PERILOUS JOURNEY - 18
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. Further, as in real life, sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at firstname.lastname@example.org
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[Author's Note: Thanks for joining me on another adventure! I look forward to hearing from you and comparing thoughts. And, say, where would we be without Nifty...especially when the times are rough and the crazies are out in full force? Will you join me in making even a small financial contribution to the Archive in order to keep this site free and, as it has always been, an important part of our lives? Thanks again, friend!]
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, hopefully 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, remember that maturity generally demands safe sex.
(Revisiting Chapter 17)
Braving the unaccustomed silence of peace and the high heat of a lazy, late summer afternoon, one of the "Communications Runners" left the Lodge in full gallop, heading for Scott and Robbie who were stretched out on the shore of Little Moose Lake. The runner, hopping from foot to foot on the blazing sand, simply pressed a note into #2's upraised hand. Briefly, the note identified the caller as Gregor Hodges, a medical doctor in a rural town about 120 miles southeast of the Lodge on the New York-Vermont state line. He asked Rob to return his call on a matter of extreme importance.
(Continuing Our Story: Hodges and Greene)
Later that afternoon, Robbie returned Dr. Hodges' call. The good doctor apologized that he had not phoned sooner. Unfortunately, Billy Greene, a young friend and neighbor of Andy Cooper on Long Island hadn't provided contact information until he left the day before. Hodges reported that Andy remained in his hospital in "critical" physical and mental condition without significant improvement over the last couple of weeks. Billy indicated, however reluctantly, that he had to leave and recommended that Rob Lewis, a friend, be contacted
By midmorning of the next day, Robbie and his Jeep were headed southeast. A couple of hours, almost to Glens Falls...then off towards a rural area on the state line... He was greeted graciously by Dr. Hodges at the front door of his cottage hospital, but Hodges had to ask him to wait for half an hour. During this time, scheduled several times a day, he worked with one assistant and several young locals to complete the work of the village clinic. Before departing, Hodges asked that he read a sealed letter left for him (Rob) by Billy Greene.
Ten pages roughly penciled on narrow-lined paper torn from a school notebook lay in his hands. Quickly thumbing through them, Scottie realized that Billy had simply kept notes on things that had caught his fancy plus comment, seemingly from the time of their departure from their hometown on Long Island. Indeed, the last brief entry had been written two days before, i.e., the day before he had received the call from Dr. Hodges. In any case, he suspected that even though the doctor would be returning in minutes, he should at least scan Billy's letter. True, there was one question he couldn't avoid, 'If Andy is still here, why hasn't he written...or called?'
[Author's Note: The style of Billy's letter is a mixed bag. Most of it is written in the third person; Billy sometimes simply switches to the first person. In any case, Rob found most of it to be legible, as well as intelligible. Other than transcribing it from Billy's handwriting and adding one note, no changes have been made.]
We only met a couple of times, but I know you love Andy just like I do. Be real careful. Andy's real unhappy and confused. He could do some bad things to others...or himself.
From their starting point - forty miles or so east of Manhattan on the South Shore - the boys had a miserable time getting off Long Island. Both of them had been roughed up. "Road rage" was far too gentle a term to apply to actions and emotions they experienced at beginning their odyssey. The long lines of cars and the crowds were barely under minimal control. For instance, they had to work their way through two riots without police or military protection. Between detours, breakdowns, military traffic, and endless other delays, a relatively short trip took nearly a full day. Eventually, they did reach the brand new pontoon bridge near where the Throgs Neck Bridge had once stood. Then it was north through the metropolitan area at snail's pace until they reached the Taconic State Parkway. (Andy chose the Taconic rather than the New York Thruway for many of the same reasons that kept Scott off most of the Pennsylvania Interstates. Unfortunately, by the time he reached it on the second day, heavy traffic had dropped speedometers to around 20 mph!) Finally reaching the north end of the Taconic, they entered I-90, easily crossed the city of Albany, and sped north on the "Adirondack Northway" (I-87). Andy said it was time to get home! (Pause.) Funny isn't it how Fate sometimes has its own ideas...
