Date: Thu, 23 Jan 2003 15:50:58 -0500
From: Jeff Allen <jeff_allen15@hotmail.com>
Subject: Love of a Lifetime - Part 32

This is a fictional story dealing with love and consensual sexual
activities between males.  If you are not of legal age, reside in an area
where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by homosexuality
and/or homosexual themes, leave this site now.

The author retains all rights to this story.  No reproductions or links to
other sites are allowed without the permission of the author.

Note: I owe a special thanks to Robb for doing the final proofreading and
catching all those silly little errors that I missed.

LOVE OF A LIFETIME


PART 32

     Doc and Matt are early risers like me, so after a quick cup of coffee
the three of us along with Larsen set out for a run before breakfast.  We
stretched out in the driveway next to the house while Larsen, who never did
any warm up exercises, pranced around impatiently.  As we started down the
driveway toward the road, Larsen suddenly bolted ahead and began barking
furiously.

     We jogged up to the end of the drive.  Larsen was sitting by Doc's
mailbox alternately barking and whining.  I jogged over to take a look at
what had him so upset.

     It took a couple of seconds for my brain to process everything.  The
body was lying off the road so that you almost had to be at the mailbox to
see him.  It was a dark haired young man about my age.  He was naked.  One
arm was twisted around behind him in an unnatural angle.  Dark bruises
showed against his unnaturally pale skin around his wrists, ankles, and
neck.  His eyes were open and staring sightlessly up at the sky

     I fell to my knees.  Larsen came over and whined as he licked my face.

     My mind registered Matt's voice, "Oh Sweet Jesus, it's Roger Hall!"

                       **********

     The next several hours were a blur.  It seemed like every sheriff's
deputy in the county was there in a matter of minutes after Doc's call.
DeShuan McMillan showed up shortly after the sheriff's deputies.  Next the
crime scene experts and the coroner arrived.  We shut Larsen up in the
upstairs bedroom to keep him out of everyone's way.

     Doc, Matt, and I answered the same questions over and over again about
finding Roger's body.  Head Coach Schroeder came out after Matt called him.
He and Matt talked with the cops about Roger.  The incident between Roger
and Brad Miller came up, and one of the sheriff's deputies was sent to go
pick up Brad for questioning.

     I overheard the coroner telling DeShuan that it looked like Roger had
been dead for about twenty-four hours.  The apparent cause of death was
strangulation, but it appeared that Roger had been beaten at least a couple
of times before he was killed.  The coroner said that it looked like the
murderer had washed Roger's body before dumping it next to Doc and Matt's
mailbox.  He was going to do the autopsy right away and promised to contact
DeShuan as soon as it was completed.

     Coach Schroeder called a team meeting for late that afternoon.
DeShuan and a couple of other investigators were going to be there to talk
to the guys on the football team to see if they could uncover any clues
about the killer.

                       **********

     Larsen and I got back to the apartment about four in the afternoon.
Word about Roger's killing had spread fast.  Justin, Megan, and Cory were
already at the apartment when I got there.

     They all hugged me.  I felt the beginnings of tears of frustration and
fear.  I knew if the gates on my tear ducts opened, there would be no
shutting them off.  My friends were very solicitous, but I really wanted to
be by myself at that moment.  I went into my room, closed the door, and
just stared at the walls remembering Roger Hall's dead eyes staring up at
the clear blue sky that he would never see again.

     Jason came by after the team meeting.  His eyes were red from crying.
He and Cory sat next to each other on the couch holding hands as Jason told
us about the team meeting.  Coach Schroeder told them about Roger, although
most of the guys had heard about it already.  There had been lots of tears
and hugging in the team room.  Schroeder led the team in a prayer for Roger
and his family.  The police had talked to all of the guys.  Brad Miller had
been there.  When he'd been taken down to the Sheriff's Office, he told the
cops he'd been at home in Raleigh all weekend.  The cops called his mother,
and she confirmed Brad's alibi so he'd been released.  Jason said that Brad
had tried to act sorry about Roger's death, but it hadn't come across as
genuine.  Everyone avoided him as much as possible.

                       **********

     The entire football team traveled down to Charleston for Roger Hall's
funeral on Thursday.  There was a memorial service for him at the same time
on campus.  I attended that.

