Protector of Children - 6. Chapter 6: The Bridge

Protector of Children

Chapter 6

The Bridge

Calvin

From the Badlands of South Dakota, we went to an internet cafe in Rapid City. Uncle George drank one cup of coffee before ordering a fruit smoothie, and watched while I researched Anubis—both the old god and the member of a neo-Nazi hard rock band. But first, I had to ask.

“Uncle George? I understand Anubis as an ancient Egyptian god. But I don’t understand what you said about Neo-Nazi hard rock band. What’s neo-Nazi, and what’s hard rock?”

Uncle George pressed his lips together. Then he nodded. I figured he was thinking right hard.

“You were pretty sheltered on the ranch, I guess. I mean, except for Fred …” He blushed. He was cute when he blushed.

“Um, yeah, I guess,” I said.

“You know what the Nazis were, right?”

“Yes. The National Socialists that took Germany into some really evil places in the 1930s, and started World War II,” I said.

“That’s as succinct a definition as I’ve ever heard,” Uncle George said. “How about hard rock?”

“Some kind of music. But I still don’t understand …”

“Kids in Germany … some of them … have latched onto the old Nazi icons. I don’t know if they’re really socialists or nationalists. In fact, most of them are probably too uneducated to understand either concept. They are enamored with the symbols: the fylfot cross or swastika, the black leather uniforms, and the lightning bolt double-s. They embrace the evil, or what they think they know of the evil. I suspect that many of them don’t really understand what they’re embracing. And, I don’t say that to excuse them; I say it to condemn them.”

“And hard rock?” I asked.

“What kind of music do you like?” Uncle George asked.

“Definitely not hard rock,” I said. “My favorites are Beethoven and Tchaikovsky, their really big stuff like the 1812 Overture and the 9^th Symphony.”

“Not silly,” he said. “Just surprising. I’d have thought country-western.”

“You mean stuff like, My Ears Fill with Tears When I Lie on My Back Cryin’ Over You and How Come My Dog Don’t Bark No More When You Come Over to My House? You mean that sort of stuff.”

Uncle George’s face went from pink to red, and he started laughing. Really laughing. He gasped for breath.

Then, I started laughing. And that set him off, again, until we were both gasping, and the barista looked at us like we were crazy until Uncle George waved his hand at her and she went back to washing coffee cups.

When we caught our breath, Uncle George leaned over and kissed me. “Thank you, Calvin. You know I don’t get to laugh often. That’s the best laugh I’ve had … since …”

I silenced him with a kiss. I knew what he was about to say. Since he became the avatar of Death, and started seeing the depths of souls.

I found the usual stuff about the Egyptian god Anubis on sites like Wikipedia. There wasn’t a lot on the internet about the rock band. A couple of people had posted videos of the band on U-Tube. The videos were probably made with cell phone cameras, and were pretty poor. None of them were good enough to get a clear picture of the guy we were interested in. There was a schedule of their appearances, which I copied and emailed to myself so I could have it on my smart phone.

“That’s all interesting,” Uncle George said. “But how much of it is true? How current is it? And, what’s going on that the Internet can’t tell us? We need to go to Germany and—”

“And tip your hand!” I interrupted. “No way! If anybody goes, I go. Will Silver have as good a GPS when he’s a Lamborghini as Impala does when he’s a Mustang?”

“No,” Uncle George said. “I mean, yes, Silver will have an excellent GPS, but you’re not going to Germany, and certainly not alone.” His voice was slightly higher in pitch than normal. I knew it was because his throat was tight … because he was afraid for me.

“There’s no other way,” I said. “I won’t go before we can plan, but I am going.”

Uncle George took a deep breath. “I think it’s time for you to meet some folks.” He tipped the barista. As soon as we got into Impala, the GPS lit up, and we headed back to Chicago.

Impala materialized on a freeway. Uncle George turned onto a surface street, and we drove several blocks to a high-rise hotel. He turned the keys over to a kid in a burgundy and gold uniform.

“Checking in, sir?”

“No, visiting Apartment seven-zero.”

