In the darkened theater Les Paul squeezed into the row next to an older boy. If they stood next to each other the older boy would stand several inches taller. Les Paul liked the idea of another older boy to learn from, as Jasper had turned out to be a real weenie, “What’s the movie?” he asked.
The older boy looked at him but did not smile. His face changed not at all, “The Green Mile.”
“What’s it about?”
This time the older boy’s face changed, but not to a smile, “Prison! Now shut the fuck up!”
“Okay….” He barely mouthed the word, and then faced the screen where previews were still playing. He was glad to be out of jail, but surprised at where they had taken him. A juvenile detention center they had said. He wasn’t sure what a juvenile was, but figured he soon would find out, and hoped the older boy would allow the two of them to become friends.
Time passed and a very disturbing movie scene began. A character he had actually begun to like was sitting in a chair, a strange-looking, different kind of chair, and in shackles, and the poor guy did not look happy…, “What’s gonna happen?” he asked.
“They’re gonna electrocute him.” The older boy grinned, “Watch! It’ll be funny!”
As he watched the events taking place on the screen he began remembering—but barely—a recent memory where he himself had also been strapped into a chair, much like the one in the movie—
In the movie the man at the switchbox pulled the lever down and current started moving through the man in the chair. From his memory he could almost feel it going through himself…it actually seemed to begin to hurt—
The man in the chair began to jerk. His face began to contort. Les Paul began to feel pain too, much pain as the electricity poured through the man’s body on the screen. He chanced a glance at the older boy beside him.
The older boy’s face was a mask of grin, grinning so hard he looked like he would soon burst—
The man on the screen finally stopped jerking. Les Paul looked around. Some of the other boys were leaving, one was crying, another puking—right from his chair—others of the boys were laughing, and yelling, “Weenie-asses!”
“Babies!”
“Wusses!”
He didn’t know what to think. He had watched the man die too, but it had not affected him as it had the other, younger, boys, the ones who left. It crossed his mind to wonder why it had not affected him. After all, he had come to like the character, so, to a point, it should have affected him. It crossed his mind to wonder, but he didn’t, instead said, “Bunch of cry-babies, huh?”
The older boy turned to him, his grin wide, “You’re all right, kid, but we’ll talk after the movie, so keep watching, and—again—shut the fuck up!” The grin went sour as he turned away.
Les Paul decided he better do as told. This guy was no Jasper. He felt his education was truly about to begin.
****
The sun shone bright. The wind blew strong from the northeast. A good direction, for he knew their man scent would blow away from the mammoth herd. The creatures would not smell them, or see them sneaking closer and closer until it was too late, and their lances would be in at least two of the smaller animals.
He was not the chieftain of the clan but he was a leader. The people, including the chieftain, listened to his words, but did not always follow them.
“Who are those strangers?” he asked the chieftain.
The chieftain didn’t know, “They appeared this morning begging for food,” the chieftain said, “And we fed them. Your hearth is distant, so you did not see their hunger.”
“And the woman?”
“She appears to be their leader, and said they came from far to the south, where the great sea is.”
“Do they want to join us?”
“They haven’t said,” the chieftain answered, “But I asked them to join the hunt. We can use their extra lances. We might even bring down three of the beasts, and then we can feast as well as prepare for winter.”
“I do not trust them.”
“Why?” the chieftain asked, “They have done us no harm, and do not appear to be troublemakers, not like those from the mountains.”
“True, that time we were lucky to chase them away and they did not come back. These three men, and the woman too, look much stronger, like they will take what they want.”
“You worry too much, my friend. We will let them join our hunt, and then we will see.”
The hunt happened… Les Paul slowly began coming out of the memory. He saw much dust and heard much trumpeting and saw much blood as the beasts were attacked and killed. He didn’t see the four strangers again and wondered about them…and wondered about his suspicion of them—why—was he suspicious? He felt they vaguely looked familiar too, and he felt certain they were dangerous, and he felt strangely unfulfilled, like the memory was not finished, and it bothered him. Normally he just shook his head and forgot.
Strange how those memories that weren’t even his could sometimes feel so close to his present day situation. The recent memory put him with other people, his tribe, or clan. And today he was with other boys, some younger, some older, but, yes, this was like a tribe, or a clan, too. He felt like he belonged here. And his new good friend, Pierce, had been speaking…
“You are one dumb little fucker,” Pierce said, “Rape does not mean what you think—Cripes, what a dumb little shit you are!”
“Hey!” he cried, “I can’t help it that I got mislead. That girl yelled to the foster mother ‘He reaped me!’”
“Well, the little girl just pronounced it wrong. It’s rape, and, did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Man! You are too stupid! Did you rape her?”
“No, and I still don’t know what rape means.”
“Then how did you know she got raped?”
“I heard them in the room. She was screaming, and she ran out and looked at me, and she was bleeding, and then she ran in the bathroom, and then the foster parents got home.”
“What about your last foster home? I hear both you and Jasper raped your foster mother.”
“Not me, and do you know Jasper?”
