319 Winesap Lane - 15. Chapter 15 - Palpable Fear, Part 1

Junior’s (Billy) POV

It was one of those cold winter days when the snow from the last storm calmly waits for the next layer of whiteness. Two boys, one fifteen and the other a year younger, walked along a lane in the country after getting off the school bus with their bodies close—hands not clasped, yet with knuckles and shoulders occasionally bumping and brushing—belied a friendship that has moved beyond casual familiarity to something one might call young love if they could admit to such a feeling. They approached a cluster of mobile homes in various states of disrepair and pause at one where there was a faded blue pickup in need of serious bodywork.

“I’d invite you in, but it looks like Lardner is here,” one of the boys said.

“Anson! Get your butt in here and bring your girlie-boy with you,” a man—who goes by his last name, Lardner—called out from the front door of the mobile home.

“I’d better go,” the other boy said.

The sound of a pistol round rang out and Lardner yelled, “Anson! Get your girlie-boy in here!”

“I’m sorry, Junior,” Anson said.

“He probably won’t hit me that much; this time.”

The boys walked to the front porch and Lardner—a bear of a man wearing well-worn khakis and a red and black flannel—stood menacingly in the doorway. He grabbed Junior by the collar and hauled him inside.

“Don’t hurt him!” Anson yelled.

“Shut up! Or, I’ll take care of you too,” Lardner said. “Come on, you.”

He pulled and tugged the fourteen-year-old into the mobile home and down a hall. He pushed the boy into a bedroom where there is a double bed in the middle of the room.

“Strip, girlie-boy,” Lardner said quietly.

“What?” the boy asked. It’s an honest question as he’s never had to do this before.

The slap nearly sent him across the room. A muscular hand pulled Junior up and a fist sank into his gut. He doubled over in pain before an upcoming knee drove him back toward the bed.

“Strip!” Lardner yelled.

“What are you doing?” Anson asked at the door.

“Get the hell out of here!” Lardner yelled. “Go call your Uncle Johnny and tell him to get over here with your cousins. And, call Steve, too.”

“Why?”

“Do as I say!” The back of Lardner’s hand nearly knocked Anson out of the room. He walked out and shut the door.

“You haven’t undressed, yet?” Lardner asked. “Strip! Like I told you.”

“What are you going to do?” Junior asked.

“None of your fucking, girlie-boy business.”

Defeated, Junior starts to take off his clothes.

“Hurry up, we haven’t got all day,” Lardner said.

Finally, Junior stood naked in the cold room with the older man, his hands hiding his genitals. He had no clue as to what was about to occur.

Lardner came up to the boy and tied a length of cord to one of his wrists and then tied another to the other wrist.

“Lie face down on the bed,” Lardner said.

Not knowing the why of it, Junior did as he was told. He watched Lardner pull each of his hands in turn and tie the cords to the frame of the headboard. Then he felt Lardner grab one of his ankles and looked back, but was unable to see a cord being tied to it. He struggled, but there was little he could do as the cord pulled his ankle away from the other. When the same thing happened on the other side Junior tried to imagine what was about to happen. He cringed from a sharp slap to his buttocks.

“You wait right here,” Lardner said. “We’re going to have a little party tonight. You see, it’s my birthday and you’re the guest of honor.”

“What are you going to do?” Junior cried.

“Oh, don’t you worry your little girlie-boy ass because after tonight I suspect you’re going to be pleasuring a lot of boys around here.”

Lardner left the boy on the bed and went out into the living room. Anson was sitting on the sofa watching TV.

“Anything on?” Lardner asked.

“No, just the regular afternoon shit.”

“Did you make those calls?”

“Yes. What are you going to do?”

“Oh, you’ll find out. How about a drink?”

“I’ll get one of those generic colas you buy.”

“No, we’re having whiskey. Today’s special. If you don’t remember, it’s my birthday.”

“I don’t want any hard stuff.”

“You don’t have a choice, boy.”

Lardner left the room, but soon returned with a bottle of cheap whiskey. He opened it and took a slug. He held out the bottle to Anson.

“Here, take it and have a drink,” Lardner said. “Today I’m making you a man.”

