by
Part 15: Escaping Verolino
Kenni and Spider had their own room. They were the only ones that occupied that chamber of the cellar, separate from the other boys. I guess they were both leaders of sorts, so they were entitled to that privilege. Except that Spider had assumed the role of lookout and sentry, and spent most of his time above ground guaranteeing everybody's safety by watching the entrance to the cellar. Since he spent much of the night above ground, he kindly let me sleep in his bed. Actually, it wasn't really a bed. It was an accumulation of thin blankets and a comforter which he had arranged on the hard stone floor. Kenni's bed, just next to his, was the same. Simon-Peter, meanwhile, had opted to share Scamp's bed. That was at Scamp's invitation. Evidently the two little boys were drawn to each other, and Scamp's bed had ample space for both of them. But they spent much of the night whispering and giggling conspiratorially under the comforter, much to the annoyance of the other boys.
In the morning, I was awoken by the smell of fresh coffee. I was alone in Spider's bed. I was still sleepy, and my bones were sore from the hard floor. I sat up and looked around the room. Kenni's bed was empty. Through the heavy wooden door I could hear the clattering of mugs and the muted voices of the other boys. A little daylight emanated. On the side of Spider's bed I could see he had made a little table out of an upturned bread crate, with a piece of roughly cut plywood placed over the top. On this low table he had all his personal effects - a spare magazine for his pistol, a pencil that was chewed halfway down, a toothbrush and there was even a comb that had a few of his distinctive reddish hairs trapped in it. There was one item I was drawn to in particular. It was a little photo in a frame. I got up off the bed and reached over to pick it up for a closer look. I stood there for a moment admiring the little photo in its heavy metal frame. It was of a much younger Spider with his family - mum, dad and what appeared to be an older brother. As I stood there admiring it, taking in the details of the scene, I was saddened that it had obviously been taken in happier times, before the specter of war was even anticipated.
Suddenly I was rudely pulled back from my reverie.
'Don't touch my stuff!' Spider yelled, from somewhere behind me.
Before I knew it, he stormed up to me and snatched the little keepsake from my grasp.
'Leave my stuff alone!' he bawled into my face.
I was a little unprepared for his abruptness and his sudden yelling made me recoil slightly. I wasn't used to being screamed at.
'Okay, okay,' I countered, 'Calm down. No need to be so touchy about it.'
'Don't tell me to calm down!' he screamed.
At the same time he pulled out his pistol and waved it menacingly in my face.
'Just don't tell me what to do or, so help me, I'll blow your fuckin' head off!'
'Okay, okay,' I conceded, holding my hands up, partly in surrender and partly to fend him off.
Spider turned away in a huff and grouchily set about putting the photo back in its place. He carefully placed the photograph back as it was on the little table.
Kenni came in, having heard the shouting.
'Hey what's going on?'
'Nothin's goin' on,' said Spider, and then he turned to me with a flash of hostility, 'Isn't it enough that I let you sleep in my bed?'
Then Spider left the room in a huff, leaving Kenni standing by the threshold. Kenni had obviously decided that it was probably better to let him calm down.
'What's his problem?' I asked Kenni, still a little overwhelmed by Spider's overreaction.
'Don't be too hard on him,' said Kenni, 'He's prone to flying off the handle like that.'
'Don't know how you put up with it,' I replied, slightly rattled.
Kenni hesitated, and he shook his floppy hair out of his eyes with that well-practiced flick of his head, which I thought was extremely sexy.
'He's been through a lot,' said Kenni.
'So have we all,' I said, thinking that no defense for Spider's behavior.
'Not like him,' said Kenni, and then added, almost as an afterthought, 'Spider is from Falkenburg.'
That shut me up immediately. The name of Falkenburg was enough to strike terror into anybody. That is, anybody who knew the atrocities that that name was associated with.
Still standing by Spider's little table, I looked at Kenni, a little subdued by that information.
'But they killed everybody in Falkenburg, didn't they? Every man, woman and child.'
'Not all of them,' Kenni stated emphatically, 'Some managed to escape from the burning church.'
'Oh,' I said, struck dumb by the implications of that statement, 'Spider was one of them?'
