Chapter 246


Our hope is that every homosexual youth in this country can find a home and someone to love them as they are.
No one deserves to be discriminated against, no matter what their differences from society's norm

A tidy quote from chapter 137
"titles belong on books, not people" ©Carl Dickson—2007

Does your mother know you're reading this shit?

Warning: This story is PORNO. I have tried my hand at friction, now I'm trying fiction. This story contains vivid descriptions of sexual activity between men and teen boys.
It contains no truth, partial truth, or half truth. What it does contain is stroking material. If this kind of story turns you off, or offends you, please find something else.
The author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and underage children.

If you are underage, or if this is illegal where you are, then please go away. If you're under 18, Adios come back when it is legal for you to read this smut.
If you lied about your age in order to access this story, remember this is our story. Life doesn't always work out like a story.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either
are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitioiusly,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Thus said, this story is copyrighted, ©2005-2012. It is therefore illegal to copy or use any part of this story on any other web site without my written permission.

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    Very early one Saturday morning in mid-November I walked through the tunnel that connects my new house to the wine cellar then on into the big house. As I passed through the last part of the tunnel from the wine cellar I heard a piano. The person at the keyboard was playing an old favorite hymn of mine entitled, 'It is Well With My Soul.' Horatio Spafford wrote the words to this hymn as he stood on the deck of a ship at about the same location where another ship carrying his wife and four daughters sank in 1873, his wife survived.
It is Well WIth My Soul
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

Horatio Spafford
    I was moved by the music and stopped in the tunnel to sing the lyrics. The acoustics of the tunnel provided a rich echo effect that returned my voice to me from many directions. There are six stanzas to the poem that make up the song. Each is followed by the refrain. As I sang the refrain the first time I realized that I had many voices joining mine. By the second tune for the refrain I had a chorus of sweet boy voices lifting up the heavenly praises of the hymn before the Throne of God.
    I opened my arms to invite the boys into the tunnel then to follow me into the old recreation room beneath the main house. All of us were amazed at the diminutive figure sitting at the keys. Yuri was playing his little heart out and he never missed a note.
    I sat next to my young son and finished the last verse and refrain of the song. He turned his face to me with wide eyed expectation. I kissed his nose and pulled him into my lap. The other boys circled about and each of them patted the youngster on his back and thanked him for the music. It was time for church to begin so I led the boys on through the cavern and up to the ball field of the school.
    I later learned that several of the boys were in the tunnel with their cell phones held high as they recorded the family singing. I think that the tunnel adds a lot to the acoustics of this selection.
    As we crossed the field to the east doors of the church boys began to file out of the dormitory for the walk over to the church. I spotted Wee Willie and called him to me.
    Fourteen year old Willy Wilson has grown into quite a boy. He is eating well and getting plenty of healthy exercise and sunshine, all of the things that a boy needs to build his body. He is doing well in his class work and Matty praises the boy's natural ability at the keyboards. I wanted Willy to listen to Yuri in the hopes that the two would be able to work together.
    I walked along slowly and listened to the boys banter back and forth so by the time I opened the church doors the organ was already playing the overture of the day's song selections. I stopped to do a double take, sitting next to the organist on her bench was little Yuri. His tiny fingers were dancing across the middle keyboard of the large instrument. Cas walked up behind the boy and placed a six inch padded booster seat under his rear end so that he could reach the upper key board as well. Every mouth in the sanctuary shut and every ear opened. Many people in attendance moved to their knees to pray as Heaven's doors were opened wide for all of us to peer deep into the heart of God Himself.