The kid was impressed. His “Yes, sir!” was crisp and enthusiastic. He looked at me, and I felt his desire. I smiled, but tried to send, I’m taken. I don’t think it worked. I could feel his eyes on my butt as I walked into the lobby.

We took an elevator that ran up the outside of the building. There was a man in the lobby near the elevator. The man wore a business suit with a plastic name-badge on his pocket. I was pretty sure I saw the bulge of a gun in a shoulder holster. Who are we meeting? I wondered.

“Gary and Nemesis,” Uncle George said. “Protector of Children—”

“And Retribution,” I said. Actually, I interrupted. “You told me about them. Gods have bodyguards?”

Uncle George looked at me. “Huh?”

“The guy at the elevator … he was wearing a gun, wasn’t he?”

Uncle George’s reply was lost in the sound of the elevator door opening, and a bubbling, boyish voice.

“Uncle George! They said you were on the way up!” A kid, maybe twelve, jumped into my uncle’s arms and wrapped his legs around my uncle’s waist. And kissed his cheek.

“Calvin, this is Bobby.”

“Hi, Bobby,” I said. I was afraid to say anything else. Who was Bobby? Why was he kissing my Uncle George? Was he Nemesis? How could a twelve-year-old be the god of retribution?

“Age doesn’t matter, didn’t you tell me?” Uncle George asked, ignoring all but the last of my questions. Then he grinned, and pointed. “This really is Bobby; they are Gary and Nemesis.”

A man and a boy stood at the door to the apartment. The boy looked about twelve. Uncle George had put Bobby down.

I guess I stared at Gary too hard, because he chuckled. “Chicago Cubs?” he said.

“Oh, yeah!” I said. “You played for them a few years ago. I remember when you got called up!”

Gary offered his hand, and then turned to the boy beside him. “This is Nemesis.”

I bumped fists with the kid. Then, he surprised me by grabbing my hand and pulling me into the apartment.

“Come on,” he said. “Gary and Uncle George have things to talk about … and you need to know some things.”

Bobby started to follow, but Gary told him, “Bobby? Homework, first, okay?”

Bobby nodded, and turned away. Nemesis pulled me down a hallway and into what had to be his bedroom.

“Bobby and his friend, Benji—he’s in the dining room doing homework—know about us. They know we’re gods who help kids. They don’t know who Uncle George really is. They caught him translocating, once, and think he’s the god of muscle cars.

“Bobby keeps after him to give me a BMW Z4 … and wants a Mustang, like Uncle George’s, when he’s sixteen. At least, he does this week. Last week he wanted a Corvette.”

“Bobby kissed my Uncle … ,” I began. And stopped talking.

Nemesis stared at me, and his eyes sparkled. I’d seen Uncle George do that, so it didn’t scare me. I stared right back at him. He blinked, and looked away.

“Bobby was raised mostly by step-parents who didn’t hug him,” Nemesis said. “Gary and I rescued him just before he was going to be raped. He’s a very loving little boy. We all know it, and we give him hugs and kisses anytime he wants them. I won’t say it doesn’t mean anything, ’cause it does. But it doesn’t mean what you and Uncle George have … or what Gary and I have.”

It didn’t escape me that Nemesis all but said he was having sex with Gary. I wasn’t sure how to ask, so I tucked that thought away for later. “And Benji?” I asked.

“Benji? He’s the same as Bobby, except that his father killed his little brother by chasing them out into the snow. Benji and Bobby are boyfriends, except that Benji’s too little for anything except cuddles and tummy rubs.”

Nemesis giggled at that. I wasn’t sure what was funny until I saw what he was thinking … and I blushed to see what I had only suspected before: what he and Gary did, together.

“You’re not any older than Bobby,” I said. “And you’re having sex with Gary. I don’t understand.”

Nemesis then told me the strangest story, yet. No, not really. It was actually easier to believe that he was once a forty-year-old man, and that now he was twelve and that he and Gary were lovers, than to believe that my Uncle George was Death. I mean, how many people have seen Death laugh? And how many people have felt Death have an orgasm that fills their bottom with the most incredible heat?

