Date: Mon, 16 Apr 2007 13:05:58 -0700
From: Ryan Miller <bluedragon314@gmail.com>
Subject: Bonding Energy: Opportunity Cost Ch. 10

Here is the next chapter. I hope to submit these on a weekly basis now.
And, in response to cumulative feedback, I want to make it clear that
this story is not intended to make you hot and horny. If you would rather
be, press the back button.

Disclaimer:
This is a homoerotic story I have written, so if you aren't allowed
legally, morally or ethically to read it, then don't. And don't post this
anywhere else without my expressed permission. Feedback is very much
encouraged, so hit me up at bluedragon314@gmail.com   or hit me up on
myspace.

Ch. 10

When I woke up, I was sitting in a seat in the back of a plane. The
engines were whirring and the other passengers were talking amongst
themselves. My side was searing from being tazed and my mind jumped back
to the image of James being shot and falling to the ground. I
involuntarily tried to get up, but I was hindered by a seatbelt.

As I fumbled with the buckle, a woman next to me said, "There's no need
to get up. You're safe now." She was wearing a navy blue suit with a
ruffled, white blouse and her hair was puffy and poorly colored like a
church-lady's.

I got the buckle undone and got up, saying, "I need to see James."

"Now calm down," she said. "I'm sure your friend is alright."

"He's not my friend, he my brother," I said. I could tell by her flippant
attitude and need to control me that she must have been a social worker.

She stood up and put her hands on my shoulders and said, "There's no need
to go anywhere. The plane has just landed and they will be letting the
passengers off soon."

"'Landed?'" I exclaimed. "Where?"

"In Iowa," she said.

"No!" I said, pushing her aside and stepping out into the isle. "I've got
to get out of here. I need to see James."

"Young man," she said, grabbing my shoulder. "You need to calm down."

"Fuck off, lady!" I said, shrugging her off. "I need to see James!"

Two men in suits got up out of their seats and stepped into the isle in
front of me.

I turned around but saw the social worker standing in my way, and she
said, "You need to sit down, Kyle, or we will have to restrain you."

I turned to run full-force into the men blocking the exit, but I bounced
off and they grabbed my arms and spun me around so I was facing the Woman
as she took a syringe out of her pocket. I leaned back and pushed her
away with my feet, as passengers gasped and the two men holding me forced
me to the ground on my face.

"No!" I cried as the syringe punctured my neck. "Please! I need to see
James! I heave to see my brother! Pease!"

*****

When I woke up again, I was lying down in the back seat of a car. I
stared up at the night sky through the windows of a sedan and I could
hear the voices of my aunt and uncle in the front seat.

Anna and Seth McGillis were my mom's sister-in-law and brother. Seth
worked in a hay and feed store and Anna was a stay-at-home wife. They
didn't have any kids, nor did they want any. The last time I remember
seeing them was at out parent's funeral.

"Why the hell can't they build an airport closer to town," said Seth.
"Every damn time I have to drive 45 minutes there and 45 minutes back."

"At least it was worth it this time," said Anna. "There's a station up
ahead. Pull over and get some gas.'

"It's $2.87 a gallon," he said. "Like hell if I'm going to pay that
much."

"It's the last one until we get back to town, and I need to freshen up,"
she insisted.

Grumbling, Seth pulled into the station and parked the car next to one of
the pumps.

"I'm only spending $15 here," he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt and
got out. "These bastards aren't going to get me to fill my tank at $2.87
a gallon."

"Calm down, Seth," said Anna, getting out as well. "We won't have those
problems anymore, so just hush up."

"Hush up." That was her catch phrase. I remember distinctly when she told
me to hush up at the funeral. I was six, both my parents were dead, and
the lady who denied me sanctuary saw me crying and said, "Hush up, now.
Those tears won't do your parents any good. You need to be strong at
times like this." Too bad she wasn't strong enough to take care of James
and me.

Their doors closed and I took a deep, relaxing breath as I was left alone
for the first time since I was forcibly taken from my home. The sedative
the social worker gave me was still clouding my mind, but my
determination to go home was enough to make me lucid. I needed to see
James. He was hurt and I needed to be there for him.

