0300 Book 1 - 9. Chapter 9: Free Republic of Califormia

Chapter 9: Free Republic of California

The Don had told us we would go to school, and that we would help destroy the Reverends. He also said that we would use our knowledge of Las Vegas to do that. I had to tell him—I couldn’t hide behind a lie. “Don Renaldo, sir, we don’t know anything about Las Vegas. We never got outside the _____ Palace Casino except when we were brought there from the Sheriff’s station, and when we escaped.”

“You may know more than you think you know,” he said. “But don’t worry. There will be a place for you in any case. The first thing, however, is to get you cleaned up, fed, and into some real clothes.”

He picked up a thing with a wire attached and spoke into it. “Please have Marty report to me.”

“Your host and squad leader will be a boy a little older than you are, Hamish. His name is Marty, and he is a corporal in the army. He will—”

“The Army?” I interrupted. “Sorry, sir.”

The Don brushed it off. “The Army of the Free Republic of California, Santa Ana Division,” he said. “After you have lived with us for a while, you will be invited to join the army, but not until you are a little older and know more about it, and us.”

Marty looked to be about twelve years old, and wore a black and gray outfit. I gasped. “The uniform! You were the demons who attacked Las Vegas!” I realized he might not like being called a demon, so I shut up.

“Actually,” Marty said, “all the boys in the First Battle of Las Vegas were either captured or killed. We’ve seen the Reverends’ televisor images. Have you?”

I nodded, as did Matthew.

“Good. That is something we can talk about.”

“We know the name of one of the soldiers,” Matthew reminded me.

“Yes. His name was Artie,” I said. “Some of the boys recognized him. He had been . . .” I didn’t want to say what he had been so once again, I shut up.

“We know,” the Don said. “He had been a sex slave of the Reverends, just as you would have been had you been a little older and—”

Marty must have seen something in our faces. “You were? But you’re too young, even for them!”

“Not a Reverend,” Matthew said. I knew how hard it was for him to say even that. “A Deacon. Deacon Jerome. He raped me. And Hamish killed him.”

“He was the Scudder’s son,” I said.

“Shit,” Marty whispered. “I’m sorry. Come on, we have a lot to do.”

Marty took us to a barracks, one that was built of stone, and had windows that closed and a swamp cooler that worked. “Are you boyfriends? I think you are,” he said. “It’s okay,” he hastened to add.

“Yes,” Matthew said. “I love Hamish.”

“Yes,” I said. “I love Matthew. He is my responsibility.”

Marty nodded. “You’ll have a room, together. From the things Artie told us, we know things in the boys’ quarters are a little—unscheduled,” he said. “Here, we are more disciplined and regimented. It may be hard for you to become accustomed—”

“What?” He must have seen something in our faces.

“Matthew and I came to Las Vegas from a Sheriff’s ranch in the desert. We know about discipline, punishment, and schedules.”

“In that case,” Marty said, “you may be able to teach us some things!”

Matthew and I bathed in a “shower,” a room in which water came from a nozzle above our heads. We were given clothes: trousers and shirts of grey cotton, sturdy sandals, and small clothes of cotton. Marty showed us how to store the extras, and explained that even though we weren’t in the army, we’d be called privates and would say sir to officers. “I’m just a corporal, so you can call me Marty.”

Supper was in a mess hall full of noisy boys. Most of them were in their teens, but there were some our age. Most of them wore black and gray, but there were a few like us in all-gray. We stood in line to have trays and plates filled with food, which was much better than the ranch, but not as good as the Reverends’ dining hall. We ate at a table with Marty’s squad, now ours.

There were about twenty other boys at the table. Marty sat at the head. As soon as we sat down, he rapped a spoon on the table and got their attention. “This is Hamish,” he said. “His boyfriend is Matthew. They escaped from Las Vegas like Artie did. They are now members of the squad. We will initiate them later, after they’ve had a chance to get their bearings. Until then, help them, be kind to them. Any questions?”

Even though a couple of the boys were older than Marty, they nodded and said, “Yes Corporal,” with the others.

I was hardly paying attention. Marty had said that Matthew and I were boyfriends! And no one seemed to care. He said it was okay, but this is a lot more than okay!

After supper, Marty took us back to our room, showed us where the crapper was, and said he’d send someone for us in time for breakfast.

