This
is a work of
fiction.
Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the
author's
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living
or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Warning: This story
describes sexual acts between consenting adults. If it is illegal for
you to
read such stories, or if you do not like to read such stories, please
leave
now. Also, there are brief descriptions of violence that may be
troubling to
some readers.
This story is
copyright 2006
by the author who retains all rights.
Any comments or questions are
welcome at: carl_holiday@att.net.
A warm
thank you goes out to all who
write. I appreciate knowing someone is actually reading this stuff,
whether you
like it or not. I try to answer all emails, even flames. (I’m a writer,
I live
for rejection.) Although sometimes it takes a little time to get back
to
you, I do
try to answer. If I'm remiss in replying to yours, I apologize.
by Carl Holiday
Chapter
1 – Escape
“Hi Donny.”
“Hey, David,
what’re you up
to this fine winter day,” I said to my second best friend who’d just
walked up
and sat down beside me on the Gay bench overlooking the sports courts,
which is
kind of ironic considering both of us are gay and William S. Gay, who
was the
Chancellor here at Fort Okanogan College back in the Fifties, wasn’t.
After he
died in 1989, his youngest son, who is gay, gave the College a ton of
money on
the condition they put these benches throughout the campus. There’re
supposed
to be twenty Gay benches at various locations all over campus, but I’ve
only
found six and I’ve been here three years.
“It’s snowing if
you hadn’t
noticed,” David said. He’s what you’d probably call the stereotypical
queer.
You know, medium height, dirty blond hair, blue eyes, fair skin,
swimmer’s
build, limp wrist, sweet fem voice full of all those beautiful
inflections, and
girls just dripping off him wherever he goes. They can’t leave him
alone. He’s
like a girl magnet and pisses all the straight guys on campus to no end.
“Yeah, but at least
it’s not
raining,” I said. I was watching my four best friends play two on two
basketball. Ceddy—Who in their right mind would name their son Cedric
Reginald
Smythe? Ceddy’s parents did and tacked on the Roman numeral VI that
went along
with it. We couldn’t call him Rick because we had one already—was
paired with
his clone, Rick Jamison. They were the perfect pair in any two on two
game
because they could anticipate each other’s moves. If they weren’t so
damn
straight, you might think they were lovers. Butch Connor and Connor
Butcher—Yeah, I know, what’s the chance that two guys with practically
the same
opposite names could end up being friends, let alone go to the same
college?
Except, Butch isn’t Butch at home, only among his friends is he Butch,
all the
other times he’s Steven—make up the other pair; and, yes, they’re
attached at
the hip, too. And, don’t even think you might win if you challenge them
instead
of Rick and Ceddy because you won’t. Butch and Conny—only his closest
friends
get to call him that—might be just a little better than the other two,
but some
days they aren’t. I hadn’t figured out who was going to win this match.
“What’re you doing
out here
in the cold?” I asked.
“Looking for a ride
to Wenatchee,” he
said. I could hear something in his
voice and it
wasn’t the usual free spirit who knows where to find the closest gay
bar. He
said it straight; yeah, without any inflection. Probably the same voice
he used
on his dad when asking for money or how come there isn’t any more
toilet paper
anywhere in the house. I’ve met the wonderful Mr. Peterson of Peterson
and Sons
Plumbing and you can’t imagine what might happen if some poor guy
uttered the
slightest lisp within a hundred feet of that bastard. Look up
homophobic
bastard in the dictionary and I’ll swear it’ll say, “4a—Mr. Guy
Peterson of North
Park, Washington.”
“What’s down there
this time of
year?” I asked. “And, why can’t you drive yourself?”
“Amtrak and I have
to leave
my car here,” he said. He did it, again. Leaving out the inflection,
that is. I
looked at him and suddenly he’s the straightest looking guy on campus.
That
cute little way he turns up his upper lip when he smiles was no where
on his
face and his hands weren’t limply lying about his body with wild
abandon. I had
to ask, so I did.
“What’s wrong?”
“My dad found out.”
“Shit!”
“Yeah, I’m going
back to Syracuse to live
with my mother. He’ll be here in a
couple
hours.”
“Fuck!”
“Yeah, up my ass
with a broom
handle, most likely. After he beats me senseless so I don’t feel it.”
“Did you get a
release from
the school? What about your car? Oh, that’s right, your dad will take
it. Is it
in his name?”
“No, but you know
my dad. A
simple thing like paperwork won’t stop him from fucking up my life.
Dean
Chambers isn’t too happy about the situation, but he understands all
too well.
I guess his brother had the same father and he didn’t get away in time.
He said
he’ll help me with a transfer to whatever school I end up going to.”