“I told you I don’t want it.”

“Take a drink!” Lardner yelled.

The boy knew the futility of resistance and took the bottle and sipped a small amount into his mouth. He held it there until he finally swallowed. He shivered from the foul taste and the burning in his throat.

“Take another!” Lardner said.

Anson did as he was told. He held the bottle up to the man who claimed to have legally married his mother, God rest her soul. Lardner took another pull.

“Feeling pretty good?” Lardner asked

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good, now you can lose your cherry.”

“What? There’s no girls here.”

“You don’t need a girl when we’ve got a girlie-boy.”

“No!”

“Shut up! Do you need another drink of whiskey to man up?”

“I’m not going to fuck Junior.”

“Yeah you are or you’re getting a pop in the head with my .38.”

“We’ll go to jail!”

“Not if he doesn’t talk and I’ve got that all figured out, too. Come on, sonny boy, time to become a man; or, do I have to get my gun? I can just as easily have an accident cleaning it as give you pointers on how to fuck your girlie-boy friend.”

Defeated Anson stood up and took the bottle of whiskey from Lardner. He took a long pull and grimaced from the foul taste. They went down the hall and into the bedroom where Junior lay on the bed.

“It helps if you get yourself hard,” Lardner said. “You also might want to drop your drawers.”

“I know what to do,” Anson said as he loosened his belt. “Are you going to watch?”

“Got to make sure you do what needs to be done. Besides, someone has to take the pictures.”

“Figures.”

“What are you guys going to do?” Junior asked.

“Shut up, girlie-boy,” Lardner said. “I’ve got a boy here who wants to be a man. Here, put this rubber on. Don’t want to leave any evidence of your visit. Go to it, boy.”

Anson knelt between Junior’s legs, lined up his cock, pressed the head against the virgin hole, shut his eyes, and pushed in.

Junior screamed his lungs out from the excruciating pain. He didn’t know how many times he was forced to endure this assault as the afternoon turned into night, but it never seemed to end. He knew there were other men, some older like Lardner, some younger like Anson.

At some point in the night, Anson came to him and said, “I’m sorry, Junior, I didn’t know this was going to happen.”

Junior didn’t say anything. There was nothing to be said. He didn’t want to blame Anson for what happened, but it was hard not to.

Then Lardner came into the room and Junior steeled himself against another assault.

“Johnny, help me hogtie him,” Lardner said.

“What’s your plan?” Johnny asked.

“We can put him in the back of your truck and you can take him with you. Once you’re out in Wayne County on your way home take a little detour down a side road up in Marengo Marsh. I’m sure you know of one. You can dump him and pop him in the head with this. Don’t worry, it’s not registered to me and it should blow half his head off.”

“Daddy always said you were the spawn of the devil.”

“Yeah, got all I know from that son of a bitch.”

Junior tried not thinking about what was about to happen. All he could think of was his mother who died two years ago, leaving him with a woman who was not related. It was cold outside when he was thrown into the bed of the pickup and was wrapped in a smelly tarp. The ride was interminable, but finally the pickup stopped and voices started.

“Quick get him out of that tarp.”

“Can I get some help here lowering him down to the pavement?”

“Just heave him over, we gotta get outa here.”

The fall to the ground was unbelievably painful, but as Junior looked around he saw he was not out in the woods. He was being dropped off somewhere that was brightly lit. The pickup sped off.

“Get a gurney!” a voice called out.

Junior turned his head and saw people in green and white surround him.

* * * *

The following morning after a small breakfast of Cream of Wheat, milk, apple juice, and a piece of white toast with a non-dairy spread followed by an enema and a shower, Junior was put back in bed where he stared out into the institutional nothingness of his hospital room. The door opened and two sheriff’s deputies walked into the room and came over to the bed.

“Good morning, I’m Deputy McMahon. How are you doing this morning?”

“I’ve been raped, thrown into the back of a pickup, and then thrown down onto the pavement. I supposed I should be thankful they didn’t kill me like they were supposed to, but I’m not.”

“What’s your name?”

“Junior Billy Conger Maysfield.”

