Date: Wed, 31 Aug 2011 12:59:29 -0500
From: Jonathan Hanson <linxetermoil@gmail.com>
Subject: Spider Webs: Chapter I- Leaving the Nest

Spider Webs

By Linxe Termoil

Copyright © 2010 Linxe Termoil; All Rights Reserved.

Want to see more chapters of Spider Webs? You can check them out here at
http://www.gayauthors.org/story/linxe-termoil/spiderwebs and leave me
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http://www.gayauthors.org/forums/forum/202-linxe-termoils-forum/

Gayauthors.org will be updated more frequently. You can also leave me
feedback at Linxetermoil@gmail.com

Disclaimer: All characters and this story are a creation of and a figment
of my overactive imagination. If you are not 18 or over (21 in some states)
or should not be accessing this site because it is illegal for you to do
so, then please refrain from doing so.


Chapter I: Leaving the Nest

I winced, limping as I took another step toward the one-story, one bedroom
house that we called home. We, as in: my little brother, me, and our
dad. My brother skipped ahead of me, stopping when he came to the stairs,
his tattered back-pack sitting high on his shoulders. I watched him grab
the rail and slowly make his way up the steps. A moment later, he came to a
stop at the door, waiting for me.

I grabbed the keys from my pocket and moved across the collapsing porch, a
small surge of hope welling in the pit of my stomach. Or maybe that was
hunger. I checked the mail-box. Empty. I let out a small sigh, the feeling
of disappointment heavy in my chest. Unlocking the door, I let my brother,
Joel, enter ahead of me and, cautiously, stepped in after him, taking a
quick look around to make sure everything was in order.

While the house was shabby and run down on the outside, the inside was
neat, thanks to yours truly. Well, most of the inside was neat; the only
exception was the small living area where an old TV, held together by duct
tape, sat in front of a couch. My dad slept on the couch, and practically
lived on it when he was home. Only, he wasn't home. A frown briefly marred
my face as I wondered where he might have gone, since he was usually home
before me and my brother.

I stepped over to the couch, ignoring my brother as he walked into the
dining area that consisted of a small card table and a computer that I
swore was older than me and, after a moment, disappeared. Probably into his
bedroom or the kitchen, I decided, as I continued to wonder where my father
might possibly be. I hoped he hadn't been home when the mail came, or we
just hadn't received any mail yet.

The crash that came from the kitchen answered those three thoughts when I
went to investigate the source. My brother was, in fact, in the kitchen
and, by the look of his wide blue eyes, didn't quite know what to do. My
dad was also home and, currently, sprawled out on the worn-out vinyl floor;
his eyes were glazed over and staring, aimlessly, at the
ceiling. Apparently, the two bottles of Jack Daniels that were sitting
empty on the table had killed him, and for a moment, I felt relief.

Heartless right? Well, maybe to you, but if you had gone through the shit I
had been through, you'd probably feel relief that the old man was finally
dead too.

Unfortunately, the fates, apparently, just weren't with me that day. I
guess I shouldn't have been surprised, really. They hadn't been with me
four, no, five...yeah, five years ago either when my mom had been killed in
a car accident and my brother, who was six at the time, had ended up in the
hospital with her until someone could get him. That was the day he had
stopped speaking, even though you would hear him humming some tune that
only he seemed to hear, or along with something playing on the radio. It
was also the day my dear old dad had taken to the bottle. Everything after
that, well, let's just say the spiral effect continued and things went from
bad to worse in a heart-beat.

Dad had used all of my mom's life insurance to pay off the
bills. Unfortunately, he hadn't returned to work after her death and he got
fired one day for not showing up. After that, the bank foreclosed on our
house, the one car we had left got repossessed, and we almost ended up on
the streets.

It was one of Mom's old college friends who, fortunately, had bailed us out
and allowed us to move into the house we were currently in, with the
understanding that we would be responsible for any repairs that needed to
be done. Regrettably, the house needed a lot of repairs, and I was the one
who ended up responsible for making them.

Dad started collecting unemployment, looking for jobs here and there to
keep everyone happy and the checks coming, and when he'd find one, he would
keep it for awhile. But, the booze kept getting in his way, and he'd keep
getting fired. And, we would keep collecting unemployment.

Except for this last job. He'd had it for a little over a year now, but his
boss was a lot more lenient, because when the booze got in Dad's way the
man would give him a couple of weeks off. Called it vacation, I guess, and
my dad got away with it a lot because the folks in this small town knew us,
and felt sorry for him, and us. Except for their kids.

Did I mention I hate the kids I go to school with? Well, I do, and I'll try
not to remind you of that too often, but, just in case you forget, I really
hate those kids.

Where were we? Oh yeah, my dad, sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by
the day's mail, on top of which was the opened envelope marking his
paycheck. That was the other thing about the old man my dad worked for. He
would mail my dad's paycheck to the house, made out to me. One night he
figured out how bad my dad could get and out of concern, had taken me and
my brother out to dinner and talked to me privately, probably because I was
ready to panic, thinking he might call the police and CPS would get
involved.

Fortunately, the man seemed to have this philosophy that blood was thicker
than water and reassured me he wouldn't do any such thing. He just needed
to know what I needed to take care of my brother and myself, and get the
bills paid, and I told him. This was his solution and that's how our
arrangements started.

Dad got to go on his weeklong binge vacations and keep his job, I got the
money, and we all got to keep food in our bellies. I mean yeah, my dad did
object at first, but I guess his boss must have said something that scared
my old man, because he never brought it up again, and as long as I passed
him enough money for cigarettes, gas, and booze; he stayed happy.

But, things always seem to have a way of changing.

The old man my dad was working for died a couple of weeks ago and his son
had taken over the construction company. Dad had come home a couple of days
after the funeral, pissed off and drunk because the `kid', as Dad called
him, had laid him off, due to economic troubles, he had said.

