working-class housing - Scott spotted a park set in a good-sized natural bowl. Overhead they saw swirling pastel lights of the type described earlier. Bisected by a small river, the rear half of the park (which they initially approached) appeared to be wooded and dotted with picnic tables and simple brick barbecues. As they drove along the street that circled the park, however, they saw that the front half appeared to be grassed and relatively open. It also appeared that long grassy slopes led down to the floor of the bowl through which a small stream flowed. Rob was reasonably certain that he could find a parking area where the boys could stretch their legs, enjoy such food as had been purchased on the way, and bed down...either in or out of the Jeep. Unfortunately, as he drove far enough to get a reasonably complete view of the front section, he realized that this plan was simply not going to happen.
Down on the park floor, they could see that more than a dozen powerful-looking toughs were attacking a group of young men with clubs, baseball bats, and chains. One of what they took to be the youngsters' cars was on fire; several bodies lay on the ground. The few youngsters remaining on their feet were being pressed into an increasingly tight circle. As they paused at the top of the grassy slope, Rob turned to Grant and asked whether they should just drive on. "Nope," the muscular youngster replied, "but let's be ready to get the hell out of here PDQ!" "Ok, man, let's do it!" Rob snarled. "Those two red knobs on the dash are for the spotlights and my siren. Turn 'em on, Grant!" With a smirk, the teen snickered, "Dude, this has to be illegal!" As they began to roll down the hillside, two police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance approached from the other side of the park. One of the police cars paused, turned on its siren and lights, and headed down the slope from the opposite side.
The hoods scattered in all directions, though Robbie noticed that the police corralled several of them. Three of the victims, plus one of the attackers, were dead; five others (including two of the toughs) were so seriously injured that they had to be transported to the local hospital. A rock knocked Robbie to the ground, but he refused to be checked out at the hospital. Those remaining, including Rob and Grant after the Chief of Police had spoken with them, were taken to the local police station.
"Well, I guess that bunch of crap is out of business for a while," the Chief wheezed as he crammed himself into an office chair. "We've had them in our sights for some time. Finally someone phoned soon enough for us to get down to the scene before it was all over. I believe your stories, guys. I could let you go right now - and I will if you insist. The D.A.'s office tells me that it doesn't intend to file any charges against you. Truth is, though, I really don't think you should be out on the streets tonight. God knows the loss of life has already been terrible. As refugees able to escape the coastal areas have managed to trickle this way, our security situation has gotten much worse. My advice is to park your cars overnight in our protected lot, accept our invitation to get a little sleep in a couple of our 'off duty' rooms, and move out before sunrise.
"Am I correct, Hunter, that you, your brother and the young man from Ithaca intend to go up into the Adirondacks with Rob Thayer? He's ok'd your joining him?" "Yes, sir," a well-built eighteen-year-old responded. (Hunter Collins was a gymnast from Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore who had come up to Ithaca for a frosh match with Cornell. His was the remaining, relatively undamaged car.) Standing nearby, Ross Collins (his fourteen-year-old brother), and Johnny Preston nodded affirmatively. (At fifteen, Johnny was a lanky, somewhat grungy town kid who had turned away from his gang when it crossed the line between robbery and murder) "Finally, Hunter, you understand that I'll do whatever I can for your three friends who are in the hospital - and the three who died in the attack. I'm only sorry that the level of destruction reported in the Baltimore area doesn't allow me to be any more specific." The blond jock could do no more than nod somberly.
The day had been long and difficult; the availability of showers and decent beds further increased their desire for sleep. Thus, though they did polish off some food, they decided only two issues prior to hitting the sack: First, stealth - and trading time for less traveled routes - had allowed them to make it through New York's southern tier counties. Before conditions for "outsiders" worsened in the state's central and northern counties, they should travel to the Thayer property in the Adirondacks as quickly as possible without exciting attention. Secondly, all agreed that Robbie as Scott Thayer's son should continue to lead the group. Awakened early in the morning, the boys were fed a good breakfast, their cars were gassed and loaded, and gifts of groceries were presented by the police - all before their watch went off duty. A fairly large wooden box sealed with Ithaca Police tape was also placed in the back of Robbie's vehicle with instructions not to open it other than in an emergency or, preferably, until they had reached their destination. There was clearly respect on all sides.
Rob was just about ready to "police" his cup and cereal bowl when Hunter Collins came over and sat next to him. "Boss" he had said quietly, "something happened last night after most of us had turned in that shouldn't have happened without your approval." (Rather than challenge his leadership, Rob realized that the golden-haired hunk was recognizing it.) "Well, the sky hasn't fallen, friend," the powerful collegian mumbled. "What happened?" Hunter went on to explain that one of the boys who had been taken to the hospital, Kip Pierce by name, had been his brother Ross's best friend since grade school. "Naturally, he realized that we were leaving this morning, for it was far too dangerous to remain in Ithaca. Around three a.m., as I get the story, he gathered some of Kip's clothes and took a taxi over to the hospital. His buddy told him that removing one of the two bullets that had hit him had made all the difference in the world in the way he felt. He begged Ross not to leave him in Ithaca. Briefly, my crazy brother helped him to get into his clothes and then to return here." "He's here now?" the curly haired one asked quietly. When Hunter nodded in the affirmative, Rob walked over to the phone. On completing a brief phone call, he had only shaken his head and asked if he might see the new lad. Heading out to the secured parking area, Hunter noticed that his vehicle now sported New York plates. Rob only winked and kept walking towards Hunter's small SUV. "Your Maryland plates are in back," he grunted. Only after Hunter had opened the passenger side door and spoken to someone who seemed to be hiding in the furthest corner did he quietly step forward.
Only minutes passed before their "Captain" knelt outside by the side of the car, an arm wrapped around the shoulders of a dark haired fourteen year-old...a scared and exhausted fourteen year-old. "The hospital said Kip could handle the trip," Rob murmured, looking at Hunter. "Ross has some clean bandages and directions for taking care of his friend. He does need to see a doctor ASAP and have the second bullet removed. The other two boys, by the way, are doing fine, but they aren't ready to travel." With that, Robbie rose, ceremoniously slugged Kip on his upper arm before guiding him into Hunter's arms, and reached around the two boys to shake Ross's hand. "You done good, podnuh," he said in his best western (New York State) accent and walked off, muttering, "Gotta rock and roll". An obviously pleased Ross grinned at his older brother. Over to the side, a thoroughly amused black Police Chief watched (and admired) the young man at work.
(To Be Continued)