Perilous Journey 15

PERILOUS JOURNEY - 15

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[Author's Note: Thanks for joining me on another adventure! I look forward to hearing from you and comparing thoughts. And, say, where would we be without Nifty...especially when the times are rough and the crazies are out in full force? Will you join me in making even a small financial contribution to the Archive in order to keep this site free and, as it has always been, an important part of our lives? Thanks again, friend!]

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, remember that maturity generally demands safe sex.

CHAPTER 15

(Revisiting Chapter 14)

After receiving a super wash and the tube containing the remainder of the shampoo, Johnny left with happy smiles and repeated thanks. When Scottie stopped by the Games Room on his way to supper, by the way, he was heard to mumble, "Glory of glories!" The notoriously uncomfortable, taciturn Johnny was giving the popular Ross Collins all he could handle in a vigorous game of ping-pong. Others were looking on - and there were just as many shouts for Johnny as for Hunter's younger brother. After supper, the lanky one sided up to the boss and whispered, "I really didn't believe there was anything 'special' about that shampoo when you mentioned it, boss, but it looks like the damned stuff works!"

(Continuing Our Story: Woody Harris et al.)

The sky was beginning to show color when Grant, Hunter, and Johnny joined Scott for his morning run. They wore shoes today, for the word was that they would leave the beach and explore the small valley in which the Lodge buildings were located. They were a little late leaving, for Scottie had taken Johnny off to the side and inquired whether he wanted to return to his room and pick up a jockstrap. (Truth was, the boss had never seen that much meat unsecured!) Turned out that the gangly one insisted on "roughing it" just like everyone else! In any case, halfway through the run, they were taking a breather at the top of quite a hill. Suddenly, Johnny motioned for Grant not to move a hair. Thank God he did as he was told, for Grant was leaning against a boulder only inches from an enormous rattler. In brief, Johnny reared back and dispatched the reptile with a pitch of a good-sized rock that would probably have resulted in the offer of a contract with the Phillies!)

After breakfast, the boss held the dead reptile up before the company, praised Johnny for his courage...and his pitching arm, and promised that the skin would be fashioned into a belt for the hero. No question about it, the gangly one was now viewed by one and all as a full-fledged member of the company! Scottie also noted that Woody Harris would probably be ready to leave the Saranac Lake hospital in the near future. Reminding the boys of what had happened to all of his buddies, he frankly asked them to share their thoughts on how they might help. Kip Pierce again thanked the guys for letting him join them rather than stay in the Ithaca hospital. Visibly shaken, he asked if Woody couldn't join them...adding that this might save his life. Having spent some of his work hours in the kitchen, he mentioned the high prices that were being charged for vegetable deliveries from town. Maybe they could save some of that money by planting a garden. Three or four more voices argued that they'd share their food rather than toss him out on the road! As the boys bused their breakfast dishes, Scott asked Hunter if he would "hold the fort" while Robbie and he went into Saranac Lake.

It was surely hard to tell whether the silvery-blond seventeen-year-old was defensive or just plain depressed. Maybe both... He might have opened up a bit with the hospital nurses, but the Thayers found him to be very...wary. Robbie finally struck something of a spark when he mentioned what had happened at his university, the difficulties encountered in departing the area, and the fact that so many parents and "best friends" were still missing. He was suddenly aware that the hand of the smaller lad had covered his own quietly and without seeming to move. A shudder ran through his body when he felt the hand move gently and catch the single tear that had involuntarily begun to slide down his face.

"Woody, let me get right to the point," Scott interjected. "Our family owns some property up here in the Adirondacks. I'm living there now with my son and some great guys I met when they were being hassled by some SOBs. Everyone has told me that he'd be real pleased if you'd join us." (Pause.) It was the New Yorker's turn to turn his face away, tremble for a moment, and then murmur, "Yeah" in a tear-filled voice. "Believe that I'll more than pull my share of the load, Dr. Thayer. Believe it! I don't know when they'll let me out of this place, but as soon as they do..." Interrupting, Scottie said emphatically, "The name is 'Scottie', youngster. "Further, you're not out of the woods yet. Those Cranberry Lake goons..." (Pause.) Scott let that comment drop, for he felt he needed the doctors' advice as to when the youngster should be told everything. "Your doctors still believe that you'd be better off out of here...as long as you take it real easy for a while. How about it?" Throwing the covers back, the blond made ready to climb out of bed. "Whoa, Big Guy!" Scott growled. "Your doctors want to talk with you first, give you some rules for the next couple of weeks, and stuff like that. What say I return here in about two hours and see what's what at that point?" The newest member of the Thayer Gang looked directly at the boss, flashed his fangs, snarled loudly - and dramatically drew the covers back over him. Scottie grinned as he vigorously ruffled the blond's hair before turning abruptly and leaving the room. 'A real cutie,' he thought.