My dad had also said his last check would be mailed to him, too drunk to
lie to me when I pressed him for the information.

I'd just nodded my head and gone out to do my own thing, wandering around
the hills behind our house, determined to enjoy my last month of summer
before school started up again. My brother had, as usual, tagged along with
me; and as usual annoyed the hell out of me.

Yeah, I know. He doesn't speak, right. So how can he possibly annoy the
hell out of me? Well, it's simple. He tagged along with me, everywhere. And
when I say everywhere, I literally mean everywhere. And that whole not
talking thing, well, that was annoying as hell too. You have no idea how
crazy I get when I feel like I'm talking to myself, when I'm really talking
to him.

Anyway, I'd come back home later that night, put my brother to bed, and
gone to bed myself, up at the butt crack of dawn and off to do my own thing
again, my brother right behind me as we climbed through the hills for the
day. When we got home, our dad was home too, and as usual he was drunk.

He and I got into a screaming match that caused my brother to cry, and
believe me, that in and of itself is horrifying because he does that
silently too; his little shoulders shaking and his chest heaving.

And when I realized my brother was crying, I yelled some more at my dad,
too angry to think about it. The end came when I got knocked on my ass and
kicked around a bit, and then my dad had stumbled off to the couch,
mumbling the word `worthless' over and over again under his breath. He must
have decided he had had enough exertion for one day. As for calling me
worthless, well, I was used to that by now.

And it kept going like that, every single night for the last two weeks. I
had been hoping today would be different, since it was the first day of
school. And today my dad had finally drank so damn much he had killed
himself. Fucking bastard!

And, for just a moment, I was feeling kind of relieved over the whole
thing. We'd probably be better off without the old man. But he was still a
bastard for leaving us alone, because now what were we going to do?

But, as I had said earlier, the Fates just weren't with me anymore, and it
was kind of pissing me off. Because my dad, at some point, had gotten up
without me noticing it, since I was too busy staring at my brother,
wondering if he was going to freak out on me. Yeah, he did that sometimes
too.

The feel of a large hand on my chest alerted me to the fact that my old man
was indeed still alive. And, I had just enough time to look at him before
he was roughly shoving me out of his way and stumbling out of the kitchen,
once again the word `worthless' passing through his lips as he, you guessed
it, went to sleep off his alcohol induced state on the couch.

Fucking bastard!

I was pissed and decided that I had had enough. And, I was ready to do
something about it. Only, I didn't quite know what it was, or if things
would even work out that well. But I was sick of the Fates laughing at me.

It was time to take charge of my own life.

And when I realized my dad was snoring and my brother, with his wide blue
eyes, was still looking at me, a strange gleam in his eyes, I didn't think
much about it. I simply walked down the stairs to my basement bedroom,
grabbed the one picture I had of my mom and her guitar. It was the only
musical instrument of hers that I had left. I also grabbed all the cash
that I had managed to keep from my dad and the electrical guitar and base
that I had gotten for Christmas one year, a gift from me to me and then I
was back upstairs, looking around and wondering if I was forgetting
something.

My eyes fell on my brother, and I frowned for a moment and finally nodded
my head at him.

Five minutes later I was done hauling stuff outside and putting it in the
back of the truck. Five seconds after that my brother was climbing into the
cab from the driver's side. Then I was leaning under the dash and
hot-wiring my dad's old, beat up pickup truck like I had done it a million
times.

Twenty seconds later I had the old truck going and another two minutes
later we were rolling down the highway, my brother humming along with the
tunes playing on the radio station while I sang the actual lyrics as I
headed for the interstate, not really sure where we were going, but it had
to be better then where we were currently at.

That had been about a week ago, and right now, I was sitting in a jail
cell, in a strange town, wondering what was going to happen with my life
when I saw the judge in the morning. And my brother, well... I had no idea
where exactly, he was.

* * * * * * * * * *

So now that we've heard the beginning of my journey, I'm guessing you want
to know about the rest of it and how I ended up in this jail cell.

You see, the state line wasn't all that far from the small town we lived
in. Actually, it was about an hour and a half away. During the first part
of that drive I had stopped long enough to fill up on gas and get my
brother something to eat. Over the past year or so I had managed to save up
about six hundred dollars, and I only used that money for emergencies,
often feeding my brother with it and going hungry myself if I had to dip
into it. I would have had more money than that, but sometimes my dad would
raid my room or go through the house, and he had managed to, regretfully,
find most of my secret stashes.

After the two of us had eaten; the gas paid for, and a few snacks bought to
tide us over until the morning, we hit the road. I was paying attention to
what was going on around us; trying to avoid getting us killed since I
didn't have my driver's license, and I'll admit I was kind of paying
attention to the landscape because the mountains were amazing. So I was a
bit distracted for a good part of the journey after we crossed the state
line. Then the radio station cut off when we went through a tunnel burrowed
into the side of a mountain.

We came out of the mountain, and the station was still nothing but
white-noise, so I started flipping through different stations until I found
one coming through loud and clear.

That's when I heard it.

"...ber alert for a child, blue back-pack, blue jeans, and grey
shirt. Brown hair and blue eyes. About seven years old. Was last seen
getting into an old pick-up truck."

I admit it; I started to hyperventilate a little.

I had kidnapped my little brother, damn it.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

I was too young to be going to prison.

For a long time...

Where some big guy...

....with a bunch of tattoos...

Fucked up nose...

...giant ears...

... named Ronald...

...had his way with my tight...

... fifteen year old...

...virgin ass...

I gulped as the image came to mind.

...for a really long time...

I let out a groan and started to panic.

There was no way in hell I wanted my brother to see the boner in my pants,
so I reached down and adjusted it, looking out the corner of my eye to see
if my brother was looking.