Nemesis and I talked for what seemed like hours. He told me how he and Gary had met and the details of how they’d rescued Bobby—“I had always been a dork,” he said. “And a fuck-up. Gary helped me get over that.” He told me about Dike, and how he and Gary had met Benji and a few other special boys including Viktor and Kenny. He told me about Erewhon.

“There’s lots more, but Dike says you have to learn some things on your own,” Nemesis said. “Come on, we’re going to Dave and Busters for supper. Do you play skee-ball?”

Nemesis was right: Bobby was a very loving little boy. He thought it was cool that I was a real cowboy, with boots and blue jeans, a big silver belt buckle, and a ten-gallon hat. He latched onto me right away. He made sure he sat beside me in the booth and that we would be partnered against Gary and Uncle George at skee-ball. I was a little worried about taking Bobby away from Benji, but a quick glance at Nemesis and his wink let me know everything was okay.

Bobby and I won the match. We could never have done it except that Uncle George absolutely sucked at skee-ball. Gary was a whiz, though, and it was a close game.

The championship match was Benji and Nemesis against Bobby and me. I had just rolled a ball up the slope to watch it drop into the center ring when I heard a sound like a bullwhip. I turned in the direction of the sound, and realized that it had been a slap. A man stood over a cowering boy. The imprint of the man’s hand was visible on the boy’s cheek.

“Honor thy father,” the man said. “You disobeyed me! Didn’t I tell you not to come back here?”

The boy was either too frightened or too hurt to answer. I saw another boy, about the same age, standing nearby. The second boy was … dithering was the best word. He stepped toward the pair, as if to interfere, and then stepped away.

His friend, I realized—or sensed. They came here together. The man … the other boy’s father … caught them and is punishing his son.

The man raised his hand to strike the boy, again. I felt the hatred in his heart and the tension in his muscles. More than punishment, I thought, and stepped toward them. I needn’t have.

The man’s hand didn’t complete its arc. I saw Gary move, and knew that no one else had seen. No one not in our group, that is. Gary seized the man’s hand before it could move.

“How many times to I have to say this?” Gary muttered, although it was clear to me.

“Raise not thy hand in anger,” he said to the man.

I nearly giggled at the word Gary thought at the end of that sentence, but didn’t say: Raise not thy hand in anger, asshole.

Nemesis had stepped in, and somehow gotten the two boys to play skee-ball against him and me. Gary and Uncle George took the man to a table, and talked to him. I watched out of the corner of my eye until Nemesis elbowed me.

“Pay attention!” he said. “You’re gonna cost us the game!”

In the end, it didn’t matter. I lost sight of the man who had hit the boy; Nemesis told me later he’d had an unfortunate accident, and that Death had come for him, although I didn’t find out the whole story until later that night.

“He was an evil man,” Uncle George said. We were cuddling in one of Gary’s spare bedrooms. Uncle George was in his eighteen-year-old persona: the soldier in the Continental Army who had been recruited from George Washington into a new role. This was my favorite for him, and I think was becoming his favorite, too.

“He had driven one son to run away … and was about to drive the one we saw last night into …despair, at the least; insanity, at worst.

“Gary will arrange for the boy we saw last night to be adopted by the parents of his friend.”

“What about the first one? The one who ran away?” I asked.

“That,” George said, “is why we’re on duty. But we have until late morning, tomorrow before we can do anything.” He took me into his arms and kissed me.

Sex with Uncle George was always special, but it was especially good with his eighteen-year-old, Revolutionary War soldier persona. He was so innocent: it was like he was a virgin, all over again, every time. I undressed him, every time. I watched him blush, every time I uncovered his erection. I pushed him onto the bed, and sat on his thighs, with my legs bent under me, every time. I took both of our penises in my hand, and rubbed them together, every time. And then, I bent down and took him into my mouth, every time.

After that, there were some variations, but it always ended with his seed and heat flowing into my mouth, into my throat, and into my stomach.