     It was another home game the following Saturday.  Our guys came out on
the field with black arm bands on their jerseys.  The band gave their usual
pregame show, but before playing the National Anthem, both teams came back
out on the field and stood on the sidelines.  The announcer asked everyone
to stand for a minute of silence in memory of Roger Hall.

     There wasn't a sound in the stadium.  At the end of the minute, a
couple of trumpeters from the band played "Amazing Grace".  I can't imagine
there was a dry eye in the entire stadium.  Mine were sure wet.

     Our guys won the game, but there wasn't any post win celebrating like
usual.  They shook hands with the other team and then walked out of the
stadium to the field house.

                      ************

     Things seemed to return to normal on campus within a week or so.  Oh,
there was an underlying uneasiness knowing there was a killer on the loose,
but everyone pretty much went back to their old routines.  The only really
noticeable change was that you didn't see many people jogging alone.  Most,
guys and women alike, were in pairs or small groups.

     The local newspaper reported that Roger's autopsy indicated he had
received four or five beatings before he was killed.  His wrists and ankles
showed evidence of being shackled or tied while in captivity.  Judging from
the pattern of bruises around his neck, he had been strangled with a chain,
and he'd been sexually assaulted at least twice before death.  The killer
had flushed out Roger's rectum with water removing any trace evidence of
semen before washing the body and then had probably wrapped it in plastic
before transporting it to Doc and Matt's mailbox.  There was no trace
evidence on the body to help the police.  The killer had been very careful.

     Andy was very concerned.  We talked each night on the phone.  He
wanted to be with me or have me come up to Chicago, but we both knew that
was impossible.  He couldn't leave work, and I couldn't skip out on classes
and track practice.  We made plans for me to fly up to Chicago over fall
break.  Andy promised to take the time off from the bank, but he told me
not to count on seeing very much of Chicago because he planned on keeping
me in his bedroom the entire weekend.  That sounded pretty good to me!

                       **********

     The university fall break was early in October that year.  We always
have Thursday and Friday off from class for the break, and the town really
empties out.  This year the public schools were having a break at the same
time.  The traffic leaving town that Wednesday was horrendous!

     Justin and Megan were headed down to Wilmington.  Brian, Stephen,
Sergei, and Mike Hernandez were going to spend the long weekend at the
Barnes' place on Sunset Beach.  Kevin and Kathy Williams and their kids
were going to spend the holiday on the beach at Emerald Isle.  I was flying
out to Chicago from Charlotte on Thursday morning.  Of course the football
team was staying in town before traveling to their away game for Saturday.
Jason's remaining roommates had accepted Cory as a friend.  As a result,
Cory was spending most nights over at Jason's place which was where he was
going to be that night.  He was supposed to come back to the apartment
after working the early shift on Thursday to take care of Larsen while I
was up in Chicago.

     I was fired up for the trip to Chicago.  The track team had practiced
that afternoon, but it hadn't been a really hard practice.  Coach
Kensington had cut us some slack, and we'd actually gotten out a little
early.  I took Larsen for a short jog when I got home and then heated up
some leftovers for dinner.

     I had to get up early the next morning to make it down to the airport
for my flight, but I desperately needed to get my laundry done before going
to bed.  I carried all my stuff plus Justin's and Cory's over to the
Williams' laundry room and settled in with one of my textbooks.  I left
Larsen in the apartment because Kevin Williams, although he loved Larsen to
death, really didn't want dogs inside the house.  Larsen acted pissed, but
I knew he'd get over it as soon as I got back to the apartment.

     The last load of laundry was in the drier when I heard Larsen start
barking like crazy in the apartment.  I poked my head out the Williams'
back door.  I noticed an old 80's style Jeep Wagoneer parked on the street
so I figured someone had probably knocked on our door.

     I yelled out, "Hold on, Larsen, I'm coming.  Be quiet!"

     Larsen usually stopped barking right away, but this time he kept at
it.

     That kind of ticked me off so I hurried around the corner of the
garage to the foot of our stairs.  There was no one there.

     I yelled up the stairs, "Larsen, hush up!  There's no one here.
You're going to get the whole neighborhood upset."

