Spider Webs - 1. Chapter 1: Leaving the Nest

Spider Webs

By Linxe Termoil

I winced, limping as I took another step toward the one-story, one bedroom house that we called home. We, as in: my little brother, me, and our dad. My brother skipped ahead of me, stopping when he came to the stairs, his tattered back-pack sitting high on his shoulders. I watched him grab the rail and slowly make his way up the steps. A moment later, he came to a stop at the door, waiting for me.

I grabbed the keys from my pocket and moved across the collapsing porch, a small surge of hope welling in the pit of my stomach. Or maybe that was hunger. I checked the mail-box. Empty. I let out a small sigh, the feeling of disappointment heavy in my chest. Unlocking the door, I let my brother, Joel, enter ahead of me and, cautiously, stepped in after him, taking a quick look around to make sure everything was in order.

While the house was shabby and run down on the outside, the inside was neat, thanks to yours truly. Well, most of the inside was neat; the only exception was the small living area where an old TV, held together by duct tape, sat in front of a couch. My dad slept on the couch, and practically lived on it when he was home. Only, he wasn't home. A frown briefly marred my face as I wondered where he might have gone, since he was usually home before me and my brother.

I stepped over to the couch, ignoring my brother as he walked into the dining area that consisted of a small card table and a computer that I swore was older than me and, after a moment, disappeared. Probably into his bedroom or the kitchen, I decided, as I continued to wonder where my father might possibly be. I hoped he hadn't been home when the mail came, or we just hadn't received any mail yet.

The crash that came from the kitchen answered those three thoughts when I went to investigate the source. My brother was, in fact, in the kitchen and, by the look of his wide blue eyes, didn't quite know what to do. My dad was also home and, currently, sprawled out on the worn-out vinyl floor; his eyes were glazed over and staring, aimlessly, at the ceiling. Apparently, the two bottles of Jack Daniels that were sitting empty on the table had killed him, and for a moment, I felt relief.

Heartless right? Well, maybe to you, but if you had gone through the shit I had been through, you'd probably feel relief that the old man was finally dead too.

Unfortunately, the fates, apparently, just weren't with me that day. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, really. They hadn't been with me four, no, five...yeah, five years ago either when my mom had been killed in a car accident and my brother, who was six at the time, had ended up in the hospital with her until someone could get him. That was the day he had stopped speaking, even though you would hear him humming some tune that only he seemed to hear, or along with something playing on the radio. It was also the day my dear old dad had taken to the bottle. Everything after that, well, let's just say the spiral effect continued and things went from bad to worse in a heart-beat.

Dad had used all of my mom's life insurance to pay off the bills. Unfortunately, he hadn't returned to work after her death and he got fired one day for not showing up. After that, the bank foreclosed on our house, the one car we had left got repossessed, and we almost ended up on the streets.

It was one of Mom's old college friends who, fortunately, had bailed us out and allowed us to move into the house we were currently in, with the understanding that we would be responsible for any repairs that needed to be done. Regrettably, the house needed a lot of repairs, and I was the one who ended up responsible for making them.

Dad started collecting unemployment, looking for jobs here and there to keep everyone happy and the checks coming, and when he'd find one, he would keep it for awhile. But, the booze kept getting in his way, and he'd keep getting fired. And, we would keep collecting unemployment.

Except for this last job. He'd had it for a little over a year now, but his boss was a lot more lenient, because when the booze got in Dad's way the man would give him a couple of weeks off. Called it vacation, I guess, and my dad got away with it a lot because the folks in this small town knew us, and felt sorry for him, and us. Except for their kids.

Did I mention I hate the kids I go to school with? Well, I do, and I'll try not to remind you of that too often, but, just in case you forget, I really hate those kids.

Where were we? Oh yeah, my dad, sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by the day's mail, on top of which was the opened envelope marking his paycheck. That was the other thing about the old man my dad worked for. He would mail my dad's paycheck to the house, made out to me. One night he figured out how bad my dad could get and out of concern, had taken me and my brother out to dinner and talked to me privately, probably because I was ready to panic, thinking he might call the police and CPS would get involved.

Fortunately, the man seemed to have this philosophy that blood was thicker than water and reassured me he wouldn't do any such thing. He just needed to know what I needed to take care of my brother and myself, and get the bills paid, and I told him. This was his solution and that's how our arrangements started.