“That’s quite a handle.”

“My mother named me after the man who got her pregnant, but the county courthouse got the names fucked up.”

“Where do you live?”

“Down by Tolts.”

“I’m not familiar with that place.”

“It’s near Tuscarora. It’s not much more than a few mobile homes and a closed Hess station.”

“Do you know who did this to you? We got a good image of the pickup that dropped you off, but they’re not being forthcoming as to where the assault initially occurred.”

“It was at my, now, ex-friend’s house. He and his step-dad started it and then the others came.”

“What’s your ex-friend’s name?”

“Anson Marshall and his step-dad is Billy Lardner. The name of the man driving the pickup was Johnny. I think he is Billy’s brother.”

“Do you live with your parents?”

“No, I live with Miss Norma Gallagher. She’s sort of my guardian.”

“What do you mean by ‘sort of’?”

“Well, when Momma got cancer she got a life insurance policy and put Miss Norma down as beneficiary if she’d keep me until I’m eighteen.”

“You’ve got a bit of an accent; where are you originally from?”

“Eakins Fork, Kentucky; Momma got in a big fight with Gram and moved up here. Supposedly, Tolts was where Billy Conger was from, but she never found him.”

“Then Billy’s last name isn’t Maysfield?”

“No, that’s Momma’s name. Gram made her tag it on me because Momma didn’t marry Billy. I’m illegit’.”

“Okay, Junior, I think we have enough information. You concentrate on getting better and you’ll be out of here soon,”

“And, then what? I’ve been gang raped. Lardner said he was going to take pictures. I’m sure they’re online by now. How am I going to live with this?”

“I wish I could tell you, son; I wish I could tell you.”

The following day a man in a red parka and blue jeans walked into Junior’s room. He took the chair under the TV and put it beside the bed.

“Hello, Junior, my name is Bill Daniels. I’m a social worker here in Wayne County. Can I talk to you for a bit?”

“Sure, but I’ve already spoken with the police.”

“I know. Normally, your case would be handled by Steuben County because that is where you live, but the Steuben County Sheriff has requested you be placed in a temporary foster placement somewhere other than near where you live. What I need from you is some background information so I can start a case file. Is that okay?”

“What about Miss Norma, the woman I was living with?”

“Ah, yes, well, she’s in jail. It seems she had a small part in your incident. She purposefully didn’t call the police when you didn’t come home from school and other issues.”

“Yeah, she uses drugs on a regular basis.”

“Do you know why you were living with her?”

“When Momma died from cancer two years ago, she made Miss Norma the beneficiary of her life insurance on the condition she’d raise me.”

“Do you have any family in New York?”

“No, all my relations, if I have any, are down in Kentucky near Eakins Fork. It’s not a very big place. Momma stopped talking to them when we moved up here when I was seven. I don’t remember any of them.”

“That’s okay, but I have to check with them to see if they’re willing to have you back.”

“They probably won’t want me considering what happened.”

“Promise, I won’t tell them.”

“What happens with Anson and his father and the others who attacked me? What’s to prevent them from coming up here and killing me?”

“There’s a deputy sheriff outside your door, but once I put you in a temporary placement we’ll have to rely on your separation from Steuben County.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I think Anson’s stepfather will do anything to find me and, if that happens, he’ll kill me.”

“We’ll do as much as we can to protect you.”

“But, does that change what they did to me?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Can you go ask the nurse to give me something to help me sleep? Talking about this has upset me.”

Back at his office, Bill Daniels searched online for any listings for someone named Maysfield in Eakins Fork, Kentucky. He came up with one listing for a person named Henrietta Maysfield. He dialed the number and listened to the ringtone until someone answered.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Is this Henrietta Maysfield?”

“No, this is Millie. I take care of Hattie. What can I do for you?”

“My name is Bill Daniels and I work for the Wayne County Department of Social Services in New York State. I’m looking for any next of kin of Junior Billy Conger Maysfield.”

“Just a minute, let me ask Hattie.”

Bill waited and listened to a jumble of voices in the background of the phone that must have been left on a table.

