The Warrior Part III
The usual cautions, precautions, copyright information, and other such things, such as this story contains sexual situations between consenting adolescent boys, it is copyrighted meaning please do not republish this story in any form without express written consent from, and attribution to the author, © Joe Writer Man.
If reading such material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then notice is given that you are reading at your own risk, and that © Joe Writer Man is held forever and completely harmless should any legal action be taken against you.
This is solely a work of fiction. Any semblance to any real live person is purely incidental and coincidental, and is a figment of the authors’ imagination.
The Warrior is a story I contrived to provide a background of Antoine Garza, a boy first introduced to “The Light” in chapter 48. He will play a very important role in the rest of the parent story “The Light”. As I previously eluded to... I love him to pieces. Thank you Antoine for allowing me to tell your story.
This is part 3 of 6 parts.
© Joe Writer Man
The following day Juan sent me on my last assignment. The assignment would be easy... he promised. I believed him. He deposited $30,000.00 into a US bank account – I watched him make the transaction.
I would be sent to a municipality named Isla de la Juventud, Cuba where I would pick up a ‘load’ and ‘carry’ it to Corpus Christi, Texas. He provided names of people I would meet along the way and he gave assurances that they were good people just doing their job.
When we arrived at the airport and just before walking into the terminal I did something I'd never done to a 'supplier'... I reached for a hug. He returned the gesture. I said, “I hope we get to see each other again... under different circumstances though.”
“I do too Antoine. I'm getting out of the business. I'm finished with doing wrong things. Some activities are just 'wrong'. Be safe kiddo. I'll watch your back.”
With that I walked into the terminal and then found customs and passed their security checkpoint.
I arrived in Corpus Christi, was taken to a 'safe place', a beach house on the north shore of Padre Island where I was gently purged just as Juan had done to me.
The bad part of the transaction: unknowing to Juan, I was ordered to do another 'run'. I had no choice in the matter. Oh I could have refused but I'd not be writing this account of my life. Instead, I would have just disappeared off the face of the earth, just like I'd heard accounts of by other youthful 'runners', and threatened with from dealers. Whether or not the stories were a ruse made no difference to me.
In any event, the 'load' consisted of 30 smaller packets (smaller than the ones my father gave to me to 'carry'). They were easily swallowed. I was careful to not touch them with my teeth.
The good thing is that the 'contact' person had taken me to a consulate where I was given a 'legal' United States birth certificate, other validation identification, and return ticket should I have chosen to use it. He promised me 'elite' status thereafter because I had proven myself to be loyal, consistent and dependable. My father was respected. (In hindsight... if only the contact 'really' knew the truth of my father... but I digress.)
Arriving in Corpus Christi, I went to customs because I had come from a foreign country. I showed them my birth certificate, my passport, my identification, and a calm and assured attitude.
They had a pair of dogs trained to sniff out drugs. As has been the case, the dogs were quite 'invasive'. One of the dogs stuck his nose into my butt hard, sniffed repeatedly, and then it began licking the seat of my pants, and then finally retreated but he stood at attention. I got nervous as hell. My pits got wet with perspiration. A bead of sweat furrowed its way to just above my eyebrows. My pulse quickened.
The security officer, seeing the dogs' reaction and my own reaction took me to a small alcove room where told me to strip to my underwear and submit to a body search. Of course my skin was clear of any evidence. A woman then entered the room.
“Our expertly trained dogs indicate a matter of concern. I am a doctor hired by and supported by the Department of Homeland Security. I will examine you. If all goes well then you will be escorted to our next checkpoint and allowed to proceed to your destination.”
She did not say what would happen to me if I were to fail. I could only imagine. I was on business so I wasn't really in a position to imagine anything. At the same time I wasn't too worried... mainly because I wasn't experiencing any urges to relieve my bowels. She did a body cavity search of my rectum with her trained finger, and then she, much to my consternation and embarrassment pulled down the front of my underwear. She gently pushed aside my complacent prong after examining it very carefully. I asked her what she was looking for. When she was finished, and after she found nothing of consequence she said, “Some boys have had their scrotum incised and filled with 'contraband'. I thought that to be odd but, from experience, knew that some dealers were ruthless and persistent.” I shuddered.