'Yes,' said Kenni, nodding, 'so don't judge him too harshly. He's seen things that most us could never even imagine.'
Everybody knew what the KAPOs did at Falkenburg. It was well documented. The perpetrators were even now being sought for war crimes.
'I had no idea,' I said.
Kenni nodded some more, confirming his statement.
'Yeh, they tortured and killed his whole family before his very eyes,' Kenni went on, 'And then they tried to kill him too. I can't imagine that. Can you?'
I looked at Kenni, not knowing quite how to answer that.
'No,' I said, shaking my head, 'How could I?'
'War does funny things to people,' Kenni said, and it was a remark that revealed an altogether more philosophical side to him, 'Spider will have to live with that for the rest of his life. It makes me afraid for the future - growing up with all that bitterness.'
I nodded, for now quieted by these revelations and resolved not to bear a grudge against Spider. On the contrary, I actually felt like going to find him, putting an apologetic arm around him, and telling him how sorry I was. His story made me realize that in our encounter with KAPO, Simon-Peter and I had got away relatively lightly.
Breakfast consisted of coffee and stale bread, cut into thick hunks. There was even some butter and jam. They at least had a little gas stove which they used to boil water, but used it very sparingly, since both gas and water were in short supply. In the main part of the cellar, I saw Simon-Peter playing cards with Scamp. They were sitting cross-legged on the floor, in amongst Scamp's rumpled bedding, smiling and giggling and emitting little remarks and witticisms. The two little boys seemed to be getting along fine, the miserable circumstances of their lives temporarily forgotten. Pretty soon I knew that Simon-Peter and I would be leaving. We had to go, and couldn't abuse these boys' hospitality any longer.
After breakfast, I emerged from the cellar into the ruins above ground. I saw Spider way over on the other side of the ruined plot. He was sitting on what was left of one of the outer walls of the house. He had one leg swinging loosely, and was holding the pistol in his lap. He was obviously keeping watch from that vantage point, in case anybody approached. He saw me and, since he was out of earshot, just gave me a single pronounced nod. It was slow and deliberate, almost a bow of acknowledgement, and a sign that his earlier hostility and anger was now forgotten. I bowed my head in reply. I looked around and decided to stay and soak up the warm sunshine for a while. I realized that one of the drawbacks of hiding in a cellar was that you never got to see daylight. I also realized that Spider was a valuable member of this little boy community. He guarded the entrance day and night and they owed their safety to him. That was a big sacrifice and responsibility for a boy who was only 11. And I had to keep reminding myself that, despite these boys' maturity and wisdom, despite all their streetsmart savviness, they were still just boys.
I picked my way through the ruins and went around the back of the derelict plot, to the side of the house that was away from the road. The wooden fence had been blown down and there had once been a yard with flower beds and trees. Most of the saplings had been snapped like twigs. The older trees were practically stripped of foliage. The lower branches were hanging off, broken, and the thick trunks had pock marks where shrapnel had splintered against the bark. It was shady and dark around there. I walked up to the remainder of what had once been the garden wall, and took up position to take a pee.
Whilst I was standing there, with my todger in my fingers, watching my pee running down the wall, splattering the powdery brick dust, I saw Spider just on the left take up position next to me. It caught me unawares because he was so stealthy I didn't hear him approach. He was fiddling with his flies, and then I heard another stream of pee splashing onto the wall next to mine. I glanced over at him. He was looking at my todger as I held it there, peeing. He looked up at my face, then turned away and looked back down to concentrate on finishing his business. He then stared at the blank wall in front of him. As we both stood there peeing, he started directing his stream of pee into mine, playfully intercepting my jet of pee with his. I knew immediately that it was an act of rapprochement, a token gesture of apology and reconciliation after his earlier flash of anger.
'Sorry I shouted at you,' he said quietly, 'Sometimes I can't help it.'
'That's okay,' I said, 'I shouldn't have touched your things, I'm sorry. And I do appreciate you letting me sleep in your bed.'
'That's okay,' he replied, and then there was a moment of quiet reflection as we absorbed each other's apologies.
I sensed that he was no longer guarded and confrontational, but had mellowed towards me. After spending the night with these boys, we knew enough about each other to have earned each other's respect.
After a short pause, Spider piped up again.