“Man, this is the
total
shits.”
“Yeah, so can you,
you know,
drive me down there?”
“Now?”
“Yeah, I’d like to
get out of
here before he suddenly appears with a twenty-four inch pipe wrench.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Jimmy’s driving
him over
here.”
“Are you packed?”
“Yeah.”
David had a lot of
shit, but
most of it we took down to the Campus Mail Room and he shipped it.
Plus,
there’s only so much you can take on a train. I wondered why he wasn’t
flying
because Spokane is just as
close as Wenatchee, but it
turned out David doesn’t fly. I
asked and he
gave me a look that told me I’d better drop the subject if I wanted to
keep my
balls. You have to be careful with someone who’s been raised by a
plumber
because they know about hand tools that can do major damage to a body.
Then as we were
leaving town,
he tells me to head east toward Grand Coulee so
we can cut south
to Quincy and approach Wenatchee
from that direction. I looked at him like he
was
acting crazy, but he gave his “you’d better do what I ask” look and I
caved.
Like I said, you don’t argue with someone who just might have a pipe
wrench in
his backpack. I knew why he didn’t want to head down US-97. That was
the
highway his dad would be coming up. I certainly didn’t want to referee
a
father-son beating, especially with David’s oldest brother on the
sidelines
holding the broom handle.
I don’t like
driving in snow.
There I said it. It was snowing when we left. Actually, it had been
snowing for
three days so the roads were a bit dicey. We were using major roads,
but out in
the Columbia Basin
where nearly everybody drives four-wheel
drive
pickups or SUVs, my Civic was clearly out of its element and those
pickups are so
huge. I think those farmers actually enjoy tailgating at seventy miles
an hour
on two-lane blacktop with more curves than a Grand Prix track.
By the time we
crossed US-2,
I was ready for a shot of bourbon and I don’t drink hard stuff. David
was calm,
too calm. He wasn’t saying anything. He just sat quietly with his iPod
plugged
into his ears. I guess running for your life isn’t something you look
forward
to in the middle of your junior year in college.
We must have gone a
hundred
miles out of our way because what normally takes just over an hour took
damned
near three. There’s this little café and cocktail lounge on the
other side of
the tracks from the Amtrak station that everyone, wink wink, knows
about so
that’s where I headed when we got to Wenatchee. I figured a camouflaged
gay bar
was that last place Mr. Peterson was going to know about and we had
nearly six
hours until the David’s train was due, more than enough time for the
bastard to
figure out the fruit of his loins was no longer at Fort Okanogan and to
come
looking for us. He was certain to know David didn’t fly and Wenatchee
was the closest Amtrak station; well, we
could’ve
gone to Spokane, but we
didn’t.
“Do you want
something to
eat?” I asked as we settled into a booth over by the door to the
kitchen. “It’s
on me.”
“I suppose I’d
better,” David
said. He looked tired, worn out, scared to death of what might happen
if he
didn’t get away. “I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to get something
on the
train.”
“Well, hello,
David,” the
waitress said as she walked up to our booth with two menus, two small
glasses
of water, and more hair on her upper lip than Abraham Lincoln.
“Oh, hi, Darleen,”
David
said. He turned the inflection back on. His left hand did that slappy
thing
against his cheek. He batted his eyelashes at her. How can someone be
so
fucking embarrassing? I wanted to slide under the table and sneak out
to my
car.
“Is this your
little
brother?” Darleen asked, looking at me.
Okay, let’s get
this out of
the way. I’m everybody’s little brother. My dad is an even five foot.
My mother
checks in a little shorter at four foot eleven. My oldest brother is
tall for
our family at five foot four. I’ll never see five feet. We’re not
little
people, we’re small statured, there’s a difference.
It gets worse.
There isn’t a
lot of body hair in our genes. Other than a patch of peach fuzz on my
upper lip
and some on my chin, I don’t have a reason to have an electric razor.
With my
unruly mop of blond hair, I look maybe twelve, but closer to ten. I get
carded
buying bubblegum.
“This is my friend
Donny
Mitchell,” David said. He blew a kiss at me. “Say hi, Donny.”
“Hi Darleen, I’m
pleased to
meet you,” I said. Then I noticed Darleen wasn’t quite what she seemed.
I
suspected her name was closer to Darrell. I kissed her hand instead of
shaking
it. I didn’t see any reason not to give her any suspicions.
“Oh, that’s sweet,”
Darleen
said. “Why didn’t you tell me about Donny? He’s much nicer than you.”
“He’s not your type
Darleen,”
David said. He gave her that look of his. She must’ve seen it before
because
she turned and walked away in an exaggerated huff. She had a nice ass
for a guy
probably older than my dad.