No worse for the wear I was permitted to get dressed and go on about my way.
The final checkpoint consisted of two more dogs trained in sniffing out explosives. I passed with flying colors. I was permitted to go to my destination gate.
Juan had given me a $100.00 currency. I was hungry so I went to a Cinnamon Sam restaurant where I ordered and subsequently ate a cinnamon roll and drank a large glass of milk.
When I arrived back at the gate they were boarding for Chicago. I'd not been permitted to view my tickets until that time. I'd not paid attention – which was a bad thing on my part.
We arrived several hours later at O'Hare airport where I was whisked off to a purge point, purged, and then I had to submit to yet another 'load'.
The same series of events occurred in New York City, Cleveland, Atlanta, Orlando, Denver, Salt Lake City and finally Los Angeles. Since I was flying on valid verifiable identification I was not subjected to strip searches, dogs, or by other mannerisms.
The 'people' in Los Angeles were different though. They were royal assholes. I was given, forced to ingest a massive 'load' – 45 small packets in total.
I was then put on a plane to Honolulu with instructions to meet a man named Chin Wu who would both purge me and provide yet another shipment of comparable content.
I wondered why Juan had lied to me. Whatever, you don't trust those in the 'occupation' no matter what they say. Words are words. Actions are actions. Truths are debatable, at times.
After we'd been airborne for one hour ten minutes I felt a tremendous urge to defecate. I was cramping like hell, my bowels were rumbling, I felt nausea, my head felt like it was going to explode, and I felt hot liquid building up against that muscle that keeps things in under normal circumstances. When I began sweating profusely, when my temples were pounding like a hammer was beating them to death, when my vision began to blur I thought only the worst possible scenario. I remembered what Juan had said about 'runners' having ruptured product. I was afraid I was going to die.
At about the same time, when my endurance was questionable, a steward made his rounds checking on passengers. He noticed my distress. He called a stewardess. The stewardess felt that I was experiencing air sickness.
When I felt my hole begin to leak, I quickly asked them if they had any large baggies that had the capability of being sealed. They said they didn't. The were perplexed why I would need such a thing so in the absence of that I grabbed up barf bags, and then with their assistance I headed into the restroom, closed and locked the door, got my pants and underwear down and sat on the toilet, arranged the bag then released enough methane gas to fuel the airplane enough that would allow it to fly to any destination in the world. Thankfully those steel toilets in airplanes have a trap door on them because I had to use two of the barf bags for purposes of retaining the 'stuff' to sift through for product. Once the gas passed the cramps began. I had never before had anything happen like that ever before. Soon, thankfully, solids began pumping out of me which immediately relieved my distress. Assured that I was finished, I wiped up, pulled my pants to their intended position, zipped up then buttoned everything closed. Carefully, I looked through the mud and muck then finding no trace of any product, I flushed (twice), then after washing my hands thoroughly returned to my seat.
After the plane landed in Honolulu, I was met by a Chinese man who gruffly grabbed me by my underarm and pulled me away from the disembarking passengers. Quickly, I took his finger, squeezed its web space with maybe 10 percent, no more, of my strength. Immediately he let go with a pain induced scowl on his face, and with a different attitude. He was not a nice guy, and was persistent. Next he put his arm around my shoulders and when it was in a position HE wanted it to be in, he squeezed the muscle going from my neck to my shoulder. “Accidentally” I stepped on his foot with the ball of mine. He released me quickly. All of this happened with neither of us saying a single word to each other or to anyone else. Nobody looked at us with any concern or suspicion.
When we arrived at the extraction point, he once again put his arm around my shoulders but this time he did not squeeze. He was just reminding me of my place in life with him, which was like a package in a supermarket that meant nothing to anyone other than the person unpacking it. No problem, I was used to it by then.
