Date: Thu, 3 Mar 2005 20:02:14 -0500
From: edcwriter@yahoo.com
Subject: THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER - 10

THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER - 10
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Copyright 2005 by Carl Mason and Ed Collins

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the authors.  However based on real events and
places, "The Priest and the Pauper" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance
to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.  As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold
gradually.  If you would like to read other Mason-Collins stories, you
might turn to "Out of the Rubble" and "Castle Margarethen," both of which
are archived in Nifty's "Historical" section.  Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the authors at edcwriter@yahoo.com

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


CHAPTER 10

(Revisiting Chapter 9)

"I've been touching you for quite a while, Shane," the words finally came.
As the professor looked directly down into the redhead's eyes, he asked,
"Do you still think that I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole if I
knew...everything?  Maybe, I haven't touched you enough to prove that it
makes no difference to me."  With that he covered the boy's cock with his
mouth and continued until the youth exploded in an orgasm that shook his
body to the core and sent waves of cum into his mentor.  "You really don't
care?" the redhead gasped as he regained control of his mind and body.
"Yes, I do care...very much," Bill replied.  "If you want it that way, you
are my son, my beloved son.  Pieces of paper - legal agreements - have
never been my thing.  Where you live...what you become...is up to you - but
I will be here for you your whole life through.  I shall love and aid you
with everything I am.  All I ask is your love and your willingness to trust
me and work with me."

"I want it that way," Shane breathed through his tears.  "I love
you...dad."  With that he threw a muscled leg over the professor's body,
slid on top of him, and took him on the most fantastic journey of his life,
a journey in which the lonely, unfulfilled man found that he, too, was no
longer alone.

(Continuing Our Story - A New Beginning)

In the morning, the two lovers woke up in approximately the same position
as they had fallen asleep the night before - thoroughly entwined in every
way conceivable.  As if one, they awoke at the same moment, their eyes,
wide and filled with love, staring into the other's soul.  Resolutely
ignoring the fact that they desperately needed to relieve themselves, they
kissed passionately and accepted the gift each offered the other.  Once
their bodies had quaked and then relaxed, however, they ran for the
bathroom with shouts of laughter, nearly colliding at the toilet and
finding themselves holding each other's cocks as their yellow streams
merged and gave them further release.

Following a brief shower, Bill sat on the closed lid of the commode slowly
drying his son's body.  As Shane knelt for a moment before him, he rubbed
the thick white towel into the boy's red curls until they softly shone in
the light from the small stained glass window.  Quietly, he bent down and
buried his nose in the thick hair.  Continuing his labors, he wiped the
beads of water from the boy's face, neck, and heavy shoulders before
lifting each heavy arm and carefully drying it from the shoulder to the
fingertips.  Bidding the lad to stand, he gazed breathlessly at the proud
chest that jutted out towards him.  Wrapping the towel around the lad's
upper body, he slowly removed the last of the moisture from his back and
torso.  As he reached the redhead's lower stomach, however, the lad's heavy
cock suddenly erected and slapped hard against his hand.  Smiling, he drew
the towel up between the youth's widespread legs, softly drying the hefty
orbs suspended within his long scrotum and mischievously wrapping the
fabric around the pulsing pole.  Removing the towel, the infatuated young
academic leaned over and pressed his slightly parted lips against the
leaking head.  As Shane gasped and stretched up onto his tiptoes, he
muttered sharply to himself that it was time to stop.  The early hour, not
to speak of his son's ordeal, clearly demanded a different source of
protein!  Hurriedly completing his task, he growled lovingly that Shane
should join him downstairs in the kitchen.