    Yuri was the center of attention at lunch after church that day. Britt and Bart Miller were glued to our new prodigy as we all waited to hear his story. "Well, it were more like this, I guess. I wanted a piano for my own and my dad said that I couldn't have one 'cause only cunts played pianos. One day these two men were taking a piano out of the apartment below us and putting onto a truck. I asked them if I could buy it from them and they told me that I could have it for ten roubles—about thirty five cents, American.
    "I begged my dad for the money and he only laughed at me. He helped the men put the piano into their truck and I stood there crying when the men drove away. I have always wanted a piano of my own." His desire is my pleasure to fulfil for him. Ugitsiha and I took him down to Hackenburg's Piano's right after lunch. We selected a $61,000, Ebony Grand Piano by Steinway.
    I asked to have the piano delivered at once. I was told that the store did not do business that way. They told me that they would have a professional piano mover deliver it on Wednesday, maybe Thursday. I called Malcom Tuner and asked him if he would bring his truck down to the store. Within thirty minutes Malcolm and Ronnie Cramer backed up to the rear entrance of the store. Arthur, Oz, Ellis, and Jordan were in another car that pulled in next to them. With six husky football players I knew that the grand Grand was is in good hands.
    The manager of the piano store argued with me and I told him to cancel the sale. I told him that I would go to Wal-Mart and see what they had. When he realized that I was serious he backed down. He offered us the use of some pads, for a fee. Oz opened the trunk of his car and pulled out a dozen quilted furniture pads with nylon webbed strapping to hold it in place. The boys carefully wrapped the piano then gingerly lifted it into the bed of the pickup truck. Somewhere along the way timbers were located and wrapped then set across the sides of the truck bed and secured. When the truck was loaded the piano was solid and wasn't about to shift about.
    The piano hung over the sides of the truck in such a way that a passing motorist might catch it if they weren't paying attention. I pulled my Caddy to the front and turned on my red and blues. Oz took the back door with his emergency hazard lights flashing. We were in no rush. We convoyed through town, taking four lane divided roadways wherever we could. An hour later we were at the house.
    The next hurdle was getting the instrument into the house without disassembling it like we had done with the two upright pianos in the recreation room. Andy was driving by and saw what we were up against. He called for one of FI's maintenance trucks. Ten minutes later two men had the double doors off of the front of my house. That was no easy trick. Each door is four feet wide and nine feet tall. They are double thick, solid oak doors that weigh over three hundred pounds each. With the doors removed it was simple to carry the piano in and lift it over the low, derogative walls and over the furniture.
    I was glad that I had six strong boys to do the lifting. I treated them to the dinner of their choice and a movie. Arthur and Oz took me up on a rare steak at a local steak house then they would go see a movie, if their boyfriends wanted to. I told them to take their boyfriends to dinner, but make them drink extra cream since they did none of the work.
    Ellis is a romantic, so is Jordan if one observes him closely. Ellis wanted to go dancing. They are both under age, but I know of safe place they could go and be together on the floor. Malcom and Ronnie wanted to join them. I made a phone call to Shane Mason. Shane was happy to reserve two quiet tables for his young brothers, I told him that they were not to see the check, that everything was on my. I ordered them a large bottle of sparkling cider—non-alcoholic, of course—to be placed on ice for their arrival. Shane told me of a private viewing of a very hardcore gay porn movie to be shown at midnight. I asked him to tell the boys when they arrived.