     As I turned to go back to the William's house, I sensed some movement
in the shadows behind me.  I wheeled around in time to see an arm with a
gun in its hand coming toward my head.

     I tried to duck out of the way, but the gun made contact with the side
of my head between my eye and ear.  Everything went black.

                       **********

     My head hurt!  I brought my hand up to feel the lump on my head.  My
hand felt heavy, and something hard, cold and metallic hit my cheek bone.

     I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings.  I was lying on a bare
mattress in a small room.  Bare walls.  No windows.  Bare light bulb in the
fixture overhead.  I moved again.  A metallic clanking sound.

     I looked at my hands.  There was a pair of handcuffs around each wrist
with the other end of the cuffs looped into a chain that went to a metal
eye in a steel plate about three inches square set into one of the floor
boards.
  My shoes and socks were gone and my ankles were shackled like my wrists
with handcuffs connected to another chain running to the same metal plate.

     I got off the mattress.  The chains on my ankles and wrists allowed me
to move only about two feet away from the mattress.  I couldn't reach the
door or the old fashioned push button light switch on the wall near the
door.

     The room smelled musty.  Not damp, but like an old house that had been
closed up for a long time.  There was another smell too.  I racked my brain
trying to place the odor.

     Finally it came to me.  It was the odor of death that I'd smelled on
Roger Hall's body.  It was coming from the mattress beneath me!

     My stomach surged into my throat.  I knew where Roger Hall had been
murdered!  I was there!  And I was going to be next!

                       **********

     My watch was gone so I had no way of telling how much time had passed.
It seemed like hours.

     I heard movement outside the door to the room.  A key was inserted
into the lock, and the door slowly opened.

     "Hey, fag boy.  How do you like my little hideaway?"

     Brad Miller stepped into the room.  He had a small cooler with him
which he set down on the floor.

     "What's the matter?  Aren't you going to say 'hello' to your old
friend?"

     "Brad, this has gone far enough.  Let me go."

     "Sorry, fag boy, I can't do that.  I've got plans for you.  I've had
plans for you since our freshman year.  I hate all you goddamn faggots.  I
know you've been wanting to get into my pants all these years.  Well, now
you're going to get your wish.  When I get through with you, you'll be
begging me for more.  And then you know what?  I'm going to kill you just
like I did that cocksucker Roger Hall."

     He pulled a knife out of his pocket.

     "Don't worry about the knife, fag boy.  I'm not going to use this on
you.  At least not yet.  I just need to get those clothes off you so we can
have a little fun."

     He grabbed me around the neck with his free hand.  I struggled, but he
outweighed me, and he put pressure on my wind pipe.

     "Don't fight it, fag boy."

     He used the knife to cut through my tee shirt and tear it off my body.
He cut my belt.  I felt the cold edge of the knife slide down my hip and
leg laying open my jeans as it went.  He cut down the other leg and pulled
my ruined jeans away from my body.  I was left with only my briefs.

     "You've been working on your body, fag boy.  You're even prettier than
freshman year."

     "What do you want, Brad?"

     "Why, I just want to have a little fun.  I'm gonna teach you what it's
like to be with a real man instead of that pretty boy you live with."

     He reached out and grabbed my dick through my briefs.  He squeezed
until I cried out in pain.

     "What's the matter?  Not man enough to take it?  Let's see what you've
got there, fag boy."

     He tore the thin cotton briefs away from my body then slapped my cock
and balls with his hand.  I screamed.

     "Go ahead and yell, C.Z.  No one can hear you way out here.  There's
no one around.  We're at my grandparents' old place out in the country.
Ain't no one around here for miles."

     "Is this where you killed Roger Hall?"

     "Yeah.  I did him right here in this room.  He was good, but not as
pretty as you are.  I've always liked you, C.Z., and you never wanted
anything to do with me."

     "That's because you're a stupid sonofabitch."

     "Shut up!"  His fist landed on the side of my face.

     "I'll teach you!  All you pretty boys are alike.  You all need to be
taught a lesson."  He started beating me with his fists.  I tried to
protect myself by doubling over, but he kept hitting and hitting.  Brad was
strong and outweighed me by a good thirty pounds.  I felt myself losing
consciousness.