'That was some show you put on last night,' he said, with a tone of genuine admiration.
'You enjoy it?' I asked him, as I shook off my dick and stashed it back into my pants.
He nodded.
'Yup. Very much,' he said.
'Good,' I replied, 'I aim to please.'
I waited for him to finish, standing a bit behind him, just able to see the tip of his todger as he held it there, still peeing. It was a nice size, long and fat, with a nicely rounded head that was a delicate shade of light pink. He turned and saw me staring as he finished, suddenly realizing I was checking out his shit.
'Summat you want?' he asked, challengingly, as he tucked his dick away.
I looked at him, slightly taken aback by his forwardness.
'Me?' I retorted, 'I could teach YOU a few things.'
'No doubt you could,' he replied.
And then, after a pause of hesitation, he turned towards me, open and relaxed.
'Can I ask you something?'
'Of course,' I said, a little unprepared for his entreaty, but interested to hear his query.
He put his hands in his pockets, the pistol safely stowed into the waist of his pants. His stance was very unthreatening.
'What's it like?'
'What's what like?'
'Being a shota boy.'
'Like any other job, I guess,' I replied, 'On the whole it's pretty routine, but it has its moments.'
He looked confused and pulled a pained expression.
'But all those strange men... Don't you ever get tired of it?'
'You ever get tired of wanking?' I asked, plainly.
His expression, though one of surprise, was not altogether incredulous. I could tell from the look in his eyes that we both knew the answer to that.
'Well then,' I said, by way of conclusion.
'Yeah but... being fucked up the ass all the time...'
I laughed.
'It's not as bad as all that,' I said, playing down his concerns, 'It can be quite enjoyable.'
'Really? You enjoy it that much?'
'Sure,' I said, 'I'm horny all the time, so it suits me.'
'You horny now?' he asked, quite innocently.
I laughed again.
'Is that a proposition?' I replied, with a wry smile.
He stared for a moment too long before replying.
'Well... I am kinda curious,' he confessed, 'I mean, I never... you know...'
'What? You never fucked about with another boy?'
He shrugged.
'Only a bit of jerking off with Kenni, when we were younger.'
'You never fucked about with him?'
'Not properly,' he said, 'not really.'
'Would you have liked to?'
He looked at me with an 'are you crazy?' expression.
'Of course,' he replied, emphatically, 'Who wouldn't?'
I nodded in agreement.
'Yeah, he is pretty handsome.'
Spider shrugged again, looking down at his feet hopelessly.
'Just wondered what it was like,' he muttered, quietly.
'C'mere,' I said, looking at him suggestively, and beckoned him towards me with a quick flick of my head.
He stepped towards me quite readily, and stood within touching distance with a vacant expression. I leaned over, hooked my arm around his neck and drew him towards me. My lips connected with his, at the same time as I squeezed his crotch with my other hand. I ignored the pistol that was pressed between us and felt for his dick. It was soft but substantial. I kneaded it gently through his loose jeans, simultaneously exploring his mouth. He exhaled softly against my cheek, instantly aroused and, I could tell, game for a bit of fumbling around.
He suddenly pulled away. His face was flushed and his dark eyes were wide with arousal.
'Not here,' he said, suddenly taking control, 'Follow me.'
He turned and led me towards the boundary of the devastated yard, through a half demolished brick wall and clambered down a short, grassy embankment. Kneeling down, he allowed the soles of his sneakers to slide down the slope without losing his balance. You could tell from the ease and familiarity with which he did it, that he had done this many times. I followed him, though I was not quite as sure-footed as him down the grassy slope.
At the bottom, there was a little gully that wound its way along into the undergrowth, and Spider expertly stepped in amongst the tall grass, parting the reeds for me to step through the gap. We followed the gully for a good long while until we were well out of sight of the derelict house. In fact, from down there, the ruins of the city were not visible at all. We were almost hidden from view on both sides of the gully by the embankment and the tall grass.
At last Spider found a good spot. The grass was long, but well flattened, and we were well hidden by the tall grass that surrounded us. It was quite a cozy and intimate spot. I couldn't tell if this was a favorite spot or one he had just chanced upon, but it was clear that Spider had a good knowledge of the terrain. Like a good scout, he knew his locality well.
