Date: Tue, 21 May 2002 13:41:40 -0400 From: Tom Cup Subject: The Innocents Part 2 Chapter 6 by Richard Dean Copyright 2000, 2001, 2002 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ****************************************************************** The Innocents By Richard Dean Part 2 Chapter 6 Walking Death Paulo's Remembrance Continues: As Gran served us breakfast, she asked what we had planned for the day. Toninho answered her query in his eager, excited vocalization. "Paulo and I are going to Central Rio to see if we can locate some of my friends or acquaintances." "What? Why for God's sake? Paulo I'm surprised at you. You're going to allow this child to associate with those hoodlums? I don't think Ricardo would be at all pleased about this. I certainly don't approve of this at all." In an attempt to be calm in my answer, I replied, "Well, Gran, Ton and I have been talking for quite some while about the plight of the street children. He has told me things that alarm me. This is a fact- finding mission for myself. Ton is concerned about the security and danger that some of his friends confront on a daily basis. I'll be with him all of the time, he will be in no danger, and he won't be "associating" with them, as you put it. I know you, Gran. If someone you knew seemed to be in trouble, you would want to find out the reason why and see if you could help in some small way to alleviate their difficulty or hardship, wouldn't you?" "Yes, of course, but I'm an adult." "As am I, Gran. Toninho is nearly an adult in my mind, and Ricardo's mind, I'd venture to guess. To allay your fears, I ask that you join us. If you feel at any time that Toninho is in danger, you can put a stop to this immediately. Will that be all right with you?" "Well...yes." "Ton? Will you agree to this plan of action?" "Hell yeah, Paulo, lets go!" "Antonio!" Gran rebuked, "You need your mouth washed out with soap. Stop that! It's indecent and not respectable language for a young man of your breeding. I won't have it. Do you hear me?" "Yes, Ma'am." He replied sheepishly, while winking at me. "Good. I'll change my clothing while you boys clean up the breakfast things. I need to do some shopping anyway while we're out. And I'll have my two strong boys to help carry the purchases. Paulo, make certain the gardener looks after things while we're gone. Oh no, the maid is coming today, and I haven't had time to get things tidied up yet. If you boys left your dirty clothes lying all around your rooms, I'll have your young asses for it." "Gran!" The last remark of hers got Toninho and myself giggling. We both knew she never realized she had used "improper language" as she rushed out of the breakfast room to change. On the drive to the Centro, Toninho recounted the horrors and difficulties most of the street children endured and encountered. During his enlightened discourse, Gran could be heard interjecting phrases such as: "What? Say again? Well, I never... Dear Lord Jesus. Can it be true, Antonio? This is appalling. But they're babies! Oh no, Dear God, no! The little girls too? Policemen? Murderers? Business owners pay them to do these things?" By the time we got "Herbie" parked and paid a couple of children to watch him, while we left, Gran's face was ashen in the shock of new discovery. Soon, however color came back to her cheeks in anger and was ready to storm the city administration offices. We held the dear lady back as Toninho spotted several children he knew. He rushed to them and was talking with them in back and forth questions and answers, while we stood ten paces away from them. "Paulo I must sit down. Lets go to that little café over there. We can still keep an alert eye on Antonio from there. I must have a cafezinho. I wish it were in the afternoon. I could have something stronger because I need something stronger, but since I'm not a drinking woman, I'll get by with a strong cafezinho, eh?" Seated at a table and order given, she said: "Paulo, what can we do? Do you think Ricardo is aware of this? No matter. We must do something. Do you think picketing or a protest march would stop this insanity, this barbarism? This is like the Holocaust. But in Brasil?" "Gran, this is something bigger than what we can do, I think. If Ricardo is aware of the severity of this, I couldn't say. He told me once, when he first saw Toninho, his heart fell into his lap. Ton, was so bedraggled, so needy and seedy looking, he could have been a scarecrow. I was trying to shoo him away, yet Ricardo told me in no uncertain terms to leave him alone, take him to the washroom, let him clean himself as well as he could, and bring him back. You know how strongly Ricardo uses his voice and words, when he clips them into individual words, one immediately knows he means business. Well he did that day, to me, his friend. I knew he meant business." "Ah yes, he has done that to me on several occasions," she giggled, "I knew I was in the presence of a true dominator. No argument. No discussion. Abject compliance is what he demanded. Yet you knew he still loved you. I wanted him to enter Antonio in a Catholic school. He would have none of it. He said he wanted him to have an education that would expose him to all sides of the equation, not on a one-sided biblical education. I immediately knew what he was saying. He is a wise man, Paulo. We need to get his advice