Dressed in little more than chinos, shirt, and sandals, the professor stood
at the kitchen counter, whipping up a batch of pancakes and preparing to
fry some link sausages and set out a pitcher of orange juice.  Suddenly, he
couldn't see!  Prying the hands from his eyes, he turned around only to be
caught in a tight bear hug.  "You want breakfast?" he growled, pulling the
boy's hands behind his back and holding them against his solid buttocks.
Buttocks...warm naked skin?  "SHANE!  For God's sake!  I've turned up the
heat, but it's cold around here.  Aren't you going to put on some clothes?"
"Around here, dad?" the gleeful boy chortled.  "Not unless I'm forced to!
I like the feeling - and I like the look in your eyes even more!"  Bill
subsided into a heavy rumbling and grumbling.  There was absolutely no way
that he was going to order his beloved redhead to dress - and both of them
knew it!

As he swallowed the remnants of still another sausage, Dr. Bill mumbled,
"What would you like to do today, Shane?  Want to rest just a bit more - or
do you have another idea?"  The redhead went over to the window and
cautiously parted the curtain slightly before looking out.  "Looks sunny
and warm.  Would you mind terribly if we just drove out into the country?"
"I'd like that, too, the professor replied.  After you've finished that
last short stack, let's get ourselves together and go!"

They drove for hours - well beyond Pomfret to the northeast.  (Bill did
make a point of giving the Quinassett area a wide berth!)  And they talked
and talked as fathers and sons do when the older man is wise enough to
minimize the "complexes" that can bedevil this particular relationship.
Shane stretched out in the front seat and simply luxuriated in the
sunshine, the fresh air, and the company of another human being to whom he
had given his unreserved love.  The schedule for the next couple of days
was much the same.  Sometimes, they went for a drive; sometimes they stayed
at home - during the day usually sitting in the sunny living room, at night
in the professor's library...together in the great chair before a crackling
fire.  The boy slowly healed... and learned.

Teachers teach - and Dr. Bill was no exception.  Looking back on these days
as an older man, Shane felt the most valuable lesson he learned concerned
that which his professor called the "Either-Or fallacy."  It was rather
late at night.  Sitting together, his mentor had just groaned and told him
to move his butt from one pressure point to another.  Grunting in relief as
the boy moved and allowed the blood to re-enter his left leg, he asked,
"Ever heard of the "Either-Or fallacy?"  "Nope," Shane had said, "What is
it?"  "Well, my fiery-haired son, it concerns a really bad mistake that
people commonly make when they talk about love.  'I EITHER love this
person,' they say, 'OR I love that person.'  Bad mistake!  Love is not
limited.  Express your love and you find that you have more love to
express, as well as more people to whom you can express it!  Rather than
either-or, think in BOTH-AND terms."  "Give me an example, dad?  Shane
murmured.  "Look at it this way.  Simply from keeping my eyes and ears
open, I know that you are deeply loved by a whole parcel of people,
especially Father Tom, Brother John, Sister Paul, and several of the Gang,
including Brandon and Mel.  Thus, you might say, 'Well, I can love either
my new dad or I can love...say...Fr. Tom.  What an immature, disastrous
mistake!  There's nothing in the 'rule book' that says you can't love BOTH
of us - and everybody is better off if you do!"

The next day, they were in the car up near Sturbridge, just over the line
into Massachusetts.  Much taken with the preceding night's discussion,
Shane said, "Dad, tell me more about love."  "Well, let's see," Dr. Bill
warmed up.  "Love looks out for the other's feelings; it never
unnecessarily hurts another sentient creature."  "Sentient?" the redheaded
one asked.  "A creature that is aware that it is alive and can feel pain
and grief...like a chimp, a parrot...even some human beings."  Shane looked
over at him sharply.  On seeing the laughter in the corner of his dad's
eye, the youngster gave him one of his patented "looks" "Y-E-S?" he said in
a sarcastic voice.  "Yep, that's true," the professor insisted.  "Here's
another rule for you: Love is never used as a club."  "What does that
mean?" the boy asked.  "Let's say that three supposed friends are talking
together.  The first reaches over and makes a big show of showing the
second how much he cares for him or her - while the third is forced to
watch.  That's not love, Big Guy.  At the very least, it's unkind; it can
be hateful aggression."  "Yeah," Shane quietly mumbled.  "I've seen that,
and it doesn't feel very good.  It kinda breaks the first rule, too,
doesn't it?  I mean... you've hurt somebody else when you didn't have to."
The professor looked over at him...and grinned proudly.