The red back-pack in his lap caught my attention. I looked at him again. I
knew he had blue eyes, and I suddenly became aware of the dark brown almost
black hair that was lighter than my own black hair. And, he was in black
shorts, red shirt...and looked like he was ten.

"...named Elijah Brown..."

I sighed, relief coming to me as the voice on the radio station caught my
attention once more. I hadn't kidnapped my brother...

At least, no one knew I had kidnapped my brother...

Yet...

Ignoring the look that my brother shot me, I sped up, wanting to get out of
this state, even if I didn't have a clue which state I was in.

Five minutes later I was slowing down, afraid of the state trooper trailing
along a couple of cars behind me as we continued along on the interstate, a
nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach driving me slightly crazy.

He suddenly sped up and flicked on his lights. I let out a quiet moan as
the butterflies in my stomach increased their activity to the point that my
face became all flushed, sweat dripped down my forehead, and I started
feeling sick.

I closed my eyes a moment before I had them open again, my eyes twitching
between the rear view mirrors and everything going on around me as my hands
tightly clenched the steering wheel.

He was weaving between cars, pulling closer. Left lane...right lane...left
lane...I gulped. He was behind me now and pulling closer. I was panting for
breath now, wondering if this beat up truck could outrun the cop car. I'd
never been in a high speed chase before, but...it was better than going to
prison right?

I exhaled. A sudden noise to my right caught my attention.

It was my brother, shifting in his seat to look at the state trooper behind
us. I let out an uneasy laugh. I had forgotten he was in the truck with me,
and I had been thinking about starting a high speed chase. I groaned,
realizing that I could have gotten us killed.

I resigned myself to my fate, and let up on the gas pedal. Signaling, I
moved into the oh-shit lane as I continued to slow down, the trooper right
behind me. Coming to a stop I put the truck in park, reached into the glove
box and grabbed the registration and proof of insurance on the truck that I
insisted my dad have in case anything ever happened to him. Then the spare
truck keys fell out. I could feel my eyes grow to the size of saucers as I
looked between the spare keys and the ignition switch...I grabbed for them
and managed to get the key into the switch before the cop had even gotten
out of his car.

A moment later I had my driver's license in hand. Yeah, I know, I didn't
have a driver's license, at least not a valid one. I never said anything
about not having a fake one though.

Four seconds later I was rolling down my side window for the officer,
wearing my most charming smile as I looked at him, attempting to be as
pleasant as possible.

"What seems to be the problem, officer?" I asked.

"License, insurance and registration, please," he asked me, sounding bored.

"Yes sir," I replied. Nervously I offered him the requested information. He
didn't start looking at it though.

"Where you two boys heading? You're a long way from home, aren't you, son?"
he asked, shining his flash light at the passenger seat so he could, I
assume, make out my brother. I grimaced briefly at the word son, hoping he
didn't notice. I hated when other people used that word on me. A second
later he had the light shining back toward me.

I nodded at the officer, unable to keep up the smile on my face.

"It's Micah, sir, and yes sir, we are a long way from home. We're heading
up north to..." I paused a moment and eyed his badge, wondering where
exactly we were. Washington.

"...Seattle. We're going up there to visit our Grandmother," I finished.

The officer nodded and shined his flash light on the driver's license I had
handed him.

"Well, Micah. You're a little young to be heading all this way by yourself,
aren't you?" he asked.

I frowned as a memory of something someone once said came to me.

"No sir," I answered as I forced myself to sound indignant at the
insinuation in the officer's voice.

"Let's see, nineteen ninety..." the officer said, his voice trailing off as
he looked up from the license.

"...how old did you say you were again?" he asked.

I raised an eyebrow, amused.

"I'm eighteen Officer, it says so right there on my license. Twelve
seventeen nineteen ninety-one. That's my date of birth," I offered.

The flashlight shone down on the license in his hand. He looked at the date
of birth again for a moment before he finally nodded in agreement.

"Who is this with you?" he asked.

I felt a tap on my arm and turned briefly to face my brother. He started
waving his arms around and wiggling his fingers. At least, to most everyone
else he would have looked like he was just waving his arms around in the
air and wiggling his fingers. But, I wasn't most everyone else.

"Micah, why's he pulling us over and how come you're lying?" he signed at
me.

"I'm trying to keep us out of trouble," I signed back.

"Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't know he couldn't hear..."

I sighed, quietly cursing my luck. I would run into another asshole making
assumptions.

"He can hear, he just doesn't speak..." I quietly interrupted. My stomach
clenched up for a moment as I was once more reminded of the reason why he
didn't speak.

"Oh..." the officer replied. I looked at him just as he shifted slightly,
clearly uncomfortable with the situation now.

"Joel asked why we were being pulled over..." I said. "He's anxious to see
Grandma," I added, pleased with my quick thinking.

 "Do you know why I'm pulling you over so..." his voice trailed off and he
shook his head, catching on that I had just asked that question. "Sorry,
uh..." he looked at the license in his hand again and then pulled out his
ticket book and began writing in it.

 "...Micah. I pulled you over because one of your taillights is out. I'm
not going to ticket you but you will receive a warning. You're about forty
five minutes outside of Seattle, so if you hurry you might be able to make
it before nighttime sets in," the officer finished. He ripped out a piece
of paper and, along with the rest of the information I had given him,
handed it to me.

"You boys have a good evening and drive safe, alright?"

I nodded my head. "Yes sir," I replied. "... and thank you," I added as an
afterthought.

He smiled at me momentarily and started walking away, but he hadn't gone
far enough.

"Such a polite kid, pity `bout his brother." I heard him mumble.

I sighed, suddenly relieved and leaned forward, placing my head on the
steering wheel even as I felt another tap on my shoulder.

Turning my head to the side I looked at Joel. "What?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes at the tone in my voice.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes back at him. "Seattle, didn't you hear me tell the police
officer that?" I asked him.

