Date: Mon, 12 Sep 2016 05:37:11 -0500 From: Kody Boye <boyekody@gmail.com> Subject: His Touch of Ice - Part 31 DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction, and contains scenes of graphic violence and explicit male/male sex. If you are not of the legal age to read this, or are uncomfortable with this sort of content, please turn back now. HIS TOUCH OF ICE (The Ice Men, Book 1) is copyright © Kody Boye. All Rights are reserved. ______________________________________________________________________________ The agony wrought by the overhead sun was excruciating. Nearing at least one-hundred degrees and aided by the humidity, it almost reduced me to tears I felt would've dried anyway. We'd yet to see a truck pass and we'd been going for almost an hour. I wasn't sure how much more I could take. "Just keep going," Guy said, pressing another bottle of water into my hand. "We'll see someone soon." I doubted that. The water was warm, the road was barren, the sun had no other wish than to slowly bake us to death—I mean, if I thought about it, the only thing that could have made this worse was the cops rolling up to offer us a ride to prison. "Or the sun falling down," I mumbled. What could be worse than that? The slight rumble at our feet should've given me indication that I was wrong—that I'd merely hastened the inevitable and instead summoned upon us worse luck. When I turned to find a truck barreling down the road, however, I sighed and cast my head back, nearly blinding myself when the sunlight stabbed into my eyes. "Thank you," I said. "God—whoever. Thank you!" Guy merely chuckled and patted my back before lifting a hand to wave. The truck slowed as it approached and came to a full halt beside the road. Its occupant—a lone black man with a pair of thick shades braced upon his nose—leaned across the length of the cab and knocked the door open before simply saying, "Get in." Guy and I were quick to oblige. "What brings you fellas all the way out here?" the man asked as I closed the door and he pulled the truck into drive, cranking up and directing the air conditioning at the two of us. "Kinda hot to be going on a walk, ain't it?" "Kinda?" I laughed, leaning back in my seat. "You don't know the half of it." "We're heading to the Winters' farmland," Guy said. "We were on my way to see my father." "No shit? You the reverend's kid?" Reverend? I frowned. I hadn't heard this part. "Yes sir," Guy said, clapping an arm across his back. "You know my father?" "Well, no. Never met the man myself, but I'm... not one to judge." The act was terrifying in its subtlety. A clap across the back, a touch of the hand, the grace of a thumb upon one's cheek—even casual contact could be used to the utmost advantage, which was why I'd initially been thrown off by the overly-friendly gesture. Now, however, I could see what he was going. Guy didn't want this guy to know where we were going. How he was going to impose such an impression when we'd yet to reach our destination was beyond me. The touch was so brief it was hardly even noticed. The man just smiled and reached out to take Guy's hand. "Alan," he said. "Nice to meet you." "You too," Guy replied, nudging my ribs with his elbow. I didn't bother to reply. The rolling hillscapes that came into view further north were breathtaking as much as they were terrifying. With the knowledge that we could've easily been climbing them in this hundred-and-five-degree heat, it was hard not to consider Alan an angel of mercy. His kind demeanor and vibrant smile spoke wonders of his personality. I was used to Texans helping their fellow man out, but Alan was something else. He even offered us cold water from his refrigerator unit in the back and declined our offer for trade. "I got more than enough back there," he said as Guy returned to the front seat. "As your friend here has seen." Guy smirked. Alan's bellowing, raucous laugh filled the cab and completely drowned out the sound of the radio. It was a good time, for sure. The only thing that dampened my mood was that it made me realize how relieved I was to finally feel safe. Guy appeared to take notice of my mood, but said nothing—likely to prevent suspicion and also to distract Alan when prompted. I couldn't blame him. He was, after all, only concerned for our safety, but I wondered if he'd even taken into consideration how much of a shellshocker all this was for me. I hated feeling like a spineless creature incapable of moving even an inch of its body. Raising my head, I looked out at the open road. What I saw was stupendous. It summoned memories of a time and place far removed from our past. Immaculately-crafted, stretched out along a finely-settled dirt road, broached on one side by sugar maples and flushed accordingly across the road where from the pristine heights of a white, two-storied home one could look out at a field divided into multiple acres—the amount of people was staggering. They worked everything