Running - 1. Chapter 1

Bryan clutched his backpack closer at a gust of bitterly cold autum wind. He picked his way through the leaf-strewn paths carefully. As far as he could tell, the park was deserted, pitch black under the starless sky except for a few pools of illumination from the feeble lamps here and there. He'd wandered through the town of Emerett earlier and he'd judged it to be reasonably safe enough. A nice, backwater town where everyone probably knew each other. No weirdos, no hobos...nothing he'd have to watch out for for what he was planning to do tonight.

Finally, Bryan found a park bench screened away from wind and prying eyes by a grove of willows. A lamp post was situated not far from it, giving him enough light for the night. He wearily trudged over to it and sat down. He realized he was still lightly shivering beneath the designer coat he was wearing. It was just so goddamn cold up here in the North, wind or no wind. Taking his backpack off, he positioned it carefully on one end of the bench for a makeshift pillow. He raised the hood of his coat over his head and drew his hands inside the sleeves before he stretched out on the unforgiving wood.

The backpack was a poor excuse for a pillow and Bryan almost burst into tears at the memory of his own soft, warm bed back home.

That's all over now. He can't go back. He won't go back. His parents had made it perfectly clear - they couldn't have a gay son. Just couldn't. They were planning to send him through a slew of self-serving quacks to 'cure' him of his homosexuality. Nothing he could do or say would dissuade them. This was the only way.

Bryan's stomach clenched painfully, reminding him he hadn't eaten anything since the measly breakfast of omelettes at some bus station earlier. He wrapped his arms around his belly to ease the hunger somewhat. He'd counted his money when he'd gotten off the bus an hour ago, and it was barely enough for a single meal. He'd planned to go job hunting tomorrow, and for that, he'd need the energy a breakfast would give him. He'd have to save the money and go to sleep hungry tonight... for the first time in his life.

Unwelcome thoughts of the dishes their chef was probably serving for dinner back home intruded in his mind, bringing on another series of painful cramps from his protesting belly. Opening his backpack, he took out a bottle of water and drank quickly. It eased the hunger pains somewhat, but only barely. Sighing, he dropped the bottle on the wet grass below and settled back in the bench. He resolved to avoid thinking about food.

Moths were swarming over the dim yellow light of the lamp, half-hidden by the willow branches. Bryan found himself staring bleakly at their mesmerizing dance. Bryan Montanez... 17, son of the wealthy founder of a popular chain of restaurants in Los Angeles, now sleeping hungry on a park bench in Idaho on a cold November night. He felt tears start to well up and hastily blinked them away. Fuck, why did I have to be gay? he asked himself for what seemed like the thousandth time. He knew he could probably have gone to those shrinks, pretend to be cured, marry some nice proper girl, and still lead a quiet gay lifestyle... but it was not him. He wouldn't be able stomach lying like that. No one can cure homosexuality, if only his parents could accept that. If only... if only he wasn't gay.

Bryan replayed the nightmarish scene of his father finding his stash of gay magazines in his room. The confrontation that turned into a shouting match. The unyielding decision of his father to 'cure' him, no matter what. His hasty escape through the bedroom window. The series of bus rides to as far away from LA as possible. And now... sleeping on a park bench in some backwoods town in Idaho.

Idiot, Bryan berrated himself. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. He can survive this. He knows he can. First, he'd need a job. He had one more year of high school, and the thought of never seeing his friends again made him almost regret his running away. So he was technically a high school drop-out. He had no specific skills, whatsoever. Born and raised with every intention of being one of the two heirs of the Montanez fortune, he was probably one of the most ignorant teenagers when it comes to surviving in the real world. Still, he was young... and strong. He had maintained a good build from discipline and soccer in school. He could probably find a job at the the supermarket or something... lifting heavy stuff maybe.

So, tomorrow... breakfast, then off to the supermarket. He decided, yawning sleepily. Turning around to face the back of the bench, he murmured good night to the world then promptly fell into an exhausted sleep.

