The Travellers - 14. Catastrophe

In which a terrible and shocking occurrence puts the boys’ lives upside down and in which they try in one last desperate attempt to turn the tide and to keep things as they had always been in an almost spiritual way.

One day threaded into another and work on Father Lighthouse’s pulpit progressed steadily. Although somewhat tense initially from his first independent job, Jamie had immersed himself completely in it. He did everything he could to make sure that his first master piece would become exactly that: a masterpiece. Collin only kept an eye on things, encouraged him and gave him some small hints and for the rest he occupied himself with lending a hand where necessary. The apprentice had become a master and his teacher was content with providing general assistance.

It was like that on this day, a couple of days short of Easter. Jamie was completely concentrated on a difficult decoration figure. Collin just looked on with a satisfied smile. The way it looked, the boy was doing very well and it would turn out just fine. As far as he was concerned, he was just wasting time.

While trying to keep himself busy with this useless activity he saw Mr. Fraser, the old verger, entering the church, carrying a ladder.

It was a man, who had already reached a very respectable age and who was kind of inherited as part of the church’s inventory over the years, serving six different priests in that long time. His wrinkled face was dominated by watery, but nevertheless friendly eyes and by sparse white hair, that always stuck out into all directions of the compass, like he had just entered the church after braving a fierce western storm. At his age, it took him enough effort to walk on his crooked legs, let alone climbing a ladder. He put it up against a pillar and disappeared again, only to come back a little later with some kind of flower decoration. With great difficulty he started to climb the first rung of the ladder.

“Not exactly a good idea, if ye ask me, Mr. Fraser”, Collin said with a smile.

“Aye,” the man replied, smiling tiredly, “I know, but it has to be done anyway. This Easter decoration has to be in place by Sunday.”

“But ye could break something if ye fall off the ladder”, Collin objected concerned.

“I assume that the Lord will protect me”, the man muttered.

Collin had his doubts about that kind of precautions, laughed and decided to give the man a hand:

“Then I suggest I will take some work out of the Lord’s hands. Let me handle it!”

Gratefully the verger looked at him and descended the first rung again. He hadn’t proceeded any higher than that. He explained where the decoration had to be hung exactly. Collin nodded in understanding and scaled the ladder until his head was up against the roof of the vaulting, the decoration in one hand. He started to hang the thing on a nail.

Nobody will ever know what actually happened. Was it because Collin used both hands to hang up the decoration, not holding one on the ladder when he lost his balance? Or was it because the rungs were wet and slippery? It didn’t matter why: with a cry of terror he fell down. It was a distance of about six or seven yards. If he had hit the floor in any other position, he might have broken some ribs or a leg. But when disaster strikes, it strikes hard! The first thing that hit the stone church floor was Collin’s head. Even a cry of pain failed to come. The only things forthcoming were some spastic shocks in the whole body. Then he remained limp on the floor.

Jamie hadn’t even noticed that the verger had come in with a ladder, neither did he see or hear anything of what happened afterwards. He was fully concentrated and absorbed by his work on this difficult decoration. The tip of his tongue stuck out of his mouth from pure effort. Only when he heard a cry he looked up. Automatically his eyes went in the direction from where the sound had come from. Not a second later he saw Collin lying on the floor. He felt how the blood drained from his head. He wanted to run to the spot, he wanted to cry out. But he wasn’t able to make a single move or to utter whatever sound. He stood paralyzed besides his piece of work, not able to do anything at all.

The horrible frozen film frame came to life when old Mr. Fraser reacted. As fast as his old legs could carry him, he ran to the rectory, constantly crying out:

“Father, Father, come quick, hurry…., something terrible happened...oh Father, please hurry!”

Alarmed by the loud panicky cries, it took only seconds before Father Lighthouse ran into the church. When he saw what had happened, he stood in pure shock initially, but he regained his wits soon enough to realize it was important to do something really fast. He sent the old verger back to the rectory and send for the doctor. Then he knelt beside Collin’s motionless body.

No, he was no doctor, but even for his lay eyes it was perfectly clear that this didn’t look good, it didn’t look good at all. He had no idea to which religion the man belonged, who lay before him on the floor. So he did what he could do: he administered the Last Rites of the Catholic Church. Maybe it was the wrong ritual, but the father was convinced that under the circumstances God would understand and approve it.

He had just finished the ritual when the doctor came running in. He also knelt beside Collin and examined him. It didn’t take him long. He rose with a serious face. With solemn eyes he looked at the priest and shook his head. Brian couldn’t help it. The shivers ran over his spine because the memory of the aid post behind the first trenches came up involuntarily: the doctor shaking his head, which meant that the man was for the padre as the only one who could help him.