     Bart Miller is now ten years old and has improved his musical knowledge with the aid of his teachers and their books. His natural talent is still far superior to everything he has been taught, but now he can name the chord progressions. Eleven year old Britt is a maestro, but his talents come by hearing a piece then playing it. Bart feels the piece in his heart. The boys compliment each other well and Britt doesn't mind his supporting role to his brother. I wonder how Yuri is going to fit into the puzzle.
    I sat back with Ugitsiha at my side with Ryan Miller and Bobby Feldman sitting on another couch. We listened to Bart and Yuri entertain us for over three hours. Yuri played many of the Russian composers greatest pieces. Bart Amazed us with his renditions of many of the world's great masters. Neither boy had any sheet music before him, they simply played from their hearts. I asked Yuri where he had heard the music that he was playing for us.
    "I never heard it, daddy. I just feel it in my head. Sometimes I hear something on a radio of a big car as it drives along and I put the rest of the song together in my mind. This is the first time that I have ever been able to play it. Am I doing it good?" I hugged him and gave his ribs a tickle as I told him that he was playing the music real good.

    Since our last excursion to Camp Christopher the second week of September my mind had been working on something. Yuri wants so much to be a part of all of my family. None of my Tsalagi brothers has a problem with his desires. Mike told me that all of us came from somewhere and none of had been able to choose who our ancestors are. He looked at me and smiled as he told me that 'Blood doesn't make the man.' I know that, but I am glad to know that he knows that. I told him that Yuri needed a good Indian name. He asked me what Yuri means in Russian I told him that it is derived from a Greek work that means earth-worker, or farmer. He pointed out the window to where the boy was on his knees weeding Ugitsiha's vegetable garden That is one place that I can find him everyday that it is not cold or rainy outside.
    I took off for the hardware store to buy a few feet of PVC pipe and fittings. I bought a twenty five foot roll of 6mil Visqueen as well. Yuri was still hard at his work in the garden and he had recruited Roddy to help him. I told the boys that cold weather was soon to set in so we needed to make preparations for the plants to survive late into the season. Roddy showed his little brother how to use a tubing cutter on the pipe and in a few minutes we had a stack of sections to complete the entire job. I told the boys that we would nor glue the tubing to the elbows and tees. By dry fitting all of it together we could break it down in the spring. I told them that the Visqueen would hold everything together, even in a harsh wind.
    By the time we were called in to dinner we had the framework around the tomato plants and most of the frame started for the crops that will grow until late November or a hard freeze. I still did not have an answer to my question about an animal name for Yuri.

    A busy year made many changes in my schools all around the world. Russia now has two schools with a credible enrollment in each. France has two schools and I am being pressured by President Sarkozy to open another one near Calais. My argument there is the school across the channel at BAB. The French want to educate their children in their own country. That makes sense to me, but I already have a good school just over the water…I am losing this hardly fought battle.

    Try as I may I could not get out of going to India. I have very little reason to attend in person, but the local business leaders want to honor me for something very simple. The local company that makes the solar voltaic panels that I use on all of my buildings had made a huge price adjustment, down. I love a bargain as well as anybody else. When I put the pencil to a piece of paper I had to take advantage of their price break.
    Much of Bangladesh is without a reliable source of clean electricity. I know, you are thinking about how electricity could ever be dirty. Look at your computer system. If you are smart you have a surge protector hooked to every piece of your system, including your phone and printer. A spike of excess voltage will destroy your sensitive equipment in a split second. Most ot the third world countries have serious problems with spikes and lows.
    I sent enough solar panels to Bangladesh for them to power a small town, and they did. They developed a grid and sold electricity to local merchants at a fraction of the cost asked for by the local power distributor. Many of those merchants wired their homes into the grid as well. I have a tendency to overdo many of my projects and this was no different. By the time the panels were set on the roof of the school we were producing twelve megawatts, with the potential for more with little added capitol expense. The benefitors of the low cost power wanted to thank their benefactor in person. I decided to make a weekend trip of it.
    I had put my trip off as long as I could, but something was stirring my spirit to go. Thanksgiving is an important holiday for me. I open my house and school to friends and relatives of the students and serve up lots of turkey and dressing dinners to all who come. This year the boys had suggested that we serve the homeless and anyone else that came by for a meal. That suited my mind very well. I had been talking to the boys about finding ways to reach the homeless in our town to try and provide safe shelter and hot food for them through the winter. Winters in Tucson are not bad, but some nights it does get down to the freezing point and a little below.

    Pete came to me with a request. Actually it was more like a work order. Boeing engineers had discovered a glitch in the 777 engine that could be fatal. © was ordered to be grounded until it could make the trip to Washington for new engines. I had plans for that ship for the Christmas holiday season. My boys would be severely impaired by having my biggest plane down when it came time to fly to Camp Christopher for their winter vacation. That trip was not set in concrete yet, but my boys around the world were talking about going to Arizona for Christmas.
    At the same time that all of this was going on Cory and Wes were spending a great deal of time on the computer and on the telephone. Cory told me that he was following out a theory that was plaguing him. He believes that several hundred years ago the Tsalagi people had moved inland from the west coast of the United States to the northeast and from there they had migrated to Georgia and the Carolinas. He wanted to speak with the elders of the Shaphaptian speaking tribes of S.E. Washington and N.E. Oregon. Those tribes had spread across to the Rocky mountains long before the white m an had invaded the country.
    Cory was upset to the point of tears when he told me that most of the western tribes had been wiped out by a plague of small pox around 1792.Lewis and Clark wrote papers on the effects of the plague in 1806, while living among the tribes. They estimated the tribal population to number about 16,000. In 1829 another plague wiped out four fifths of the Indian population. That plague was thought to have been brought on by white explorers that infected the tribes with white man's diseases that the Indians had no immunity from.
    Cory told me that entire villages were wiped out. All of their spoken history had died along with them. He wanted to find old men that may remember tales from their elders that could explain his theory. It was a big expense, but one that Boeing would bear the brunt of. I told Cory and Wes that we would go to Washington and let the plane's manufacturer replace the engines. I told him that he and Wes could seek out answers to their questions at that time. From there we would all go to Bangladesh for a quick look see.