The next morning, Uncle George woke me. I stretched and yawned, and rolled toward him for a kiss.

“You’re like a cat in the morning,” Uncle George said after our kiss. “And, thank you for yesterday … for laughing with me … and for last night.”

“Hey! It’s tomorrow!” I said. “We’ve got to get back to the ranch!”

“Shhh,” Uncle George said. “We’re on duty. We’ll be back before we’re missed.”

I relaxed.

The Bridge

The bridge straddled the Chicago River. The river had been channelized, and forced to run backwards to send the city’s sewage toward the Mississippi rather than into Lake Michigan. The boy didn’t know that. All he knew was that if he jumped from the catwalk into the river, he would die.

He had worked his way past the features of the Kinzie Street Bridge that had been designed to foil his actions. Now, he stood a hundred feet above the river. He didn’t think about why he was there, or what had brought him to this place. There was, however, someone who did.

A figure stood behind the boy. The figure was invisible, but ready to act instantly.

“Please, forgive me,” the boy whispered. If he wondered at all to whom he addressed the plea the thought was quickly discarded. Then, he leaned forward. The expected rush of air followed by impact didn’t happen. The boy’s shirt tightened as someone grabbed it from behind.

“Hang on, Kevin,” a voice behind the boy said. “It’s not your time.”

Kevin felt himself being pulled to his feet. He turned around to see a boy. Where did he come from? Kevin wondered. Then, his reflexes took over and his penis got hard. He’s beautiful! Kevin thought.

The boy blushed. Why did he blush? Did I say that out loud? Kevin realized he had not spoken, and wondered, Did he hear what I was thinking?

The boy answered Kevin’s question. “Yes, I did hear your thoughts. That’s something I do. Oh, and thank you for thinking I was beautiful. You’re … well, you’re really cute, yourself.

“You were about to fall,” the boy added. “That would have killed you. But, it’s not your time. Something happened that shouldn’t have happened to make you be here, to make you want to … to end everything.

“I’m here to make things right. Will you come with me?” he asked.

Kevin nodded. His face was wooden, as if all emotion had fled. Why not? he wondered. Why not go with this boy? No matter what he says, I’m dead … I fell … no, I jumped from the bridge. Big difference, isn’t it? I thought that would be the end of things, but … well, it doesn’t seem like Hell, yet.

The mysterious boy touched Kevin’s arm, and they were no longer on the bridge, but in a … a café? Kevin shook his head as if to clear it, but he was still in the café. The boy gestured to a table; Kevin sat.

“My Uncle George really likes coffee, but it gets to his nerves after a while, so he drinks these fruit smoothies. They’re actually pretty good. Oh, have you had lunch, yet?” The boy bubbled his question.

“Um, no, I didn’t think I would need to eat,” Kevin replied. His mouth twisted into a wry grin as he said that. Then, “What’s your name? And which one is your Uncle George?”

“I’m Calvin. And, uh, Uncle George is the one in the jeans and cowboy boots.”

Kevin

I heard the hesitation in Calvin’s voice when he pointed out his Uncle George … if that’s really his name. Whoever he was, he came back to the table with three fruit smoothies. The one he gave me was awesome! I’d never had anything like it, and sucked so hard on the straw I got a brain freeze.

Uncle George chuckled, and then waved his hand in my face. My brain freeze went away instantly.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah,” I answered. If this his hell, no wonder he can make it warm. Oh, shit! It’s gonna really be hot, soon!

“How did you do that?” I asked. Then, something really hit me. “And, if you can do that, how come you don’t do things that are more important? I mean, I’m a kid who just killed himself … and I know I’m going to Hell for it. But you just used magic to make my brain freeze go away.

“Aren’t there a whole bunch of more important things you should be doing?”

The waiter came over with a chicken salad sandwich … for me. I hadn’t heard Calvin say anything about me missing lunch, and remembered that he’d kind of read my mind. I figured this guy called Uncle George had read Calvin’s mind—or mine!—, and ordered the sandwich. What … who are these people?