“I deeply regret, Father”, the doctor spoke, “but there is nothing I can do for him anymore”.

Gradually Brian recovered from his own shock and became aware of the fact, that a very difficult task laid ahead of him. He walked towards Jamie, who still stood rigid besides the pulpit under construction, his face white, his eyes wide open from fright and fear. Without saying anything, the priest stood in front of the boy. Then the inevitable question came:

“Is he….?” the boy whispered.

Brian just nodded. In a matter of milliseconds, he saw all conceivable emotions flashing through the boy’s eyes: terror, disbelief, bewilderment, anger, denial and finally ending with resignation in the inevitable and grieve. Tears filled his eyes and it looked as if he broke apart. Brian pulled him against his breast and laid his arms around him. He didn’t have the faintest idea what he should say. There was nothing to say. It gave him a hopeless feeling.

It took a long time before Jamie calmed down a little. Only then the priest thought about the second task waiting for him.

“Come on, Jamie, we have to tell Kyle what has happened”, he spoke softly.

Jamie nodded, but it seemed an automatic and totally unconscious reaction. Brian took the boy by the hand and led him with soft and tender compulsion to the rectory garden and the wagon.

After a first reaction of pure bewilderment, Kyle’s reaction was completely different from Jamie’s. He became aggressive and it looked as if he was crying out his frustration and anger with God. The priest saw again, how the boy’s eyes closed halfway. His fists clenched with such intensity that they looked white and he held his arms beside his body. He looked to the sky and cried out in fury and despair:

“Goddamned, what did I do wrong in yer eyes, God? Why are ye doing it again? First ye take me dad away, then me mum and now ye take away one of the most important persons in me life! Does it make ye horny to do that? Ye are not a God of love and compassion, Ye are an ordinary impostor and a mentally sick sadist! Answer me, Goddamned! Or are ye too great a coward to do that?”

Brian accepted the blasphemy he was hearing without comment. He didn’t know if God would understand it, but deep in his heart he had to admit that the boy was right! God had sent him into another hell for the third time in his young life.

After this first eruption the boys fell into each other’s arms sobbing. Brian embraced the both of them and let them express their deep sorrow. Then he took them both by the hands and took them to the rectory to let them recover a bit.

The funeral was a sad occasion. Even the weather cooperated to increase this atmosphere: the air had the color of lead and a drizzling rain fell over Kilmacolm.

In a corner of the small cemetery Collin’s coffin stood on two planks over the open grave, in front of it stood a small group of people. It was in the corner, in which all people were buried, who weren’t part of the parish: travellers, vagrants and all those others who transferred from their earthly to their eternal life while they happened to be in Kilmacolm for whatever reasons.

There were very few people present. Besides Father Lighthouse, dressed in the prescribed black chasuble for the occasion, and two acolytes, only Jamie and Kyle and the old verger were present. The boys had asked the father if he would be willing to do the honors at the funeral. He had wholeheartedly agreed and felt honored to do so. For him it was not just another ceremony.

According to catholic customs he blessed the coffin with holy water and he said the accompanying prayers. There was no routine this time: he had the feeling he had lost a good and dear friend. He hadn’t known him for that long, therefore they had met too late in Collin’s life as it had turned out, but it had developed into a strong and intense friendship. So this service was more than reading the obligatory prayers. He felt the loss deep in his heart.

He nodded to the two grave-diggers, who removed the planks. Then they lowered the coffin into the dark, cold grave with ropes.

Together Jamie and Kyle threw the first earth on the coffin. They stood at the grave for a while with dejected looks.

“I’m going to miss you so much”, Jamie sobbed softly. Then he casted a glance on Kyle besides him.

The boy looked back, bowed his head and whispered barely audible:

“Aye, Collin, I was a total failure as a wood carver. It wasn’t yer fault. I guess I was cut from the bad stuff for that. But ye taught me a lot of other valuable and important lessons. I will miss ye the rest of me life. May I ask ye one last favor, Collin? If ye arrive up there, will ye tell me mum and dad that I will manage it, down here on earth?”

The small group left the cemetery in silence. Both boys wordlessly looked at the grave for a last time, before father Lighthouse directed them back to the rectory with subtle pressure.

The priest must have planned it that way. After the funeral they were invited to a copious diner at the rectory, not in the kitchen but in the official dining room. His housekeeper must have spent hours in the kitchen to prepare all this. Very little was said during dinner, but despite their sorrow they enjoyed the delicious food, which was provided in abundance. It was the kind of food they had never seen nor tasted before in their lives. After dinner the father gave them some whisky to sooth their overtaxed souls and frayed nerves.

But now, after dinner, they were thrown back onto themselves. They sat opposite one another at the table in the wagon. Not a word was said. Both were immersed in their own thoughts, their own grieve and their own memories.