     I don't think I was out for very long.  When I came to I was lying on
my stomach.  Brad had his left hand on my neck holding my head down on the
mattress.  His right hand smeared something cold and slippery on my exposed
ass.  I braced myself for what I knew was coming.  He rammed his dick into
my asshole.  I screamed with the pain.

     "What's the matter, fag boy?  Too big for you?"

     I clenched my teeth.  "No, I've had pricks a lot bigger than yours up
there.  They just knew how to use it."

     "Shut up! Shut up!" he screamed as he simultaneously began hitting me
again and pumping his dick into my ass.  I blacked out again.

                       **********

     When I came to Brad was putting his clothes back on.  I ached all
around my head and neck where he'd been beating on me.  My ass was on fire,
and I could feel Brad's semen oozing out and running down my leg.  I
thought I was going to be sick.

     "I have to go away for a while, fag boy.  The team's leaving town for
the game, but I'll be back after that.  You and me will have a little more
fun when I get back."

     "People are going to figure this out, Miller."

     "No they won't.  I've got me an alibi.  I'm down visiting my mom right
now.  I told her to tell any body that asks that I was with her.  She'll do
it too.  She knows if she doesn't, I'll beat the crap out of her, and if I
don't do it my daddy will."

     "That's how you got the alibi for Roger's murder."

     "Yeah.  My mother's covered for me a couple of times.  That time I
pushed you in the shower in the dorm, I used a tape recording of my snoring
so that Jason and the guys next door would think I was still in the room.
Pretty smart of me, huh?"

     "Was it you that trashed my car and room?"

     "Yeah.  Sure did.  Did the other rooms also.  My uncle works for the
physical plant and has a set of master keys.  I borrowed them one day and
made copies.  I can get into any place in the university.  Sure has come in
handy being able to get into a prof's office to take a look at the exam
beforehand.

     "Now you just lie here for a day or so.  There's some water and a
couple of sandwiches in the cooler.  You can pee into that jug over there.
I'll be back on Saturday night, and you and me are going to have some fun."

     He went out the door.  I heard the key turn in the lock.

                       **********

     Exhausted and hurting, I slept for a while after Brad left.  When I
woke up I set about exploring the room as much as I could.  I had to find a
way out of there before he came back or I was going to end up naked and
dead in some ditch just like Roger Hall.

     The chains wouldn't let me get more than a couple of feet away from
the bed.  I turned my attention to the bolt in the floor that held the
chains in place.  I jerked the chain.  The bolt and metal plate looked
solid.  I jerked some more.  I thought I saw a little movement in the floor
board around the metal plate!

     I jerked the chains again.  That time I was sure there was some give
in the floor board!

     I started working on the bolt in earnest.  I twisted the chains around
the bolt as much as possible and pulled.  If I could just keep working on
that bolt maybe it would come out of the floor.  I didn't know how I would
get out of the room, but getting unlatched from the floor was a first step.

     I had no concept of time.  I worked continuously.  The handcuffs
rubbed against my wrists and ankles.  I developed blisters on my hands from
holding on to the chain.  The blisters broke open and began to bleed.
Blood was oozing from my wrists and ankles where the handcuffs had chafed
away the skin.  Still I worked on that damn bolt.

     I was making progress!  The plate moved each time I pulled on the
chain.  Finally it pulled free from the floor.  When it came loose, I lost
my balance and ended up on my back in the middle of the floor.

     I went over to the door.  It opened into the room, and the hinge pins
were on my side of the door.  I started trying to pry the pins out of the
hinges using my fingers and the chain.  If I could get the door off its
hinges, I'd be out of the room!

     I managed to get one of the pins out when I heard a noise on the other
side of the door.  Could Brad be back already?  Had a whole day passed
since he'd left?

     If he was coming back, my only hope lay in surprising him.  I took the
hinge pin with me back to the mattress.  I put the plate back in position
on the floor and sat down on the mattress with the pin hidden in my hand.

     I heard a key turning in the lock.

     "Hey fag boy, are you ready for some more fun?"

     He came into the room.  I waited for him to get closer.

     When he was within range I lunged out with the pin from the door hinge
like it was a knife.

     The blow caught him on the cheek and opened a cut about three inches
long on the side of his face.