So those few day's at Bill's house passed - nothing earthshaking...just a
chance to recover surrounded and supported by love...and to make a new
beginning on life's path.  Did they spend all their time philosophizing?
Ha!  They gave themselves to each other...repeatedly.  Shane never did put
on a piece of clothing unless they were on their way out.  He was rarely
soft - and, by the time that it was time to return to St. Pat's, the good
professor was never far behind!  They gloried in their physical love,
though they both realized so very well that it was only one part of the
whole story.

On the fifth day, Shane nervously came to Bill and said that he had
responsibilities back at St.  Pat's and NEEDED to get back.  Weeping, he
threw himself into his new dad's arms and said that nothing would change.
"I love you!  I love you!" he sobbed, "but I love them, too, especially
Father Tom.  This is my home, too, and I'll be here often.  Don't be mad at
me."  Bill held the trembling boy in his arms, rubbed his hands down the
muscles of his back, held his buttocks in a grip of iron, and locked his
lips onto the young man's.  "Did you think that our love could ever die,
Big Red?  Have you already forgotten that sharing your love only begets
more love?  I have never been more proud of my son than at this moment.
How could I possibly be mad at you?"  "Living is so damned...complicated,"
the redheaded one responded, "but I sure feel better about trying than I
did a few days ago.  Thank you," he murmured, as he reached up and kissed
his father.  "Thank you, dad."

The professor got on the phone and spoke with Fr. Tom for perhaps the tenth
time over the past few days.  "Are you ready for that boy of yours to come
home?" he asked.  From several feet away, Shane could hear the mighty shout
that rocked the phone.

(The Rhythms of Life)

There was no restraining Shane as he took the rectory steps two and three
at a time.  The young academic walked through the open door to find Fr. Tom
and the boy locked in a tight embrace.  When the young priest saw the
professor, he kept one arm around Shane as he threw the other around the
academic.  "I shall always be indebted to you, Bill," he murmured.
Somehow, the redhead managed to get one arm around the man whom he loved as
he did Fr.  Tom.  "Me, too," he exclaimed.  "See you in a day or so for my
English lesson?"  "You got it!"  the professor responded, told Fr. Tom that
he would be in touch, and quickly departed.

During the few days in which Shane had stayed with Dr. Bill, Fr. Tom had
also done his fair share of self-examination.  Long talks with Brother
John, for instance, had helped him see how easy it was to become over
focused on the boy's good nature and leadership abilities when in fact he
was still barely 15 and the product of an extremely troubled past.
Further, the heavy demands of a single-priest parish had diverted his eye
from the problems that Shane might face as he tried to adjust to his
sexuality in an unfriendly culture.  He was greatly disturbed, for
instance, by reputable reports of his treatment at Dave's hands in Storrs.
On the other hand, he fully realized that he could not possibly protect a
15 year-old from every danger - nor could he use love as an excuse to exert
excessive control.  The problem, of course, is that he had accepted his
obligation to surround the youngster with God's love even if his vows
prevented him from responding sexually himself.  "Ah, living is so damned
complicated!" he muttered to himself as he fell to his knees in prayer.

The upshot of all this was that he was considerably more understanding than
he might otherwise have been when the redhead came to him openly within
days of his return to St.  Pat's.  Not that listening to his full account
of that which had happened in Storrs, at St. Pat's on his return or, for
that matter, at Bill Saunders' house in Sherburne was easy!  He knew,
however, how carefully he had to proceed if the boy were not to feel
rejected at his hands.  He had to restate his love for the boy - and his
regret that he had not always been around when the lad needed him.  At the
same time, he had to be honest about the fact that he belonged to the
Church and, thus, their love could never again be physically consummated.
They talked at length about the many ways in which one might allow oneself
to be "used" and the impossibility of suicide were one truly to respect and
love life.  And, of course, they talked about the redhead's relationship
with the professor.  Fr. Tom refused to condemn the relationship out of
hand.  All things told, Shane faced far worse possibilities than those
inherent in a loving relationship with a good and knowledgeable human
being.  With Bill's help, he had made good progress in restoring his
emotional stability.  Continuing progress had to be fostered before he was
ready for additional challenges.  Unfortunately, we humans are rarely able
to choose the time and the place where we will face those challenges - as
both Fr. Tom and Shane were about to discover.