His hand moved, slapping the back of my arm even as he leaned back and
placed his head against the passenger seat window. I smirked even as I sat
up and, watching for traffic in my mirrors, pulled back into the interstate
lane when I could and got us going on our way.

* * * * * *

Bright lights lit up the sky, hiding the glory of the evening stars that I
was used to seeing. Cars were honking everywhere, pointlessly adding to the
noise of a city that didn't seem to sleep. People were all over the place;
talking on their cell phones as they hailed taxi's or walked around in a
hurry to get to a destination that only they seemed to know about. The
endless pavement of the streets was my only guide, and I could have gone
anywhere. But I had finally admitted it to myself. I had no clue where I
was or where I was even going. I felt helpless, and I hated it.

So it was with relief that I finally pulled off onto a side street, only, a
moment later I had cars honking behind me and it took a moment for me to
see them. Toll booths, and there was no where I could go to get out of the
line that I seemed to have gotten in.

A sharp intake of breath to my right let me know that Joel had woken up. He
had fallen asleep awhile ago while I was driving around the city; lost,
confused and incapable of deciding what to do.

A tap on my shoulder a second later had me looking at him.

"Where are we?" he asked.

I shrugged at him, even as I allowed the truck to idle forward and come to
a stop at the toll booth.

"Nineteen dollars and eighty-five cents, please," a bored voice on my left
requested.

"Huh?" I said, looking in that direction only to see a bored woman wearing
way to much make-up and earrings the size of my wrist.

"Nineteen dollars and eighty-five cents, please," she said once more.

"Uh, can you tell me where we are?" I asked.

She let out a sigh and finally looked me over.

"Pier 52, heading to Bremerton..." she replied, looking at me like I was
stupid.

"Oh, oh-kay," I said, slightly confused as I pulled out my wallet and
handed her some money. She handed me back my change along with a ticket
stub.

"Please pull forward and pay attention to traffic signs. Enjoy your ride on
the ferry," she replied.

Ferry? I questioned myself silently, even as I pulled forward and obeyed
her instructions. It was then that I saw it, a big ship with open ends on
either side that the vehicles ahead of me were boarding. It was white on
the sides and green on the bottom; looking rather unseaworthy. Despite
myself, I swallowed the lump that managed to form in my throat as we
followed the other cars moving ahead of us until I was parking.

Another tap on my shoulder.

"Where are we going?" Joel asked. He looked at me, annoyance written all
over his face.

I smiled at him.

"Bremerton, Washington" I replied.

* * * * * *

Bremerton, Washington.

I'd never seen a bigger shit-hole in my life, and frankly, I wasn't even
sure I'd want to call it a shit-hole. Too demeaning to shit-hole's
everywhere, if you asked me. That's why it was with relief that I finally
found myself on a highway heading further north, and a bit to the east, it
seemed.

Only, it wasn't much longer before I was in another town. That's when my
real troubles began.

The truck started sputtering and, out of concern I pulled over when I
could, right into the parking lot of what seemed to be a huge mall. At
least, it was huge to me, considering we didn't have one back home.

I just barely got it into a parking space when the truck died. Then I
killed the battery trying to get the damn thing re-started again. And, it
didn't help that Joel was laughing at me the whole time, just adding to my
stress and frustration with the entire situation.

With a sigh I looked around me, hoping there would be someone around who
might be willing to help us out, but there wasn't a soul in sight. Not
surprising really, considering it was probably close to two in the morning.

That was the trouble with people. They were never around when you wanted
them, and always around when you didn't. And it sucked. Because, Joel and I
would have to sleep in the truck for the night, since I didn't have a clue
if there was a hotel around anywhere.

And that's what we did. After much grumbling and complaining on my part,
and a lot of backhand slapping on Joel's, we finally managed to fall
asleep.

* * * * * *

I yawned and did the best I could to stretch out the kinks in my body. You
ever try stretching with an 11 year old lying on top of you in a pick-up
truck?

It's near impossible, and extremely frustrating. I'm not talking about the
stretching thing either. I'm talking about my morning wood being crushed
against my stomach, along with the uncomfortable sensation from my bladder
that was telling me I needed to go pee, and soon.

Just as soon... I tensed up a moment,

....as my brother... I rolled over onto my side, and watched...

...was no longer on top of me.

The thud of him hitting the floor was kind of satisfying, especially as he
was no longer on top of my hard on. But I still needed to pee, and I just
watched as he sat up as best he could, rubbing his head and glaring at me.

I smirked.

"Morning, I have to pee, now hurry up so we can go," I stated, emphasizing
the last word.

An uncomfortable look on his face let me know he needed to pee too, and
without waiting for him I opened up the closest door and crawled out of the
cab. A moment later he was at my side. Making sure the truck was locked up;
I headed for the mall, hoping that it was open.

The overcast sky wasn't really telling me much about the prospective time
of day. I felt relief when the doors pulled open at my grasp and, rushing
inside, found myself in the food court. And there, a sign that had me
practically singing `Hallelujah'. Grabbing Joel's hand, I hauled him across
the food court and into the restroom.

Two seconds later I let out a sigh of relief as my aching hard on began to
subside as my bladder released its heavy load against the back of the
urinal. With my penis once again soft I began to pretend like I was a
fireman putting out fires, aiming my hose any which way I pleased until the
source of fluids had dried out.

Smiling, I tucked my penis back into my shorts and careful of the razor
sharp teeth that were the zipper, zipped up. Yeah, let's just say zippers
are the main source of danger when one is free-balling and leave it at
that.

Washing my hands I waited for my brother to finish up and wash his own
hands. Done, we left the restroom and practically fell into a herd of
giggling girls and a guy. All of them were staring pointedly somewhere
behind me; at least I thought they were, until...

"Hey big boy, wanna go for a ride?" a fairly tall, slender brunette called
out.

