Date: Mon, 13 Aug 2001 23:26:58 -0400 From: Gay_Viking@hotmail.com Subject: Nightmare! Chap. 1 WARNING: This story will specifically describe homosexual action between adult males in later chapters. It will be Adventure and Action in the first three chapters. Sex will add spice, not be the only flavor. Enjoy! Send comments to my address - at end. Nightmare ! Chapter 1 by Bob Nelson Pain! CRAMP! Thigh! Knead it - - more! - - - - Ah - - better. . . . Damn! Other thigh! Knead both -- more - - - more...... Ahhhh. Yeahh-h-h-h ... 3 AM? Squint .... Hell -- 2:57! Relax - - let go. Flex one - - the other.... Ahhhhh . . . . ZZzzzzzzzz WHAT??? Something woke me. . . SOME one is - - IN MY BEDROOM !! Gotta lie still and breathe easy. Listen .... Someone breathing? By the door? Coffee smell?? At 4 AM?? Turn slowly, squint one eye. Hell's Bells, 4:03! It IS coffee! Ease down - - push on footboard so cramps don't come back. Slow, easy ~ ~ "I know you're awake. I can tell because you are breathing SO carefully. Now I hear you moving. Do not turn on the light!" "The Hell I WON'T! It's MY house!" Click. POW! - Tinkle-tink. As I was turning on my light, he shot it out! "What the FUCK? You just about SHOT me, you dumb Shit! You might have - -" "SHUT UP, Dr. Nelson! I pre-aimed my pistol at your bedside lamp, just in case. I told you NOT to turn the light on! NOW will you listen?" "OK - - - but how do you know my name?" "I said SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I close my mouth tight and concentrate on listening. I want to listen. I do NOT want to remember the scariest face I have ever seen. A flashbulb image -- etched into my brain. No two parts matched or aligned. Eyebrows different lengths, height, and thickness. One cheek bone high and prominent, the other neither. A nose smashed and twisted. Thin lips stretched tight. His eyes so dark they looked black. A look of RAGE - - for my seeing him?? More than that. All glimpsed in the instant of light. He continues in a constrained voice -- angry? Dominating! "Just listen while I tell you what you are going to do, then what we will do. Yes, WE. We are going away for a while. NO -- don't ask when, where or why - - or if I am insane. I am not , nor am I wanted by the police, any ex-wife or lover, any Sheriff or judge, landlady or boss." He continues, "After I step out, you can turn on the overhead light and pack a small carry-on bag with essentials for a week in weather like this. We'll take light jackets and short boots, too." I nod, then realize how silly that is. It's pitch black in here. He adds, "Now, I am going to get another cup of coffee. Would you like a cup?" "Yes, please - - black. But what is your name and --" "LATER, I said!! I'll tell you what you need to know, later. Be right back." As soon as he leaves I ease out of bed, cautiously shuffle to the door, and find the light switch. SNAP -- "Let there be light." No God-like awareness this morning. I am just grateful that he didn't kill me, or blast my hand when I turned on the light. I glance down at my nude body and realize I don't want him to see me naked. He intimidated me so much my cock has gone into hiding. As I get out some Jockey briefs I glance into the mirror. I see a body out of shape but not flabby or fat. Thin arms, good legs. Above average for 52. I slide into my Jockeys. A few years ago a guy in his twenties took a look and said "Nice butt." Hmm. Now that the initial jolt of fear is over, I feel more awake and alive than I have for months, maybe years. Adrenaline? Undoubtedly. Time for Fight or Flight? I am not fighting him! I wash my face, brush my teeth. I run wet hands through my sparse hair and towel it dry. "Styling" done, I reach for a shirt as Mystery Man comes in with my coffee. My mouth drops open when I see him. The same face as the imprint on my retinas, earlier. Ugly but not as scary now. I can study it now without recoiling. That's my way to cope -- analyze everything, don't think. He must have had extensive surgery and dozens of skin grafts. Only his eyes were spared. I can see him, inside. A hurt, scared or very cautious person - - afraid to trust anyone but wanting to regain human contact, or maybe closeness. I mutter, softly, "The eyes, windows to --" He finishes, " 'windows to the soul.' Thank you for not shuddering or turning away in disgust. You pass the test." He hands me a cup of coffee. "Test?" I say, shocked. "What test? I didn't scream, run, or try to fight an armed man, who jolted me awake and fired one shot three inches from me? True, but why in Hell should I go with you? I will not go with you until I know something about you! I only know you're a very dangerous Night Stalker! An adventure with you? Traipsing through deadly dangers to destinations unknown? No, thanks!." "Tests two and three passed," he replies. "You can listen then you respond with humor or irony. And you have the guts to stand your ground and state your case in a tough situation. Both good!" "The reasons I chose you?" he continues. "We are the same height, shape and coloring, only I am a bit thinner, as I'd guessed. I need a traveling companion whom I resemble. You and I are a pretty good match physically. Also, you are single, a retired professor, and have traveled a lot according to your passport." "WHY you will go? You are starting to see me as a challenge more than a threat. An enigma, maybe? You are not afraid for yourself. But what if I shoot Spike? HE is not essential for our trip. You are. It is your choice." THAT was a kick in the gut! Spike