As soon as he left, Matthew rushed to me, and hugged me. “Hamish, I’m so happy. Thank you for saying we were boyfriends and that you loved me. I was afraid . . .”

“You were afraid because I was afraid to accept your friendship when you offered it, because I was afraid of the Deputies and the Reverends. I was afraid the Holy Ghost would find out, and we’d be punished. I was afraid Deacon Jerome would find out, and we would be killed. I am no longer afraid. Thank you, Matthew, for being my boyfriend and for saying you love me.”

Matthew tipped his head up, and we practiced the lessons in kissing we’d learned not so long ago.

There were two beds in our room, but Matthew insisted that we sleep together. We had no pajamas or robes, and didn’t want to sleep in the clothes we’d been given. I watched as Matthew stripped, and put his clothes carefully on the unused bed. He was immediately erect.

Matthew watched as I put my clothes on the same bed. I was erect, too. We crawled into the other bed, and held one another not spooned together as we had for warmth so long ago, but face to face. My penis pressed against his tummy, and his against mine. Matthew began to rub his penis up and down my tummy. At the same time, my penis rubbed against his tummy. I felt the same sensation I felt when first Andrew and then other boys had done fellatio.

Matthew stopped rubbing and ducked his head under the light blanket. I felt his lips encircle my penis. We had done this twice to one another while we were in training, but the sensation tonight was infinitely better. Perhaps, I thought, because we are free to do this. Perhaps because we have said we love one another.

Matthew felt my penis jerking in his mouth, and released it for a moment, even though I still could produce no seed. No more evil seed, I thought. I must ask Marty about that.

After Matthew had taken me in his mouth a few more times, I reached for him, and pulled him up so that I could kiss him. “That was the best, ever,” I said, and ducked my head below the blanket.

It took only a minute before I heard Matthew whimpering, and felt his penis jerk. I moved my head back, but his hands pressed me forward. Whatever he wants, I thought, and continued to suck and lick until his whimpers died, and his hands relaxed.

“I have wanted that for so long,” he said. “I have wanted you to be able to do it until it stopped feeling good, and not just because I whimpered. But Andrew would never let us. Oh! Andrew. He’s probably dead, isn’t he?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Andrew knows that I am a witch and can hear what people think and can kill with my thoughts. Does that bother you?”

Matthew grinned. “No, Hamish. I knew you knew what I was thinking, sometimes. I knew you weren’t a witch. And I knew you had killed Jerome with your mind ’cause of what I heard Andrew say, later. But, why do you know Andrew’s still alive?”

“I think Andrew knew he might die, but I think he knew that he and John had a chance. I felt him so strongly when we got out of the car that I think I would feel it if he died.” At least, I hope so, I thought.

Matthew and I were wakened the first morning by a trumpet sounding over a Tannoy. Matthew must have thought we were back at the Ranch, for I felt his fear. A quick hug, and a shhh, reassured him. “Quickly,” I said. “Marty said things were more regular. We should hurry to dress and see what we will do, today.”

A boy in gray had knocked on our door. “Marty is with the squad and asked me to bring you to breakfast. I’ll also take you to your first class,” he said. “My name is Ruben.”

Nothing on our breakfast trays was familiar except glasses of milk. Ruben did not laugh when he told us what we were eating. “Chillis . . . those are the green things in the scrambled eggs. Those are refried beans, and those are tortillas.”

“Where does the food come from?” I asked. “Are we on a farm?” I didn’t remember fields.

“No, we are on a base, and food is delivered by trucks from the valley. You’ll see.”

Ruben and other boys from our squad, boys in gray, were in our class. So were boys from other squads. We all were to learn to read and write, and to do sums. Matthew knew nothing of reading, and sat in a circle with others in one corner of the room. I was in a circle of other boys, most of them younger than I was, but who could read a little better than I could. There were four groups, in all. There was only one teacher, a young man who moved from one group to another. Most of the learning was done by listening to what others read, and following in a book.

After a lunch of things called burritos, which were tortillas stuffed with beans, rice, and tomatoes, Marty took us to a room with a televisor. A different teacher turned on the televisor and we watched the Battle of Las Vegas, just as we saw it those months ago. Before it ended, two men in black and gray came into the room.

“Is that what you saw?” Marty asked.