Spider settled himself on the flattened, springy grass, and stretched out, laying the pistol on the ground next to him. He leaned well back, propped up on his elbows, and looked around at me. His cheeks were flushed - the flush of sexual arousal. I knew that look. He was waiting for me to show him the way, quiescently putting himself in my hands.
I got down on the grass next to him and leaned over. We kissed for a good long while. At first it was very tentative, with me leaning over his reclining body, but as things heated up, I almost clambered onto him. He pulled me to him, so that I rolled over and was lying on top of him. I could tell from the urgency of his tongue and lips that he was inexperienced, but very keen. Enthusiasm was key in such situations. He didn't really know what to do, but he was willing. His willingness was enough. He slobbered and slathered all over my face, sticking his tongue in my mouth tentatively, nibbling on my lips, making my face wet. His inexperience, as always, was tremendously arousing. He had more or less admitted that he had never been with another boy. I kinda felt sorry for him. He was a good looking boy, with a beautiful physique, what I'd seen of it, and he was obviously curious about boysex.
Rolling off him for a moment, I laid next to him and reached for his flies. His dick was hard and long in his pants, pulsating against the tightness of his jeans. I opened the front of his pants and freed it from its bondage. I was inordinately aroused by the fact that Spider wasn't wearing any underwear. His hairless package looked so inviting nestling there freshly unwrapped from the crisp denim of his jeans. His dick was very substantial in its aroused state, and was perfectly long and thick. It looked so good to me, I had to wrap my lips around it. He pulled his opened jeans down below his butt, releasing his hairless balls, and he drew his shirt up to expose his midriff. He had a beautifully smooth and flat tummy. I licked his cock and balls. His hairless little rod laid flat on his abdomen, pointing towards his navel, so I kissed the underside, pressing my lips all the way up the ridge of his tube - I loved having my dickie kissed like that - and he moaned with pleasure. He held onto my head, digging his fingers into my shaggy blond mop, and he was almost pushing me away because the sensations were too much for him. I moved on up, kissing the pinkish head of his dick, then his abdomen and his tight tummy and burying my face in his warmth. He smelled good, and his skin was very silky and clear. It was a shame, I thought, as I pulled his shirt up further to gorge on his nipples, that no boy had ever enjoyed his body like this before. His dick was very pretty, and inordinately stiff with excitement. I could see that Spider was actually very sexual and his young hairless body was infinitely spunkable. I wanted him to feel the unbridled pleasures of boysex with me. I wanted him to experience the sensation of having his dick blown. I just needed to do stuff to him. Fuck, I needed to sex him up real bad.
I sucked on the underside of his boydick for a good long time, moving my lips along the length rather like playing a harmonica, every now and then stopping to wrap my lips around the head. I didn't put a hand on it. I laid my palms flat on his slender thigh and his tight tummy, and bobbed my mouth around his crotch, stimulating his dick using only my mouth, and you could see his young dick straining upwards and becoming stiffer and more aroused. I realized that I could make him blow his wad like that. That little dick was responding well to my ministrations, and I decided to see if I could make him blow his wad without using my hands. I kissed and licked and sucked and he went on writhing around on the grass. His urgent, high pitched moans were so erotic. Eventually his vocalizations became so prominent that I knew he was gonna blow any minute. I didn't dare stop now. When his dick finally spat out his load, I knew what was coming because he almost held his breath, feeling his orgasm approach, and his dick went into spasms long before he shot his juice - in fact it seemed to waggle violently, drawing up as far as possible, brushing up against his abdomen, at maximum elevation. It did that a couple of times, then rose back into the air and squirted a beautiful little line of boyspunk up towards his belly button. It squirted out in a series of droplets, and they laid there glistening on his silky skin, like a row of tiny pearls. Just like me, he didn't squirt out much, but there was a beautiful semi-opaqueness to his unripe boyjuice, which made it look thicker and more substantial than mine. I stooped over him, pleased with my work, admiring his kidspunk, taking in the sight of this immature essence that his young body had given up just for me, this magical liquid I had coaxed from deep within his underdeveloped little balls. Whatever - I had to lick it up. That kiddiecum looked so good lying there still warm on his belly, that I lapped it all up. I swallowed it eagerly, even licking my lips, just like a cat with a saucer of milk. His kiddiespunk was sweet and raw, with a slightly salty undertaste. It was delicious.