The boy who called himself Calvin, and the man he called “Uncle George,” both smiled at that thought, and I knew they had heard what I was thinking. It was Uncle George who answered.

“Two good questions, Kevin,” he said. “First, the easy answer. Calvin has already told you enough and shown you enough that you ought to know we’re not ordinary people. So, when I tell you that time doesn’t work the same way for us as for regular folks you shouldn’t be surprised.

“Since we don't have to exist in normal time, we can sometimes take time off for ourselves—to have a fruit smoothie, for example.” And, Uncle George thought, we can take time to recruit helpers. But I don’t think you’re quite ready for that, yet.

All of a sudden, I knew what was going on. This Uncle George was a pimp, and the boy who called himself Calvin? He was bait. I’d read about it … they send a kid who’s already one of their sex slaves to recruit other kids, and then keep them prisoner, get them hooked on drugs, and sell them to old men who can’t get it up any other way. The utter illogic of this thought, especially after Calvin had sort of transported me from the bridge to the coffee shop, and Uncle George had waved his hand to make my brain freeze to away, escaped me. Until Calvin laughed.

And then choked off his laugh and got an utterly horrified look on his face as if he’d sucked a cockroach through the straw of his smoothie.

“Kevin! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t laugh. And, I wasn’t really laughing at you, but at what you were thinking.”

Calvin stretched out his hand, and covered mine. Through that touch, I felt the truth in what he had said, and I felt his embarrassment at having said it. I shivered, and my dick got hard, again. I hope he doesn’t know that! I thought, and then realized that he probably did. I blushed.

Calvin

I felt Kevin’s … lust is the only word that works … and pulled back my hand. I figured the best thing to do would be to ignore it.

“Kevin,” I said. “My stepfather raped me. Almost every night from the time I was twelve until Uncle George took his soul. My stepfather was raping my little brother when that happened. I could no more work for a pimp than I could fly. And Uncle George? He probably knows more about right and wrong than anyone in the world, ever. And he knows that forcing sex on anyone is absolutely wrong.

“I can’t make you believe that, but please … believe it long enough to get to know us, and to give us a chance.”

I expected Kevin to say something about what I’d just said, but he surprised me.

“Am I dead?” he asked. “Did I kill myself, and is all this a dream before I end up in Hell? Or is this Hell? Or, did I hurt myself so bad I’m in a coma, and I’m dreaming?”

Uncle George had been listening. “Kevin, you’re not dead. Trust me on that. I would know. I’ll explain, later. You didn’t jump. Calvin pulled you back before you could. And then brought you here. This isn’t Hell. You’re not in a coma, and you’re not dreaming.

“Calvin and I have a job to do. Part of it involves fixing things that have gone wrong. There’s been a lot of that, recently, a lot more than usual.”

“Fixing things?” Kevin said. “Wait a minute … Calvin said it wasn’t my time. He said something had happened that shouldn’t have happened … is that what you mean?”

Uncle George nodded. “Exactly. We knew that you weren’t supposed to die. You weren’t even supposed to be thinking of it. What we don’t know is … Kevin, this is going to be hard … please help us?”

Kevin looked at Uncle George, and furrowed his brow.

“What Uncle George is so diplomatically trying to say,” I said, “is that we’ve got some hard and unpleasant questions for you. Like, why were you trying to kill yourself.” I put my hand back on Kevin’s, and tried to project reassurance.

Uncle George looked … scandalized was a good word for it.

“It’s not going to be easier if we pussyfoot around it, Uncle George,” I said.

“Kevin, what happened? Please tell me.”

Kevin

I couldn’t have said it, except that Calvin had said that thing about being raped. I heard the raw hurt in his voice, and saw it in his eyes. If he could tell me that, I guessed I could tell him anything, and he’d understand. I just couldn’t tell it without crying.

“My father … he found out that I was gay … and kicked me out of the house. I couldn’t find anybody to help me. Every time I tried, something happened …”

“A couple of my friends and I had started a … a garage band. We played together, and tried to get gigs. I went to them … but they didn’t want to have anything to do with me, any more.