I rolled onto my stomach, reached out my hand and, with all the
concentration I could muster, pulled down the latch on the door and
lunged to push it open. It swung back in on me and I pushed my feet off
the other door to push it back open. It stayed open that time, and I
rolled over and looked through the windows at Uncle Seth as he stood
staring at the gas pump, flinching and griping at every dollar that was
pumped into his tank.

Rolling back over, I slowly slid myself across the back seat until my
torso was hanging out of the car. Then, walking with my hands on the
pavement, I scooted out until I could pull my foot out and rest it firmly
on the ground. Gaining my balance, I got my other foot on the ground and
turned and slowly closed the door. It couldn't close all the way, but I
didn't want to slam it, of course. I walked away towards the highway,
stooping over and turning to look at Uncle Seth as he cursed the pump.

The night air was incredibly cold and all I had on was the t-shirt and
jeans I was wearing when I was taken. The wind was fluttering through my
shirttail and my short, brown hair, sending chills all over me. Taking
light steps, I walked over to a large hedge on the edge of the lot by the
highway where the gas station was and sat down beside it, out of view of
the station.

I heard my aunt walk back and get in the car and, with one final curse,
my uncle got back in and started the engine. I scooted up so my body was
resting closely against the foliage of the hedge as their blue, mangy
Taurus pulled up to the edge of the highway and drove off down the road.

Their red taillights were the most welcome sight I'd seen in a long time.
My mind finally took a rest, thought my legs were still shaking from the
rush of adrenaline I'd had during my escape. The relief of pressure and
the lingering sedatives in my blood helped me calm down and start to
think about how I would get back home. I lived at least 800 miles away,
so walking would be a problem. I looked back at the gas station and saw a
line of semi trucks under the tall roof of the diesel pumps. I figured at
least one of them would be headed in my direction.

Then I heard the squeal of tires and a revving engine in the direction my
aunt and uncle had just traveled. Their headlights were coming down the
road and my icy blood started pounding through my veins.

I jumped up and ran towards the station. I ran around the side where the
bathrooms were and down the side of a semi towards some bushes. I ran
right through them, not caring that a stiff branch slashed me across the
face. On the other side, I came to a street that ran off of the highway
and I started running down it.

Then everything was lit up in front of me as Seth's headlights appeared
from behind. I didn't bother turning around but kept running towards a
bridge that was now illuminated before me. I ran across the sidewalk of
the bridge, over the dark waters of a river and Seth's car stopped right
behind me. He got out and I could hear his door slam and his boots
running after me.

Seth cut me off at the other end of the sidewalk and, holding himself up
on the metal rails that separated the sidewalk from street and water, and
panted, "Why you runnin', boy?" He looked just like I remembered him,
only stubbly and a few inches less hair from the front. He was wearing
overalls and a green flannel shirt and his tobacco-stained teeth smiled
menacingly at me.

"I need to see James," I told him.

"James ain't nowhere near here," he said, stepping towards me. "Now, turn
around and get back in the car."

"Uncle Seth, can you swim?" I asked.

"What?" he said, responded.

I took a deep breath and put my foot up on top of the rail on side of the
bridge. Then I lunged up and over as Seth ran towards me and caught me by
the ankle. As I dangled over the edge of the bridge, his grip threatened
to squeeze my foot off. His other hand reached out to pull me up, but I
kicked it against the concrete edge of the bridge and he cried out and
let me go.

I'm not sure what the slew of curses was that burst forth from his mouth
as I fell down into the river. I just remember feeling like I had been
slapped across the back by a giant, stiff noodle and suddenly every part
of me was unbearably cold. I always hated being cold and wet.

*****

I felt the warm comfort of being under a large quilt, on top of a soft
bed and next to a glowing fire. A wet rag was being wiped against my face
and the cut across my cheek stung. When I flinched, I heard a voice say,
"Hold still." It was a very warm, gentle voice and I was willing to do
whatever it told me. Lying in my cocoon, I fell back asleep.