    I had ridden a horse to about nine thousand feet on a mountain in a range that I knew nothing about. I had joined Cory on his quest for truth while I ventured out on a business trip to Oregon that was a waste of my time and energy. The principals that I was to meet with were not honorable people. I was angry with myself for not discovering their true intentions before I left home, but I was more upset with those that I pay to investigate such charlatans before I go to the trouble and expense of meeting with them.
    Cory had made his contacts and he and Wes had driven into the high mountain plateau in search of truth I was not about to let the venture go to waste. My love of the woods and the mountains presented a way for me to fill out the day. Pete and his crew had taken © on to Spokane for a new engine modification. I had the day and the night to do whatever.
    I rode to the very ridge of the mountain that I was on and found its highest spot. I was well rewarded with a magnificent panoramic view in every direction. Across the valley from me was the highest peak in this range. Its twemtu thousand foot top was denuded of trees and covered in that frozen misery called snow. I knew that I had no desire to climb that peak. I turned my mare to look out in every direction. I breathed deeply of the piney woods and the odors associated with nature in her perfection.
    Across the valley to the east lay a mountain of Aspen Pines. The Aspen filled the lower part of my view to about six thousand feet or so. Above the Aspen grew Blue Spruce and above that, to the top of the mountain, were tall and stately pines that towered more than a hundred feet above the ground. As I surveyed the grandeur of it all I thought how wonderful it would be to sit on the wooden deck of a cabin and take in that view every day forever.
    Then the thought crossed my mind that I could never cut down one tree or move one boulder from its ancient home to make way for a lowly man to indulge his whims. I would be satisfied to be able to ride up there and look over it once in a while. My heart tugged as I thought about having Cory or my little Roddy at my side to enjoy all that I surveyed. It was then that I realized that I had left my Droid in my hotel room and I had no camera of any kind along with me. My mind records everything that I saw and heard, but I don't know how to share those images with others.
    I nudged my horse back to the trail that led back down the mountain and froze in my tracks. I am blessed with perfect eyesight, but I was looking to a glade at least one thousand feet below my location. I thought that I had seen a wolf pack running between the open trees. My momma didn't raise no fool and no matter what my wife and the others call me I was not prepared to meet a pack of wild, hungry wolves in the woods.
    I was about to turn and look for another way of egress when a figure appeared att he end of the trail. Even at a thousand feet I could see that the person was not very well clothed. I wasn't sure as to its gender, but it was tall and lean with long dark hair that flowed in the breeze like a mane. I concentrated on the figure and suddenly I could see myself sitting astride my horse at the top of the trail. I blinked my eyes and knew at once that I was seeing through the eyes of the person standing below as he looked up at me.
    The figure was quickly surrounded by the pack of wolves. I could see them clearly as I counted four of them around the solitary figure. My mind's eye again filled with images. I could see myself through five pairs of eyes, but I had a sense of well being that soothed me. The sole figure transformed into a wolf then the entire pack ran up the hill toward me at full speed. My mind was flooded with a message that they were friends and wanted to greet me.
    Another and darker image filled my mind. This one was close. I cleared my mind to see whom else was in there. It was my horse. She was terrified. I could feel her body tense beneath me and I sensed an urgent desire to flee. I laid my body out along the beast's neck and wrapped my arms about her. I spoke softly into her ear and felt her relax. I heard it on a TV show back in the days of my youth, "No one can talk to a horse of course, unless of course the horse is the famous Mr. Ed." I don't think my old roan mare was named Mr. Ed, but I was in direct communication with her.
    The wolf pack was less than two hundred feet below me, but their thoughts had gotten stronger. I felt the wolves talking to the horse. "You're going to eat me," she told them.
    "No, you are old and stringy. We do not like tough old horse meat. We like to eat a young doe and maybe her fawn." Somehow that repulsed me. "What is wrong
    Shoemowetochawcawewahcatowe, that is our nature. We can not plant and grow as you do. We can not go into town and buy our food. We are wild beasts and must live as best we can."
    I knew that my visitor was correct. I opened my mind and listened to their many voices. When they came up to the horse they all changed into the bodies of young teenaged boys. I dismounted my steed and stood before them, they circled about me and touched every part of my body. A cold wind whipped up from the valley below and chilled me through to the bone. I had only worn a medium weight parka and a pair of Levis, I had on a good pair of cowboy boots that didn't seem to impress this small band of Waya.