“I think it was the same,” I said. Matthew nodded.

“I want you to watch it again,” one of the men said, “and tell us if you recognize any of the demons, whom you know to be our soldiers.”

“We would not, sir, because we met none of the other boys until after the battle,” Matthew said. He was right; I hadn’t thought of that.

“Nevertheless, please watch,” Marty asked.

When it was done again, Matthew and I both shook our heads. “No, sir. No one,” we said.

“What did you think about this when you saw it?”

I told them that Deacon Jerome had seemed upset the morning before it was shown, and had been late to our class. Then, I had to explain to the men who Jerome was, and what he taught us. I didn’t say that I’d killed him, but Matthew did.

“Deacon Jerome raped me, and Hamish killed him,” Matthew said. I was kind of happy that he said that because he said the part about being raped without the fear and disgust I’d felt in him before. I hoped he was getting over that.

“We know, son,” one of the men said. “We know.”

“Sir? Why is everything so fuzzy except the number of the beast? Why do they not show pictures of the aeroplanes without wings being destroyed? What are they? They’re not demons, are they?”

“Hamish,” one of the men said. “There are no demons. The boxy aeroplanes did not attack the Reverends’ army until they were fired upon. They came from somewhere to rescue the boys from the California Liberation Army. They did rescue many of them . . . and then they took them somewhere. We don’t know where they came from or where they went.”

“They were angels?” Matthew asked.

“No Matthew, the—” The man stopped before he finished the sentence. I knew what he was going to say, that there were no angels just as there were no demons, but I didn’t want Matthew to hear that, yet. The man must have understood.

“We don’t know, Matthew,” he said. “We just don’t know.”

That night, while we cuddled after fellatio, Matthew asked me what the man was going to say. “He was going to say that there were no angels, wasn’t he? And you stopped him.”

“He doesn’t know about angels or demons,” I said. “Well, maybe he knows that demons wouldn’t rescue the army boys, but he doesn’t know any more than Deacon Jerome knew what was real and what wasn’t.”

“I want there to be angels,” Matthew said. “I truly want there to be angels.”

I didn’t know how to answer, so I hugged him more tightly until we fell asleep.

* * * * *

The light outside our window told me that Matthew and I had overslept. How could we not hear the trumpet on the Tannoy? I wondered. I shook Matthew. “Come on! We’re late! Look at the light!”

We hurried to put on clean gray uniforms and ran down the hall toward the mess hall. There were other boys in the hall, moving slowly in the same direction. When we reached the mess hall, we saw that most of the places were still vacant. A few boys were in line for food. At our table, only Marty and five others were eating. Matthew and I went through the line, and walked to the table.

“We’re late,” I said. “I didn’t hear the trumpet! I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Marty said. “No one told you. That’s my fault. This is Saturday, the sixth day. It’s a free day for all the boys. Breakfast will be served only until 10:00 AM, though, and anyone who sleeps later than that? Well, they’ll have to be content with lunch!”

He seemed to think that was funny.

“I think that today we will initiate you into our squad.”

“What means initiate,” Matthew asked.

Marty pushed his tray aside; one of the other boys, as if understanding what was about to happen, removed it.

“Matthew, Hamish, we are members of the army. What you have seen, so far, is good food, a clean place to sleep, school, and games. Someday, however, we will be called upon to risk our lives, perhaps to die, so that others who we do not know, who are not even related to us may be free.

“In this time of preparation, we are allowed to be boys, we are allowed to play, to make friends, and to make boyfriends whom we love. We are encouraged to form bonds, not only between boyfriends, but between and among our mates in a squad, a platoon, a company, a battalion, and an army. One way we create those bonds is through sex. Yes, Hamish.”

“Are you homosexual?” I asked.

“Hamish, every boy in the Santa Ana Division is homosexual. Only, we usually say, gay.”

My mind went back to our arrival here. “Yet you welcomed us before you knew we were—”

“Hamish, your questions come too fast for me!” Marty said.

He turned to the boy who had taken away his tray. “Carlos, the initiation will be this afternoon at 1400 hours.”

“The soccer tournament?” the boy who was now Carlos said.

“Tell the coach; he will understand and will reschedule,” Marty said. He gestured to two other boys at the table. “Micah, Jose, you will sponsor Matthew and Hamish. Do you agree with all your heart knowing that refusal is permitted and will not reflect badly upon you?”