from the fields, to animal pens, to what looked like aviaries in the distance. In a word, it was impressive. "Woah," I said. "Woah is right," Alan said. "You want me to pull up here, or—" "Here's fine," Guy said. The abrupt stop, coupled with what I'm sure was heat exhaustion and stupid awe, sent me rolling into the dash, smacking but not painfully clunking my head across its curved surface. "Thanks for the ride," Guy said, leaning over to push me toward the door while reaching back to shake the driver's hand. "It's much appreciated." "No need to thank me," the man replied. "All in a day's work." "And that's all it was," Guy continued when I popped the truck door open and hopped out. "Just a day's work—nothing odd, nothing unusual." "Sure thing," the man said. No sooner had Guy slammed the door did the truck barrel up the road, leaving dust and bits of rock in its wake. "You ok?" Guy asked as he took note of me rubbing my head. "Fine," I replied. "So what was all that about?" "A bit of `Glamoring.'" "Are we still calling it that?" The taller man shrugged and slung the pack over his shoulder. "Well," he said. "Shall we?" We walked the short distance from where the truck driver had left us to a nondescript security fence that resembled something like the metal cattle enclosures we'd spent much of the last night jumping over. At the gate, Guy fingered the lock and ran his thumb over the latch that held it in place, but didn't immediately open it, his eyes lost in thought. "Guy?" I asked. "Are you sure everything's—" "I ran away from here, Jason." "What?" Guy sighed, the shrug in his upper body enough to where it appeared his torso had been momentarily engaged in a tug-of-war. "It's not like what you're probably thinking," he continued, turning his head to look at me. "I just... neglected my duties, I guess you could say." "Duties?" "We'll talk about it later. We're still out on the road. Someone sees us here, they'll be able to point the cops in a definite direction." He clipped the lock out of place and swung the gate open, not bothering for possible formalities, and simply walked in. I was quick to follow, more than pleased to be at the back of it all. Little attention was given to us from the workers beyond the precursory glance. Eyes set firmly on their work, they shucked corn and stooped to gather rooting vegetables from their beds just beneath the ground. It was like something out of the Twilight Zone—us walking along the road, they ignoring us as if we were phantoms spectral in the night. We probably would've made it all the way to the house without so much as a second glance until a woman tending horses at a stall nearby turned and stared. Even though we were nowhere near her, her eyes were unnerving. I felt her presence from the two-hundred feet between us. She was what Guy was. Kaldr. Though her eyes didn't remain for long after she homed in on Guy, her attention did fall to a companion that approached shortly thereafter. While I didn't care to focus on their interaction, the knowledge of Guy's presence spread like wildfire. Soon, every person we passed on the property was watching us—some discretely, others blatantly. "You care to explain why they're looking at us like that?" I asked. "In a minute," Guy said, turning up the path that led to the house. "Not while we have so much attention on—" The creak of footsteps on the wooden porch brought Guy to a solid stop. A man—the near-spitting image of Guy, right down to his build and facial structure—approached the railing. "Well now," he said, looking down at the two of us. "Look who decided to show up." "Father," Guy said, swallowing. The man's eyes strayed from his son and settled on me. "And this is?" he asked. "Father—sir. This is Jason. My... uh... my—" "Nevermind. You never could answer a straight question anyway." The man stepped back and gestured us forward with a wave of his hand. "Come now. You both look like you could use some rest." The low growl from Guy that followed his father's response did little to remedy my worries. Stepping forward, I climbed the steps of what had to be a hundred-year-old home until I stood beneath the awning. "Please, pardon me for my lackluster introduction," Guy's father said, closing our distance as Guy stalked past us into the house. "My son and I have a bit of a... tumultuous relationship." I wasn't sure how to respond, so I merely remained silent. "My name is Elliot Winters," he said, taking hold of and gently squeezing my hand. "And welcome to my home." ____________________________________________________________________________ If you enjoyed this installment of HIS TOUCH OF ICE, consider emailing the author with your thoughts or donating to him via Paypal at boyekody@gmail.com. You can also download the novel for free on Smashwords, Amazon Kindle, or any other major eBook retailer, or buy the Audible version online via Amazon.com. You can visit the author online at www.kodyboye.com.