Matthew Engels yelled good night at Mrs. Wesley as she left the cafe, toting her giggling twins. He smiled at her flustered reply as he watched her struggle to get the mufflers in place on the rowdy boys. Waving one last time at Matt through the windows, she rolled her eyes exasperatedly as she hurried off after the twins who'd taken it on themselves to race their mother back home.

Matt chuckled and went back to drying the last of the mugs and arranging them back on the counter. He walked over to their table and picked up the bills left on the table before clearing up the plates and dumping them into the sink. He'll let it soak until tomorrow morning, he wanted to close up quickly tonight. Opening the register, he counted their earnings for the day. Not bad for a Saturday, he congratulated himself.

He'd been a bit leery of opening a cafe in Emerett two years ago. His sister had to cajole, argue, and finally threaten him before he agreed. Now, at 21, he was the proud co-owner of the reasonably popular and the only cafe in Emerett.

Matt's parents had both died in an accident when he was quite young. His sister, Margaret, was all he had in the world. He smiled fondly at the picture of her beside the register, with her husband, John, and daughter, Nicole. He loved them all fiercely and he figured he'd stop over to say hello tonight.They lived only a few blocks from his own house. Nicole had been asking him to come over and show him some game she'd been raving about for ages, anyway.

"So... can we finally buy another kitchen slave, boss?" Giselle Seo, his co-owner cum waitress cum cook cum janitor cum cashier cum karate master cum smartmouth murmured from behind his left shoulder. Matt chuckled, folded the bills away into an envelope, then turned around to face the perpetually gum-chewing pretty japanese girl.

"Why? What's wrong with the one I have now?" He countered playfully.

Gi wrinkled her nose at Matt then punched him playfully in the shoulder. "This one's about to rebel."

"Well, then. I guess it's time to bring out the whip." Matt laughed as he tried to duck another blow from Gi. "Ow, Gi." Matt muttered rubbing his shoulders. "You DO know those karate jabs of yours hurt, right?"

"They should." She replied stonily before breaking into a smile. "Anywho..." She added, sighing dramatically, "I can see you're itching to be somewhere tonight. You go on ahead, boss. I'll close up shop." She turned around and started attacking the plates he had planned on doing tomorrow.

"Thanks, Gi." Matt smiled gratefully, already on the way to the door. He grabbed his coat from beside Giselle's and opened the door.

"Hey! This constitutes as overtime, okay?!" Matt heard her yell as he stepped outside into the cold night. Chuckling he shook his head ruefully before turning up his collar and heading out into the cold night.

Matt hurried across the street to where he'd parked his pickup truck. As he searched his coat pockets for his car keys, his ears perked up at an unfamiliar sound. Stilling himself, he turned his head toward the silent town park. The wind rustled the boughs of willows lining the dimly lit path into the central fountain. Shrugging, he was about to turn back to opening the car doors when he heard it again. A low, almost sobbing moan.

Matt felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Ghosts? As soon as the ridiculous thought popped up in his head, he dismissed it. He was too old for that kind of stuff. Besides, he'd grown up playing in the park all his life. He briefly considered the possibilities as another louder moan filtered through the dark screen of leaves.

Someone must be hurt, Matt thought, alarmed. He abandoned his car and proceeded cautiously on the flagstone path. A few meters into the park, he found the source of the sound. Someone was lying curled up in the park bench with nothing but a coat to keep him warm, and one of those expenisive thin ones at that. He approached the bench curiously and discovered that it was a young man. At most twenty, judging from his looks and build. The guy was shivering badly and moaning in his sleep.

What is he doing here? On a night like this? Matt wondered silently. He knew everybody in town, and he didn't recognize this guy. Must be some out-of-luck vagrant passing through. Somehow, Matt didn't believe that. For one, the guy was too clean and well-dressed. Besides, even a nutcase would have enough common sense to find warmer sleeping accomodations in the town hall or something. The town sherrif, Bridget, lets the few vagrants who stumble into town penniless stay the night there on the prison beds. That doesn't sound that bad either, the town's prisons had never held more than four prisoners in all its history and the beds were comfortable, the cells clean and private. More like an inn, really.