has been with me for eleven years, since he was six weeks old. He's part of me -- like my last child at home. This is an angry man, ready to do anything. He will kill Spike if I force his hand. "OK -- you have my full attention, now. I may go with you -- or fight you for the gun so you'll kill me instead of killing Spike." "Good! Test four passed: Loyal, regardless of personal danger. The reasons I have to go are moot. I may or may not tell you later." "Other reasons you will go: You walk Spike twice a day. No other exercise. You sit at your computer for hours every day. You were active before you got that toy, as you have a pretty good body for an older guy. But you need to use it before you go entirely to flab." When he mentions my body I realize I have only my briefs on and drop a hand over my groin. But there is NO chance of springing a hardon for this man! I feel myself blush but to Hell with it! Then I realize what he said. A little pissed, I respond, "What do you mean an older guy?" "Old enough to look like my older brother, uncle, or even my Dad if we need to use that. Your health and diet were good matches, too. I know you are gay from your favorite sites on the Net that I cruised while you were walking Spike. My sexual orientation is not relevant, but I am single, too." "You know a LOT about me. I know nothing about you! What should I call you -- or should I call the police?" "You can't call; I disconnected your phone line. I'm Nate Bradshaw. Nate is my real name, Bradshaw is not. It is in my family, so I always respond to it. I'm 32 years old. My face went through a windshield. The doctors could save either me or my face. They saved me. My face is usable, but ---- no matter. " I stare at him. Finally I take a sip of coffee. God, yes, I need that! I drain the cup, looking at him over the rim. "Well, do I pass your test?" he asks. "Sorry for the surprise entry, but I have to leave this morning - - in one hour, in fact. I want you and Spike with me." Here is a man who physically resembles me. We are both about six feet tall but he is thinner. We both have square shoulders tapering down to our waists but he tapers more. We have brown hair. Mine was; now most is gray or missing. My hazel eyes and unbroken face are our only real differences except the twenty years in age. He looks relaxed now, but is still 100% alert and in total control. He looks fit. He can probably move fast. He is desperate, but somehow I trust him. I do not feel like I'm in danger. Better to go as a hostage than stay as a corpse - - or with a dead Spike. As this decision clicks into place, I feel an adrenaline rush! Off on another Adventure! Wait a minute. I'm NOT Indiana Jones! I re- enter reality, flushed and hyper alert. "OK," I say. "IF I agree to go, where are we going? How and how far, today? What FINAL destination? Most of all, WHY?" He lets out a sigh and visibly relaxes, forcing a small smile onto those tortured, tight lips. "Thanks for considering it, Dr. Nelson -- or may I call you Bob? It would sound odd for a close relative to call you Doctor." "Sure, Nate. What is your final destination? At least what is today's? How do I know you won't kill me once we're out of town, and dump my body and Spike's some place? I will always be a threat to you if I am a hostage. If that's what I am, I will escape with Spike as soon as I can. Or try to as often as I can. So kill Spike and me now or give me a better reason to go." "Fair enough," he says, pondering. In a minute he continues, "I am being hounded by the man who taught me how to be a DSS -- a Deadly Stealth Stalker. At the end of training with him -- where I learned dozens of ways to kill people -- I told him NO and quit. He became irate. He said 'NObody QUITS! You DO it with us, or you DIE. The only two choices. You are part of the Team or you are eliminated and everything about you is wiped clean, as though you had never been.' So I told him he'd have to kill me, if he could. I got the jump on him -- the only time anyone ever had -- tied him up and left. He was really pissed and swore he'd get me, himself!" "He's been trying for six months. He almost got me three times. Two of those caused this face, not a car crash. I think he is about to up the stakes and call in help. People almost as talented and mean as he is. He may tell others what a 'Security Risk' I am to get the elite agencies on my tail. I need someone who doesn't panic and who can drive or fly while I sleep or plan. Someone to stick with me until I can clear my name." "Will it be dangerous?" he continues. "To the MAX! Fun? Not much, unless you thrive on scary danger. Rewards? Only Justice. It is up to you. If you say no, I can fade away just like smoke. NO one will know I've been here and no one will believe this wild story. Would you believe it if it hadn't happened to you?" I stare deep into his eyes for 3 or 4 minutes, then walk around him. Looking at him from all angles, I ponder, weighing it all. He stands like a coiled spring at rest. No wasted energy, just all potential force. My gut-based decisions have always come out best. When I try to think, analyze, and project possible outcomes I usually screw up. Now my emotioins and my instincts are telling me this feels right. Crazy, but for some reason, right. I sit on the edge of my dresser, cross my arms, and raise one eyebrow while giving him my thin-lipped Laser Look as my troops used to call it. Then I wait - - 2, 3, 4 minutes. Staring at him. He looks back at me, as cool as if he were waiting for a red