The two boys nodded. “Yes, Corporal.”

“You will then take them in hand. Juan? Ensure the rest of the squad is notified, and tell the platoon leader.”

The boy named Juan nodded. “Yes, Corporal.”

“Marty? What’s going on?” I asked.

“Hamish, on my life and my love for Carlos, who is my boyfriend, I swear that you will not be harmed. That is all I can say, except that you must do this.”

I felt that he was telling the truth. “Yes, Corporal,” I said. That brought a smile to his face.

Micah and Jose left the mess hall with us, and instructed us in our preparation for the initiation. “It comes from an old language, and sort of means ‘beginning.’ It will be your beginning as a member of the squad,” Micah said.

“You will be asked to swear your loyalty to your brothers in the squad and in the army; the oath will be taken upon your life. Can you do that?” Jose asked.

I looked at Matthew, and saw his answer before I made mine. “I can, and I will,” I said.

“I can and I will,” Matthew echoed me.

Micah and Jose talked a lot about what would happen. “You will not be in the Army. That will come, later. But you will have many, many brothers who are in the Army,” Micah said.

“When I did it, I was scared!” Jose said. “I was sweating so bad, well, it was bad,” he added.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Micah said. “The only ones there will be the boys you’ve been eating with for the past few days.”

“They’re going to ask you a bunch of times if you will be forever loyal to the squad and to your brothers. If you agree, all you have to say is yes. If you decide at any time that you don’t like what you’re swearing to, simply say, no, and it will be all over.”

“What happens to boys who say no?” I asked.

“They cannot stay here and they cannot join the Army,” Micah said. “They are sent to another school where they can learn to be artisans, craftsmen, farmers, or other trades.”

“But they can never come back,” Jose said.

“Last question,” I said. “Will Matthew and I be together? Will I be able to hold his hand?”

Micah and Jose looked at one another, and then shook their heads. “I do not know,” Micah said, “but Jose will find out.” Jose left the room, and Micah took us to lunch, and then to shower and put on clean, gray clothes.

Micah was leading us down a hallway we’d never seen before when we heard the slap-slap of running sandals. It was Jose. “The Master has said yes. They are to remain together, and they may hold hands.” He managed to gasp that out in about four breaths.

One of the first things we promised was not to reveal what happened during the initiation. Afterwards, the boys became more friendly and, as more boys came to know we were initiates, they became more friendly, as well.

Like in Las Vegas, our days became routine: in the morning, we’d go to school; in the afternoon, we’d play games with other boys our age—some in gray and some in the Army. After supper, Marty and a couple of the older army men would watch the televisor with us, and talk about what we’d seen. It was the same kind of thing Matthew and I had seen in our room on a weekday, or which my family would have watched—the First Scudder, the current Scudder saying something, and the things happening in the world, the famines, the emergencies, the battlefields.

After the first time, Marty said, “This is what they are telling their people. This is what they want them to believe.”

The men would ask us about what we’d seen, and what it meant to us. We weren’t able to answer many of their questions, and I was afraid we would disappoint them, but Marty told us different.

“Everything we can learn about them helps,” he said.

“But we don’t even know where those places are!” Matthew protested. “What’s Omaha and Chicago and Lynchburg?”

The next morning instead of our regular class, Marty took Matthew and me to a different classroom where a different teacher unrolled from high on the wall a huge picture he said was a map of the world and pointed to things with a long stick. “Here is Illinois,” he would say. “This is where they said last night that there was a flood.” Then, he pointed to a great blue space. “This is the Atlantic Ocean, where they said a great storm grew and swept across this place.” He pointed to something that dangled like a penis, and named it “Florida.”

At first, I didn’t understand, then there was a moment when I knew what it was. It was the world in a picture. And I demanded to know where we were, and where was Las Vegas and where was the Sheriff’s Ranch.

He pointed to California, which was next to another huge ocean, which I knew to be much larger than the Lake of the Lord, which was a tiny blue spot. He pointed to a spot near California. “Here is Las Vegas. I do not know where the ranch is. There are dozens, perhaps hundreds of them. I’m sorry.”

I would like to have asked where was my home, but I did not even know if the town had a name.