Ah crap.

I felt my face heat up with embarrassment. That was the other danger of
free balling in loose, slightly baggy shorts. I grabbed Joel's hand and
took whichever direction would get me away from the group of laughing girls
and the young guy, until they were behind me, apparently done having their
fun with me, as they made no move to follow me like the kids from back home
would have done.

We wondered around the mall aimlessly after that, until I found a store
called `Hot Topics'. I wandered around in there for a good hour or so,
checking out the shirts and hats. They even had CD's. After being stared at
suspiciously for a good portion of time I finally went to the cash
register, my arms fairly well loaded.

Yeah, I know. I only had maybe five hundred dollars left to our name but,
after all those years of wearing second hand clothes that I had worn until
they were beyond thread-bare or passed down to Joel, I just couldn't resist
the temptation.

That's why we found ourselves in the restroom again, checking ourselves out
in the mirror. Yeah, I didn't have the heart to tell Joel no either, which
was why he was looked like a miniature me.

I had changed into a `Dropkick Murphy's' shirt with a skull and swords, a
striped fedora and baggy black shorts with a chain dangling down the side
leading to my new wallet. I must admit, I was rather pleased with the look.

Adjusting the fedora on my head, I watched as Joel did the same and then we
were heading right back out of the restroom, stopping long enough to throw
the rags we had been wearing into the trash bin before we headed out.

A tap on my shoulder had me glancing at my brother as we entered the food
court again.

"I'm hungry" he told me.

I acknowledged his complaint with a nod and headed outside. About 15
minutes and three whines later we were back at the truck with Joel sitting
happily on the tail-gate munching away at a hamburger. I was idly smoking a
cigarette and staring, with confusion, at an atlas that I had just
acquired.

If I was reading it right, it looked like we were about an hour away from
the Canadian border; but that led me right back to our problem. I put the
atlas down and stared at the truck. I would have popped the hood,
seriously, but, aside from knowing how to hotwire cars, I didn't know much
else about them.

Another tap on my shoulder had me looking at Joel as he stuffed a handful
of fries into his face.

"Where are we going now?" he asked.

I bit my lip a moment. "Canada," I finally replied with a nod.

He looked dubiously at the truck for a moment.

"In that?"

"No," I answered.

He raised an eyebrow questioningly, a trait he had acquired from me.

"How?"

I smiled at him and turned around in a circle, looking at all the cars and
trucks in the parking lot, feeling a slight thrill in the pit of my stomach
as a shiver went down my spine. It could have been part of the excitement,
or something else. I never really questioned it.

"Your pick," I replied with a broad grin even as I swept my hand across the
parking lot in a broad gesture.

* * * * * *

Would you believe how argumentative and bratty an 11 year old could be? I'm
not sure you could, and I still wasn't even sure I believed it as the sun
finally began to set.

I was still sitting in the parking lot of the mall, only, now I was
watching as cars pulled in and out of the mall area and went between two
restaurants. One appeared to be Red Robin and the other was called
Silverdale Brewery.

My brother had stopped talking to me two hours ago, after I continued to
insist that we had to steal a car. To say he didn't like the idea very much
is probably an understatement, considering the silent temper tantrum he had
thrown in the middle of the parking lot.

And, I hated the fact that he wasn't talking to me. I was on the verge of
apologizing to him and telling him we would just call for a mechanic to
come out and look at the truck for us when I saw him.

He was a beauty, dressed in red, black, gold and silver. Hell, I'll admit
it, seeing him had me popping a boner and ready to cum in my pants. Before
I knew it I was standing up from the bench I had been sitting on with my
brother and tracking his progress across the parking lot.

He came to a stop and looked right at me, and I'd swear to god he was
winking at me.

I started walking across the parking lot, aware of my brother behind me. He
kept going and I was ready to run after him and introduce myself any which
way I could, when he came to a stop again, this time in a parking space at
Red Robin's.

A guy that looked to be in his forty's got out of my singing beauty along
with a kid that I recognized from earlier that day in the food court. A nod
from both of them had me nodding back, before they headed toward the
restaurant. I watched as the man came to a stop in front of a woman and
planted a peck on her lips before he took her arm in his and she had her
arm across the boy's shoulder and, together, they headed into the
restaurant.

Just as soon as they entered the restaurant I was heading toward him, still
unable to believe my luck. A Ferrari F430 had practically landed in my lap
and was screaming at me to take him for a spin, and, I was all for it. As I
approached the car Joel latched onto my arm and started pulling on me
until, finally, I turned around and looked at him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Relax," I replied, "I'm just looking at it." I smiled reassuringly at him.

He rolled his eyes, clearly not believing a word I was saying. But that's
okay, because at this point in time, I was pretty sure I wouldn't believe
anything I was saying either. Let's face it, I just wasn't thinking very
clearly.

I started messing with the door handle and, to my relief; I found that the
car was unlocked. Pulling the door open I peaked inside and, unable to
resist, I ran my hand across the leather seat. Without realizing it I was
leaning further inside.

He was definitely a beauty but, he was a stick shift, and I just wasn't
very good at driving stick shifts. Yeah yeah, I know I'm gay and us gay
boys, our knowledge of handling sticks is extremely vast, but this one was
just a little bit beyond me.

But I was definitely willing to try. I stood up and slid into the driver's
seat until I was caressing the steering wheel lightly. Yup, I was
definitely willing to try. I looked at Joel, who was watching me with a
worried look on his face.

"Let's go," I said.

He scowled at me.

"No" he said. And, just like that, he crossed his arms and glared defiantly
at me.

I sighed.

"Look, I'm not stealing it. I'm just...borrowing it. We'll take it around
to the other side of the parking lot and...use it to jump start the truck,
then we'll be on our way."

I'll admit it, I was practically pleading with him at that point, if the
whine I heard in my voice was anything to go by. He shook his head at me.