Although the boys of the Gang wondered why their redheaded leader had
disappeared so suddenly, they were overjoyed to see him return rested and
again himself - sunny, positive, interested in them and their problems.  As
one might guess, no one was more overjoyed to see him than Tim.  For Tim,
Shane was a bulwark against an unfriendly world.  Other than on the return
bus trip from Storrs and in the days that followed, his friend gave him
hope that he could make it in a straight world.  It wasn't just that the
redhead occasionally touched him affectionately or treated him as a "good"
person...and a friend, he was responsible for his introduction to Tiger.
The lanky youngster was just about out of his mind with his longing for the
UConn freshman.  They talked at least once a day by phone, but that was
becoming an increasingly inadequate substitute for holding each other in
their arms.  Whatever his other feelings, Tim fully realized that the road
back to Storrs led through Shane.

Late one night not long after his friend's return, the boys found
themselves in the shower after a particularly heavy basketball workout.
Though no one was more surprised than they, the team on which they played
found itself in the semi-final round of the PAL championship tournament.
The lads were working long and hard to prepare for their next game.
Luxuriating in not being surrounded by a dozen guys all trying to get ready
for one event or another, they stood and simply allowed the water to ease
the aches out of their tired bodies.  "Shane, after your experience being
fucked over by Dave, are you going to try to hook up with another guy in
Storrs?" Tim asked, his voice rising above the shower.  The redhead
immediately raced over to his friend, shoved him, and asked in a low growl
if he were out of his mind to ask such a question loudly and in public.
"Oh, man, Shane, I'm sorry!  God, I didn't think!" the boy said, his face
burning with embarrassment.  Shane gave his friend an "Indian burn" (i.e.,
a male adolescent form of mild torture administered by rubbing one's
knuckles vigorously against the scalp of another), and let it go at
that. Fortunately, no one else appeared to be in the shower.  The boys
were, of course, NOT that lucky.  On returning from a dance, Brandon and
Chad had taken a shower ahead of our pair and were dressing in an alcove of
lockers next to the shower room.  On hearing Tim's question, they retreated
from the locker room as if they had firecrackers tied to their tails!  When
Shane and Tim returned to Dorm #1, they found Brandon and Chad to be
atypically tense and even distant.  What the hell...maybe they hadn't
gotten any at their dance!  Besides, everyone had moods.  With something of
a smirk and a pleasant "Good night," they turned in.

After breakfast the next morning, Brandon and Chad cornered the redhead and
said brusquely that they needed to talk.  Sitting at a table in the middle
of a nearly deserted Church Hall, it was obvious to Shane that Brandon was
furious.  (His mood suggested something else as well.  Disgust?  That
couldn't be right!)  The big #2 man in the Gang was neither indirect nor
polite.  "Shane, are you a fuckin' queer?" he asked.  On the very edge of
one of his occasional rages, the words almost fell over each other as he
spat out, "Did I save your life at Quinassett only to have you shit on all
of us?  Fuck, man, why in hell did you come back?"  Chad chimed in, "Yeah,
man, how can decent people even take a crap or shower when they know you're
lookin' at 'em?"

Shane sat looking at his hands folded on the table in utter shock.  He
would NOT cry!  He would not...  He would not...  There was still no one in
the Gang whom he respected as much as Brandon, no one to whom he owed more,
and damned few whom he liked as much.  Slowly, he raised his head, looked
Brandon straight in the eye, and spoke quietly, but with dignity.  "Yeah,
Brandon, I'm homosexual.  Guys turn me on just like girls turn you and Chad
on.  They always have, but, man, I've NEVER thrown it in your face - and
we've known each other since I came to Sherburne.  If I had acted like
that, would it have taken you so long to figure me out?  Do what you have
to do, guys.  I couldn't stop you if I tried - and I'm tired of fighting
it."  With that, the devastated redhead got up from the table and walked
off towards the stairs that led up to the church.