Because I had prepared myself naturally on the plane the initial portion of the extraction went well however things got very, uhm what is the right thing to say here? Forced? Brutal? Yeah, both.
Finally, I could take no more of the irrigation procedures, forceps and brutal manual methods he was using. “I must rest. I must walk around for a while.”
Quickly, I rolled onto my side then off of the bed. I walked into the bathroom, tore off a wad of paper and cleaned up the best I could without taking a shower. He followed me in as he should have. I peed, I had to. There would be no discussion.
While I was peeing he started laughing hysterically and pointing to my fully elongated maleness. The way he laughed and the way he pointed at me … well … I took it as an insult to my honor as a man. But I did nothing; I just took it all in. I am not a fighter. I am a defender. Defense of honor does not require retaliation – such retaliatory action is childishness.
When I finished peeing, while I was washing my hands he grabbed me from behind then held me against the large expansive sink, definitely against my will. Once again the ball of my foot landed squarely on the top of his. He howled in pain, but nothing was broken, nothing was intended to be broken … but it was enough for him to release his hold.
Very calmly, I turned around looked him directly in his eyes then said, “There will be no more of that. We both have a stake in what we are doing. You need me. I need you. Let’s get this over so we can each go our separate ways. You hurt me... I will definitely hurt you. Are we clearly understood?”
Chin barely nodded but his motion was enough for me to understand that he understood.
I had no urge to release anything more from my hidden place after walking around his apartment naked with him watching me lustily for a little over half an hour. Much to his dismay I reached for my clothing and began getting dressed. “I’m going to the beach to walk around. This is not cutting it.”
He started bitching and complaining. When I got tired of him whining I said “Shut up asshole. I know when I have to go and when I do not. I am going for a walk on the beach. Would you care to follow me?”
That said I left the extraction room, headed for the door then bounded down the stairway and began walking toward the beach. Asshole caught up with me in a flash but stayed a respectful enough distance away so as to not draw any attention from people walking along the sidewalk. Just to fuck with this guy, I sprinted down to the next intersection, stopped and waited for him to catch up. He was panting, and he was sweating. The scowl was now largely wiped from his face.
Very slowly, very carefully he brought his face up so that his mouth was directly in front of my ear then said quietly “Stop fucking with me. I will slice you open.” That said, he brandished a fishing filet knife and laid it across my stomach just above the waist band of my pants. I looked down and saw the point of it lying in my innie belly button but did not notice anything wrong until he took the blade away. It had a trace of blood on it. Mine. At the sight of my own blood, I tensed up, my senses became hypersensitive and I felt the blood coursing through my veins … yet I was able to restrain myself. We had two hours to get those packets out of me else they would begin dissolving – and kill me – and there would be nothing I could do to stop it from happening.
“We have an understanding. I must walk more though. I am not yet ready.”
He nodded then grinned. If I were a fighter then he would have surely been hung up as a decoration on top of the nearest palm tree. His grin was utterly disgusting.
After walking another mile down the beach, we reached Ala Moana Park which sprawls along two city blocks. I turned to Chin then said “The time is near, we must go now.”
By the time we arrived back at the hotel, I was cramping very similarly to what it was like on the airplane. Once the door was open I started tearing clothes off until I was naked. I jumped up on the table then started unloading just as he got the pan in place beneath my butt.
When the cramps ceased, when I felt totally empty, when I started to get up to clean myself, he said “There is one more to go.”
I got up and off of the table anyway. I walked to where he put the other bags and carefully counted all the baggies. I counted 29 bags, not counting the one bag in his tightly closed fist that he did not know I saw. The baggies are oblong. I am unable to hide one in my hand since I have small hands, comparatively speaking. This man has equally small hands. He just about convinced himself the baggie was entirely concealed; only he did not know that a tiny corner of one presented. The white baggie is a dead giveaway, a very stark contrast to the color of his skin.
“No sir, our business nearly complete. Do not dishonor yourself by lying to me.” I said very calmly as I walked toward him.
When I arrived in front of him I said very calmly “Open your hand or I will open it for you if that is what you want me to do.”