I found myself growing frustrated with him and, reaching out I grabbed on
to him and pulled him toward me, fully intending to drag him into the car
with me. But, as I've said before, the Fates seemed to find humor in
putting me in the worst situations just to see how I would handle it. The
voice I heard had me letting my brother go. It was every car thief's
nightmare.

"Hey, kid! What the hell are you doing in my car!" a man shouted.

I panicked and tried standing up, bumping my head against the roof of the
car in the process. Rubbing my head I finally got out and looked back, to
find the man that had been driving the car running across the parking lot
toward me. Shit. Shit. Shit. I thought to myself. A moment later I found
myself slightly amused, because I realized that I had been signing my
thoughts.

"Ya think?" Joel replied as he backed away from me and the car, a deer in
the headlights look on his face.

I don't know why I did what I did next. I just couldn't help myself. I put
as big a smile as I could muster on my face and waved at the man, then I
slammed the door to the Ferrari shut and turned, fully intending to run
across the parking lot as fast as I could.

I didn't make it very far.

I had probably gone about three feet when I abruptly bounced off of
something and fell to the ground. Probably another car, I thought. I lay on
the pavement and found myself looking at a pair of huge feet in black shoes
and black pants. My eyes trailed upward, following the black pants and
white dress shirt, security belt, walkie talkie, big face, military cut...

I let out a sigh. I had run right into a mall security guard, and he was
trying to calm down a struggling Joel that he had in his grasp. I stood up
and charged the man.

Stupid right? Yeah, that's what I was thinking, which was why I stopped and
grabbed my brother, yanking him out of the man's grasp and into my arms. He
was heavy, but I lifted him up and turned, ready to run the other way.

But the car owner was blocking the way, along with a couple of security
guards. I sighed and let my brother go. I felt myself slump when Joel was
on the ground. I had given up. That's right. I was busted. The Fates were
laughing at me. Now I was going to jail, not only for kidnapping my
brother, but for attempted car theft as well.

I wouldn't be seeing some guy named Ronald. I'd be seeing some guy named
Dwight, Ronald, and all their friends. My knees gave out and I found myself
slumping forward on the ground, my arms wrapped tightly around my legs as
my hands clasped together.

"Kid," the voice was hazy, distant. "You're in a lot of trouble..."

"Honey, what's going on?" I heard a woman's voice say next at the same time
a fairly young voice said "Dad!"

I ignored the voices, but couldn't ignore the familiar tap on my knee as I
idly watched an ant crawling across the parking lot. I looked up and found
Joel sitting next to me with a quivering mouth and tears in his eyes.

"What's going to happen now, stupid?" he asked me.

His signing seemed to make the world pause, for in that moment everything
seemed to fall silent and stopped.

Everything but me.

I closed my eyes and let out a sigh as I rested my head against my knees,
unwilling to let the world see the tears that had welled up in my eyes and
were currently trekking down my cheeks.

Joel tried getting my attention again, tapping my knee repeatedly until I
found myself looking at him in annoyance.

"What's going to happen now, Micah?" he asked, looking concerned as he saw
the tears running down my face. I guess you could say he had a right to be
concerned, since he'd never seen me cry.

* * * * * *

Who would have thought that a town bigger than the one I used to call home
would have more bored sheriffs then I knew what to do with. There had to
have been more than ten of them on location, and considering my town only
had three on the force altogether, that was quite a lot for someone who
wanted to borrow a car.

Apparently, at some point in time after the first deputy had arrived on
scene and watched me and Joel communicating with one another, it had been
decided that I couldn't speak either, and they, along with CPS, were
waiting for an interpreter. Since I was busy trying to ignore the
situation, I wasn't about to disincline them of that notion. But, more
importantly, I just wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone now.

But Joel was, because he was still calling me a bunch of names, at least,
when he decided he was speaking to me.

"Idiot," he gestured at me, and then turned away before I could respond.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, putting my head back on my knees, hoping that
the headache I had developed would go away. Not a chance though, not with
all the conversations going on around me.

"Has anyone at least figured out who they are and their ages?" the woman
from CPS asked.

She must have been talking to the lead deputy on scene, because his voice
responded.

"No ma'am, not yet."

I lost interest in the conversation, still surprised that no one had put me
in handcuffs and searched me yet. I apparently wasn't considered a threat.

It was then that another voice caught my attention.

"Hey Reese, what's going on?" the voice flowed smoothly. It was simply
music to my ears.

I turned my head and found myself looking at a boy about my age, dressed in
tight blue jeans, boots, a button up white shirt that was open at the neck
and a white cowboy hat that sat on top of his head. But that's not what had
me staring. It wasn't the huge belt buckle that looked like it was the size
of my hand and then some that had me staring either.

Yup, you guessed it. I was staring at the bulge in the crotch of his pants
that left nothing to the imagination, and, he was talking to the
dark-haired, younger boy who was still standing there next to his mother
and father whose name I now knew to be Reese.

"Hey Patrick," Reese greeted the taller boy who was now looking at Joel and
me.

I guess Reese wasn't about to answer Patrick's question because he just
fell silent again and continued to stare at us as the woman from CPS and
the lead deputy approached him and his parents.

"Hi Reese," she said. "Elizabeth, Ken, would you mind coming over here for
a moment?"

A nod from the two adults had the group moving off a short distance. I
guess Joel and I were the topic of conversation.

"...still waiting for an interpreter," the deputy said, while a jab from
Patrick had Reese giving Patrick a run down on what was going on.

A tap on my shoulder had me turning to face Joel, again.

"Asshole."

I looked at my brother, startled. Not because he had called me an asshole,
believe me that had been rather common in the last thirty minutes. I was
startled because the gesture had been accompanied by the clear, musical
voice that was Patrick's, and it sounded out of place coming from his
mouth.