Only after a very long time Jamie broke the silence and said:

“Kyle, I need your warmth and affection”.

Kyle looked at him as if in shock and exclaimed in a harsh way:

“Now? Today? In case ye forgot: we have just buried Collin!”

Jamie felt himself shrink under the forceful reproach by his friend. In shame he put down his eyes and stared at the wood of the table. But his needs were unleashed and fought their way back through the shame. He couldn’t ignore it. Kyle must feel lonely and sad and he must harbor the same longings as well. He tried to suppress his feelings to avoid another sharp rebuke but after being halted by two conflicting emotions for a while he assembled enough courage to start a second timid attempt:

“Why not? As long as we have been together, we have always celebrated special days with our tender playing the three of us. This is a special day. No, it is not a happy or joyful special day, but nevertheless it remains special. No matter how you look at it: it is a day that I will always remember”.

There was silence on the other side of the table. Slowly he gathered enough strength to look into Kyle’s eyes. There was no anger in them. The eyes clearly showed that his suspicion was right: Kyle also needed warmth and affection!

Jamie slowly rose. He took Kyle by his hand and said sotto voce:

“Come, let’s go!”

Together they shuffled to the sleeping compartment.

Tenderly kissing they undressed each other. It was done with very mixed feelings. They both felt shame and guilt. And both felt pretty insensitive and cold-blooded, as if Collin’s death didn’t matter to them. But at the same time there was this desire for warmth and closeness: the feeling of the other’s skin and to succumb to the other’s touches as a means of comfort to smooth down the sorrow for this unbearable loss.

It didn’t take them long before they were able to lay down on the bed naked, where they surrendered to their deepest lusts. Fingertips stroke where they could reach, tongue tips reached spots where they had never been before. Despite their youthful boisterousness they attempted to reach the level of tenderness, with which Collin always had been able to bring them into a state of ecstasy.

Kyle pushed his lover gently on his back. He pushed the foreskin of the aroused claymore to the rear and started to stroke its tip gently with only his fingertips. It happened with a light playfulness and a tenderness that Jamie had never held for possible before and which made him almost delirious with joy. It was as if hot air was streaming over his tip, that pushed him to ever higher levels of desire with each sensual stroke.

“Oh yes, my sweet darling”, he moaned softly, “Go on. Make me forget this dreadful day for a short while!”

Kyle obliged gladly and his fingers skidded over the thin film of natural oil, made by the pre-cum that had released itself in the meantime. All this didn’t mean that Jamie endured it totally passive. While enjoying this sweet torture his fingers sought and found Kyle’s tool passionately and after some clumsy attempts they started to work on it as delightful and erotic as Kyle’s fingers did.

They worked each other up to a universe of lust never reached before and once they arrived there they just broke through that barrier, chasing for the next universe beyond in their quest for the unimaginable, perfect zenith. It was, as if they started a raid to storm the gates of heaven in an effort to conquer two short time spots there to enable the third missing person from their triumvirate to participate in their love play for a final time and after that to take him with them back to the now and here, by force if needed.

Because Kyle had started earlier with his delicious fingertip playing, Jamie was ahead of him. He made pent-up attempts to maintain the ability to participate in their voyage of exploration by postponing his release time and again. But the moment came when he had to capitulate to the almost unbearable pressure in his groin and roaring he squeezed the physical evidence of his love all around. Kyle smiled with closed eyes and licked some of it from his skin. Then he bent over, put his lips against Jamie’s ear and whispered:

“Receive me, sweet angel!”

Kyle entered tantalizingly slowly. It reminded Jamie of the first time he experienced this feeling, back in Northumbria. Every little muscle in him searched for contact with Kyle’s lance and he could swear he felt every move the member made, no matter how small: the vibrating from lust, the trembling pulses of the tiny blood vessels, the attempts to go deeper in him, the swelling. Kyle was too aroused as well to delay the explosion for long. In an incredibly short period of time he injected his white fluid love into Jamie.

Expended he rolled himself on his back. They looked into each other’s eyes: for a short moment happiness could be seen in them, but their expression changed to sadness at a rapid pace and tears returned. It became painfully clear to them that their expedition towards heaven had failed. The place in bed between them, the place where the so important missing third had been, stayed empty. The grim reality sank in: it would remain that way for all times.

Kyle gave their feelings of disappointment words, when he called out in desperation:

“It failed!”

They embraced each other tightly and broke into tears again. Laying against one another and with intermingled arms and legs they cried themselves and each other into a deep sleep, which was fed by exhaustion.

None of them was aware, that about fifty meters away from them Father Lighthouse cried as well and then went to bed for another restless night, in which he tried to cope with feelings he had never experienced before.