“I ought to gut you like a pig but I will not. Get your things. Get out of here.”
This job was much different than the previous ones in that I would be collecting payday for my father. The contact in Corpus Christi only told me this as I boarded the flight for Honolulu. I had said, “I have never taken a payment before. I have never been alone with a buyer either.” But my complaints were all to no avail. He told me “You have proven your worthiness Antoine. Your father is waiting. Go. Bless you.”
“Our business is not finished.” I said evenly while looking Chin directly into his eyes. His soul was very dark, almost opaque but not quite.
Suddenly realizing I did not even know how much to collect, I became worried. I did not want to disappoint my father, or at least I did not want to disappoint him any more than he already was, remembering his talk to me before I left on this journey.
Chin was smart. I will give him credit for that even though he was stupid in every other way. He read me like a book, he saw my doubt, and he saw uncertainty passing through my eyes.
*-* Meanwhile in the Garza hotel room on the Waikiki strip *-*
Maria: Armando, where is our son? He should have been here hours ago. He will be hungry.
Armando: He will be along soon. This is a test for him. He is Mr. Big Man in his own eyes. Here is his test. Be quiet now mother of my son.
Maria: He is your son too. He is but a boy. Let him grow up Armando. He will only be a child once.
Armando: Be quiet woman.
Maria: If he dies then God will kill your soul. You will carry his blood on your hands. I will divorce you. You will die alone.
Armando walked over to Maria then raised his hand angrily to slap her but she said, “Armando, if you touch me so help me I will kill you, and if you kill me then Antoine will kill you. I swear it. He will search the world for you then you will meet your fate. I will laugh at you from my grave.”
Armando: You are nothing woman. Without me you are worthless. Without me you have no son. He is abnormal Maria. You know I treat you right in that way, in every way.
Maria: You do nothing but hurt that child whenever and however you can. You always have. What is wrong with you? You embarrass him to his friends.
Armando: <Screaming> I KNOW WHAT IS RIGHT AND JUST FOR MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD, WOMAN. YOU WILL OBEY ME. YOU WILL SHUT UP. YOU WILL NOT DISRESPECT ME! I COMMAND YOU TO STOP.
That said Maria went into the room they shared at night. Crying she put her head into the pillow filled with distraught, defeat and dismissal.
Armando entered the room, stripped his clothes off then pushed his wife onto her stomach. He ripped whatever dignity that she might have had away from her in every way. Finished, he dressed quietly, left the hotel room where he had defiled his wife. He strode down the sidewalk purposefully, with intent, with malice yet with a determination to shut his wife up once and for all.
Arriving at the extraction point, he knocked on the door loudly, viciously and without any regard for people who may have been trying to sleep, or making love to their mate, or the various other things that vacationing people do behind closed doors.
Thinking quickly on my feet as I had been taught to do, as has been demanded of me, I said “Pay me now. If you do not pay me then you will pay my father.”
Very calmly, with an air of glibness Chin said, “How much do I owe you?” Then he started laughing that sick and sadistic laughter.
An incredulous look passed over Chin’s face then shock registered then disgust then anger then rage. Within his rage he walked to me then stood in front of my face and screamed spraying spittle all over me, “You know not what of you ask. You will take one hundred thousand. Take it to your father. Tell him I spat in his face.”
With that he spat in my face.
Every fiber in my being wanted to attack. Spitting in a man's face is the ultimate disregard and disrespect and dismissal. But then I stood down realizing I was but a child. It is the way of honor to respect elders no matter what.
The words of my Sensei rang through my mind, “Do not use money for life. You are a defender not an offender. You are not a slave to money. Show your true honor. Stand your ground, be assertive but respectful.”
“That is not acceptable.” I said to Chin as I met him face to face, nose to nose, chin to chin. I felt fire. I felt on fire. No, not hot fire, no not pain fire. No, no I was sucking his rage and anger into me. Quickly I stepped back in a defensive stance, assumed a position of aggression. My Sensei’s voice once again said, “Do not strike in anger. Be calm. Experience peace and tranquility; bring peace, joy, not anger, not rage, and not death when you are disrespected.”