Well, he couldn't leave him alone in here, could he? Matt flipped open his cell and dialed Bridget's number. A recorded voice told him that the number could not be reached. Cursing softly, he remembered that Bridget was probably in her weekly visits to Siltriver, the farming town a few miles north of Emerett. That town was too small to have its own sherrif's station, and the mountains around it played hell with cell phone signals.

Matt glanced again at the shivering form huddled in the hard bench then hurried back to the cafe. He burst into the door, startling Giselle as she was wiping off the stains on the tables.

"Gi, come with me, quick." Matt told her, silencing the questions on the tip of her tongue. He hurried back out the door, Giselle trailing behind him. As she caught up with him Matt told her about the guy he found. They hurried towards the park together until they came to the sleeping form.

"So what are you going to do?" Gi asked anxiously. "God, he looks half frozen."

"Bridget's probably off to Siltriver." Matt answered. "We can't just leave him here..."

"Uh oh... Don't tell me..." Gi started.

"I'm taking him home." Matt finished the sentence firmly.

"But... he could be some escaped psycho forgodsakes!" Gi protested.

"I can take the chance. I'm about the same size as him." Matt said evenly. "Besides, look at him, Gi. He doesn't look like a murderer to me. Not even close. More like a tourist."

"He looks latino." Gi observed. "Maybe an illegal?"

"This far north?" Matt snorted."His clothes are expensive, Gi."

"Yeah..." Gi admitted. "He looks kinda cute too."

Matt rolled his eyes."Okay, help me carry him back to the car."

"What?!" Gi gaped at Matt. "What if he wakes up?!"

"Shhh. Dammit. He would if you continue shrieking like that." Matt scolded. "Just help me and be careful, okay? We'll call Bridget as soon as she's back tomorrow."

"Oh... I don't know, boss." Gi bit her lip anxiously as Matt gently eased his arms around the sleeping guy's chest. She fidgeted the can of pepperspray she always kept with her then shrugged and hurried over to take the guy's legs. Incredibly the guy snuggled closer against Matt's chest and started snoring. They both stifled their giggles and continued lugging the guy back to Matt's pickup.

"Gawd, he's heavy." Gi said between breaths as they reached the doors of the truck. Gi gently laid down the guy's feet on the pavement. Matt held him up as he motioned Gi to take the car keys from his coat pocket. Gi opened the door to the rear seats and helped Matt settle him comfortably inside. Both were sweating profusely, but the guy was still snoring soundly, cuddling up to the warmth inside the car.

"Watch him." Matt told Gi as he rushed to the park to get the guy's backpack. Hurrying back, he found Gi watching him warily through the truck windows from a distance. He chuckled at her expression. "He's not gonna bite, Gi."

"How would you know?" Gi countered uneasily.

Matt shrugged. "He looks like a good guy. Just a bit out of luck, probably. Besides, you could probably kung fu him to submission anyway."

"Whatever you say, boss." Gi sighed.

"Okay, I can take him from here. Close up shop for me, okay?" He said, giving Gi a quick peck on the cheek.

"Boss..." Gi murmured hesitantly as Matt got in behind the steering wheel. "Be careful, okay?"

Matt smiled and nodded.

"Call me tomorrow! As soon as he wakes up!" Gi added. "Call Bridget too!"

"Sure thing." Matt replied as he gunned the engine. "Thanks, Gi. Good night."

"Good night, boss."