“Just of him, a weenie-ass punk, so I hear. Well, he won’t be coming here.”
“Where will he go?”
“It’ll be another juvie-place, a tougher place then this, and Jasper’ll have to learn to stand on his own two feet in there, but enough about him. How could you both rape that foster mother but you didn’t?—so you said.”
“I didn’t!”
“Okay, okay, so why didn’t you?”
“Both times I didn’t even get to watch!”
Pierce stared at his new little ward, “So you really don’t know, do you?”
“No.”
“Well, there are no girls here, but it is possible to sneak out sometimes. When it comes my turn again…,” Pierce’s eyes got big and he—kind of—smiled, “I’ll take you along, and, my boy, you will learn all about girls. I guarantee it.”
Chapter 36 The Markums
“Right there!” Nicole pointed to a specific line on the computer screen, “Just one birth on October 18, exactly nine months from Les Paul’s execution in January! Click on that name, Radford. Evan and Leslie Markum.”
The chaplain clicked, came to several ‘Markums,’ clicked again—
“There!” Hand on her man’s shoulder, Nicole again pointed, this time at a telephone listing, “Evan and Leslie!” She read the address, “Also right here in Bradleyville!” She squeezed her man’s shoulder, dug in her claws.
The chaplain reached up to her hand, “You are getting kind of excited, my dear. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, and I’m heading out this morning to start tracking that woman—I know she’s the mother!”
“I hope so,” the chaplain said, “My warden friend was not too happy about needlessly getting the DNA from the Tommerdahls.”
“Fine. We got Les Paul’s DNA, though, we ne
eded that. I’ll talk to Leslie Markum, establish that she’s Les Paul’s latest mother, and then she’ll probably offer her DNA, because I know she is!”
He turned and put his arms around his new bride, and pulled her into a warm hug, and she responded, “Oh, I love it when you hold me like this, Radford.”
“And I love it when you love it, and when this is over, you’ll probably want to go into police work continuously.”
“When this is over?” Nicole leaned back, “Do you even know what you just said?”
He sighed, “You’re right, my dear, because our cause might not ever get truly over. Les Paul has to do something, and he has to get caught, and…my god.”
Nicole moved back into the hug, “One step at a time, my husband. I hadn’t thought of it too much before either, but our goal might just take—as you said in the beginning—a lifetime.”
****
Leslie Markum was very much different from Donna Tommerdahl. Leslie also had two other children, a girl eight and a boy six, but the cuddling warmth just did not seem to be there. Leslie gave her children all they needed as far as food, shelter, clothes, but the love, to Nicole, seemed…distant, and cool, even at times contrived.
Nicole had gotten close enough, twice, to look directly into the woman’s eyes, luckily without being discovered, although Leslie did once glance toward her but there was no true eye contact. What Nicole saw in the woman’s eyes was sorrow, a gap, something terribly missing.
She understood. She felt that Leslie Markum missed her first born, and probably feared for what had become of him, because the poor woman did not know the truth. Leslie kept her nose to the grindstone. She had a daily, part-time job, and spent no time looking at nature in the park. So, after two full days of surveillance, Nicole knew of no way to approach her except directly, at the front door and as a private detective.
****
At five PM, a half hour since Leslie Markum had arrived home, long enough—Nicole hoped—to have mellowed out from her day, she knocked, then stepped back and waited.
Mrs. Markum opened the door. Her eyes had that same vacant look. Other than that, though, she seemed all right, “Yes, may I help you?” she asked.
“My name is Nicole Waters, Mrs. Markum, I’m a private detective.”
The woman’s expression changed. She even appeared relieved, and stepped back pulling the door further open but didn’t speak.
“I have some questions,” Nicole said, “May I come in?”
“Yes, yes, please do.”
****
“And that’s how it went, Radford,” Nicole said, “That woman was so glad to hear what I said, well, I could hardly believe it.”
“And the DNA?”
“She had the paperwork right there in the house, even made me copies. It’s like she has felt this…this terrible guilt for abandoning her child for over nine years now and this gigantic weight has finally left her.”
“Does she want to know about her son? What we finally find out?”
“No, and I was glad to hear that. Mainly she just wanted to know that he was all right, and how he’s doing. I didn’t tell her everything of course. Not much at all, really, and she doesn’t want to…hug him, exactly, or anything like that—can you believe it? As an infant he actually bit her nipple—no teeth, but he bit hard enough to cause her to bleed, internally, and she needed help from her husband to get him loose.”
“And that’s when she made the decision to abandon him?”
“Yes, but that wasn’t everything he had done, just the worst. She said she told her husband she would not nurse him again—she mentioned the smirks, how it just totally creeped her out. For a long time she even refused to believe such a young child could do such things, ‘But he just kept on!’ she said. So she made the decision. And they left that very night for Nebraska. I watched her for two days, Radford. Imagine, living with that hole in your heart for nine years.”
“A lot of people do it, Nicole. Lost children, abducted children, street children, children with cancer, drugs, gangs, the list goes on.”
