Date: Sun, 19 Sep 2021 11:29:48 +0000 From: Isuccum Subject: What Came Next 4 What Came Next A sequel to `The Valley Cottage' If you are enjoying this story then may I request two things? Firstly, you show some gratitude by giving our Hosts, Nifty, a small gift. Just hit the donate button on the home page and follow the instructions from there. Secondly, please take a few moments to write to me and share your thoughts on my story. Write to: isuccum@protonmail.ch Thanks Rick Chapter 4 I left the house without telling either of my parents I was going. I knew that was breaking a rule and a promise I had made to them. But I was afraid they would stop me from going, and I had to find out if Martin was alright. I rode as fast as I could until I got close to Martin's house. I didn't want to risk being seen by anyone else in his family. I thought his sister might be at home and wasn't sure if she would tell her parents I had been around or not. Close to their house was a little cul-de-sac, and I rode down that to where there was a street light. I chained my bicycle to the post and then walked through a little public right-of-way between two houses and onto a path that passed behind Martin's house. They had a gate in their back fence onto the path, because they enjoyed going for walks in the wilderness behind their house. I knew they would be very upset if whoever owned the land gave it up for a housing development. That seemed to be happening a lot. The government had set targets for building new houses, and this had made open land go for a premium price. Dad had mentioned that he could get more selling off a portion of our farm than he could get from the farm's production in ten years. But neither he nor Mum had any intention of selling off any land. When I reached Martin's house, I tried looking at the upstairs windows. I knew whose room each window belonged to and was hoping to see movement only in Martin's room, but I didn't see movement anywhere. I studied the house for quite a long time and didn't see any sign of anybody being there. I tried to phone Martin but couldn't hear his phone ringing, and again it went straight to voicemail. The gate was locked, but I was able to climb over it easily. I kept my eyes on the house, seeing nothing to indicate there was anybody at home. I tried the back door and it was locked, so I walked around to the side of the house and saw the shed where Martin and I had been caught by his dad. Looking through the windows on that side, I saw no one. I walked over to the shed. I knew the shed wouldn't be locked; there was no way to lock it. I didn't expect to find anything; I just wanted to relive the memories of what we had been doing before we were stopped. By the time I got to the shed I had begun to smile, and my shorts were tented in testament to the fun we had been jolted out of. I opened the door and looked in to see if the paddling pool was still there with the oil. As I looked in, I caught my breath and then ran the few steps to where Martin was lying curled up on the floor, naked. His whole body was black and blue. His face was a mess, and padlocked around his neck was a chain that passed through a hole in the shed wall. I knelt down beside him and softly called his name. There was no response. I gently shook his shoulder and got no response. I was afraid he might be dead, but I found a weak pulse in his neck. The shock stopped me from crying out in anger or collapsing into tears. Instead, I got out my phone and called my dad. "Dad, Martin's been beaten and seems to be unconscious. He's chained up in the shed. What should I do?" I said in one breath, not giving Dad any chance to answer. "First, get yourself off that property. Go out and wait on the street for me. While you wait, call 999 and ask for police and an ambulance. I will be on my way as quick as I can. But get off that property now," Dad said. I could hear an urgency in Dad's voice, perhaps a bit of panic. From the other noises coming over the phone I could tell that he was running back to our house from wherever he had been. I saw some old sacks in the corner of the shed and spread a couple of them over Martin, then did as Dad had told me. I quickly moved out onto the street in front of their house and called emergency. I told the person what I had found and that we needed police and paramedics. Dad arrived before the ambulance did. He pulled up on the side of the road in his pick-up. He got out and picked up a pair of bolt-cutters from the back of the truck. I was ready to take him to the shed there and then. He told me that we had to wait for the police, but he doubted they would have bolt-cutters, which was why he had brought some. The ambulance arrived before the police and Dad waved them down. As he was explaining to them what they were likely to find the police arrived, and Dad told them what he knew as well. He also explained why he had the bolt-cutters. The police thanked him for thinking of them, then had me lead them all to the shed. As I opened the door I told them I had put the sacks over him to try and warm him up. The paramedic entered first and lifted the sacks. The expression on his face showed both shock and disbelief. The police sergeant who seemed to be in charge said they needed to get a couple of photographs first. He turned his bodycam on then moved in to take photographs with his mobile phone. He took a close up of the chain and padlock around Martin's neck. "Do you think it would be best to remove this before you treat him?" he asked the paramedic. "Yes. It's not tight enough to strangle him, but getting it off will make it easier for us to move him and check him out," the medic replied. Dad passed the bolt-cutters to the sergeant when he held his hand out in an unspoken request. He quickly but carefully cut through the shackle of the