Matt backed up the parking lot, and with a last wave to reassure Giselle, he drove off for home. The streets were quiet in Emerett and only the sound of the guy's soft snoring broke the silence inside the pickup. Reaching his house, he got off and opened the front door before coming back to get the guy. He cradled his sleeping form gently and carried him into the house. He settled him carefully into his own bed, grunting in relief as he released his burden. Removing his coat and shoes (taking note that they were expensive, custom-made hiking boots), he tucked him in then settled back to observe him.

Gi was right. The guy was good-looking. A chiselled youthful face, blunted slightly by what was most probably latin american heritage, maybe even middle eastern or mediterranean. He had a good build. Muscular in a softened kind of way. A light shadow of beard growth in his cheeks, his fitting white shirt contrasting attractively against his golden brown complexion. Looking at him closer, he noted that he wasn't as old as his first estimate. Probably only 18. A very good looking 18. Too cute to be a vagrant, anyway. Besides, everything about him seemed to exude money. Matt could only come to one conclusion: a runaway.

Yawning, he patted the bed lightly and whispered good night before turning off the lights on the bedroom. He would ask questions when the guy's ready to talk about it. not sooner, or he'd clamp up for sure. He got the guy's backpack from the truck before locking up the house and unfolding the living room couch for his own bed. He spent a few minutes looking through the contents of the backpack. Sighing at the things he found, he wearily closed it back up and folded it away on a drawer. Curling up under the blankets, he closed his eyes and fell asleep wondering about the guy snoring softly in the other room.

Martina Montanez y Diaz wringed her hands fretfully as her husband and the detective sat sipping coffee on the sofa. The maid came in carrying some cold meat sandwiches and paused briefly by Martina's side. Martina shook her head and murmured her thanks. The maid went on towards the two men and placed the tray on the coffee table before silently leaving the room.

Detective Allen Rosario selected a slice from the tray and munched on it as he listened to Antonio Montanez tell him of the details of his son's running away.

"He was always a good kid." Antonio was saying. "I mean, he was into sports and had a lot of friends, so I never would have thought he was getting perverted, you know. We didn't expect it."

The detective nodded absently.

"We offered to cure him, but he runs away!" Antonio continued, running his fingers worriedly over his face. "We're only trying to help him, why can't he understand that? Being gay is not something anyone would want to be, so I can't understand what influenced him over to... that side. His brother, Brant, is happily married with a kid on the way. I only want him to be like him someday. Secure, y'know. Not subject to taunting or discrimination. He's my son, madre de dios. I love him more than anything else in the world. Even more than his older brother. But he can't be gay!" He thundered.

Martina hurried over to her husband's side and settled his forehead against her own. "It's okay, Tonio. He'll be okay. The detective will find him, honey. Calm down."

"Martina..." To Martina's horror, her husband started sobbing against her. She cradled his head gently against her shoulder as she soothed him. "I love him so much, Martina. Why did he have to be gay?"

Martina smiled apologetically at the detective who was fidgeting uncomfortably at the display of masculine weakness. She turned back to her husband and kissed him tenderly on one cheek. "We all love him, darling. He just doesn't understand fully that it's wrong to be gay. It's going to be alright, Tonio, I promise."

Antonio smiled wearily through his tears before kissing Martina lovingly on the lips. "I love you, mi corazon." He pulled away from Martina's embrace and took out a handkerchief from his pocket. "I'm sorry, detective..." He began, smiling wryly as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "I must be getting old."

"No, sir, it's alright." The detective answered."I too have children, and I would die if anything happened to them. So I know how it feels like. Don't worry, our agency has brought back runaways without fail before. We'll bring Bryan back."

"Yes... yes..." Antonio sniffed self-consciously then reached for his cup of coffee. He took a long sip before continuing. "We just love Bryan so much and we want him back. Do whatever it takes to find him. Bring him home, detective. We're willing to put off the counseling sessions until he's ready. He'll wake up one day and realize it's wrong to be gay and we'll be there to help him. But right now... right now..." His words trailed off.

"Just bring him home, detective." Martina finished for her husband. She didn't add the words that were worrying all of them: before something bad happens to him.