Making his way back to Fr. Tom's office off the Mary Chapel, he knocked on
the door and was relieved to find that the priest was at his desk, we may
presume between two of the thirty or forty tasks that commonly filled his
day.  Keeping an iron grip on his emotions, Shane told his Confessor
exactly what had happened.  His face blanching, the young priest looked at
the desolate youngster who sat slumped in the chair before him.  His heart
went out to him as he moved over and sat on the arm of the chair.
Caressing the lad's face, he said, "What I am about to say may seem very
hard, Shane, but for the time being you must do nothing...  absolutely
nothing.  Control yourself, be your usual self among both the staff and the
boys, and don't despair.  Let this situation play out.  Talk with your
Father in Heaven; talk with me.  Depending on what happens, both of us will
stand by you and help you to do whatever's necessary.  We both love you and
will NEVER leave you all alone.  Do you hear me...NEVER!  Now pray with
me."  They knelt right in front of Shane's chair, the arm of the priest
around his boy's shoulders.  Before he left, Fr. Tom also heard Shane's
confession with regard to the events of the past week.  When they rose, the
boy smiled wearily, embraced his friend, and departed.

As he completed his morning lessons and chores, the redhead struggled to
maintain his equilibrium and be himself.  He joked with Paddy about having
grown another three or four inches (the boy was beginning to look like a
head on top of stilts!); he grinned at Brother John when he cracked a
particularly bad joke; he even managed a slight smile in Brandon and Chad's
direction as he passed bowls of food at lunch.  The afternoon passed in
much the same way.  Although he couldn't hit the basket to save himself
during the afternoon team practice - and he was normally one of the team's
better shots - he was there and he did do his distracted best.  His
self-control slipping as he became more fatigued, he did decide to skip
supper at the Youth Center.  After calling Brother John for permission, he
borrowed a few coins from the coach in order to have a slice over at Tony's
before going to his English lesson.  He had no sooner walked in the door
when he spotted Dr. Bill, presumably on his way home from Storrs.  "Hey, I
get to have supper with my favorite son," the professor chortled.  The
expression on his face subtly changed as he looked into Shane's eyes.  "If
it's ok with you, Big Red, I'll pick up a pizza here and we can eat at
home."  "Sure," the youngster replied in a flat voice.