With my lips still smeared from his juice, I moved on up and kissed him, just so he could get a hint of what his own boycum tasted like. He didn't know what it was at first. He kissed me readily enough, then detected the unfamiliar substance on my lips, and I could see him savoring it and wondering if that was what kidspunk really tasted like. His expression was promising - he seemed to like it. At any rate there was no hint of revulsion or disapproval. I laid next to him, propped up on one elbow, staring down at him as he came down from the high of his cum. I smiled. He assimilated the ecstasy of what I had just done to him, and he returned the smile in a knowing, relaxed and even appreciative way. I knew he had enjoyed it. It was funny, I thought, that when we had first met this boy, only a matter of a few hours ago, last night when we had stumbled upon him and his lair, he had seemed so threatening and powerful, waving that stupid pistol around at us. Then we had been totally at HIS mercy. Well, now he was at MY mercy, and I hoped I had just given him a lesson in how to use his weapon properly - the one that really counts.
As he was lying there contentedly, he reached up and pulled my head down and we kissed. I was pleasantly surprised that he wanted more, apparently not prepared to let this magical encounter end just yet. There was real passion in his kiss, and as our lips parted, he whispered tremulously.
'Fuck me.'
I looked down into his big, liquid eyes, a little unsure.
'What?'
'Fuck me,' he said again, a little louder.
I looked at him lying there next to me, and his little dick was hardening again. He was a beautiful boy, with that clear, pearly complexion and that distinctive rust colored hair. He looked so fuckable lying there in the grass.
'Please fuck me,' he implored me.
I brushed his rusty hair out of his eyes tenderly as he laid there, revealing his clear, high forehead.
'You're sure?' I asked.
He smiled as though I'd said something quaint, and nodded assuredly.
'Please let me know what it feels like,' he pleaded.
I admired his presence of mind. He wanted his cunt rooted and certainly knew how to exploit an opportunity. At the same time I almost felt sorry for him because he had never felt the unbridled pleasures of cock and ass play. In my book, that was the birthright of all boys.
Unbidden by me, he rose up and took his shirt off completely, exposing his torso for me. I rather liked the expert way he did it, by crossing his arms and pulling it off over his head in one seamless movement. Then he took off his jeans completely, pulling them off each of his feet, so that he was totally naked. I liked that even better. It showed that he was comfortable enough with me to shed all his inhibitions. When he was completely unclothed, he laid back down next to me and stretched out in the grass. With his clothes off, I was able to appreciate his musculature and composition. I almost gasped at his beauty. His boyish body was so perfect, quite well-defined but as yet untouched by the ravages of adolescence. His skin was so clear, so smooth and white and creamy. He turned over, carefully turning his face to one side, and presented his flawless butt to me. It was beautifully smooth and round, perfectly formed, rising up with a gentle swell from the dip of his narrow waist. It was so inviting, so alluring. Fuck, I had to stab my cock into it. Little Cloud was already horning up in readiness, in anticipation of injecting his little load right into Spider's hot little cunt.
I stripped off quickly. I wanted to get naked with him and feel his hot young body against mine. It was odd, I thought, as I shed my clothes item by item, that with all the fucking around I had done, this was the first time I had ever got naked with anyone outdoors. It was tremendously exciting. I impetuously jettisoned the last of my clothes and threw my boxer briefs aside, so that my clothes formed a little pile with Spider's, beneath which I could see the handgrip of his pistol sticking out. Then I mounted him, straddling his thighs, and sat astride him for a few moments just admiring his physique. He had a beautiful back, shapely shoulders which tapered down to a narrow waist, with the perfect groove of his spine running all the way down the middle to the hard little muscles in the small of his back. Tell the truth, his body was so perfect lying there, I could have spunked all over his back. I felt like I wanted to spray my kiddiespunk all over him. I huddled down close to him and kissed him on the back of his neck. Then I whispered into his ear.
'You're so beautiful.'
He gave me a sidelong glance, his face turned so that one cheek was resting on the grass, and he looked amused, like he didn't believe me. But I swear, at that moment, this boy's natural beauty radiated tangibly.
