Date: Tue, 7 Aug 2007 09:58:49 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Natures Trail 16

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblances to real people,
alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in
nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon
persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene
involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then
you should not read this story. Additionally, if you
are under 18 years of age, in most state and
countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by
law. Check with your local laws regarding such. %
Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction.
In real life, use protection.

%

"Nature's Trail" 16
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Hi."

Over his shoulder, Denis turned his head, then turned
it back, a pouty look on his face.

"What do you want?"

"I followed you."

"Yeah. So?"

"I wanted to say I'm sorry."

A leaf in his hand, Denis was tearing it, a tiny shred
at a time.

"Are you listening, Denis?"

"Don't have a choice, do I?"

"I wanted to make sure you were alright. Are you?"

"Fine."

"You didn't really mean what you said, did you?"

"'Bout what?" Denis replied, still busy with half of
the leaf.

"Taking a long walk off a short cliff?"

The reason Mark asked is because, at this moment,
Denis stood near the edge of a steep precipice, which,
staring down, dropped into the gully, carved out by an
ancient glacial river.

"Nothing's working out right," Denis said, throwing
the remainder of the leaf into the gully, watching it
fade from view.

"If you ask me, it was too easy."

"What was?" Denis asked somberly, still focusing his
attention on the stone gully.

"Matt dumping you."

"What about him?"

"He didn't even stick around to ask questions. He just
wanted to report things as he saw them. Is that
trust?"

"I suppose not."

"When I ran out of the room, because of how you
treated me, didn't I stand there in our room and let
you talk with me?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know why?"

"I dunno," Denis said.

"Because I loved you, Denis. I still love you. Even
though we had words, I wanted to hear what you had to
say. It would make it easier."

"For what?"

"To decide how to get on with my life. Sure, I would
have been super hurt if you came to realize you didn't
love me... but... never mind. Why are you standing out
here on this cliff?"

"I don't know. Everything seems so worthless," Denis
said, almost like he was going to cry.

"Denis, do you love Matt?"

"I dunno. No, I guess not, but I was getting to like
him a lot... then this had to happen."

"Do you feel stuff like when you told me you loved
me?"

Shrugging his shoulders, the eighteen year old
replied, "I don't think so."

Mark takes a few steps forwards, asking, "Is this all
about your math test or Mr. Hanson marking you cut?"

"It's about everything. Dad's gonna be so pissed at me
and then next thing you know he's going to take me out
of swimming and then there's the Mustang to think
about. He's going to think I'm totally irresponsible.
I can just hear him."

"I still love you Denis."

The teen stood there, not saying anything.

Mark kept up badgering his brother with good
intentions, "I'd feel a big loss if anything ever
happened to you. It would break my heart."

Then, standing an inch behind him, his breath
breathing on Denis' neck, Mark whispered, "Come on
home with me. This isn't the way to work things out."
Wrapping a hand around Denis' arm, Mark grasped his
brother. Suddenly, Denis lost his footing. Rock
crumbled underneath his feet. With both arms clutching
around his brother, Mark heaved himself backwards.
Denis fell backwards, right on top of him. Both lay
there on their backs, Denis on top of Mark, Mark's
arms spread across his brother's arms and chest.
Breathing heavily, Denis actually felt relieved not to
have gone over the cliff. It's then he heard a moan in
his ear, followed by Mark's gripping arms losing
muscular control, sliding from around his bod, falling
to their sides, to the rocky surface.

"Mark? You okay?" Denis called out. Not hearing
anything, Denis got up, kneeled down over his brother,
straddling his right leg, left knee almost touching
his nuts. "Mark!" He shouted out, seeing eyes closed,
as if sleeping. "Oh shit, Mark!" He spoke out loud,
when placing his hand behind Mark's head, removing it
after feeling something juicy on his hand, then seeing
the red coating. Remembering the CPR course he took,
Denis looked for vital signs. Mark's chest still rose
and fell, a good sign. Running through Denis' mind
was, `I gotta get you help', so he stood, walking
away, in the direction of the road. Looking back, he
nixed the idea, not wanting to leave Mark alone,
vulnerable to the elements. Reaching over his head, to
the back of his shoulder, Denis grabbed his tee shirt.
Tugging hard on it, he stripped it off over his head.
Kneeling down once again, he fashioned it around
Mark's head in the form of a bandage. He wasn't sure
he could do it, but with his adrenaline flow engaged,
Denis sat Mark up, knelt down in front of him, pulled
his bro's arms over his shoulder and began to lift him
up on his back. Cowering, he let go of his arms and
like lightning, grabbed hold of his thighs, strapping
them around himself, feeling Mark's knees dig into his
ribs, his arms dangling flimsily in front of his pecs.
With herculean strength, Denis stood from the
squatting position, readjusted his brother on his back
and began to walk. At first his footing was unsure, as
he swayed from side to side, but soon he grew
accustomed to the piggybacking. He thought of taking
the trail to the environmental center, but most of it
was downhill, the switchbacks narrow in some places,
so he opted for the road, knowing he was at least two
miles from Bridges Lane, longer to the main road.