Without question, doubt or fear I said to Mr. Wu, “One million dollars.” I said calmly but assertively.
“You are a weakling, BOY.”
With that he lunged with a twirl, focused, exacting, avenging my challenge of authority, avoiding conflict with a mere child by asserting power and reining terror and strength.
Easily, I stepped aside. He landed on his feet yet not before crashing into the brick wall behind me.
Quicker than lightening, he lashed out striking me hard in the gut knocking me to the floor.
I disregarded the normal panic a human experiences by having their breath knocked away. I sprang to me feet and met his next blow aimed toward my head with a swift kick to the inside of his thigh. He landed on the floor. I stepped aside, out of his direct line of fire as he did a spinning top in an effort to bring me to his level. I smiled. Smiling is the worst thing you can do to a fellow warrior in offense. The blow I delivered was not meant to be fatal -or- worse yet: disabling.
He sprang forth. His speed was faster than lightening. It was faster than I anticipated. He performed a dishonorable jump kick to my head. I failed to reach his ankle. I had decided to disable this attacker. Add to that: his next move fooled me.
With lightening speed and using a skill I had never before seen I found myself face down on the floor with him on top of me. I could not move because he had both my arms and legs held together like toothpicks. I was about to break under his pressures. The silhouette of his reining supremacy over my mortal body shocked me. Not only was he ready to deliver a lethal blow, he was also poised with his filet knife. I was resigned to be 'dead meat'. I knew I would be filleted into small bite sized chunks and then tossed to the sharks.
His momentum was however stopped short. Very loud, angry, rage filled and repetitive knocks on the door interrupted his concentration but for a second. In a millisecond, probably less, I was able to break from his hold. The first thing I did was to raise up just far enough to knock the filet knife from his hand. It landed 3 paces away. The next was to spin like a torpedo to where he was sitting on my belly. Quickly I reached up and put my thumb into his eye socket. With determination but with a sense of restraint I pushed my thumb up and inward very hard yet not hard enough to kill him though I could have very easily.
The door continued to be pounded. Yet, Mr. Wu wasn't finished with his assault... or so he thought. He wormed away out of my hold and then with his full body weight behind him he came in for the kill. Instead of connecting with my neck... with very little effort I deflected it. Not only did I deflect it but he was in such a position that I could, and did toss him into the air in an arc. While he was up and flying I stood up quicker than he could land. I punched him in the sternum. The sound of crunching bone was easily heard.
He screamed with agony at the connection.
Meanwhile the incessant knocking on the door demanded immediate attention so since I was standing and he wasn’t I went to the door looked through the peep hole and when I saw it was my father, I opened the door to let him in.
“Poco, why are you so long with answering the door?” My father asked as he pushed past me then when he saw Chin on the floor he turned around to look at me. “Why is he on the floor? He is our main contact here on the islands you stupid fool.”
My heart dropped from my chest then it landed on my feet. I took a step back. I looked to the door that remained open. I took one step forward. I was met by my father's unbridled rage.
I said to the man who had sired me, “Do not force me to defend my body, my father. I love you. I respect you. I owe it to you, my father.”
My father raised his arm, doubled his fist, and took one step toward me. I assumed a defensive stance. Yet, when I went to garner my warrior strength, stamina, concentration, acute vision, acute hearing and the impetus to strike out... I felt weak. I knew he would pummel me to the ground... and perhaps kill me.
Tears sprang from my eyes thus blurring my vision. I felt myself go into pure unadulterated kill mode. I said to my father, the man who I'd loved from birth, “Do not do it father.”
He hesitated. I stood down. The moment had arrived. I had told my father what to do.
My father smiled. Calmly he said, “Go. Get out of here. You are weak. I will not kill my own son though you deserve to be dead. You are dead poco. You are nothing to me.”