Chapter 37 His First Sex
Les Paul watched through the cracked open door as Pierce made his way through the dark to the fence, wriggled through, then looked back and waved.
He then slipped through the door and closed it, made his way to the fence then also wriggled through. He felt fine. He had figured he would be scared or nervous, but he wasn’t. He was going to learn something this night, finally learn something.
“Ya ready, little shit?” Pierce asked, grinning.
“Damned good and ready, big shit.”
Pierce slapped him on the back, “Let’s go,” and they began not quite running alongside the fence, “It’s about three blocks from here where we meet the girls.”
“How old are they?”
“It varies. Sometimes they’re young, sometimes they’re older.”
“How young? I ain’t doin’ no seven-year-old!”
“Jeeze, man, we don’t do seven-year-olds. Ten or twelve sometimes but no younger than that.”
“I ain’t doin any young girl.” He could barely believe what he had just said, but it was true. That time in the house where the older boy raped the seven-year-old—true, he had thought about it, had at least wanted to watch, to learn something, but he hadn’t actually wanted to do it.
Young girls were simply too young. He didn’t know why he thought that, and if he had any saving grace from his many reincarnated lives, it was refusing to rape—or have sex with, whatever one wanted to call it—any young girl. He only wanted older women, at least in their late teens, and even ten or twenty years older.
Raping, now that he knew what raping meant, he felt, was meant for older women. He liked seeing their faces when he did it—several frightened faces flashed through his mind—and where oh where did these thoughts come from?—For cripe sake! I’ve never done it!
“Well, little shit!” Pierce reached out and, a little harder than lightly, punched Les Paul’s arm, “It doesn’t matter what you think or want. Whoever’s there tonight is going to get fucked! You can do it, or you can watch! I don’t care, but if you don’t do it tonight, this’ll be the last time I take you along!”
“Fine!” He didn’t care, either, as he expected to soon go to another foster family, and he hoped his new foster mom would be pretty, and he hoped there would be another bigger boy there to help him use what he would learn this night.
As they ran a new memory began intruding into his senses… He was in that same room, but this time lying on…what? A hard table, maybe, and he was strapped down, and there were people facing him again, facing him from behind a large plate glass window—why the hell do they stay out there? If they want to see what happens to him they should come and stand close to the table, close to him.
A man dressed in white coveralls came in, carrying a needle—a needle? Another man, also dressed in white entered and walked to a wall where several tubes appeared to be holding different-colored liquids.
The man with the needle stepped to his right side. He didn’t smile, “Are you ready, Les Paul?”
Les Paul? Who the fuck is that? Ready for what?
Les Paul. He had heard that name before—where had he heard it? Who the fuck was it? And why wasn’t Les Paul here instead of him?
A prick! In his arm! It hurt!
He started feeling…he didn’t know, it was like his head was flying away, a loose tightness…drifting….—
“We’re here, little shit! Now I’m first! Whoever’s here I’m first!”
“Fine, big shit!”
They entered a small, darkened, house from the back door, to a hall. At the end a door to the right, and light coming from under it. Pierce led the way as they walked to it, then he pushed the door open.
Two older women waited in chairs, one maybe thirty, the other, older, and her left hand held onto a huge purse. He had never seen such a large purse, and wondered what she might carry in it. Extra
clothes, maybe? Food? Beer? Then he wondered why he had bothered with such a stupid thought.
They stepped in. A third person appeared. A young girl, maybe thirteen. Her eyes…he didn’t know. They maybe looked frightened, or maybe just expectant, as she maybe didn’t know what was going to happen.
The older woman nodded toward her, “Mandy.” She pointed to the bed in the corner to their right.”
“What?” Mandy asked. Her eyes changed, got brighter he thought.
“Go to the bed and take your clothes off,” the older woman said.
“Take my clothes off?” Mandy asked.
“You heard me.”
This time there was no misunderstanding in the young girl’s eyes. He saw fear. He didn’t care. That memory of fear in his older women’s eyes gratified him. But he wondered where these memories kept coming from, as if they were his. They weren’t his! I’ve never done anything wrong!
The older woman motioned to Pierce, who then walked to her. “It’s her first time,” she said, and stood, and held onto the purse, “Did you bring plenty?”
“Got all I got, baby.” Pierce nodded back to Les Paul, “Got his money too, so we got plenty.”
“Is he going to do her too?”
“Claims he won’t do young girls,” Pierce said, “But that’s what your friend here is for, right?”
“She’ll do him,” the older woman said, “Gimme your money.”
That settled, Les Paul looked toward the young girl, who now was naked but holding the bed clothes in front of her, as before her eyes showing what he loved to see even on the young ones. Fear.
Pierce handed over their pay for the past month. They didn’t get paid that much, but it appeared they would get a lot for their money.
“We’ll be back in two months,” the older woman said, and we’ll plan to have a real treat for you, so start saving your money.”
“What kind of treat?” Pierce asked, beginning to unbutton his shirt.
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
Pierce’s face twisted as he nodded, then started toward the young girl.
The Light at the End of the Tunnel Page 17
