Wendy spoke up, “They haven’t told me anything that indicates they are complicit in a felony. I’m out of my jurisdiction. By the time I call for a car to pick them up, they will have scattered to the wind. Right, guys?”
“Yeah, Wendy’s chill,” the coastal boy commented.
While Rainey waited for another jet to land, she swept her eyes across the boys. When she could speak without yelling, she said, “Wendy says some of you have a story she’d like me to hear.”
“It’s not a story. It’s the truth.”
The boy speaking had not made eye contact before, but when he did, fear reflected in his brown eyes. Fading finger shaped bruises circled his throat. He saw Rainey see the marks and pulled his black hoodie over his matching thick dark hair.
She answered, “Someone is targeting young men like you, committing violence without consequence because they believe you expendable, that no one will care if you disappear. I care, and I’m not alone. I’m hoping what you have to say will help get this person off the street and out of your lives.”
“It’s all circumstantial,” Connor said.
Rainey smiled at him. “Were you a lawyer in a former life?”
Connor spit over the railing, which appeared to be a commentary on his answer. “My father is a lawyer and a prick. He took my computer when he found out I had a boyfriend. He gave me law books and law reviews to read while he held me prisoner that last summer. When he wanted to send me back to conversion camp for re-schooling, I bolted. That was four years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Another jet landed before Rainey added, “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, and you’ve heard too many broken promises in your young lives. I assure you I am here to help any way I can.”
Connor smirked. “Yeah, well how about twenty bucks. I could use some help with my late night snack budget.”
Rainey dipped into the pocket of her slacks and pulled out all the cash she had, which was just over two hundred dollars. She also reached into her coat to retrieve a business card. She handed it all to Connor.
“Here, take this. I know you can get more than that off the next rich guy, but this is free of obligation. It’s enough to feed you all a good meal, which you look like you could use. How old are you, Connor?”
Connor stared at the money, answering absentmindedly, “I’m seventeen.”
“Do you have an I.D.?”
“What, you need to verify my age? October 17, 1997. Do the math. You don’t need to see my fucking I.D.” Distrustful had not described the depths of Connor’s contempt for authority.
“You just looked older than the rest of these guys. I know someone who runs a catering business. She hires only LGBTQ kids off the street. You’ll have a bed, food, a job. It’s a way out. Any of the rest of you over fifteen?”
All but the youngest nodded they were. Rainey reached in her pocket and gave them each a card.
Rainey continued, “The card I gave you has my wife, Katie’s information on it. She works with homeless LGBTQ youth and battered women. Call that number. Someone will help you, whatever you need. You just have to reach out. Get a taxi, go to the address on the card, and they will pay the fare. Just get out of this cold. And you little guys,” she looked at the two who were thirteen, maybe fourteen, “there are homes that will love you, take care of you, and no one will hurt you. Please call that number. Katie or someone she works with will see that you’re safe.”
Rainey pulled another card from the inside breast pocket of her coat. “This is my card. I run a bail business too. If you need me, call. I have a pretty good line on a lawyer,” she grinned at Connor, “and she is not a prick.”
Wendy encouraged the young men, “Trust her, guys. I do, or I wouldn’t have brought her here.” She poked one of the youngest boys playfully. “You know how to find me if you need me, right?”
He nodded that he did but remained quiet. Rainey thought he was trying desperately to not need help, to be one of the boys toughing it out. She hoped he would be out of this life soon.
The coastal boy had enough of winter outside. “Can I get a ride to this shelter, Wendy? I’m tired of this cold shit.”
“I’ll take you,” a protective Connor answered as he slid the cash into his pocket.
“You have a car?” Rainey asked, surprised.
“Yeah, my Grandma lets me use hers. She’s in assisted living now anyway. They take them everywhere on a bus.”
The coastal boy said, “If my boy Con didn’t let me sleep in that car sometimes, I would’ve been a fag-sicle.”
Wendy hurried things along. “Henrique, tell Rainey what you told me.”
“It’s Cane,” the boy with the bruises spoke from under his hoodie.
Coastal boy, who seemed unable to stand still or be quiet, said, “Yo, that’s ‘cause he’s Puerto Ri-cane.”