By the time Andy passed Saratoga Springs on the way to Glens Falls, the late hour had thinned some of the traffic. We made a gas/pit stop and then continued. Maybe the hour was part of the explanation for the big blond's letting up on his concentration. Before we regained full awareness, a beat-up panel truck without lights suddenly appeared out of the blackness. Squarely broadsiding us twice, it pushed us over the side of the road and down a steep embankment. Not having buckled my seatbelt, I was thrown out of the car, tumbling down the hill straight into great piles of mown grass. My guardian angel must have been watching! When I came to a while later, it was dark, but I searched for Andy for well over an hour. No luck... Finally, bruised and sore, I climbed up to the road and flagged down some help. I was not to see Andy again for some weeks.
Two days later, I returned to the scene. Eventually, I found the car which had tumbled into a small, shallow pond concealed by forest and undergrowth. I saw no signs of Andy, but I did find the small metal box he had recovered in the ruins of his former home and mentioned to me as we drove north. Following his instructions, I took the box to the lawyer in Glens Falls he had named, receiving some money and thanks for honoring my friend's wishes.
Haunting the local police station for news...any news, I gathered that respect for order and the law were not all that it could be in that hilly, highly rural area. Even Andy had joked about its isolation between the Adirondacks and Vermont's Green Mountains prior to the building of the "Northway". I heard echos of this at the station. For instance, two troopers suddenly appeared, vowing that several areas over by the state line "could damned well be left to the locals". On another occasion, I overheard a comment that conditions were worse than in the '60s...that you could get "anything you wanted" from "the crazies". I also saw a young officer arguing with his sergeant. Seems as if three, heavily armed hulks, probably on drugs, insisted that he not enter a sleazy, trailer community. He didn't... We grinned wryly at each other as he passed by my bench. Sgt. Tommy Connors and I ended up having a cup of coffee with some of his friends. (I think he thought I was already in college! Why couldn't they have been going out for beer? LOL!)
It had to have been a couple of weeks later when I got a lift from a carload of slightly older guys who were set on "partying". Believe that "isolated" was the key word for that road and the area through which we were driving. Spotting several stopped cars ahead us that were surrounded by armed men, my driver stopped abruptly. I unfolded myself from the rear floor and crawled out. As quickly and as quietly as I could, I melted into the surrounding trees. I was lucky...real lucky, for I spotted two guards armed with automatic rifles before they spotted me. After they had passed, I continued on in the direction of a faint glow in the woods. (At some point, I would circle back to the road.) The glow turned out to be coming from a bonfire set in a good-sized natural amphitheater left from mining local slate. As I crawled up to the edge and looked down, I could see that the place was packed! There were people that you'd see at any town meeting in the land...workers, business types, mothers with babies, even an occasional teen. Some Boy Scouts were helping a few older citizens to seating that had evidently been saved for them and any others who needed a little assistance. Surprisingly, there was a large number of soldiers, presumably from the military depot in Glens Falls.
Finally, a rather distinguished looking, white-haired man, powerful, probably in his early 50s, stepped up onto the platform. No bull, Rob. He harangued the crowd for nearly an hour and a half! And they were yelling and applauding the whole time! It was the usual stuff, though he sure could talk.
I won't try to tell you everything he said...can't remember all of it anyway. The theme was we've got to take our country back...and send those who are responsible for taking basic American rights out of our hands straight to hell! If the government can't protect us, we must. The Army units that have refused to follow lily-livered politicians and let the scum of the earth overrun our land are doing the right, the American thing! So, if you see a soldier, pat him on the back and say "thanks"! And if you see a sailor, an airman, or a marine - or most policemen - tell them to get off their asses and join the soldiers in protecting us against the poison from the south! [Author's Note: Remember that this was written some time back.]