and counsel on this topic, I think. I also think we need write him and prepare him." "Good idea, Gran. How about if each of the three of us write him, from our own point of view, so that he can make an intelligent rational decision as to how to proceed. Individually we may not agree about certain points. Collectively, I think we can make an impact, in some small way." "My handsome boy, you're starting to think and act like Ricardo. It's a good thing. You stopped me from protesting this little trip, but including me in it. You're becoming a wise man, Paulo. I love you for that, among other things. Being the big brother to our Antonio makes me so proud of you, I could burst." "Look, Gran, see how Ton, is hugging them, smoothing their hair, wiping their tears. Do you think we should walk over there?" "No. Our baby boy has grown up, Paulo. He'll know what to do. Only he will know how to handle these children. He knows how to talk to them. He knows how they live. He knows their fears, their hunger. I think he'll slip them some money so they will eat today, at least. Our job is to be concerned about their tomorrow and the following tomorrows, God willing." "Are you saying, you are willing to be committed to work on a solution, Gran?" "I'm saying, Paulo, I'm committed to work for a solution. The solution may be out of our hands, but it doesn't mean we can't also work for justice. Someone must pay, legally, for this conspiracy of atrocities against these babies. If its businessmen, so be it; if its policemen, so be it; if its criminals or thugs, so be it. I'll be damned if I can sit comfortably in our beautiful home knowing people are afoot working for the elimination of these young lives. It's unacceptable to me. It should be unacceptable for any living human being especially within Brasil." In short order Toninho joined us at the café. We had lunch there and talked more about the dilemma of these innocent children, no matter their ages. We agreed they needed lots of help and assistance, medical aid, housing, job training and placement for the older, and education for all. They also were entitled to have a loving, safe environment in which to be nourished. That takes money, lots of it. We had little for such a monumental task. We arrived back home well after dark, tired and in defeat. Toninho had taken us to places which were so foul, so odiferous to man or beast, that we were sickened. He took us into the subway tunnels and sewers where scores of children lived in subterranean dungeons sharing their lives and what little possessions they had with rats and other vermin. He took us to makeshift cardboard shelters that did little to protect the children from the rains, where all contained within were sodden, damp and little comforted. At times, Toninho had to restrain Gran from attacking young men who were using little girls for their sexual pleasures and masochistic demands. Many of those children had a distorted view of sex as a family experience. Rape was not unknown nor frowned upon by many of the older boys upon younger girls or boys. We had given all of our money to the children Toninho knew. It wouldn't last long, as the hungry bodies were everywhere, demanding, pleading, and begging. We knew there would be little sleep that night without dreams of untold horrors and stories, which we heard firsthand. We saw evidence of broken hands, bones, and open wounds with discharges that oozed and suppurated. We saw some children so emaciated that the scenes of the death camps of the Nazis came to our minds. We viewed children so malnourished that their eyes and bellies were distended; little hair was left on the heads of either gender. We encountered children who were gasping their last breaths. We tripped upon several children who had been dead for some while, as they were stinking and puffed ready to burst open as the gases within built up. "Herbie" on several occasions was used as an ambulance to transport some of these children to emergency wards for treatment, if any was to be had. On two occasions we had to pay the attendants first before they would even cart them off to triage. It was and is a living hell. Upon arrival home we immediately bathed trying to eliminate the stench, dirt, filth and odors that lingered on our bodies and clothing. Gran collected all of our clothing and shoes, and disposed of them in the trash bin. They were stained and soiled so badly she felt that it would do little good to wash them to wear another day. Clean once again, but with the soiled visions of scenes running rampant through our minds we vowed we would each write a letter to Ricardo. Ricardo would be home two days before Christmas. We knew we would have to put on a brave face on his arrival, but deep within we were in grief: Toninho for the loss of several of his acquaintances whom the death squad has assassinated; Gran, could be heard crying in her suite filled with remorse of the dead, the near dead, and the living dead; and myself for the loss of innocence, not only of Toninho and Gran, but of the survivors who had to face the dread of another day in their colorless lives, their broken dreams, shattered ideals and the deficit of life on the streets and all it entailed. ******************************************** To support these writings, visit http://www.tomcup.com *********************************************