“I asked Hattie, but she don’t want nothing to do with Junior no more,” Millie said. “He’s a bastard and his momma made her choice to leave Eakins Fork and he has to live with it.”

The phone abruptly disconnected and dead air filled the void. Bill put the receiver back on the cradle and began to think about what he was going to do with Junior. He picked up the phone, dialed a number, and listened to the ringtones.

“Hello?”

“Geoff? Bill Daniels.”

“Why did I think you were going to call me a week before I’m supposed to go back to work?”

“Probably because you know you’re one of the foster parents I’ll go to if I have a problem.”

“What have you got for me?”

“His name is Junior Billy Conger Maysfield. He’s fourteen and needs a temporary placement at the present time.”

“Do you want to come up today?”

“No, Junior is still in Newark Hospital. He’ll be discharged in a couple days and I’ll bring him up then.”

“Do you mind me asking what happened?”

“I’d rather not say too much. Let’s just say he was assaulted by a bunch of adult men and teens.”

“Oh, my God! Then he’s the boy who was in the news.”

“Still want him?”

“Of course; why wouldn’t I?”

“Just checking because you know he’ll need counseling. And, unfortunately, those people are going to be looking for him once they get out on bail.”

“Bill, give me a call when he’s ready to come up. Does he need anything clothes-wise?”

“Actually, he’ll need everything. I’ll be able to get him some clothes from the Salvation Army for when he leaves the hospital, but he’ll need more clothes to go out of the house and such.”

“Okay, bring him early and I’ll take him into Rochester.”

“You’re a decent man, Geoff. See you in a few days.”

“You too, Bill.”

* * * *

Three days later Junior Maysfield sat in the front passenger seat of a late model Ford Explorer as it slipped into a parking spot next to a stone address post with the number 319 engraved on it. He was wearing sneakers that had been worn by innumerable previous teens and jeans, a button-down shirt, underwear, and a blue parka that distinguished him as being a hand-me-down person. He looked at the driver and then got out into the blowing snow of a lake-effect storm that was going to quickly spread snow over the south shore on Lake Ontario. He followed the man up to the front door of the house and waited for someone to answer the bell.

He was somewhere between scared and nervous at what was about to occur. He suspected the people in this house knew what happened to him last week. At the very least, he thought they would figure it out and they too would want a go at his ass. He didn’t know what he would do to defend himself.

The door opened and an older teen was standing there as if he was going to deny their entry. The front right quarter of the boy’s head was full of scars and was misshapen as if he’d had been in some horrible accident.

“Good morning, Jerry; how are you today?” Mr. Daniels said.

“Good.”

“May we come in? Geoff’s expecting us.”

“Let me check; I’ll be right back.”

“It’s kind of cold out here; can we come in and wait inside?”

“No! They’ve been around the past few days. Geoff took Erik away and he didn’t bring him back. I’ll go check now.”

The boy abruptly shut the door. The man and boy stood in the cold as snow swirled around them.

“What’s wrong with him?” Junior asked.

“He was shot in the head down in New York City a few months ago, and he’s having mental problems. He’s harmless.”

Junior wasn’t so certain.

The door opened and there was a man standing there. He said, “Bill, Junior, come on in from the cold.”

Junior looked at the man and tried make some sense of him. He was older than Mr. Daniels, maybe old enough to be his grandpa, if he had one of those, which he didn’t; or, possibly didn’t remember one. The man was fit, too, like he worked out in a gym a lot.

“Junior, I’m Geoff,” the man said as he held out his hand. Junior put his hand out, though he didn’t know why. When the man took it in his and firmly held it for a moment, Junior still doesn’t know the purpose of it. “How about a nice cup of hot chocolate. Bill, I assume you’d prefer coffee. Jerry’s making everything. Come on, we’ll go into my study.”

Junior followed the men into the house and soon they were in a room that had a big desk, lots of bookshelves, a fireplace with a fire blazing, and a number of chairs, end tables, and lamps near the fireplace.

“Junior, you can sit in the blue wingchair,” Geoff said. “Jerry will be in with the drinks in a little bit. So, Junior what grade are you in?”

“I’m a freshman, why?”