%

"How did it go?" Mike asked Callan, standing when he
made his exit from the detective's office.

"Okay I guess. Not as bad as I thought it would be,"
Callan rolled out the information.

Putting his hand of reassurance on Callan's shoulder,
the police officer says, "What'd I tell ya?"

"How long was I in there, anyway?"

Looking at his watch, Mike replies, "Close to an hour
and a half."

"The time flew by quick."

Making their exit, from the inner office, the
detective appears, calling Callan back in, inviting,
"You can come too, Mike."

Standing behind his desk, the young, dark-haired
detective, pen in hand, states, "One other thing. I'll
have to arrange with Coach Hollister a visit to the
college. You'll need to ID the boy."

"You mean like pick him out of a lineup?"

"Yes. The swim team lineup."

Mike asks the detective, "Isn't that risky, Josh?
Wouldn't the guy recognize Callan?"

"That's the idea, Mike. With a police officer along,
I'm hoping it will scare the shit out of the kid. Make
him confess before we have to make a `federal case'
out of this," Detective Crew says for both of their
benefits.

"Sounds like a smart idea," Callan tells him, the case
of `the nerves', returning, as he rubs his hands
together.

A knock comes at the open door, Alonzo appearing,
saying, "I got here as soon as I could." Without an
invitation, Alonzo enters, walks over to Callan,
giving him a half-hug, rubbing a hand along the ridge
of his shoulders. "Are you alright, babe?"

"I think," Callan replies.

Realizing Detective Crew is wondering who this is,
Mike introduces, "Oh, this is Alonzo Romano, Josh.
Callan's partner."

Leaning over the desk, Alonzo shakes the detective's
hand.

"Good to meet you," he offers Alonzo, letting the
handshake linger.

Mike tells him, "Alonzo pretty much knows what's going
on. I gave him a quick synopsis over the phone.

Taking Mike's lead, Crew says, "I've been informing
your partner in on some details regarding identifying
the swim team member who offered him oral sex."

Hands on his hips, shaking his head, Alonzo says, "I
can't believe it. Where does this guy think he can get
away with something like this?"

"Fortunately," Crew responded, "your partner did the
right thing by not following through with the sexual
act. He did the right thing having Mike bring him in."

"I can tell you for a fact," Alonzo says, "this whole
thing leaves me kind of shaky."

"We're all on edge," Mike tells him, patting Alonzo on
the shoulder.

Standing there in an arc, the three face Detective
Crew, as he assures them this could go easy if the
plan he's thought up brings the truth out from the
culprit. "Hopefully the kid didn't go and blab it all
over the place, which I'm thinking isn't the case.
More likely he's kept it to himself."

"Yeah," Mike assures them, "sometimes guys go and open
their big mouths, taking a chance, but then back off
when they don't get what they want."

"I'd like to wrap this up as soon as possible," Crew
says calmly, like it's `in the bag'. "Are you working
tomorrow morning, Callan?"

"Yes, I have the early shift, but..." he looks at the
clock on the wall behind Crew's desk, "if I hurry, I
can probably switch shifts with somebody who is on
tonight."

"Great," Crew replies, adding, "I'll get in touch with
Coach Hollister and give you a call tonight at home."

Raising his hand, as if in school, Alonzo alerts him,
"I'll be home all night, to take the call."

With things pretty much wound up for now, Mike, Alonzo
and Callan leave Crew's office. Out in the parking
lot, the trio linger, chatting.

"I hope Detective Crew's plan works," Callan says.

"Me too," Alonzo agrees.

"Let me tell you something. Josh Crew started out at
the bottom of the totem pole, but he's a real
crackerjack when it comes to flushing out the facts.
He's spent a lot of his years working with youth
offenders. When a plan comes to Josh, chances are he's
right on the money."

"So, you don't think this kid has said a word to
anyone about what he did?" Callan asks him.

"Not according to Josh. I'll bet my next paycheck Josh
knows what he's doing, has a surefire intuition and
things will roll along according to his plan of
attack," Mike tells the two.