    Over and over again I heard the message that I should transform. I told them that I didn't know how to do that. I was asked to get naked and to place my man clothes on the back of the horse. The many minds in my mind were relentless. Then I heard the voice of Chief Steve tell me to listen to my brothers. He told me that he had sent them to me for my help. He shared that they were in great danger.
    I stood beside the roan mare and removed my shirt and parka. I asked for help with my boots but none the Waya understood what to do. I began to realize that these were actually wild animals that had taken a form foreign to them. Once I was naked the pack touched and smelled every inch of my body. Their noses were cold and wet, like a canine.
    I was receiving mental messages from all of them. The predominant message was one of extreme danger. I received a vision of a poster nailed to a tree. I sensed that none of the pack knew what it said, but the Spirit in them told them to show it to me. I explained the poster to them. It offered a bounty of one thousand dollars for every wolf's head that was brought into the county seat. I had to form and image of a dead wolf without its head so that they could understand. They began to howl. I told them not to attract attention to us.
    I looked up to the boys and realized that I was a wolf. I had transformed my body without even knowing it. The boys changed into their natural form and began to run down the hill much faster than I was comfortable with. I quickly realized that I was a wolf, I could run as fast as I wished and I would never loose my footing. The horse ran right along with us. She seemed to feel safe as long as she stayed with me.
    We came to the edge of the field where Bryan was to pick me up. I stopped the pack in the woods near the edge of the field. I told them that they needed to change into human form and to try to appear dressed. They each one worked at their task and after some fifteen minutes they all seemed to be wearing long, tattered tee shirts.
    I removed my clothing from the horse and dressed myself. I led her along to the large chopper that Boeing had loaned me for the day. The owner of the horse came out to meet me. He looked carefully at the five boys walking along behind me. I clapped my hands and shooed the boys on toward the chopper. They were more afraid of the man with the horse than they were of the helicopter. I kept a steady message flowing to them that the chopper was safe and that it was going to carry all of us far away from the airfield.
    As I passed the horse over a pickup truck came bounding along the road toward the small buildings that sat along the airstrip. I have developed some sort of super sight. I spotted the stretched out hides of three small gray wolves and their heads were on the pipes of the truck's ladder carrier. I hurried into the chopper and told Bryan to lift off at once. Bry looked over his shoulder and then at me. "You don't see anything and you don't want to know what you don't see." He turned back to flying the chopper back to Boeing's plant and my airplane.
    I called Pete on his phone and told him to meet me with a van and to have Mike with him. As quickly as we landed I hustled the Waya pack into the van. Bry ran to the office to turn in the log book for the chopper then headed out that door to meet us in the van. I had Mike on the back floor with me as we communicated with the pack. Mike was dumbfounded. I told Pete to head for a cheap store where we could get clothing for the boys that were with me. He pulled into a Good Will outlet store. Bry and Pete ran inside and twenty minutes later they returned with jeans and tee shirts for the boys. I told them that we would not need shoes.
    I had Pete back up close to the door of the motel where we were staying. The boys had questioned me about my choice of temporary bedrooms, I told them that I felt that we needed to stay out away from town and not in a five star hotel as we usually do. They never question me to my face, but I know that they want to know what the old man is up to sometimes. They were not prepared to learn what was going on this time.
    Mike held the room door open while Pete stood to one side of the double back doors. Bryan stood the other side as both of them kept a watch for anybody around us. At a signal from me the boys made a dash into the room, they were totally naked. All of them rushed to the area between the two beds and lay down on the floor, they had changed back into young wolves. Pete and Bryan stood there with their mouths hanging open. Mike took off his clothes and sat cross legged on the floor in front of the boys. The Waya were after Magi to transform into his animal form. Mike was having trouble telling them that he is an Owl. I had to place the image of an owl sitting on a tree branch before they understood.
    I conjured up an image of an owl shitting on a tree branch with white shit rolling down the branch. Then I gave them an image of an owl sitting on the headboard of the bed with owl shit all over the pillows. Even Pete and Bry laughed when they heard the sounds of laughter coming from five wolves curled up on the floor. I ordered nine extra large steaks for our dinner. I asked for five of them to be bloody rare. I asked if the kitchen could serve those five steaks tartare. I was told that the state health department did not allow for steak tartare. I know that was a lie, but I let it go. I had my reasons to keep the presence of the five youngsters a secret.