I wasn't the only one startled either. Reese was looking at Patrick in
surprise.

"Patrick!" The woman, Elizabeth, said, aghast at the foul language coming
out of Patrick's mouth. Patrick didn't seem to be paying any attention.

"What the fuck are you doing? Will you look at me, I'm trying to talk to
you," Patrick stated, bemused as he looked at Joel and me.

I shifted uncomfortably, aware of everyone falling silent as they looked
between where Patrick was standing and where I was sitting with Joel.

A moment later, I felt a pair of small hands grabbing my chin, attempting
to turn my head in a different direction.

I resisted at first but finally gave in and looked at Joel.

"What's going to happen to us...?" Patrick paused, unsure of the last bit
that Joel had said. I guess he wasn't shy though.

"Excuse me," he called out politely, a hint of something strange and exotic
underlying his voice "can you spell out that last part, I don't know what
it means."

"I don't think they can hear you...hey, where are you going?" I heard the
deputy ask. I attempted to look in their direction but Joel reached out and
grabbed my chin again, not letting go until he was sure my attention wasn't
going anywhere.

A moment later my question was answered as Patrick knelt down next to us
and tapped Joel, politely, on the shoulder. Joel looked at him.

"Excuse me, sorry," Patrick signed and said aloud for the benefit of
everyone around us who had followed him.

"Can you spell that last word out, I don't know what it means," he
requested again.

His request had Joel squinting at him for a moment, but Joel must have
decided that Patrick was harmless, because he started spelling it out.

"M-I-C-A-H..." Patrick mouthed, intently watching Joel's hands.

I watched as Patrick's mouth moved a few more times, shaping the letters as
he spelled it a couple more times and tried to sound it out.

"Micah...His name's Micah!" Patrick said suddenly. I guess he was pleased
with himself for figuring out my name.

I wasn't pleased though. Not at all.

"Wait, whose name is Micah? The little one?" The deputy asked, standing
next to the woman from CPS, both of them scribbling in note pads.

But calling my brother little had Joel glaring at the deputy, and I was
glaring at Patrick. To say I wasn't pleased with the new situation was an
understatement, most definitely an understatement.

Patrick wasn't paying attention to me, because he was beaming and had his
head turned upward, facing them and the family that he apparently knew.

"No, the big one," he replied and pointed as he turned to look at me.

I would have hit him, I think, just to shut him up and I guess it must have
shown on my face because he scrambled backward like a crab a moment later,
causing the deputy to look at me.

"Easy there, fellow, or I'll have to put these on you," the deputy stated
as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I guess he had caught sight of my
face too.

That was when I found the guy's actions kind of cute, because he paused and
then started signing, translating what the deputy had said for
me. Although, the smug look on his face wasn't very endearing.

I scowled and shifted away from the man. I guess my brother wasn't done
talking to me either because he suddenly grabbed the back of my shirt and
pulled on me until I found myself lying on the ground. Then he was sitting
on top of my chest, his knees pinning my head in place.

"Did you even think about what you were doing when we left Oregon?" Joel
asked, with Patrick still translating.

"Or about what would happen when Dad sobered up and found us missing?"

"Dad's a drunk and the chances of him sobering up right now are slim to
none," I signed back without thinking about it.

"Then why didn't you call someone and ask for help? You didn't have to try
and steal that man's car," Joel, with Patrick's help, said.

Joel, with Patrick's help, said.

"I wasn't stealing the car, I was borrowing it," I signed swiftly, keeping
my movements short and abrupt to let Joel know how agitated I was with him.

I was also tired of him sitting on my chest, because he was making it
harder to breath.

Grasping him by the waist, I bucked myself at the hips and, not bothering
to cushion Joel very much, I sat up and watched as he almost landed on his
head. He caught himself though.

"Then why didn't you..." Joel began to ask.

I caught his hands, afraid that the next question would reveal that I could
speak.

"Be quiet, they don't need to know everything," I signed.

"Well," I heard another deputy mutter, "I guess he knows he has the right
to remain silent, though I'm sure we won't have to worry that much about
him invoking that right."

I paused when I heard him and, along with Joel, found myself glaring at the
man, angry. I guess I wasn't the only one either, because everyone else was
glaring at him too, and I found myself hard pressed not to laugh out loud
when a female deputy slapped him upside the head and told him to shut up.

"Excuse me, what's your name?" Patrick asked a moment later. I guess he was
talking to Joel though, because he already knew mine. I turned and looked
at him, to find he was reading from a piece of paper that another deputy
who was squatting next to him was holding out for him.

I guess they had found another way to communicate with us after all.

He still must not have realized that we could hear him though, because a
second later he was watching me and scrambling forward, just to tap Joel
quickly on the shoulder before he was scuttling backward again. Joel looked
at him again, suspicious. It was my turn for revenge though.

"His name is Joel, and we can hear you, you know," I signed, satisfied with
my revenge. Patrick obliged the people around us and translated again.

Only, Joel had decided that he wasn't happy with that because he punched me
in the chest, and it hurt. A lot.

"Oh, okay..." Patrick paused a moment and took off his cowboy hat,
revealing his short blond hair underneath that was slightly covered in
sweat while he looked at the next question, apparently having trouble
reading the man's handwriting.

I guess Patrick couldn't translate and understand what I was saying at the
same time though, but the deputies, apparently, could.

"Do you have ID?" the man sitting next to him asked.

I glared at him and crossed my arms. He just looked at me, a bemused
expression on his face.

"Yeah, that's it," Patrick said. He looked up from the piece of paper. "Do
you have ID?" he asked politely, a genuine smile appearing on his face.

Okay, is there something wrong with this guy? I mean, the politeness thing
is getting kind of old, although, the smile is kind of nice, but doesn't he
know he's talking to a juvenile delinquent? For all he knows I could be a
murderer, so seriously, is he mental or something?