When I woke up again, it was morning and the sunlight from the window in
a white, stucco wall was shining on my face. My body ached, but at least
my mind felt fine. I smelled shouldering ashes and looked over to see my
clothes lying out in front of a marble fireplace across from the side of
the bed. The floor was a shiny hardwood and the bed was large and had a
wooden frame that had elaborate bedposts with horses carved into them.

I wasn't sure if I was dreaming until the door opened and a young man
with sandy blond hair and a red felt shirt walked in. He was tall and
strapping and was carrying a television. He walked over and set it up on
the cabinet across from the end of the bed. After he plugged it in, he
sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbed the remote and turned it on. But
all he got was static. He got up again to play with the plugs when I
said, "It's probably a problem with the input." (The techie inside of me
felt compelled to correct him.)

He looked back and said, "Oh, I was just setting it up for when were
awake. I guess I was just in time."

His voice had been the warm, comforting one I'd heard earlier. His smile
was soft and gentle and his brown eyes glowed with earnest concern.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Emmetsburg," he said, bending over to play with the TV some more. "At
the Benson Family Ranch. I'm Connor."

"Kyle," I said, surprised at the genial nature of this handsome stranger.
"How long have I been here?"

"Just a couple of days," he said. "I found you on Saturday lying on the
bank of the Des Moines River. You were hypothermic and half-drowned."

Feeling satisfied with his TV tinkering, he sat back down on the edge of
the bed and turned it on. This time, it was playing a list of scrolling
TV programs. He changed the channel to a documentary on the battle of Iwo
Jima.

"What were you doing in the river, anyway?" he asked.

"I, uh, fell in," I said.

"Well, this time of year is no time to go for a swim. Those waters have
claimed more than one life," he said.

He tossed the remote over to me and said, "Just rest up for now. I'll
tell my mom you're awake and she'll bring you something to eat. If you
need anything else, just holler." He walked out and closed the door.

'Emmetsburg Iowa wasn't so bad,' I thought. 'At the company is pleasant.'

But I didn't let my mind get too comfortable. I still needed to know if
James was safe. I got out of the bed and picked up my pants. Pulling them
on, I noticed my gameboy lying on the hearth of the fireplace and
realized that it had been in my pants when I jumped into the river. I
gave my heart a second to lament over the loss of the more than 23 hours
of hard mode I had struggled to attain, but turned my heart back to more
important matters.

I looked around the room and found a cordless phone lying on an end
table. I picked it up and dialed the number for home, hoping the Bensons
wouldn't mind my making a long-distance phone call.

As the phone rang, my sensibilities told me to just hang up and that
there was no way James could still be alive. I saw him get shot in the
chest by a man I doubted more and more was a federal agent. But my
studies of anatomy told me it was possible he could have survived. Peter
had explained that his cousin in the army said that only a direct hit to
a vital part of the body would kill you instantly. Otherwise, most people
would bleed to death or get an infection. My heart shouted that it was
totally possible that James was still alive, making a logic conclusion
for the first time. But my mind told me the sensible thing to do was
admit the inevitable.

Then I heard James say, "If you're a telemarketer, stop calling. If
you're a friend, call again and we might pick up. If not, then leave a
message."

"James!" I shouted after the machine beeped. "I'm stuck in Emmetsburg
Iowa. Uncle Seth and Aunt Anna tried to take me home with them. If you
get this message, come and get me at the Benson Family Ranch...I hope
you're ok."

I put the phone back, nervous about my brother but taking comfort in
knowing that I had done all I could for now. I sat back on the bed,
picked up the remote and started flipping through channels. I stopped on
a channel playing Lethal Weapon 3, gently picked up and cradled my
asphyxiated gameboy, got back under the covers and waited.

*****
If you want to read more of the story sooner, I posted the rest at
www.awesomedude.com. There is also a forum at AD for feedback, so e-mail
me at bluedragon314@gmail.com or join the forum and tell me what you
think.