Dad got to go on his weeklong binge vacations and keep his job, I got the money, and we all got to keep food in our bellies. I mean yeah, my dad did object at first, but I guess his boss must have said something that scared my old man, because he never brought it up again, and as long as I passed him enough money for cigarettes, gas, and booze; he stayed happy.

But, things always seem to have a way of changing.

The old man my dad was working for died a couple of weeks ago and his son had taken over the construction company. Dad had come home a couple of days after the funeral, pissed off and drunk because the ‘kid', as Dad called him, had laid him off, due to economic troubles, he had said.

My dad had also said his last check would be mailed to him, too drunk to lie to me when I pressed him for the information.

I'd just nodded my head and gone out to do my own thing, wandering around the hills behind our house, determined to enjoy my last month of summer before school started up again. My brother had, as usual, tagged along with me; and as usual annoyed the hell out of me.

Yeah, I know. He doesn't speak, right. So how can he possibly annoy the hell out of me? Well, it's simple. He tagged along with me, everywhere. And when I say everywhere, I literally mean everywhere. And that whole not talking thing, well, that was annoying as hell too. You have no idea how crazy I get when I feel like I'm talking to myself, when I'm really talking to him.

Anyway, I'd come back home later that night, put my brother to bed, and gone to bed myself, up at the butt crack of dawn and off to do my own thing again, my brother right behind me as we climbed through the hills for the day. When we got home, our dad was home too, and as usual he was drunk.

He and I got into a screaming match that caused my brother to cry, and believe me, that in and of itself is horrifying because he does that silently too; his little shoulders shaking and his chest heaving.

And when I realized my brother was crying, I yelled some more at my dad, too angry to think about it. The end came when I got knocked on my ass and kicked around a bit, and then my dad had stumbled off to the couch, mumbling the word ‘worthless' over and over again under his breath. He must have decided he had had enough exertion for one day. As for calling me worthless, well, I was used to that by now.

And it kept going like that, every single night for the last two weeks. I had been hoping today would be different, since it was the first day of school. And today my dad had finally drank so damn much he had killed himself. Fucking bastard!

And, for just a moment, I was feeling kind of relieved over the whole thing. We'd probably be better off without the old man. But he was still a bastard for leaving us alone, because now what were we going to do?

But, as I had said earlier, the Fates just weren't with me anymore, and it was kind of pissing me off. Because my dad, at some point, had gotten up without me noticing it, since I was too busy staring at my brother, wondering if he was going to freak out on me. Yeah, he did that sometimes too.

The feel of a large hand on my chest alerted me to the fact that my old man was indeed still alive. And, I had just enough time to look at him before he was roughly shoving me out of his way and stumbling out of the kitchen, once again the word ‘worthless' passing through his lips as he, you guessed it, went to sleep off his alcohol induced state on the couch.

Fucking bastard!

I was pissed and decided that I had had enough. And, I was ready to do something about it. Only, I didn't quite know what it was, or if things would even work out that well. But I was sick of the Fates laughing at me.

It was time to take charge of my own life.

And when I realized my dad was snoring and my brother, with his wide blue eyes, was still looking at me, a strange gleam in his eyes, I didn't think much about it. I simply walked down the stairs to my basement bedroom, grabbed the one picture I had of my mom and her guitar. It was the only musical instrument of hers that I had left. I also grabbed all the cash that I had managed to keep from my dad and the electrical guitar and base that I had gotten for Christmas one year, a gift from me to me and then I was back upstairs, looking around and wondering if I was forgetting something.

My eyes fell on my brother, and I frowned for a moment and finally nodded my head at him.

Five minutes later I was done hauling stuff outside and putting it in the back of the truck. Five seconds after that my brother was climbing into the cab from the driver's side. Then I was leaning under the dash and hot-wiring my dad's old, beat up pickup truck like I had done it a million times.

Twenty seconds later I had the old truck going and another two minutes later we were rolling down the highway, my brother humming along with the tunes playing on the radio station while I sang the actual lyrics as I headed for the interstate, not really sure where we were going, but it had to be better then where we were currently at.

That had been about a week ago, and right now, I was sitting in a jail cell, in a strange town, wondering what was going to happen with my life when I saw the judge in the morning. And my brother, well... I had no idea where exactly, he was.