Satisfied with Mike's hunch, Callan and Alonzo get in
their car. Mike sticks his head through the driver's
side window.

"You don't have anything to worry about guys. Go home
and have a relaxing evening."

"Oh, I have one other sort of important question,"
Alonzo asks him.

"What?"

Smiling, Alonzo asks him, "Is Detective Crew gay?"

%

"Thanks for pinch-hitting, Justin."

"No problem, Uncle Seb. I bet you will be glad when
you hire some help for around here?"

"I only have two applications. Maybe you know them? It
would give me a start of their reference checks."

Following his uncle over to the glass casing, where
Jim spotted the knives, while filling out his
application, his uncle turns the applications around
so they face Justin.

"Connor Matthews?" Justin questions, staring at the
first line of the employment application. "The name
sounds familiar, but I can't place it. Skipping to the
sheet underneath, he reads, "Jim Faulkner?"

"Ring a bell?" Uncle Seb inquires.

"I think so."

"Oh? Know anything about him or his family?"

Justin reports, "I believe they used to go to the
church."

"Which one? The one you play organ at?"

"Same one, yes, but they don't attend any longer.
Seems there was an incident about their son. It's
gotta be Jim."

"What happened? Maybe I should forget about hiring
him."

Thinking, tapping his index on his lips, Justin says,
"If I recall correctly, the newspaper article
mentioned a `homophobic attack'. I happen to be
practicing that day and went to Pastor Jack's office
to ask him for the hymns for the following Sunday. I
more or less caught the whole incident from him, as he
chatted with Jim and his parents, in his office."

"Fascinating, Justin?"

"Yeah. You see, the Faulkners have been devout
Christians, touchy on the subject of the gay rights
movement. Apparently Jim had come out to them and they
had brought him into Pastor Jack to have a talk about
it. Well, what they didn't figure on is Pastor Jack
siding with Jim."

Giggling, Uncle Seb said, "Cool! I can't wait for the
punch line."

"Um, I think you're a little too old to use the word
`cool', Uncle Seb!"

"Shut up and get on with the story, will ya!" Uncle
Seb said, in a kidding manner.

"Yeah, okay," Justin said, grinning. Then, sinking
back into a serious disposition, "so, where was I? Oh
yeah, so Jim comes out to his folks, they meet with
Pastor Jack about how Jim is obviously sick and the
Faulkners inquire as to where they can send him for
treatment."

"You're kidding me? They think Jim's sick?"

"Yup."

"But being gay isn't a sickness!"

"You know that, I know that, Jim knew that, but for
his folks, well... they had it all too figured out
apparently, thinking Pastor Jack would come up with
some names of doctors or clinics, but instead, he came
right out with exactly what you and I were thinking."

"And what did Jim's folks have to say to that?"

"I couldn't look in the room, but the door was ajar
enough to hear nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Right. I could just picture his folks, coming for
advice, as they wanted it to be and getting just the
opposite."

"I wish I was a fly on the wall," Uncle Seb replied.
"What else?"

"The usual. Jim's dad said something like `and I
thought you would be on our side', followed by Mrs.
Faulkner accusing Pastor Jack of, `and you call
yourself a man of the cloth!'."

"Thank God we have a sane pastor leading our church."

"Uncle Seb, you hardly go to church, but during the
high holy days! A Sunday doesn't go by whereas Pastor
Jack isn't focusing on something of the pro-gay
movement."

"Hmm... maybe I should try it more often. I'd like to
hear what Pastor Jack has to say."

"Anyway, that's the story of Jim Faulkner. Well most
of it."

Looking at Jim's application, comparing it to
Connor's, Uncle Seb reads, "According to the address
each of them give, they live in the same house."

"Oh, well that's the other part of the story. Pastor
Jack left such an impact on the Faulkner's, they not
only left the church, but also the state. One of the
crimes was to disown Jim."

"Bastards!" his uncle blurted out.

"Right, but all didn't end up on a sad note, for Jim."

"Oh?"

"From about their sophomore year in high school, Jim
and Connor came out to each other. The friendship
turned serious. By the time they were seniors, they
were immersed in a full-fledged relationship. To make
a long story short, when the Faulkners disowned Jim,
he was already eighteen. He went to live with Connor
and his mom."

"Nice of them to take him in. So now they all live
together on..." his uncle lifted the glasses off his
nose and peered down at the place on the application
where the address was, saying, "Sunset Hill Lane?
Hmm... that's `richman's territory'!"