'No,' he said, 'I'm not. Don't say things like that.'
'Why not?' I countered, 'You're gorgeous.'
'Then why has Kenni never been interested in me?' he asked, looking to discredit my assertion.
'Because Kenni has never seen the beauty in you,' I said.
Still with his head turned to one side, one cheek pressing into the grass, he seemed to smile a little.
'Do you really mean that?'
'Oh yes,' I said, 'You're very beautiful.'
He smiled proudly at that. I could tell that my flattery had bolstered him. He badly needed to hear it too, because he really didn't realize how good looking he was. In a way, that was part of his attraction. There was a kind of sexual innocence about Spider that made him infinitely attractive. That was compounded by his inexperience, which was also inordinately arousing.
Galvanized by my kind murmurings, and reassured by my benevolent iterations, he settled himself on the grass, spreading out and relaxing. He folded his arms under his chin, as though he was sunbathing, and closed his eyes. Still sat astride him, I stroked his smooth back, rubbing him up and down with long, firm strokes, and I felt his warmth, squeezing the hard little muscles in his arms and shoulders, sheathed beneath that flawless young skin.
'Cloud?' he said, his eyes still closed.
'Yes?'
'Go easy on me.'
I bent down and kissed him on the back of the head, acknowledging his request, and as I did so, I moved my hips down and laid my pelvis on his butt. My hard little dick fell into the natural groove of his gorgeous butt, and I stabbed a few times looking for his hole. On the third attempt, I was inside him.
As my dick found its target, I used more force to penetrate as deep as I could. He seemed to tremble, and his mouth opened in a silent gasp of pain and shock as his hole felt the first sting of intrusion. But he didn't protest or recoil. My dick sought the increasing pleasure of his virgin snatch, digging deeply into his pelvis, and he bore my insistent stabbing with great fortitude. What I liked was that he even rotated his hips, to ease my thrusting into his little cunt and give me a better angle to fuck into him. He was a natural. Little nuances like that can't be taught - they're instinctive. Spider was a true fuckboy. I couldn't help thinking as I fucked him, increasing my pace, forcing my little dick in and out of his butt, reveling in the tightness of his hot virgin cunt, that Spider would have been very popular at The Saxon Club. His firm, round butt was perfect for a little shota action. He had natural good looks, and his skin was so smooth and flawless, men would have loved spunking all over him. Yup, Spider would have made an excellent shota boy.
My orgasm approached with frightening suddenness - probably after only a few minutes of stabbing my hairless little boydick deep into his cunt. I thrust my hips into his butt, still laying flat on top of him, and soon felt the welcome and familiar tightness of my dick going into ecstatic seizure. I knew it was going to be a good one. The intensity of my cums rose in direct proportion to the beauty of the boy I was fucking - and Spider was infinitely beautiful. I cummed real hard. My little dick pumped long and hard, sheathed deep inside him, pulsing against the tightness of the walls of his virgin snatch, ejecting my watery kidspunk into his creamy warmth. It felt like I spunked a hell of a lot. It must have been a hefty serving even for my immature little balls because his chute was flooded. My cum was so powerful, it felt like the very lifeforce was draining out of me with every pulse, and infusing into him through my over-inflated little cock. Fuck, it was exquisite.
After I had cum in him and emptied just about every last drop of my kiddie fuckjuice into him, I reluctantly lifted my butt and pulled out my saturated little fuckstick. It was sopping wet with the boyjizz I had just injected into him. I laid down on the grass next to him, slightly breathless. Spider turned over onto his back. He reached over and pulled me towards him so that I was lying across him, and we kissed for a while. That was a good sign. How your lover behaves AFTER you have made love is always a good indicator of their true feelings. Luckily, Spider was receptive and thankful towards me, and was obviously intent on drawing out these special moments as long as possible. He smiled submissively.
'Was I any good?' he murmured.
I kissed him gently on the lips.
'Out of this world,' I said.
That made him smile. I guess a compliment like that from an experienced shota boy like me was a big vote of confidence. But I meant it. As a boyfuck, Spider was sensational.
'How about you?' I asked.
He looked unsure, lowering his eyebrows.