lock and released the chain. As soon as that was off the medic began to check Martin over without moving him at all. He felt for a pulse first and then began to feel down his body. I guessed he was checking for broken bones. "Would you mind speaking out loud with what you find, please? I've got my bodycam on recording everything and it might be helpful to both of us if we've got something to refer to later," the sergeant requested. "Okay. The victim has a very shallow and weak pulse, and he is still breathing. I'm now checking for broken bones before I move him into a better position to check his injuries," the medic said. He continued for a while longer in silence and then said, "There don't seem to be any fractures, although we can't rule out cracked ribs with this level of bruising and swelling. My colleague and I are now going to try to move him onto his back with his legs straight." They gently rolled Martin. As they did so, his legs straightened on their own. Dad had disappeared after taking the bolt-cutters back off the policeman, and I thought he had gone to lock them in his truck. But he arrived back with them still in his hand, and told the constable that the chain was tied around a fence pole behind the shed. The sergeant instructed the constable to go and get a picture of it and then to untie the chain and pull it out the shed so that they could take it in as evidence. When the constable came back to the front of the shed he was told to get my statement. "And make sure his father is present the whole time. I don't want any chance of us getting into any shit because of this." The constable led us a short way from the shed. "Rick, you're going to have to tell them what you were doing in the shed the other day, so they understand how you happen to be here today. I'll be with you and support you while you do it," Dad told me. I began by telling them that we had expected to be alone all day and for the night, but Martin's parents had come home early. I then stammered a bit as I explained what we were doing in the shed. I told them about being sent inside to get my things and then having to go out to the road to wait for Dad while Martin was told to wait in the shed for his father. I told them about trying to phone Martin and leaving him text messages on his phone but not getting any reply for the rest of Saturday, Sunday and Monday morning. I said that I decided to ride here and see what I could find out, and that's how I came to find him in the shed. The constable made notes of it and then said they would need me to go down to the station to make and sign a formal statement. Dad said we would do that whenever the police were ready for me. With that done, I went back to the shed to find them lifting Martin onto a stretcher, ready to be loaded into the ambulance. They had a drip going into him and an oxygen mask on his face. "Is he going to be alright?" I asked. "We don't know yet. We think he's not had any food or water for a day or two. We will have to do scans and other tests once we get him to hospital," the medic answered. Turning to the police sergeant he said, "He's been severely beaten, and not just once. Some of the bruises are clearly older than others. We have no way of knowing what is keeping him unconscious and what other internal injuries he might have. The tests at the hospital will show us that, hopefully." As they wheeled the stretcher towards the ambulance the sergeant asked us for what details of his family we could provide. Dad and I gave them as much information as we could. I asked Dad if I could go to the hospital with him. "Son there is not much point in you coming with him now," the medic said. "As soon as we get him in, he'll be wheeled from one place to another as they do the different tests. I would suggest you go home and come into the hospital at visiting time this afternoon. By then they should have found out what to do and begun his treatment. We are taking him to Queens Hospital in Romford. They are a good neuro hospital, and he might need that more than anything else." Dad thanked the medic and put his arm around my shoulders. "Martin's in good hands now. I'll get Mum to run you into the hospital later. Now where is your bicycle?" "It's in the cul-de-sac back there," I said, pointing toward the side road. We got into the car, Dad turned it around, and we took off, turning into the cul-de-sac. Dad pulled up next to the lamp post, and I got out and unlocked my bike. Dad picked it up and put it in the back, and we set off to go home. When we got there, Dad explained to Mum what I had found and why he had dashed off so quickly. He also told Mum that he had promised me she could take me to the hospital later. I was expecting to get told off for not letting them know in advance what I was going to do, but with all the things happening, they didn't say a word about it. Maybe that would come later, I thought. I wasn't worried, because I knew that something good had come out of it, and it might even have saved Martin's life. I was so anxious I didn't even think to call Tom up and tell him what had happened. I just moped around waiting until Mum was ready to take me to the hospital. She had phoned up and got the visiting times and tried to see if she could learn anything about Martin's present condition. As she wasn't family, they refused to tell her anything. At last Mum told me it was time to go. I dashed out to the car. I didn't need to do anything to get ready; I had been ready for several hours by that time. It took us about half an hour to get to the hospital, and it seemed like that long again before we could find a parking space. Mum knew the layout of the hospital a bit from previous visits and led me to the hospital reception. She asked them to direct us to the ward that Martin was on. The receptionist looked it