“Just asking so I’ll know which school to put you in.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Geoff, if it’s all the same to you, we’d rather have Junior homeschooled until his legal problems are taken care of,” Bill said. “Do you think we can get him set up with one of those online computer programs that does that?”

“Sure, thing; while we’re in Rochester, I’ll stop at Apple store and get him a MacBook; if they’ve got them in stock, that is. I guess you want to pretty much keep Junior around the house.”

“That’d be best. I was speaking with the state police and they’re of the opinion the main perp on this is going to be looking real hard for Junior. Plus, the men that dropped off Junior at the hospital in Newark supposedly were to go into Marengo Marsh and kill him. Obviously, they live around here somewhere.”

“What about counseling?”

“He’s already had a short session with Dr. Finklemann at the hospital, but he’s going to need follow-ups.”

“And, he’ll need me to take him.”

“That’d be my recommendation.”

Jerry came into the room with a tray with three mugs on it and said, “I have the drinks. The new guy is sitting in Erik’s chair. He needs his own chair, but we do not have more tables. He will have to share.”

“Jerry, serve the drinks,” Geoff said.

“Oh, yes, but I cannot serve the new guy. He does not have a place.”

“You can serve him where he is.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, if you are sure.”

Jerry served the drinks and left the room, but soon returned with a pale lavender wingchair and placed on the other side of the end table where Junior was sitting.

“New guy, you can use this chair,” Jerry said.

“My name is Junior.”

“That is not a name. What is your real name?”

“It’s Junior Billy Conger Maysfield.”

“Good, Billy is a good name. I call you Billy from now on. Billy, you can sit in this chair now. You will have to share lamp with Erik whenever he returns.”

“Mr. Daniels, what do I do?” Junior asked.

“Humor him, go sit in the chair.”

“Jerry, why don’t you go listen to some music?” Geoff said.

“Okay, good idea; new guy makes me nervous,” Jerry said. He walked to the door, turned, and said, “Goodbye, new guy, I will see you later. I cannot go to Rochester with you because I am only allowed to go there when I go to the hospital. You see, I am not well, anymore.”

After Jerry left, Bill said, “Geoff, I’d like to stay and finish this coffee, but I think you and Junior need to get on down the road to Rochester. This storm doesn’t look like a little one. You might end up looking for shelter in a B&B between here and there.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Come on, Junior, drink up.”

“It’s kind of hot,” Junior said.

“How about if you try to drink most of it while I show Bill out?”

Junior sat there alone in the study blowing on the hot marshmallows and nervously waited for Geoff’s return. Unnoticed, Jerry came into the room and sat in his chair over by the fireplace. He had his iPod with the earbuds in which allowed him to be somewhere other than where he was physically. Junior didn’t know why he looked up from the mug of hot chocolate, but when he did and saw Jerry, he put the mug on the table and slowly stood up. He didn’t know how he was going to get out of the room without Jerry seeing him and he didn’t know what Jerry was going to do to him.

He stood there at his chair frozen in fear until Geoff finally walked back into the room. Geoff saw the fear in Junior’s face and slowly walked up to him. He touched the boy’s shoulder and when Junior turned toward him, Geoff pulled the boy into a tight hug. He felt the boy’s trembling body and heard him begin to cry.

“Why is Billy crying?” Jerry asked.

“He’s just scared,” Geoff said. “He was alone and he got scared.”

“I am here. He does not have to fear me. I am harmless. I would not hurt a mouse. I am going to go back to my music. You tell him it is okay to live here.”

“Did you hear that, Junior?” Geoff asked.

“Uh, huh,” Junior sniffled.

“I know you’re afraid of strangers right now, but we’re here to help you. You have to believe that.”

“Jerry scares me.”

“Yes, well, he certainly won’t need much makeup to go to a Halloween party.”

“That’s funny.”

“Good, it was meant to be. Now, go into the lavatory and freshen up a bit before we go.”

“Where is it?”

“Come along, I’ll show you.”

With the snow, traffic was miserable going into Rochester, driving around the city to all their destinations, and coming back to Warnton meaning Geoff and Junior didn’t get back until nearly dinner time. Jamie was sitting at the dinette doing his homework while Jerry fixed dinner.