Dinner was not particularly successful, for the redhead did little but pick
at that which was probably his favorite food.  The English lesson was
worse.  The boy was distracted, had forgotten the simplest matters, and
became increasingly agitated.  Finally, he threw his pencil down on the
dining room table, rose, walked over to Dr. Bill, and nearly pulled him to
his feet.  Dragging him to the great chair in the library, he spoke but one
word, "SIT!"  Thereupon, he dropped down squarely on top of his mentor.
("Dear Lord," the poor man wheezed.  Someday when he does that, he's going
to pop my right nut!") The lad's next actions were completely unexpected.
Suddenly, he burst into wails that sounded as if his heart were breaking
and burrowed into his dad's body as if he were a three year old who had
just lost his new puppy!  When the tears finally ceased, Bill's shirt was
nearly as wet as if it had just come out of the washer.  His father simply
hugged him close, occasionally kissing his hair, his forehead, or an ear.
"Now tell me what in hell's wrong," he finally commanded.  Interrupted by
an occasional sob and sniffle, the whole story poured out.  "Stand up,
beast!" Bill commanded.  "Come upstairs and lie down with me.  No sex...
Just lie down with me."  With the professor giving his rump an occasional
shove, they made it up the stairs and to the bed where they lay down next
to each other.  His dad held him in his arms for a while before speaking.
"Father Tom gave you the only advice possible, you know.  It's hard, but
it's right.  Keep your powder dry, don't make things worse than they are,
and hope for the best."  "You mean that I'm not dead?" the boy asked.
"Nope," Bill responded.  "As they say, it's never over till it's over.
That doesn't mean, however, that you can be a fucking statue for the next
few days.  You'll explode.  Talk with Fr.  Tom and pray with him.  When you
need to let loose - and you will - come on over here where no one can hear
you and jump on my right nut!"  Shane looked into his dad's eyes and, for
the first time all day, grinned...kinda.  They groped each other for a few
minutes before Bill insisted on driving him back to St. Pat's.  "Gotta show
the flag, partner," he drawled as he pushed him out of the car.  On his way
back home, the good professor let himself feel the pain of the young lad
whom he loved more than he ever thought he could love anyone or anything.
Then the proud English professor shook his head, and asked the gods to
strike him dead if he ever used another cliche or teenage slang! In the
days that followed, Shane bravely carried on, but wisely knew to reach out
for help when he needed it - which he did twice when the tension became too
great.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, Brandon and Chad cornered Shane and told
him that it was time to talk.  "Let's go back behind the stage," Brandon
suggested.  "Shane," he began, "do you remember that really old factory on
the edge of town...the one that had the crazy sliding door that only you
could open?"  "Yeah," answered the redhead, wondering what that had to do
with anything.  "You're no different now than you were then," Chad said
gruffly.  "And," added Brandon, "you're the one who brought us here where
we have a good place to live, and good food, and friends."  "Yeah," Chad
broke in, "and we don't have to worry about gettin' raped about once a
week."  "If I had been the boss, I probably would have led the Gang right
into reform school!" Brandon muttered.  The redhead laughed...a little
hysterically. "No way, Brandon!"  "We've been thinking, Shane," Brandon
continued without pausing.  "Your being a homo hasn't stopped you from
doing any of the things you've done for us.  You're not a fairy - I mean
you've never embarrassed us.  As far as we're concerned, you're still the
boss.  WE'RE NOT SAYIN' ANYTHING TO ANYBODY ABOUT WHAT WE HEARD IN THE
SHOWER ROOM.  HELL, WE'RE FORGETTING IT!  And, if you'll forgive me for
going off half-cocked again, I still want to be your friend."  "Me, too,"
chimed in Chad.

Naturally, the redhead had known for a minute or two the direction in which
the conversation was tending, but hearing the words was quite another
matter.  The fact that every muscle, every brain cell had been on maximum
effort for nearly a week was too much.  His nerves were completely shot;
his body, exhausted.  Even though he wanted to appear calm, cool, and
collected - especially around these guys - he couldn't bring it off.
Suddenly, as his control vanished, his face collapsed into tears and he
staggered back against the wall.  A bit red in the face, Brandon socked him
roughly on the upper arm and growled, "It's ok, Red; you're with friends."
Immediately bringing himself back under control, Shane gasped, "Thanks,
guys.  You're the best...the very best!"

(The Great Sherburne Fire of 1953)

At 1:58 p.m. on April 1, 1953, all 12 members of the Gang and 20 teenagers
from the Sherburne High School (including Chuck, the sophomore who had
befriended Shane on the baseball field) were seated in the Church Hall.
Under the direction of John Kofner, Assistant Principal of Sherburne High,
they were meeting to plan the spring PAL "Clean Sherburne" drive.  They had
enjoyed a good lunch in the School cafeteria - a little on the late side
due to having to feed the School children first - and now they were ready
to go.  At 1:59 p.m., a tremendous explosion occurred nearby, an explosion
so strong that the basement hall swayed and rolled as if shaken by a sharp
earthquake.  Almost immediately, Brother John ran down the stairs from the
church above and spoke with Mr. Kofner.  The Assistant Principal signaled
for quiet and announced that something had happened at the parochial
school.  Fire was spreading quickly .  The Fire Department and emergency
vehicles had been called.  No one was required to help in work that was
likely to be dangerous.  Those who wished to do so should bring every
mattress from the two dormitories out into the courtyard between the
Convent and the school...fast.