“Bullshit, man. It’s short for Hurricane. He came out of the ninth ward during Katrina.” Conner punched coastal boy in the arm. “You just make shit up all the time Water Boy.” He said to Rainey, “We call him Water Boy ‘cause he’s always talkin’ about that boat his family owns.”
Brooding Lips threw a verbal jab, “Yeah, but no fags in the fleet, right Water Boy?”
Cane piled on more verbal abuse. “We call him Water Boy because of his backwoods ass. He loves his momma too.”
Water Boy retaliated with, “Yeah, well your momma loves to suck my dick.”
Cane slapped the back of the smaller Water Boy’s head, daring him to fight back. Their shared pain made them bullies, even as they had been bullied themselves.
“Hey, hey, knock it off,” Rainey yelled over a landing jet, trying to refocus them. “All right then, Cane, my sister believed it was important enough to drag me to the airport to hear what you have to say.”
Cane leaned closer so he wouldn’t have to shout. “I knew the two guys they pulled out of that pond. They told people what they knew and now look where they are.”
“Two questions,” Rainey shouted over a departing jet. “Who did they tell and what?”
One of the two remaining boys—too young for whiskers and cherub cheeked—moved to the front of the pack. He motioned for Rainey to come closer.
When she bent her ear close to his mouth, he said, “The man that comes in the black car, he took them. Everybody knows that. Connor told us to stay away from him, but I was hungry, and he offered so much money, more money than I’ve ever had in my whole life.”
Rainey put her hands on his shoulders when he stopped talking. She could see the tears welling in his eyes. The noise became a distant roar again.
Rainey said softly, “You don’t have to explain why you went with the man. What’s your name?”
“Barron.”
“Barron, where did the man take you?”
Cane relieved his younger friend of retelling something so obviously painful.
“This guy, he used to be one of us, he says. He’s probably twenty-five, and he’s rich now. He makes his money finding tricks for even wealthier men. I went with him. He’ll only ask you once. He has all these rules.”
Water Boy, as he would be known in Rainey’s lost boys memory box, interjected excitedly, “Yeah, like you have to put on a blindfold as soon as you’re in the car and keep it on until you’re inside the house. Then he feeds you, makes you take a shower, and then you have to put on clothes he picks out. He has a whole room full of clothes, all sizes.”
“Yeah, but you can’t keep them,” Cane complained over the next arriving flight.
Water Boy waited out the rumble before continuing the narrative, “It’s not so bad. You eat, you get clean, and he even washes your old clothes. He let me spend the night after the party was over—fed me breakfast the next day. It’s not what he does or what those other fucks do. It’s nothing new.”
The smallest boy, the one who wanted to know if Rainey was Wendy’s mother, appeared the youngest and most vulnerable. With big blue eyes and the freckles of boyhood still covering the bridge of his nose, he burst forth with the real news.
“Those guys died because they knew who one of the men in the masks was.”
Rainey needed clarification. “Wait, what men in masks?”
Connor filled Rainey in on the details. “Look, here’s what happens. Ford comes to get them—”
Rainey stopped him. “Ford?”
“Yeah, he lived in an old piece of shit Ford car for a couple of years, so people called him Ford. That’s what he said, anyway. I don’t know what his real name is. He wants the little guys for a ‘party’ with rich pervs.”
Water Boy continued his description of his evening at the party. “They all wear masks. Some are custom made. Some are those S ‘n M masks, black leather, where you can only see their eyes. One guy wears the Guy Fawkes mask, you know like Anonymous.”
Barron spoke up, chuckling as if it wasn’t the traumatic experience that it was. “One of them wears a hockey goalie mask with a skull demon thing painted on it. How fucked up is that?”
Conner waited out the next departing jet, before he said, “The dead dudes said they knew one of the guy’s voices and when he showed his dick, they recognized that too. They started running their mouths about it and the next thing you know they just vanished.”
Wendy inquired, “What does Ford look like?”
Barron answered, “He has dark hair. He wears a mask, like a Lone Ranger mask. He wears nice clothes and he's always tan.”
Conner said, almost as an aside, “It’s a Princess Bride mask.”