'It wasn't like I expected,' he said.
'No?'
He broke into a sly smile.
'No... it was much, much better than that.'
He giggled playfully, and I closed in for another kiss. My hands were still feeling him up, stroking his chest and tummy, taking in the smoothness of his skin and the warmth of his still relatively inexperienced body. His little dick was hardening again and I massaged it in my fingertips as we cuddled on the grass. It was a beautiful afterglow hug, that left us both with contented smiles.
* * * * * *
We left at nightfall. When it came to saying goodbye, Kenni sent us off with Spider as our guide. We assembled above ground, amidst the devastation of the house which once stood there, and Kenni took me aside. He hugged me warmly and, I could tell, with great sincerity, and then turned to me with a serious expression, holding onto my forearms.
'Do something for me will ya?' Kenni said, plaintively, 'Get outta here safely. Get as far away as you can.'
And that was the last thing he said to me as we parted.
I knew that Scamp couldn't speak, but when it was time to say goodbye to Simon-Peter, he found an altogether ingenious way of saying his goodbyes which was more effective than words. He stepped back and held up his little hand, making a little sign with his fingers. It looked like his thumb, index finger and last finger all extended, and the two middle fingers folded down. It was obviously a symbol of some kind. I could see Simon-Peter smile. It seems he understood it immediately. He broke into a sweet smile and hugged Scamp in a very endearing little boy cuddle.
'I love you too,' he said.
It was so cute.
It was Spider who escorted us, in the dead of night, and at great personal risk to his own safety, towards the bridge over the railway track where we could jump the goods train. He took us under cover of darkness through the bombed-out streets, so that it soon became apparent how he had earned his nickname. He was quick and stealthy, and infinitely adept at climbing over things and squeezing through tight gaps. He led us across endless alleyways and through deserted goods yards. He led us underneath razor wire, through thick undergrowth and over high walls. We scurried across open fields and crawled between gaps in mesh fences. It must have been miles, well out of Spider's usual locality, and yet he knew exactly where he was going.
Finally, we reached our destination. It was a new and unfamiliar part of Verolino. Spider showed us onto the stone bridge which spanned the railway track, from there we could jump the goods train. He said the train would take us north. It terminated at the border. On the other side was Zachyna. We would then have to figure out how to get across. If we made it across the border, we would be in neutral territory and we would be safe. Spider had done so much for us. By the time we reached the bridge, I was almost sorry to say goodbye to him.
Standing on that bridge in the half-light, it was quite an emotional and profound scene. Spider stood facing us, the moisture on the surface of his big dark eyes glistened in the moonlight. Our shadows cast an eerie flicker on the ground, and we all said goodbye. And when we did, even he hugged us both and wished us luck. He hugged Simon-Peter, and then he hugged me, squeezing me tenderly and clasping me to him for a few seconds longer than he should, almost as if he didn't want to let me go. At that moment I felt a stab of love for this boy. Then he let me go, and held me out in front of him, his hands resting affectionately on my shoulders.
'Be lucky,' he said, and the look in his eyes told me that he meant it too.
'Thanks,' I said.
He let me go, and then turned to take his leave. But he had only gone a few paces when he stopped and turned. He came back towards us, delving into the hip pocket of his waistcoat, and brought out a bar of chocolate.
'Here,' he said, proffering the chocolate, 'Something to remember me by.'
I accepted it gratefully. It said HERSHEY'S in big letters on the wrapper, and I knew immediately it was contraband. Probably more rations purloined from the US Army. The chocolate bar was a little squashed and broken, but I stuffed it into my jacket pocket anyway, with a notion that Simon-Peter and I would enjoy it later. Spider gave me one last, brave smile, and then he turned and walked away. I watched him go with a twinge of sadness. I recalled our intimate moments together earlier, and wondered whether, in the height of the brief passion we shared, some unwritten agreement had been struck between us. Whether, perhaps by swallowing his kidspunk, and injecting mine into him, we had formed some ethereal bond. But what impressed on me the most was that even this boy, who had suffered such terrible wrongs, and had grown up so quickly in his short life, still had a semblance of compassion in him. He was probably never going to see us again, but he risked his life for us. You never forget kindness and courage like that.
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