As Shane dragged his mattress out into the paved open space in front of the
school, he could see immediately what had happened.  One wing of the old
building was in ruins.  My God, that was the cafeteria where they had lunch
only a half hour before!  The ancient, second-hand furnace that was located
in the basement immediately below the cafeteria must have exploded - and
when it exploded it scattered burning debris all over the old 1903
tinderbox and the adjoining convent.  Most of the windows in the school -
and several in the convent - were shattered.  Shane saw at least three
separate fires that had broken out.  Thick acrid smoke was fast engulfing
St. Patrick's entire complex. Within minutes, as the fire alarms rang,
entire classes of children under the direction of their teachers began
pouring out of the building.  Brother John ascertained that they were all
from either basement or first-floor classrooms.  At that point, children
and nuns began appearing at the second floor windows.  Something was
blocking the door to one of the two outside fire escapes.  As the fire
trucks began arriving, two high school boys climbed up the fire escape and
discovered that a section of masonry had fallen off the building and lodged
against the door.  There was no moving it without heavy equipment.  The
first trickle of students had begun coming down the second fire escape in
back of the building.

Brandon spoke excitedly with Shane.  "Given the way the fire and smoke are
spreading, Red, we better make sure that the stairways are clear."  "Yeah,"
the redhead retorted.  "Take two guys with you and check them out.  For
God's sake be careful!"  Shane and most of the other boys started piling
the mattresses beneath the second-floor windows.  "Good thinking!" Fr. Tom
yelled as he and the Fire Marshall walked by.  Brother John was nearby,
helping with the mattresses, when Brandon, Chuck, and Tim staggered out of
the building, followed by a handful of coughing seventh graders.  As
Brother John took them over to one of the emergency vehicles, Brandon
reported that they had barely made it to the second floor.  The smoke was
becoming impossible; perhaps 150 terrified children were becoming confused
and milling around the entrance to the one fire escape.  He would take an
extra pair of teens and attempt to convince more of the kids to stay low
and follow them down the stairs.  Shane was about to object that it was too
dangerous, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.  The trapped kids needed
whatever chance Brandon and his crew could give them.  By this time, the
firemen had doused the one fire on the roof of the convent and were pouring
heavy streams of water into the school.  On his return, Brother John told
them that Norwich and Storrs had already dispatched additional ambulances
and other emergency vehicles - and fire companies from several cities in
the Connecticut Valley were on standby.

Events began to accelerate.  Shane suddenly saw Sister Paul and several
eighth graders using chairs to break the remaining glass from second floor
windows.  If the situation hadn't been so desperate - had the scene not
been so...Wagnerian ("Thank you, Dr. Bill," Shane thought.) - the redhead
swore he would have giggled, for Sister appeared to be a great bat waving
her black wings and commanding the chaos to cease!  The fact was, of
course, that the frightened kids were at least as much in awe of her as of
the fire!  One after another, she commanded children to climb up on the
window ledges and jump onto the mattresses below.  As the flow of hurtling
bodies increased, teens and even some of the firemen and emergency
personnel moved over under the windows and began to catch them - or at
least break their fall.  Suddenly, however, a low explosion was heard from
within the building.  Moments later, as smoke and fire poured from the
school, Brandon's crew exited, dragging and carrying a goodly number of
children with them.  Chuck hurried up to Shane.  "Red, we've got trouble!
That big boom you just heard was a large section of the ceiling and floor
falling onto the main staircase.  Brandon was the last man, and he's
trapped!"  Shane screamed for Mel who was busy catching students.  "Mel,
Brandon's trapped!  Let's go!" Breaking away from Brother John who tried to
stop them and dodging a burly fireman who had orders to prevent anyone else
from entering the blazing coffin, the redhead and his big blond companion
charged straight into the inferno.  To the extent that they could see
anything once inside, the main staircase appeared to be a complete disaster
scene.  Broken wood and plaster were everywhere.  Fast running out of air,
they tossed debris aside and worked their way up the stairs.  They had
probed only a few stairs when they saw a leg beneath a large section of
lath and plaster.  "Mel," Shane gasped.  "Keep low, shut up, and LIFT," the
big blond growled.