"There's more to the story."

"Oh? I'd say this is turning into a doozie!"

"Mrs. Matthews, Connor's mom, was a single parent."

"What happened to his dad?"

"I don't know. But anyway, it turns out she's gay,
hooks up with one of the doctors at the hospital and
they all go to live at the doc's mansion."

"Which doctor?" Uncle Seb grills him.

"I don't know. It's not important though. What's
important is the story, for Jim and Connor, ends
happily ever after."

"Oh, I betcha this is it," his uncle says, looking at
the back of Connor's application.

"What is?"

"The doctor at the hospital. He has as a reference,
Dr. Maria Scalia, same address as his. Wow! Maria and
I went to school together. I'd never think of that
tough bird as being gay!"

Laughing, Justin says, "You're too much, Uncle Seb. I
better get a move on it. Christian will be home,
cooking dinner."

"Don't wait for me."

"Oh? What's up?"

"One of the guys has a birthday. We're all meeting
down at the bar for a few mugs."

"Alright. I'll tell him to leave some leftovers in the
fridge if you want them."

"I'd appreciate that. Thanks."

"No problem," Justin says, leaving the store.

%

Sweat dripping off of him like raindrops, Denis hiked
out to the road, walking several hundred feet, away
from the direction of WRCC. When he started out, he
felt something wet seething down his chest. Looking,
he spied a trickle of red go down his left pec.
Panicking, he put some speed behind his calves,
walking faster. Knowing the hospital too far to walk,
he would chance cutting down Bridges Lane, hoping to
find a close neighbor he knew, at home. As he was
about to make the right hand turn, he hears a car
approaching. Turning to look behind him, it looked to
be a familiar vehicle. Stepping out into the roadway,
he held onto Mark's arm, over his right shoulder, with
his left hand and waved his right arm high in the air.
Right now he wasn't thinking of who was behind the
wheel. Stepping out of the driver's side, Matt burst
out with, "What the hell happened to you?"

For now, their cross words, back on campus, faded, as
Matt detected something amiss, as he gazed at Denis'
chest, the thin, red line almost down to his navel.

"We gotta get Mark to the hospital!"

"What the hell happened?"

All grudges temporarily on hold, Matt held the back
door to his red SUV open, allowing Denis to carefully
pose Mark inside, lying on the seat.

"Go! I'll ride back here."

Burning rubber, Matt pulled out, accelerating to
lightning speed. "Oh shit!" he called out when a
police car pulled out of the thicket, it's siren
screaming, lights in his rearview. Slowing down,
almost jamming on the brake, his tires smoked, the car
skidding around a few feet.

He didn't wait for the cops to get out of their patrol
car, rather stepping out and running up to the
driver's window. "My friend's hurt bad," Matt shouted.
Matt's head fell backwards, watching the officer get
out of his patrol car, due to his height, which had to
be over six feet. Knowing the score, the officer
totally ignored Matt, in a fast stride, walking up to
the SUV.

"Hey, aren't you one of the Barr kids?" Officer
Sanchez asked.

"Denis Barr," Denis replied, adding, "this is my
brother. He's hurt real bad."

Carefully, Riley turned Mark's head, seeing the
blood-soaked shirt at the back of his head. Right
away, he touched a control on his shoulder and started
speaking into it.

"What's the problem?" a head of blond hair stuck in
the side door of the SUV.

"He's got a nasty cut on the back of his head. Most
likely a mild concussion, but we wouldn't know for
sure til we get him to the hospital. Why don't you
take Denis' statement, Darryl?"

His hair as blond as Denis', the rookie cop gave the
okay, asking Denis to step out of the car.

"Excuse me," Darryl said to Matt, whom leaned in the
other side window of the SUV, allowing the door to
swing open.

Still with a touch of an attitude, Denis says, "No. I
want to stay here with my brother!"

Riley and Darryl exchange glances, Riley saying, "It's
okay, Darryl. Here," Riley hands him a little black
book, open to a page, his index finger bookmarking it,
"here's Denis' dads phone number. One of them should
pick up."

"Dads?" the twenty-four year old rookie asks,
innocently.

"They're partnered. Either Barry or Steve should
answer. Tell them what we found. The ambulance is on
it's way. Tell them to meet us at the hospital. Make
sure you mention my name."

Officer Tudyk rushed back to the patrol car, leaving
Denis and Riley fending for Mark, Matt close by,
thinking of how this might be connected to words he
had with Denis, unconsciously doing stretching
exercises, associated with a swimmer's dive into the
pool.

%

Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.