up on the computer and asked if we were family. "No, my son and Martin are best friends. It was my son who found him this morning," Mum told the lady. "I'm not sure if they'll let you see him then. It says that he is under police guard," the receptionist said. "We'd like to at least try," Mum told her, and we were given directions. Martin was in a private ward, and the constable who had been at the house was sitting outside the door. He stopped us and told us he would have to get permission from the detective investigating the case first. He unclipped his radio from his uniform and began to talk into it. Having been at the house, he was able to vouch for me, and the detective said we could see Martin, but the constable was to be with us and take a note of anything we said that might help the case. I was nervous as we walked in as I didn't know what to expect. Martin was looking a bit better, but I couldn't tell if he was awake or not because both his eyes were swollen shut with heavy bruising. He did at least have a hospital gown on and a light sheet and blanket over him. I walked up to the side of the bed and put a hand lightly on top of his as I said his name. "Martin?" He turned his head toward my voice and said, "Hi, Rick." I felt an immediate sense of relief. Martin was conscious and recognised my voice. Of course, at fourteen I didn't realise the full importance of that until it was explained to me later. But not knowing didn't stop me from being relieved. "I'm so glad you're awake now. Mum's here with me too," I said. "Hello, Martin. I hope you are not in too much pain," Mum greeted him. "Hi. I think they've given me some pretty strong pain stuff. It makes me feel a bit odd, but it helps," Martin said. "Have they told you what's all wrong with you?" I asked. "No. I think I'm just bruised, but I can't see anything and I hurt all over," Martin said. "You can't see because you've got a couple of shiners that would make any rugby player proud. The swelling is blocking your eyes up," I told him. "I'm guessing that will go down fairly soon and you'll be able to see a bit, at least," Mum added. "Do you know who did this to you?" I asked. I didn't know if the police had been able to question him at all, but I thought it would give him a chance to tell us if he didn't know there was anybody else but me and Mum. "Who do you think? Dad did it. He came back in after telling me to stay there. He had a piece of wood that he hit me with. He kept shouting that no faggots were welcome in his house. I don't know, I guess I passed out after about the fiftieth hit, because I woke up later on. I was cold, and when I tried to get up I found there was a chain around my neck, but it was dark and I couldn't see anything else. I guess I slept out there for the night, because I got woken up by Dad coming in again. He peed on me and then began to hit me again. I tried to shout, but he just slapped my mouth with his hand and hit me some more times with the wood. I tried to make myself as small as I could in the corner, but he dragged me out and kicked me a couple of times and said this was all a faggot was good for. He left me after a bit, and I was able to look around and saw that the chain around my neck went through a hole in the wall. I tried to pull on it, but it wouldn't move. I was cold and very hungry. I tried to call out but found that hurt too much. I tried to reach the sacks but the chain stopped me. I curled up and tried to go to sleep because there was nothing else I could do. I was sore but I managed to go to sleep again. I got woken up by dad with his bit of wood again and when I tried to get into the corner he just hit me on the head and I don't remember anything after that," Martin said. "Well, you're in hospital now, and there's a policeman making sure you're kept safe," Mum said. "How will he know who my father is, though? They can't let him get in here!" Martin was panicking. "The policeman had to get his officer's permission to let Mum and me in. I'm sure he will do the same for anyone else," I said. "Young man, I can tell you now that both your parents are at the police station helping them with their inquiries. I doubt they will be allowed to leave to visit you," the policeman said. "Especially after I let them know you have identified your father as the person who assaulted you." "But what about my mother and my sister? They didn't come in the shed and beat me, but they didn't stop Dad doing it, either," Martin said. "The police investigators are very experienced and good at getting at the truth. Until they are sure your mum and sister are not a threat to you, they will not be allowed to come through the doors to your room. My colleagues and myself will make sure of that. We already have pictures of them and have been told that they cannot enter the room under any circumstances unless the DCI gives his permission. Our jobs are on the line if we don't obey that order, so be assured you will not have to face them until we know you are safe in their presence," the constable told Marin. I stayed with Martin for some time. Mum said she would go down to the café for a coffee and would be back to fetch me near the end of visiting times. Once Mum had gone, the constable moved back outside the room but left the door open a crack, so he could still hear what was being said inside the room. I learnt later that he was texting the inspector about everything Martin had told us. Mum came back into the room about half an hour later and told me it was time to be getting home. She spoke to Martin and told him that if he needed anything he should let me or my parents know and we would do what we could. She also told Martin that I would be in to see him the next day if he was still in hospital. What I didn't know was what she had got up to while having her cup of coffee.