Dragging a bloodied Brandon between them, the boys staggered out of the
building to the applause and cheers of hundreds of workers, teens, and
hysterical parents.  They almost made it to the nearest ambulance before
Shane slumped to the ground unconscious.
                            -------- Father Tom and Bishop Kelly stood near
the nurses' station, reassuring weeping parents and speaking briefly with
newsmen when they couldn't be avoided.  Suddenly, Dr. Bill rushed up and
came directly to Fr. Tom.  "Father, I keep telling these people that I'm
Shane's father, but they seem to think that a piece of paper is more
important than the truth and a boy's life.  Help me, please!"  The
beleaguered duty nurse turned to Fr. Tom and asked if the 'gentleman' was
correct.  Hesitating but for a second, Father said, "Yes, nurse, this is
Shane McGuire's adoptive father.  Give me the 'Visitors' List' and I'll add
and initial Professor Saunders' name."  Tears in their eyes, the two young
professionals embraced and made ready to visit the three boys in Room 214.

Entering the partially darkened room, the three men saw that Brandon was
heavily bandaged and had a mask strapped over his nose.  Awaiting the final
determination of their injuries from the acrid smoke (later found to be
amazingly light), Shane and Mel were only receiving oxygen.  When the
redhead saw Dr. Bill, he tore his mask off and wailed, "DAD!"  As he
tearfully buried his head into Bill's shoulder, he reached out an arm for
Fr. Tom.  Pulling him into their hug, he gasped, "Father!  Dad!  Oh, God,
how I love you guys!  What happened?"  "Whoa, monster meat, slow down!"
Fr. Tom growled.  "Put the mask back on and we'll tell you.  As Fr. Tom
joined Bishop Kelly in anointing Mel and Brandon with Holy Oils and praying
with them, Bill shared what information he had.  Between the quick actions
of the teachers who had thoroughly drilled their students in emergency
procedures, the courage of 32 brave teens, great ladders that had been
extended to the second floor windows of the school, the mattresses, and the
one fire escape that was usable, a tragedy of unthinkable proportions had
been avoided.

Lifting the mask off his mouth, Shane asked haltingly, "Did anyone..."
"Put that mask back on!"  Bill snapped.  "Yes, son, three children, one
cafeteria worker, and an elderly nun who was helping out in the
cafeteria...  I'm sorry - but the Fire Marshall said that hundreds could
have died had it not been for all of you.  About 40 of the students are
receiving treatment here and at Storrs General for burns and smoke
inhalation."  Shane again raised the mask from his mouth.  "You didn't
mention Sister Paul," he gasped.  "SHANE!" his dad barked.  When the boy
replaced the mask, he said that Sister Paul had been the last one down the
ladder.  Her habit must have had a hundred burn holes in it, but she was
just as feisty as ever.  "HA!" the redhead's muffled voice came from
beneath the mask.  "Better than Captain Smith of the Titanic!"  Catching
the historical allusion, the professor just winked at his student and
allowed the love in his eyes to illuminate the room.  Clearing his throat,
Bishop Kelly sat down beside the boy.  "So we meet again, young Shane?
Don't forget what I told you the first time."  With that, he made the sign
of the cross, anointed the boy's body with Holy Oils, and led the little
group in prayer.  Speaking to all three boys, Fr. Tom said that they had a
few others to see, but they would be back.

When the adults had departed, Brandon removed his mask, groaned, and asked
his buddies if they were going to tell the Gang that he had been bawling
like a baby when they found him in the stairwell.  "Hey, Mel," Shane called
out, "I saw a little moisture in Brandon-babe's eyes from the smoke, but I
sure as hell didn't hear any bawling.  Did you?"  "BRANDON-BABE?" Shane's
powerful #2 snarled, but his outrage was cut short by Mel's answer.  "Nah,
Shane, I didn't hear no fuckin' bawlin'!"


(To Be Continued)