Wendy, who entered information faster than Rainey could dream of typing into a phone, asked, “How tall? Is he overweight, skinny, average?”
Water Boy said, “He’s about six foot tall, and he works out, got abs like a boss. He has a gym in his house.”
“You think he killed those kids?” Rainey asked.
Connor answered, “There are some rich guys that have a lot to lose too. I’d look there before I went after Ford. He’s just making a living. Those kids were trying to figure out how to blackmail the rich dudes without ending up in jail and then they were gone.”
“Tell her who they said it was,” Wendy prodded.
Barron volunteered, “It was Reverend Lilly. I recognized his voice too.”
Rainey peered at the boy. “Are you sure?”
“He came to conversion camp once a week. I’ll never forget that voice.”
“But you didn’t see his face,” Wendy added.
Connor’s smirk returned. “Lilly's idea of rehab is to abuse the gay out of you. Says it's,” Connor adopted an exaggerated southern preacher delivery, “natural domination practiced by the victors in the Bible and we need to understand it isn't meant to be enjoyable.” He dropped the accent for his conclusion, “We’re all graduates of the Lilly brand of re-education. Now he’s been elected State Representative. He’s untouchable.”
He shouted the last part over another jet roaring out of Raleigh-Durham International. Rainey had to wait for more convincing until she could hear herself think again.
She raised a brow and questioned the boys. “We are talking about Reverend Jedidiah Lilly, the guy who said all gays should be caged and left to die off? Which, by the way, proves what an idiot he is.”
“Yes,” the boys answered in unison.
“Do you have anything other than verbal recognition?”
Cane pulled out his phone and said, “How about a picture of his dick?”
“How did you get a picture of his penis?” Rainey asked.
“Blake, one of the dead dudes. He sent it to me. Said if anything happened to him to give this to the cops.”
“How did those guys get a phone into the party? This Ford person must check for things like that.”
Connor explained, “The dead kid from Durham, he had this spy cam he stole from his dad’s house. It was small. I was going to pawn it for him because he wasn’t old enough to sign the ticket. He had it with him that night, and he said he palmed it, and then hid it in his pocket after Ford gave him clothes to wear.
Rainey turned back to Cane, “Why didn’t you give the photo to the police and tell them what you know after they disappeared?”
His dark eyes bore into her. “I did. They arrested me for having a stolen phone and took it. I spent the weekend in youth detention and was sent back to my fucked up foster family.”
“Was the phone stolen?”
“No, one of my tricks gave it to me, so he could reach me, but he told the cops he lost it. They gave it back to him after they erased all the pictures.”
“So, how do you still have a copy?”
Cane looked incredulous. “Haven’t you heard of the cloud?”
Rainey pointed at the phone in his hand. “Is that a gift from a trick as well?”
“Yeah, but it is my phone. This guy likes me. He wants me to come live with him, but I ain’t down for being no house boy.”
“My email address is on the card I gave you. Will you email me the picture? It needs to be saved in more than one place.”
“Yeah, I can do that,” Cane said, smiling for the first time.
Connor ended the conversation with a warning to his friend. “If anyone finds out you have that picture, you’ll be in that pond too. That was a warning. Shut up or die.” He looked up at Wendy. “We’ve seen superheroes like you before. We are still on the street. Leave these kids alone before you get them killed. Run your mouth too much, and you’ll be in the pond with them. These guys will come after you too. Come on, lost boys, let’s go get some food on the do-good cop’s sister.”
Brooding Lips contributed his brand of realism, as he turned to skulk away, “Shit, ain’t nobody going to believe a bunch of little fags anyway, right?”
Rainey turned to Wendy. “I can see why you were not sure of what to do with this information.”
Wendy smiled at her big sister. “Yeah, but you will.”
THE NIGHTMARE WAKES
“Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors;
and hereafter she may suffer—both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams.”
― Bram Stoker
6:15 PM, Wednesday, March 4, 2015
The Bell-Meyers Residence
Chatham County, NC
Rainey entered the house through the door from the garage to see the triplets seated at the table in the breakfast nook.
“Hey guys,” she said, happy to see them feeling better and eating a full meal.