light to change. He is cool and mfortable. He does not just act like it. He is. I look and wait another two minutes. He waits me out. I finally say, "You think I could carry my weight in this." Not as a question, but as a statement. "I know you can," he replies, with the hint of a sardonic smile. "High praise if you've been through what you say -- and you show that you have been through Hell. And whether the action is culminating or escalating, you do need a partner. It's been a while. Hmmm-mm." "What the Hell" I say in a rush. "It's better than letting my body and brain rot. Let's DO IT!" He sighs out a huge breath, like he's held it forever. He is human! He grins wider than I thought he could! Now he is all business. "We'll drive your car out to the airport. We'll leave your pickup here, where it usually is. We'll take your plane to Dallas-Fort Worth if we can make it." He adds, "I am NOT violent. I have never killed, nor harmed anyone intentionally. That is why I quit The Force. I will NOT hurt or harm you or Spike unless we are under final attack by police or military -- or Special Forces. Even then I would probably kill myself instead of either of you." "Now," he says, "I need some underwear that snugs up tight on your crotch and butt, some socks, sport shirts and T's, jeans, and shorts." WOW! This man changes mental gears and topics faster than Jeff Gordon change gears! He stalks me for a week, learns all about me, almost shoots me, casually dismisses my being gay, challenges me to go with him on a run like "The Fugitive," then asks to borrow some clothes! With a sexual comment? I say "I still can't imagine you being in my house so often that you know all about me, all my clothing, my lifestyle -- everything! Oh, yeah, you can have any of my clothes that you want. But you still scare me. No, not your face. Shooting my bedside lamp really shook me." "You were not in mortal danger. My pistol is a .17 caliber and the first round in the chamber was a half load. The bullet barely penetrated the wall, as you can see. The other nineteen rounds ARE deadly." Without pausing he races on, "Thanks for the clothes. May I have a small traveling bag for them?" "Sure," I answer and find a black nylon carry-on zipper bag for him. I get out my favorite traveling bag -- a blue leather carry-on. I put in enough clothes and toilet articles for two weeks --- and a small towel. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy stressed that one should always take a towel on these unexpected trips. He grabs what he wants and stuffs it into the nylon zip bag. He says, "You'd better take your passport, flight certificates and log book, the traveler's checks, and any spare credit cards. And your DAN card and SCUBA log. If you're like me, you will want to take your regulator. We can rent everything else if we need to. I will pay you back all that you spend on me." "DAMN! How much DO you know about me?" "I know you are a loner. You don't have a wife - - or a lover. Spike is your only close companion. You have two vehicles and a Cessna 172 out at the airport. You are a pilot, current medically, Advanced Open Water SCUBA certification, with four other specialties, and you like natural foods. We match on most items and can be compatible companions. Oh, if you want more coffee it will have to be instant." My mouth drops open. He knows me better than anyone in my family or any friend! I'm shaken. I take two deep breaths, blink, get up, and move toward him. He drops into a defensive crouch. "What?" he asks, warily. "I agree to go with you on this adventure. Let's shake on it." I stick out my hand. He looks at it then at me. Understandable that he trusts no one After a minute, he grasps my hand. His hand feels like a steel core covered with a leather work glove. I shake firmly, but there is no way I can squeeze his hand hard enough for him to feel it! He smiles as we hold the shake a little longer, then we drop it. Hmmm? Nah. I get my passport, my Class 3 medical certificate, and current log book. And my old Navy flight jacket. Scruffy, but authentic! Thirty years old but it still fits! When I put it on I DO feel like Indiana Jones! A ball cap, my old Aviator Ray Ban shades, and I'm ready. His clothes and cap are all dark and indistinguishable. We nod at each other in approval. We're a team, ready for whatever. We take the bags, Spike's stuff and my flight jacket out to the car, put them in the trunk and get in. Spike gets in the back seat on his old bedspread. It's HIS spot. Nate takes "shotgun," right front seat. I back out, get out, and pull down the garage door. I get back into the car and see Nate crouched almost under the dashboard, out of sight. It makes sense. He has spent about two weeks around here undetected. He does NOT want anyone to see him leaving with me. I curve back into my parking area then turn and start down my driveway. I glance down at Nate. I see a look of RAGE on his face! He is aiming his gun at ME!! Here we go in a whole new direction for me. I've done a LOT of reading this summer -- all over the Library and Nifty. Woke up from a VERY distinct nightmare so got up and began typing it before I forgotl Let me know what YOU think! Your e-mails will determine if I add more details. Don't worry, sex WILL come into it -- about chapters 4, 6, 8, and the rest. Mail to Gay_Viking@hotmail.com and CUM join Gay Vikings for more of my stories and HOT men having HOT SEX -- http://communitieis.msn.com/GayVikings Tell me "Coming in after a Nightmare!" when asked why you want in.