I don't know why I did what I did next, I just found myself amused with the
whole situation. So I pulled out my wallet and flipped it over to where
Patrick was sitting. The deputy glared at me for a moment while I smirked
at him and then he grabbed my wallet from Patrick's hand, stood up and
walked over to his car. Everyone else followed him and I watched with
continued amusement as every single one of them began to finger through the
items that had been in my wallet.

Except, I wasn't so amused now; more like annoyed. Hadn't these people ever
come across a run-away teen before? You'd think that from the way they were
acting I was the legendary Big Foot or something. It was just a matter of
moments before the deputy and CPS woman came back to us, only this time the
lady had my school ID, the fake ID and my learners permit in her hand, and
she didn't look very happy either.

The deputy, well, he had his handcuffs out and was looking at me warily.

Resigned, I sighed and stood up, put my hands on the back of my head and
turned around. Then Joel grabbed me around the waist and those heart
wrenching silent sobs of his began wracking his frame.

"Easy son," the woman said, reaching out to rub Joel on the shoulder. He
jerked back from her touch, taking me with him.

"Uh, Mrs. Emerson, what's going to happen to the younger boy, Joel?" An
unlikely source asked.

I looked at Elizabeth, confused as to why she would care.

"Uh, well, I'll have to try and find a foster home for him until I can get
in touch with someone in Oregon and figure out what, exactly, is going on,"
Mrs. Emerson stated, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Oh..." Elizabeth said, chewing on her bottom lip.

Mrs. Emerson must have decided the conversation was over because she turned
to Joel again.

"Well take him, then," Elizabeth stated.

Mrs. Emerson paused and then turned around to face Elizabeth.

"Are you sure, Mrs. Windleton?" Mrs. Emerson asked. I don't know what it
was that caught my attention then, except she sounded like she was kind of
relieved.

"Wait, no, I can't let you do it," Mrs. Emerson abruptly stated, shaking
her head. At the same time, Elizabeth's husband and son were looking at
Elizabeth like she was crazy.

"Sure you can, you know we are certified for emergency foster care. You
need someone to take him, and we have the room," Elizabeth argued.

"Uhm, Honey," Ken said, tentatively trying to gain his wife's attention.

"Oh, c'mon Ken!" she said, stomping her foot lightly in exasperation.

"Elizabeth, if you take him, I don't know how long you'll have him. Foster
homes out here are scarce...I don't think this is going to be a temporary
situation. You could end up with him for months...are you prepared for that
situation?" Mrs. Emerson asked her voice calm and firm.

I frowned and looked at Joel, who was staring at the woman. I couldn't read
him; his expressionless face wasn't really telling me anything. I squatted
down and poked him in the stomach.

"What are you thinking?" I asked him.

"I don't want you to go to jail," he said back.

I smiled at him, a little sad at the whole situation. Who knows, maybe all
those kids back home had been right the entire time I had been there with
them. I was a no good nothing whose only accomplishment in life would be to
land in jail where my father belonged. Except; I wanted them to be wrong
about one thing.

I didn't want Joel to end up there with me.

"Don't worry about me, Joel. You just go with the nice lady, and be good
for her and her family. Do everything she says, stay out of trouble, and
remember that I love you, ok?"  I smiled at him as I tried to keep the
tears back.

Feet shuffling against the pavement caught my attention and I looked up in
time to see Patrick staring at Joel and me, only it looked like he was
crying a little bit.

Nosey twit.

Joel tapped my nose. "I don't..."

I caught his hands and held them still while I looked in his baby blue
eyes.

"I love you, now go on, Joel." I stood up and grabbed a hold of him,
hugging him, tight, to my body. Then I stepped back and gently pushed him
toward Elizabeth, who was still arguing with Ken and Mrs. Emerson.

Joel approached Elizabeth and simply took her hand, effectively ending the
argument as he looked up at her expectantly. I guess she hadn't expected it
either, if the stunned look on her face was anything to go by. Neither
Mrs. Emerson nor Ken seemed to know what to say then as they looked at
Joel, the trust of a little boy stamped all over his face.

The deputy was still standing next to me and had been watching me interact
with Joel, I guess, because as Mrs. Emerson and the Windleton's looked at
each other and Joel, he placed his hand on my shoulder.

"You know, boy, I don't know much sign language, but I know what `I love
you' means, and you did a good thing. Something good will come of it, I'm
sure. I don't know what it is yet, but it'll happen."

The look on my face must have told him I didn't like this conversation, and
I didn't. I didn't want Joel to go with that woman and her family. I wanted
him to stay with me. But he couldn't, because I didn't even know where I
was going.

"Yeah," the deputy continued as he fiddled with his handcuffs, "I'm sure
you don't believe me, but you'll see."

I just frowned at him and watched as he continued to fiddle with his
handcuffs. Then he surprised me and put them away.

"C'mon son, I don't think we'll need these today."

I looked up at his face then and saw him still watching my brother and the
Windleton's. I guess Mrs. Emerson had relented and given in, because all of
them were watching me now, and Patrick was stroking his smooth chin in idle
thought.

The deputy squeezed my shoulder for a moment, and then I turned away before
I could do something stupid and, rather than wait for him, I led the way to
the nearest cruiser and opening the door, I crawled inside and buckled
up. I didn't look back either. Not when I got in the car and not when the
cruiser pulled away from the parking lot. It wasn't because I didn't want
to, but because if I did, the dam holding back my tears would break, and I
wasn't sure if I could handle that just then.

It was when we came to a stop on a main road that I saw it, a gigantic
spider web woven between two trees. Barely seen, but still there, was a bug
that was caught within its strands.

That's what I felt like in that moment. I was a bug caught in the strands
of a gigantic spider web, and the Fates, they were the spider.

Copyright © 2010 Linxe Termoil; All Rights Reserved.

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