“Jamie, can you go out and help carry some bags inside?” Geoff asked.

“Sure, let me go put some shoes on.”

“Jerry, which bedroom do you think would be appropriate for Junior?”

“Who?”

“Billy.”

“Oh, yes, Billy should go in the front bedroom on the second floor, but I think, considering his special circumstances, he should temporarily go into one of the back bedrooms on the third floor. Either one should be fairly well unnoticeable from the front.”

“Good idea; you know Jerry sometimes you’re quite lucid. Come on Billy I’ll show you your choices.”

“You didn’t call me Junior.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No, for now, I think it would be best if I do go by Billy.”

“Whatever you say.”

As they were walking upstairs to the third floor, Jamie came out of his room and said, “Where are you putting him?”

“On the third floor in the back,” Geoff said. “We’ll leave the door open.”

They went on up and Geoff said, “This is my room and just for the record, Jerry sleeps with me.”

Billy didn’t know what to say about this, so he didn’t say anything.

They went down a short hall past another door and came to a wall with three doors. Geoff opened the one on the right and stepped aside so Billy could go in before him.

“Phew! It’s kind of dank in here,” Geoff said. “If it was summer, we’d open the windows, but I’ll have Jerry bring an air freshener up. You’ve got a dresser with a mirror, a chest of drawers, a desk and chair, and a closet on that wall. The door over here on the left leads into your bathroom. There’s a tub, a shower, a pedestal lavatory, and, of course, a toilet. Let’s put the bags on the bed and we’ll go down for the rest.”

“Sir, I can’t thank you enough for doing all of this for me,” Billy said.

“Yes, well, I’m trying to make up for a sinful life. I don’t actually believe in a hereafter, but it doesn’t do any harm to try to lead a righteous life, especially after being so sinful earlier.”

“I can’t imagine you doing anything sinful, sir.”

With Jamie’s help, they got all of the shopping bags up to Billy’s room and the boy set about removing tags and putting clothes in drawers or the closet. Jerry came to the door and knocked.

“Yes?” Billy asked. He was still nervous about being alone with Jerry, but there was little he could do about it.

“I brought these air fresheners up,” Jerry said as he held out three different fresheners. “I did not know what fragrance you wanted.”

Billy took one and said, “Thank you.”

“Sorry that I scare you, but I cannot help it.”

“That’s alright, I’m sure I’ll get used to you.”

“Yes, I am good person,” Jerry said and then he looked down at the air fresheners in his hands. “Do you want one for bathroom?”

“Hey, yeah, good thinking,” Billy said. “Do you have more of the one I picked?”

“I go check; be right back,” Jerry said and then went away.

Down in his study Geoff was looking through various local news sites on his computer when he came across an article about a missing boy. There were three different pictures of Billy. The article said that the boy ran away from his home down in Pennsylvania three weeks ago and was believed to be somewhere in the western New York area, possibly around Rochester or Syracuse. Geoff checked the phone number and discovered it was a New York area code. He called the local sheriff’s office and spoke to the detective who was handling Billy’s case in conjunction with the Steuben County Sheriff’s Department. He was advised to keep Billy inside as much as possible and away from windows.

Geoff went into the kitchen and saw that everyone was sitting at the dinette ready for dinner. He sat down and said, “It’s looks like the people who attacked Billy have finagled a false online news article about a missing boy who matches the description of Billy. I just got off the phone with the Sheriff’s Department and they said to keep Billy inside and away from windows as much as possible until they’re able to get to the bottom of this.”

“They’re going to kill me!” Billy cried.

“Geoff, you call your friend in New York,” Jerry said. “You have to stop this.”

“I wish I could, but the police are handling it and we have to let them do their job,” Geoff said.

“What we do if they come to house?” Jerry asked. “We have no guns.”

“If any strange vehicles pull up in front of the house, call 9-1-1.”

“Okay, I keep lookout for strange vehicles and strange people who might park down the street.”

“Don’t worry Billy we’ll keep you safe,” Geoff said.

“I hope so,” Billy whimpered quite unsure of anything at the moment.