If we're going to save our country, friends, we've got to be strong. Cowards and do-gooders can't help us. Stop 'em now! For instance, take that truckload of garbage that the State Police stopped out on Route 3 the other day. Give 'em a good trial right here in the Adirondacks. When they're pronounced guilty, line 'em up against a wall and shoot 'em! We're just not going to allow more of our money to be spent on long-term prison care than on our businesses and schools. As for "juveniles" who break our laws, treat them with a calloused hand. Maybe it will wake a few of them up. Maybe they will join us in saving our beloved country! (The crowd broke into frenzied applause and cries of, "Take our country back! Take our country back!") There were two additional speakers who didn't depart far from this message and then there were three announcements: (1) Immediately on the close of the meeting, please join us for refreshments on the Prieto property directly across the road. (2) Your Council tried Jeb Medvedík for killing Postmaster Tyler's dog, found him guilty, and sentenced him to four lashes and a 5:00 p.m. curfew during his junior year of high school. If the curfew is broken, he will be automatically sentenced to a juvenile detention facility for two years. (3) Our Council tried Andrew Cooper of Long Island for sodomizing and strangling Benny Ward, the stepson of Hank Miller of Corner Crest. He was found guilty of both crimes and sentenced to twelve lashes and death. (I'll never forget hearing this for the first time.)
When the meeting was formally closed, most of the crowd left quickly as directed. If necessary they were hurried along by guards. The "Council" stayed. In a few minutes, additional armed guards moved out of the woods and took up positions. (One of them was about six feet...and a tree trunk...away from me!) Evidently, the first order of business was the lanky fifteen year-old who had to be six-two or six-three. He was brought in naked and tied to a tree. I remember one of the Council members laughing and pointing to the kid's piss as it dribbled down his long, thin, hairy legs. A powerful looking guy administered his four lashes with what appeared to be a fairly light whip - though it did draw a little blood. His unconscious body was carried away by two men, one of whom was presumably his Council-member father.
The presiding member stood and asked the Council members if anyone objected to carrying out the punishment of Andrew Cooper. When no one spoke, he nodded and Andy was brought in. In the lights, his body gleamed with the sweat that poured off it like a waterfall. Every hair on his body had been shaved off. Additionally, he had obviously been lightly drugged and had to be partially supported by two handlers. Whatever else can be said, his eyes told me that he was terrified...scared out of his mind. (I never thought that anyone could ever terrorize that guy!) Our eyes never met. It was hard to believe that this was the friend whom I had seen only weeks ago. Both his massive physique and his personality seemed to have shrunk. Every part of his body - e.g., his face, torso, genitals, butt, and legs - bore signs of beatings by people who knew what they were doing. After he had been secured in an "X" pattern within a heavy wood frame, his twelve lashes were vigorously administered with a heavy bullwhip. His screams rang out through the forest.
Lifting his arm, the white-haired leader quelled Council's angry buzzing. "Hank Miller has claimed the historic right of Revanche against his stepson's murderer. Let him enter." Clad in a natural off-white robe, Miller entered attended by two brawny, fully clad youths. Led behind Andy's upright body, the sides of his robe were opened and held out like wings by his attendants as he fucked the convicted pervert and murderer with obvious satisfaction. When Miller had finished, the leader reminded the Council that as representatives of the People they also had the right to revenge. Did any of them wish to avail themselves of that right at this time? Three men came forward. This time the process was simpler. That is, they simply dropped their pants and satisfied their need for retribution. One of the members, an elderly man, complained that he couldn't reach Cooper's body. With but nodded permission, Andy's body was removed from its timber frame and flung down on a slanted rock before the Council. The old man satisfied himself, then rose and proudly strode back to his seat.
As the flames rose high, the judge intoned, "Council, one and all, do you call for Andrew Cooper's full sentence to be imposed?" In one voice, they replied firmly, "I do." No sounds could be heard above the crackling of the fire and chirping of insects as the judge reached down to a small table, picked up a large ornate dagger and extended it to the man who had administered the whippings.
(To Be Continued)