    Let me tell you that a wolf, even one in human form has trouble climbing stairs. Mike pulled the van as close to the end of the roll away steps as possible while Pete and Bryan handled the paper work in the office for me. I had taken the boys out before sunrise and had them climb a set of stairs at the motel. They were terrified. I put the mental image of them running trough the forest and jumping over large logs and chasms, they seemed to calm down.
    When they tried to climb the steep steps up to the plane they were shaking. A nearby worker saw their terror and I told him that they were special kids that I was helping to overcome their fear of heights. He nodded his head and moved on with his work.
    Once we were airborne I allowed the Waya pack to run free throughout the passenger compartment of the plane. I did stress that if they shit on my floor then I would take their mess and place it in a paper bag and tie it to their nose for the rest of the trip. I had a lot of fun potty training five wild wolf pups at thirty five thousand feet.
    Mike worked hard and was able to change into an owl. The pack loved that Bry and Pete took a turn to come back and watch Mike soar about the plane. I told him that he better not shit on my seats. He screeched at me. I changed into my wolf form and jumped up on the back of a set of seats in Mike's path. When he flew near me I snarled at him. He quickly turned back to Mike and told me that I scared him. He didn't know that I could look that fierce. I had to think about that one.

    Nineteen hours later we set down for three hours. I changed into a three piece suit and took a limo that was provided for me. I did a quick walk through of the school as I apologized to Rawla and explained that something very important had occurred that directly affected five boys in my charge. I told him that I could not spend much time and that I would not be able to attend any festivities that he may have had planned. He was disappointed and it showed. I felt bad, but I didn't know how to appear at dinner with five young wolves in my company.
    I asked Rawla to allow the students to come to me. I was quickly surrounded by very handsome, dark skinned boys. I have been around blacks and Indians before. I have several students from South America and Latin America attending my schools. But I had never really looked at the people of the far east. They were a very, again, handsome people with strong muscular features and well shaped facial features. I thought that the boys were way to skinny and I asked about their diet.
    I watched as many came to me and did their mudrās. I have read much about the hand gesture and now know that this is a manner of placing the hands in the right position then placing them in the lap. That was not what was being done before me.
    I was on the receiving end of a Samayukta hastas—double hand gesture—where the palms are placed together and brought to the bowed face. The fingers run along the nose line and the thumbs touch under the chin. The hands are then drawn away and the index finger and thumb of each hand touch and stretched to the outside of each thigh while the body does a slight bow to the intended recipient. I tried very hard to duplicate the gesture to the boys, they giggled at me.