“I went to our church … we belonged to the _____ Family Church. I found out that their definition of family didn’t include a boy who had been kicked out of his family because he was gay.

“I went to the counselor at my school. He already knew, and said that unless my family asked, he couldn’t do anything. He was going to have me arrested for being truant. I barely got away from him.

“It was like somebody had gotten to each of them just before I had … and told them not to help me.”

Uncle George

I put my hand over Calvin’s to signal him that it was my turn to talk.

“Kevin,” I said, “It’s not right that your friends and the adults in authority over you should reject you like they did. Someone got to them. Someone set you up for failure. Someone made it so that you thought you had only one option: to kill yourself.

“Calvin and I have run across this person, before. Now, we’re trying to find out who he is, and then stop him.

“We want you to help us. It will be dangerous, and you may die. But it would be a different death than the one you had planned.

“Kevin? Will you help us?”

Kevin

When he said that, Uncle George held out his arms. I got up from the table and stepped into his hug. My head was on his chest, and I knew that I was getting his shirt wet with my tears.

“Yes,” I said … although it came out in about three syllables. “Yes, I’ll help you.”

Calvin

As soon as Kevin agreed to help us, I knew, I felt, that he was something special. And I realized that was the reason our enemy had tried to kill him … or get him to kill himself. I didn’t wonder until later about the difference: could our enemy not kill our potential allies, or did he have to indirectly get them to kill themselves?

I thought briefly about Fred the Dead: had he been controlled by this mysterious person? Was he really as evil as I thought? Then I saw him raping me, and Casey, and decided that yes, Fred the Dead was evil. Maybe this unknown enemy of ours had influenced him, but Fred was open to that influence … and already evil.

I talked to Uncle George about this, and he agreed.

“There’s something about Kevin, just like there’s something about Casey, that’s different from others.”

“Casey, too?” I asked. I was stunned. I’d never thought about Casey that way.

“Yes, I believe so,” Uncle George said.

I resolved to keep a closer eye on my little brother!

We didn’t know what Kevin’s Authorities would be, or where they would come from. We did know that he would get them. The question was, should we wait, or proceed against Anubis.

Dike answered that question for us.

Dike? She was the goddess of Justice and, according to Uncle George, the next most powerful god after Zeus. We were sitting in Gary’s living room, tossing around ideas but not getting anywhere, when she appeared. Nemesis and Bobby ran to her for a hug. Kevin and I just sat there, looking maybe a little left out, until she looked at us, and opened her arms. Heck, I was at least four years older than any of the others, but I didn’t have any problem getting a hug from a woman who looked like the grandmother I had never known.

“I’m not sure I want children fighting my battles for me,” Death said to Dike, after things had calmed down.

Dike’s eyes flashed. She wasn’t pissed, but she wasn’t entirely happy, either.

“They are not your battles,” she said. Her words were sharp, each one separated from the other by a distinct pause. Then, her voice softened.

“They are the battles of light against darkness. They are the battles that will determine the future not only of humanity, whom we were created to protect, but of the reality in which they—and we—exist.”

She looked at Death. “You have the Aspect, Authorities, and Attributes of the spirit whose duties you perform. But you also have the limitations of that spirit: within your realm, you are inviolate; where your duties lead you, you are omnipotent.

“That is true, too, of Nemesis: he is the incarnation of an elder god.

“It is true of Gary, who also has the powers of an elder god.”

I felt a sadness as Dike said this, and understood that she had a special reason for missing Artemis, who had been the goddess of children, and whose powers had flowed from her to Apollo, to Caden—the new Apollo—and then to Gary.

“It is, however, not true of Calvin, Bobby, and Kevin.”

I perked up at this.

“You three are becoming something more. Something I have not seen in centuries.”

“What?” Death asked.

“That I cannot say,” Dike answered.

Notes and Disclaimers: Any trademarks mentioned herein are the property of their owner. This story takes place on a world that parallels and occasionally touches our own; people and institutions herein are not those you know, and are not intended to represent any real person or institution.