“How come I’ve
never seen her
in here before?” I asked.
“She usually works
the bar,”
David said.
“Oh, yeah, you’re
older,” I
said. One of those quirks of cut-off dates. He was born in October, I
was born
in September, and we’re in the same year in school.
“What’re you
having?”
“The chicken breast
and
cottage cheese, I have to watch my figure.”
“You’re not the
only one
watching your figure.”
“What’s that
supposed
to mean?”
David looked at me
and he
didn’t use that look. This was a leer, pure and simple. David
and I have
never ever gotten together for nothing more meaningful than coffee in
the Union.
We’ve studied together, gone to the GLBT meetings together, sat next to
each
other at Professor Mark’s Sunday afternoon teas, and even went to
Spokane to see Brokeback Mountain together,
but we’ve
never so much as kissed and David is really cute, too. I mean of all
the guys
on campus David is probably the one I’d take to the prom, but we
haven’t and I
don’t know why.
“Well, if you don’t
know,”
David said, giving me that look, again, but not using that
voice.
Maybe he only used it for the public. I thought it was nice of him to
turn it
off for me.
“I do know,” I
said. “I just
didn’t think you knew.”
“Well, I’ve known
for a long
time.”
“So, why did you
wait for the
last few hours we’ll probably see each other for the foreseeable
future?”
“What?”
“Once you get on
that train,
I’m not going to see you ever again, probably, in all likelihood, ever.”
“Oh, yeah, well now
you
know.”
“Well, thanks for
sharing.”
We didn’t talk much
after
that. We ordered our food and took a couple hours to eat it, but didn’t
say
much of anything. We just looked at each other. I think they call it
ogling.
Until that afternoon, I’d never seen someone eat a grilled ham and
cheese
sandwich so provocatively. He was so sexy. I wanted to go over to his
side of
the booth, but I didn’t.
I mean there was no
future in
doing anything with David this late in our budding love for each other.
He was
going away, way away, clear across the country to some place in New
York I only knew about because there was a
university
there that played a mean game of basketball. There was so much to catch
up on
and no time to do it. It made me feel pretty bad, but at least I
learned he
liked me. That was something, at least.
We left the
café and headed
up into town. We still had at least three hours before we could go down
to the
station, so we just wandered around in the snow. It was so weird being
with
David and knowing how he felt about me. I wanted to go to some motel
and get
naked, but we didn’t have time and we had to be on the lookout for his
crazy father.
That was enough to throw cold water on any thoughts of hot rabid sex
with that
wonderful boy walking beside me. So we walked.
About an hour
before the
train was supposed to arrive we got back in my car and headed toward
the train
station. Just before we turned onto Kittitas I saw police cars blocking
the
road. They were checking cars headed toward the station. I kept going
north on Mission. David
looked at me. He didn’t have to say
anything,
I could tell he was scared.
“Would your father
call the police?”
I asked. I knew the answer, but I had to ask.
“He’d lie to the
Pope to get
at me,” David said.
“Okay, this is what
we’re
going to do,” I said. I laid out a plan for me to go down and check to
see what
was going on while David waited for me up town at a grocery store that
had a
deli where he could stay warm.
After dropping him
off and
making sure he wasn’t going to run off into the snowy night—David was that
scared and I was worried he might do something stupid—I headed back
down to the
train station. Sure enough, the cops were checking cars for a guy
fitting
David’s description. I told them I was coming down to pick up my
brother who
was coming to Fort Okanogan
for a campus visit; and, yes, I had to show
them my
driver’s license to prove I was old enough to drive.
I parked my car and
walked
toward the station. There were cops all over the place. I don’t know
what
David’s father told the police, but it looked to me like they thought
David was
som kind of heinous criminal or worse. I didn’t even see it coming.e
“You dirty faggot!
Where’s my
brother?” I was literally thrown up against a wall when I walked into
the
station. There was a hand around my neck and David’s older brother
Jimmy’s face
too close to mine. I’ve never feared for my life, but then I don’t go
around
openly proclaiming my sexuality. I’m out to those who need to know,
like David,
my family, and some of my friends like Ceddy, Rick, Butch, and Conny. I
feared
for my life. I was being choked by a mad man who sounded like he was
more than
willing to kill me to get to the truth.
“Hey! Let that boy
go!” Well,
I certainly wasn’t going to let the cop know I was twenty-one.
Sometimes it’s
best to let them think you’re twelve.
“He’s knows where
David is,”
Jimmy yelled at the cop and not letting me go.
“Let the boy go!”