     "What the..!"  He staggered back toward the door.

     I lunged forward and looped part of the chain around his neck and
started twisting.

     He grabbed at me and then grabbed at the chain as I tightened it
around his neck.

     "This is what Roger Hall felt, you goddamn son of a bitch!  I'm gonna
kill you, Brad!  This fag boy is gonna kill you!  What do you think about
that, huh?"

     He sank down to his knees and keeled forward.  I fell on top of him.
I eased the pressure on the chain around his neck.  He gasped.  I tightened
the chain again with one hand as I searched through his pockets with the
other.

     I found what I was looking for in one pocket.  A set of car keys!

     I took the chain off his neck and bolted for the door as fast as my
shackled legs could run.  I heard Brad gasping for breath behind me.

     I didn't know how much time I had before he would be able to come
after me.  I had to hold the bolt which was still attached to the chains to
my wrists and ankles as I ran so I wouldn't trip.  It was nighttime.  I was
in an upper hallway.  I found the stairs and ran down as fast as I could.

     I stumbled at the bottom of the stairs.  I got up and ran out the
front door of the old house.  Brad's Jeep Wrangler and the old Wagoneer I'd
seen by the apartment were parked in the overgrown front yard of the old
house.  I climbed in the Wrangler and kept trying keys in the ignition.
The last key slid into the ignition lock.  I slid in the clutch, turned the
key, and the engine came to life.  I slammed the car into first gear and
spun around down the driveway of the house just as Brad appeared on the
front porch with the gun in his hand.

     I heard the sound of the pistol as I sped down the driveway.  I
wheeled the jeep out onto a gravel road at the end of the driveway.  I had
no idea where I was.  The road to the left seemed to be heading down hill,
and I thought that was a good direction.

     About a mile down the gravel road I came to a paved road.  Again I
chose the down slope direction and wheeled out onto the paved road.  As I
made the turn I caught some headlights coming down the gravel road in the
jeep's mirrors.  I knew it had to be Brad coming after me.

     I barreled down the road as fast as I could.  The road curved back and
forth through the country side.  Nothing looked familiar.  I could see the
headlights of the car behind me.  It was getting closer.

     I came over a small rise in the road and had to slam on the brakes.
There was a stop sign, and the road ended onto another road.  I wheeled the
jeep around the corner.  I felt the back wheels lift off the pavement and
thought I was going to roll the car, but it settled back down on the
blacktop, and I was off again.

     Suddenly I knew where I was!  I'd jogged down this road many times.
Just another two miles, and I knew I'd be safe.  The lights behind me were
closer.  If I stopped, he'd be on me in less than a minute.

     I saw the turn I was looking for.  I slammed the gear box into second
popped the clutch and skidded into the driveway.  I started blowing the
horn as soon as I straightened out in the driveway.

     I pulled up next to the house, killed the engine, and started to climb
out of the jeep pulling my shackles with me.  Doc and Matt came running out
the door of the house.

     "Call the cops!  Brad Miller's right behind me.  He's got a gun!"

     Doc and Matt grabbed me and started moving me back toward the house.
The door opened again.  Andy grabbed me and pulled me inside.

     "Andy!  Oh God, babe, how did you get here?"

     He threw his arms around me and pulled me into the kitchen.

     I heard Brad's Wagoneer coming up the driveway.

     "It's Brad!  He's got a gun!"

     Doc emerged from the garage with a .22 rifle in his hands.  He pulled
it up to his shoulder, sighted, and pulled the trigger.

     The small rifle emitted a sharp retort, and the left headlight of the
Wagoneer exploded.  The old boxy car screeched to a halt and then backed
down the driveway as fast as possible.  We heard tires squealing on the
main road as the old car shifted gears and sped away.

     I looked at Andy.  There were huge tears in his eyes.

     Matt put a blanket around my shoulders.  I started shivering so hard
my teeth were chattering.

     Doc came back inside with the .22 under his arm.  "I don't think he'll
be back.  I heard the car all the way down the road."

     "I..I didn't think you liked guns."  I said as I shivered in Andy's
arms.

     Doc smiled.  "I don't.  I've got this one just to get rid of the
woodchucks in the garden.  Guess it worked on some bigger vermin tonight."

(To be continued)