(The Lowering Skies)

After speaking with one of the doctors at the hospital, Scott took less than 20 minutes to drive over to Lake Placid and park in the Police Station lot on Main Street. Still feeling great about how things had gone so far, Rob and he loped up the stairs and almost burst into the empty main room. He immediately noticed that the door to Ted McCoy's office was wide open. His boyhood friend was talking forcefully with Rick Anderson, the Adirondack Park Ranger whom he had met up at Cranberry Lake. McCoy noticed him first and waved him into the office.

"Hi, guys! What's up? Mind if Rob joins us?" Scott asked. "Hey, Rob!" the Chief greeted the younger Thayer. "I'm happier to see the two of you than you'll be to hear the news that Patterson has been sharing with me." Both Thayers looked at the two officers with raised eyebrows. "Try this on for size," the Ranger growled. "There have been twelve attempts to crash U.S.-Canadian border crossings at the ends of I-81 and I-87. One Canadian guard was wounded; one American Customs officials was killed; five American civilians were killed by border crossing personnel in self-defense. During the last forty-eight hours, there have been two murders in the Park. A pickup load of toughs was cornered by three State Police units on NY-3 and surrendered rather than face a shoot-out.

"Then we move to the really frightening stuff: Numerous Army units - regular and reserve - have mutinied and are closing the borders of New York State, including the southern tip of the state that lies below I-84. Other Eastern states are considering similar actions. The reports we have from earlier today tell us that these units are divided. Evidently, there's some fighting among themselves. There are also reports of widespread looting and attacks on civilians. Thus far, the various public safety organizations in New York State have shown little taste for joining them. To make matters a little richer, there is one report that the President - who is alive and well in his command center in Cheyenne Mountain in the Colorado Rockies - is close to ordering major elements of the Armed Forces to restore order in this part of the country. How's that for starters?"

"Dear God," Scottie gasped, "Dear God! What in hell can we do?" Ted replied, "Well, we're working on it, Scott, and we need your help. Starting today, local and state police, constables, sheriffs, the Federal Marshall's Service, and other Public Safety officers such as the Park Rangers have been meeting on secure internet facilities. We'll be continuing these conversations over the next few days. I'd like you to at least review the summaries and share your observations with me. Secondly, I'd like your permission for Public Safety officers and deputies to enter your property when tasked by legal authorities, this permission to expire on the restoration of law and order. Thirdly, while the Thayer properties are large, the core properties (i.e., from the north-south 'road' [earlier referred to more accurately as a 'trace'] and the 'road' into the Lodge, the small valley on which the Camp buildings stand and the peaks surrounding, plus Little Moose Lake and the lands immediately to its south) are more manageable. I think it's time to get some small patrols out in those areas so as not to be surprised. Finally, I think it's time that you and I talk further about Mt. Lily. Can do?" "Count on it, Ted". "In all fairness to you, Scott," Rick Patterson interjected, "I think we should mention one thought that is being kicked around by Public Safety. We're concerned about the people in the towns. The last thing we want to do is to turn the High Peaks Wilderness into a 'redoubt', i.e., a heavily fortified place for a last stand, but this is one card we can't afford to ignore." "I understand," Scottie said - and let it go at that. "By the way," the Ranger continued, "thanks again for your help with Woody Harris. I had a good conversation with his doctor who advised not saying anything about his friends at this time. Also, I got a very helpful statement from the young man. A real tragedy..."

"Well, we all have things to do, Scott," Ted McCoy said, his voice suggesting that the conversation was winding down. "Nevertheless, I should mention one more thing. I've got a youngster sitting in one of my jail cells. A black-and-white picked him up yesterday. Other than sleeping one night in the park, he'd done nothing wrong. Until things settle down, however, we're enforcing tighter vagrancy rules. He's a good kid, Scottie. I've known him as a camp counselor for almost three years. Bryce arrived here on the bus two days ago only to find that his camp had closed down due to the troubles. We've been unable to contact his parents or the camp operator. He's low on cash. I'd count it a real favor if you or Rob could stop by and see if there's anything you can do for him."

(To Be Continued)