With that he walked up, stuck his face in mine then spat angrily striking me face with burning venomous spittle fluid. I said to my father as he stepped away thus clearing my exit from the hotel room, “You are dead to me. You are wise by not striking me. I will leave now. I will go to my mother. She permits me to honor and respect her. If she is hurt or dead... I promise you father: I will search you down. When I find you, you will be dead.”
“You are a weakling. You have dishonored Mr. Wu. Go to your momma. Hold her coat tails. You cannot stand on your own two feet. Go on. Get out of here before I reconsider.”
With a calm terror he said, “Remember poco, I brought you into this world. I can take you out just as fast. Now GO. BE RID OF YOURSELF!”
“I love you father. Good bye.” I said then headed back down to the beach where I had walked earlier in the evening. Arriving at the park, I lay on one of the picnic tables then wept deeply. When my weeping was finished I got up then ran to the hotel they were staying in.
My mother met me at the door. She looked terrible, as if she had been crying – yes, she was still crying then let loose when I took her into my arms. I held her tightly as she wailed her pain and frustrations out.
As if a light turned on in her head, she pulled away then looked me in the eyes and said, “I am sorry son. I am selfish. Ohh Poco, I am so glad to see you. But you have to go. Your father is so angry at you. He just called cursing me for giving birth to you. I have some money. Let me get it.”
She released herself from my arms then went into her room. Soon, she returned with a wad of bills in her hands then stuffed them into my pants pockets. She kissed me on my mouth then pushed me out the door and into the world. She slammed the door shut. I heard her scream. I beat on the door pleading, crying and wailing to let me inside to comfort her. There was no answer but I heard her crying.
Those were the last words I heard directly from my mother.
I went in search of my father. I tossed the words of my Sensei from my mind with causal disregard and dismissal. This man, he who calls me his bastard, has hurt my mother. He will pay. He will pay with his life. I swore to God with a solemn oath. I crossed my heart.
I arrived back at Wu’s suite. He was gone. My father was gone. The product was gone. I checked each and every room. They were empty. On the spot, I aborted my mission to find and kill my father. God forgive me.
I was a bad son. I dishonored him in some way. He said so. He was always right.
With contrition in my heart, wandering aimlessly on the streets, cold, hungry, desperate and destitute I stopped by a church, found the door was unlocked then opened it only to find the inside was totally dark save for a few votive candles slightly lighting the tall ceilings. I immediately felt at home though. I wanted darkness to surround me. This was the place.
I walked down to the front of the members’ pews, genuflected reverently then knelt down gathered my strength... but strength was elusive. After a moment to steal my reserves, I cried out in despair, “Dear Jesus, please give me strength to obey my father and mother as a good son should do. I have tried but I fail every time <I wailed my pain into the darkness>. Please show me how to be a good son as were you. I am sorry for my tears. It is a sign of weakness. I am sorry for being weak. Please give me strength and knowledge to be a good boy. Please make my dad proud of me. I am sorry but I have sinned from lust. I promise I will use pepper. I will use lots of it. I will rub my penis hard to make it raw and sore then I will put the pepper on it. I promise. Please forgive me. Amen.”
I was sobbing, intermittently wailing, then sobbing some more in my pain, in my loneliness, in my shame, in my guilt, in my hatred of myself, in pleading for my father to love me and for my God to forgive me.
With total and complete and utter despair pervading each and every pore of my being, I closed my eyes.
Sometime later I awoke to a presence. I felt comforted. And I felt strong. And I felt loved. And I felt accepted. And, for a few seconds, I felt safe.
“Thank you Jesus. I will go now and be a good son to be proud of knowing that I will honor my parents no matter what I think.”
I broke down sobbing again when I felt the hands of my Creator wrap my shoulders in a protective, strength building and comforting hug.
Those arms pulled me in and held me firmly, lovingly, and with strength I had never before known. Easily I fell to sleep.
*** To be continued
If you have comments please contact me at kc.joe.wtr at Gmail.com. My story website is Joe Writer Man Parent Website. Come visit sometime. There is some additional information here for my stories, including some pictures of my characters.