Another cop
yelled while his partner applied enough physical force to pull Jimmy
off me.
Guns weren’t drawn, but I suspected they could be at any moment.
I crumpled to the
floor
trying to catch my breath. A cop kneeled down beside me. He didn’t look
all
that friendly.
“Do you know David
Peterson?”
he asked.
“Yeah, he’s lives
in the same
dorm as me,” I said.
“You go to Fort Okanogan?”
“Yes, I’m
twenty-one. Do you
want to see my driver’s license?”
“Where’s the
faggot?” Mr. Peterson
yelled from somewhere across the room.
“What are you doing
here?”
the cop asked.
“I came to pick up
my
brother. He’s coming over for a campus visit.”
“Do you know where
David
Peterson is?”
“What’s he done?”
“Why you stupid
little
faggot!” Mr. Peterson yelled as he picked me up and threw me up against
the
wall, knocking me unconscious.
I woke up on a
stretcher with
a paramedic hovering over me. I was inside an ambulance. Then I
remembered
David and was worried too much time had gone by and he’d done something
stupid
like coming down here looking for me.
“Uh, can I get up?”
I asked.
“Just lie there
quietly for a
little bit,” the paramedic said. She looked nice, kind of like a girl
David
would know. She probably did, too.
“What’s going on?”
I asked.
“They haven’t found
him yet.”
“Found who?”
“The killer.”
“What killer?”
“David Peterson, he
killed his
older brother James.”
“Oh, shit! I told
him not to
come down here. When did he do that?”
“This afternoon
when his
father and brother went to Fort Okanogan to meet him about
some family situation.”
“But, Jimmy threw
me up
against the wall when I walked into the station.”
“What?”
“Jimmy is alive and
tried to
kill me here.”
“Just a minute,
I’ll be right
back.”
At that moment I
hoped she hadn’t
heard me say that I knew David was in Wenatchee.
I mean, if the Petersons were lying about
David
killing Jimmy, I certainly didn’t want to compound the situation by
implying
I’d been lying, too. Police get kind of testy when they run into a pack
of liars
and things might get out of hand if they thought it wasn’t only the
Petersons
were giving them a load of bull.
“How’re you
feeling?” the
policeman from the station asked me when he came into the ambulance.
“Kind of dizzy,” I
said.
“What’s this about David killing Jimmy? You pulled Jimmy off me
earlier. How
can he be dead?”
“What do you mean?
James
Peterson is dead.”
“Well, I’m going to
press
charges against that guy who threw me up against the wall, including
his
father, so when you get around to ID’ing him you’re going to find out
James
Peterson is alive and mean as hell.”
“Oh, shit!”
It took them about
five
minutes to get the Petersons rounded up and sitting uncomfortably in
the
backseats of a couple cruisers with their hands cuffed behind them.
They looked
absolutely disgruntled. Their plan backfired in their faces and they
were going
to be able to spend a few more hours in Wenatchee
than they planned.
“Can I go now?” I
asked the
policeman who helped me.
“We appreciate it
if you came
down to the station and made a statement,” he said.
“You know, I think
you guys
want them a lot more than I do,” I said. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather
we just
forget I had anything to do with their little fiasco.”
“Don’t like them,
huh?”
“No, I didn’t like
them the
first time I met them and I don’t like them now. I don’t why they think
I’m gay
because I certainly never told them or gave them any reason to think
that.”
“I think they just
hate too
well. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I just want
to get out
of here.”
I saw David turn
the corner
at Mission when I came up
the hill from the station. He
was
walking very slowly as if he was trying to appear inconspicuous. I
pulled over
to the curb and he got in.
“Where’ve you
been?” he
asked.
“Tangling with your
brother
and father,” I said.
“What?”
“Your father told
the police
you killed Jimmy and were trying to get out of town on the train.”
“Holy shit!”
“Needless to say
they didn’t
get away with it. You’re safe. Now you don’t have to go to New
York.”
“Are you joking?
They aren’t
going to let me get away with this. As soon as they’re out of jail
they’ll come
looking for me. You don’t know them. Why do you think my mother lives
in New York around her
family?”
“So, how’re getting
to New York?”
“I don’t know. I’ve
still got
all my clothes so I could take the bus, I guess.”
“Four or five days
on a bus,
plus go through Chicago?”
“What else am I
going to do?”
“Well, I could
drive you.”
“What?”
“I could drive you.”
And, so that’s why
we went
back to Fort Okanogan
that night. I needed clothes for the trip.
It was
after midnight by the time we
checked into a motel out by
the
airport in Spokane. I
think I was out before David because I
didn’t even
feel him crawl into bed next to me.