    One tall boy by the name of Ajay—unconquerable—bowed low before me and asked if he could touch my hands. He had to struggle to overcome my initial resistence to his directions, but after a few seconds the two of us were bowing to each other. I looked at my watch and saw that I had only been at the school forty five minutes. With fifteen minutes travel time back to the plane I had two hours to visit with my hosts. I heard many tummies rumble. I told the boys that it must be their lunch time. They giggled and I pushed them along. I was led outside where many townspeople awaited my arrival. Cheers went up and heads bowed in the mudrā
    A long table was prepared to serve up many different foods. I recognized the vegetable curry with dal and ghee. I took a small bowl and placed a spoon into it then I used the serving dipper to place a small amount of the curry mix onto the spoon. I tasted of it, it was better than what Gigage and his staff prepared. I wonder why that is…duhhh.
    I placed a small amount of the brown rice with vegetable into my bowl then ladled the vegetable curry over the top. I selected a variety of turmeric, ginger, red chilies, a mixture of cumin, cardamom, black pepper, cinnamon, coriander, and other spices and sprinkled all of that over my bowl, which by now was getting very full. I selected a spoon as I made gestures of impaling myself with chop sticks. Everyone laughed at the crazy Yank in their midst.
    I drifted through the streets with my bowl of food, eating as I walked. I stopped in many shops so that the owner could show me his electric lights. I was pleased to see that there were no gaudy and glaring neon signs on display, yet. Many of the school boys spoke excellent English, although it had a British twang to it. I listened to them as the townspeople told how much the electricity meant to them. One man was in tears as he knelt before me and held my hand. He was telling me of his wife and how electricity powered the apparatus that helped her to breathe. I asked man to let me see his wife.
    I pulled up a chair and sat beside her bed. A young boy of about eight or nine was wiping her face and arms with cold water. I had Ajay with me to translate. I learned that the mother was at the river washing the family's clothes when a very poisonous snake bit her on the calf of her leg. The leg was gone, it had to be cut off to save the woman's life. Her body is slowly being paralyzed by the venom from a snake that few others have ever survived from. I asked Ajay to summon the school doctor.
    The woman's son ran from the house and in a few minutes he returned with a man in his early twenties. The man was wearing light weight dark trousers and a whitel shirt. He carried a small black bag with him. He pulled out his stethoscope and checked his patient. He checked her pulse and shook his head. He looked at the father and then spoke quietly to me. "Forgive me my English not so good. This woman is to die, maybe a week. The poison is attacking the nervous of her body and she can't no longer breathe so well."
    "Is there anything that can be done for her?" I asked the doctor.
    "A hospital in Singapore has much good with this snake. My colleague friend there says that he can heal her, but he has to do it there. The village has no money so send her there."
    I told him to call his colleague at once. I told him that if the doctor would work with the woman I would fly her and her family to Singapore within the hour. The doctor grabbed my hands and cried. "You are a great man. Rawla told us that you are great, he didn't tell us enough about you. He pulled his phone from his pants pocket and began to talk a thousand words a second using words that I could not understand.

    I called Pete and told him to file a flight plan for a medical emergency flight. Then I told him to take all of the Waya pack to the observation level and ask Mike to tell them that they must stay there for a short time. I talked to Mike and was able to convey my message to him. Our mind talk was a bit fuzzy, but he got my meaning and told me that he would tell the Waya.
    I heard a siren approach the house. Many men came in and carried the mother out and helped to get her onto the stretcher. I hustled the husband and son to get a few clothes for themselves then they got in my car with me. I did not see Ajay sneak into the ambulance.
    A scissors type lift truck was backed up to the plane's rear cargo door where Pete and Bryan stood watch over the proceedings. The lady's bed was lifted up very carefully to the big boy's cargo door. Ajay came up to my side on his knees. He held his hands out in a prayerful pose. Between his flattened palms was a United States Passport. I took the booklet and opened it. It was his passport. It was stamped with all of the needed permissions for him to be in Bangladesh, but there were no exit visas.
    Ajay was talking to me at the rate of about a mile a second. I was able to discern that he was born of Hindi parents in San Francisco in 1996. When his parents discovered his homosexuality they took him back to their homeland. They found Rawla and the school shortly after his visit to me in February of 2009, They found a local lawyer to help them sign away their rights and proclaim that they never had a son born in the USA. I thought of Coy's family, I hate parents like that.
    An official government car pulled up and a spic and span man in a uniform stepped out. He spoke in English as he wanted to who was in the ambulance. I referred him to a call that I had made to the local consulate about a medical mercy flight. The merchant presented papers for himself, his wife, and son. The custom's clerk pulled out the rubber stamps needed and made their documents legal.
    He turned to look at Ajay, I passed him the boy's passport and told him that I was returning a US citizen to his homeland. Ajay's passport was quickly stamped and I hustled him aboard the plane.

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