Reconciled - 12. Chapter 12

Sam was nervous as hell. He couldn't believe he was doing this, or that it had worked out this way. His fantasies were perhaps becoming reality and it was chatting online that made this happen. If he had had to talk to Arran face-to-face, he could never have done it. But tapping words on a computer screen was so much easier, even if he was still unsure of himself.

After they had talked a bit, Arran had asked him, 'What do you want to do?'

Sam hadn't known quite how to respond, but he had confided that he had never done anything. Except, of course, on his own, which most boys did. Arran had asked what he liked, but he couldn't give an answer. He already knew that Sam looked at gay porn and he said it was no big deal, but he wondered what turned him on.

They chatted for a long time and Sam got to know more about Arran, at least as much as Arran was willing to reveal about himself. Still, when he asked Sam that particular question, "you think you're gay?" Sam wasn't sure how to answer. But he had found enough courage to talk about it. For Arran this was a little surreal. If he thought about chatting to Sam online he had to ask himself what he could really say. The boy was only thirteen! Never mind there was only a few years difference between them, Sam was a virgin. Yet Arran had no doubt from talking with him that Sam was gay.

It was even more weird him being Alison's little brother. Not very long ago they were a couple heading down the road towards cementing their relationship. That was when Arran met Tom and everything changed. Whilst he didn't have a problem with being gay, he still had feelings for Alison, it made the gay side of things kind of weird. Arran had to ask himself if he was even the right person to talk to Sam. In the end he did the best he could. He listened, encouraged, and replied as honestly as he felt possible without giving any details about his own kind of unusual experiences.

Achim usually paid little attention to his younger brother. In his eyes the boy was an embarrassment. He'd given up telling him to bulk up, do some gym, or sports, get some muscle. Salem had refused the steroids which would have made it easy, at least the way Achim saw things. The story Salem had told about Tom he didn't believe at all, but he let him believe he did. Often people could underestimate him, his little brother included. It made Achim smile to think they thought he was stupid. He wasn't stupid at all. One thing he couldn't stand was queers. That kid, Tom or Tracy, whatever he was called, needed a lesson. And sometime soon he'd give it to him.

The more he considered it, the more Achim felt it was only right in the scheme of things. Who knew what that little queer boy was doing with his brother's head? But he would sort him out. He had only to give his cousins a call and get Salem along, exactly like last time. Only this would be different. Salem would get the message when they took care of Tracy. If he wanted to prove himself a real man he would.

It was late Friday afternoon when Achim told his brother to put his jacket on, that they were going out.

"What d'you want me along for?" Salem asked.

Achim simply grunted. He knew his little brother was only trying to worm his way out, even if he had no idea yet from what. It annoyed him, "Get the fuck up!" he shouted at Salem.

His two cousins were waiting by the van, an old white Ford transit. Achim grinned. "We got some work now," was all he said.

Salem felt apprehension, even more so when they got to Tom's tower block.

"What are we doing here?" Salem asked his brother, who just glared back at him and said nothing.

When a foreign lady approached the front doors carrying two large bags of shopping, Achim stepped forward. "Allow me," he addressed the woman, who was wrapped from head to foot in a long dress, a coat and coloured scarf.

The women could not easily object and they accompanied her into the lobby. Achim gave back the shopping bag he had carried inside, placing it in the lift. They watched the doors grind shut. It was warmer, if not by much, inside the building. Salem was growing increasingly worried about what was going on. He didn't, however, have much longer to wait to find out.

The lift doors opened and inside was Tom. When he saw the reception committee he desperately hit the button to go back up, but the old lift was much too slow to respond. Achim was already inside and the others were keeping the doors open. They grabbed hold of Tom and forced him out of the lift and outside onto the street. They surrounded him, holding him tight and forcing him up the road towards the old van.

Once there, Achim opened the doors and they pushed Tom inside. On the floor was a dirty old mattress. Salem was frightened. It was obvious now what was going on. But if Salem was frightened, Tom was scared shitless. He looked across at Salem, not wanting to draw attention to the boy, but at the same time pleading. It was crowded with five in the back of the van.

"Keep hold of him!" Achim commanded, and his two cohorts held Tom's arms pinned backwards. He was lying on his back on the mattress. Achim turned to Salem. "Get his jeans off."

Salem looked from Achim to Tom and in that split second made a decision. He turned grabbed the handle on the door and pushed it open. He jumped out and started sprinting up the road.

"You fuckhead!" Achim shouted after him, then slammed the door shut.

He reached down for Tom's jeans and roughly pulled them down his legs.

"Now you're gonna get what you like," he threatened, whilst cupping his hand over his crotch.

Tom struggled, but to no avail. He watched Achim, resigned to his fate. There was no escape.

Salem pulled open the heavy red metal door to the telephone box. Amazingly, the telephone inside which would usually have been vandalised, like everything else on the estate, had been spared. It was probably perfect for drug dealing, call and collect, pretty much anonymous.

He grabbed the receiver off the hook. His heart was racing. If he had had time to think he might never have done this, but he was running on pure adrenaline and emotion. He hit the buttons in rapid succession. Nine, nine, nine. The response was almost immediate, after four or five rings.

"Emergency. Which service do you require?" The steady voice of the woman was a stark contrast to his own.

"Police!" He screamed at her.

"I'm connecting you now..."

"Metropolitan Police..."

The rest was a haze lost in his flooded mind clouded by shear panic. What he remembered was almost robotically giving the location, the type and colour of the van, the registration number was lost in a jumble of thoughts. He couldn't say if he gave his name. They always asked, name and address, but he wouldn't have wanted to give it. All he knew for sure was screaming, "It's urgent! It's urgent! They're killing him!"

He had to distance himself from both the phone box and the van, but he needed to see they arrived. Salem stood next to another tower block, across the road, but from where he had a view. He was trembling, but couldn't feel the cold. His face was wet, but not with rain or mist. It was almost dark, the street lights were coming on.

Sirens and blue lights flashing one, two, police cars came speeding down the road, followed by a police van. They screeched to a halt surrounding the van. Salem heard shouting and banging on the van doors. He saw them open. Saw his cousins pulled out and then Achim, his tracksuit bottoms around his knees. More flashing lights and the fluorescent striped yellow ambulance drew up. As it reached the scene Achim and the others had already been bundled into the police van.

The paramedics helped Tom out from the van. He was crouched over but walking. They placed him on a stretcher. From where he was standing Salem had no idea how bad it was. He was torn apart between wanting to rush to Tom and knowing he mustn't get involved. Things were already bad enough.

The doors to the ambulance shut and he watched it drive off followed by one of the police cars. Tears flooded down his face. Finally, the emotion overcame him. He couldn't go home, he suddenly realised he might never go home again. Arran... The idea offered a little glimmer of hope. He was the only person he knew, maybe he could help.