*       *      *      *      *      *       *      *       *      *

So now that we've heard the beginning of my journey, I'm guessing you want to know about the rest of it and how I ended up in this jail cell.

You see, the state line wasn't all that far from the small town we lived in. Actually, it was about an hour and a half away. During the first part of that drive I had stopped long enough to fill up on gas and get my brother something to eat. Over the past year or so I had managed to save up about six hundred dollars, and I only used that money for emergencies, often feeding my brother with it and going hungry myself if I had to dip into it. I would have had more money than that, but sometimes my dad would raid my room or go through the house, and he had managed to, regretfully, find most of my secret stashes.

After the two of us had eaten; the gas paid for, and a few snacks bought to tide us over until the morning, we hit the road. I was paying attention to what was going on around us; trying to avoid getting us killed since I didn't have my driver's license, and I'll admit I was kind of paying attention to the landscape because the mountains were amazing. So I was a bit distracted for a good part of the journey after we crossed the state line. Then the radio station cut off when we went through a tunnel burrowed into the side of a mountain.

We came out of the mountain, and the station was still nothing but white-noise, so I started flipping through different stations until I found one coming through loud and clear.

That's when I heard it.

"...ber alert for a child, blue back-pack, blue jeans, and grey shirt. Brown hair and blue eyes. About seven years old. Was last seen getting into an old pick-up truck."

I admit it; I started to hyperventilate a little.

I had kidnapped my little brother, damn it.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

I was too young to be going to prison.

For a long time...

Where some big guy...

....with a bunch of tattoos...

Fucked up nose...

...giant ears...

... named Ronald...

...had his way with my tight...

... fifteen year old...

...virgin ass...

I gulped as the image came to mind.

...for a really long time...

I let out a groan and started to panic.

There was no way in hell I wanted my brother to see the boner in my pants, so I reached down and adjusted it, looking out the corner of my eye to see if my brother was looking.

The red back-pack in his lap caught my attention. I looked at him again. I knew he had blue eyes, and I suddenly became aware of the dark brown almost black hair that was lighter than my own black hair. And, he was in black shorts, red shirt...and looked like he was ten.

"...named Elijah Brown..."

I sighed, relief coming to me as the voice on the radio station caught my attention once more. I hadn't kidnapped my brother...

At least, no one knew I had kidnapped my brother...

Yet...

Ignoring the look that my brother shot me, I sped up, wanting to get out of this state, even if I didn't have a clue which state I was in.

Five minutes later I was slowing down, afraid of the state trooper trailing along a couple of cars behind me as we continued along on the interstate, a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach driving me slightly crazy.

He suddenly sped up and flicked on his lights. I let out a quiet moan as the butterflies in my stomach increased their activity to the point that my face became all flushed, sweat dripped down my forehead, and I started feeling sick.

I closed my eyes a moment before I had them open again, my eyes twitching between the rear view mirrors and everything going on around me as my hands tightly clenched the steering wheel.

He was weaving between cars, pulling closer. Left lane...right lane...left lane...I gulped. He was behind me now and pulling closer. I was panting for breath now, wondering if this beat up truck could outrun the cop car. I'd never been in a high speed chase before, but...it was better than going to prison right?

I exhaled. A sudden noise to my right caught my attention.

It was my brother, shifting in his seat to look at the state trooper behind us. I let out an uneasy laugh. I had forgotten he was in the truck with me, and I had been thinking about starting a high speed chase. I groaned, realizing that I could have gotten us killed.

I resigned myself to my fate, and let up on the gas pedal. Signaling, I moved into the oh-shit lane as I continued to slow down, the trooper right behind me. Coming to a stop I put the truck in park, reached into the glove box and grabbed the registration and proof of insurance on the truck that I insisted my dad have in case anything ever happened to him. Then the spare truck keys fell out. I could feel my eyes grow to the size of saucers as I looked between the spare keys and the ignition switch...I grabbed for them and managed to get the key into the switch before the cop had even gotten out of his car.

A moment later I had my driver's license in hand. Yeah, I know, I didn't have a driver's license, at least not a valid one. I never said anything about not having a fake one though.

Four seconds later I was rolling down my side window for the officer, wearing my most charming smile as I looked at him, attempting to be as pleasant as possible.

"What seems to be the problem, officer?" I asked.

"License, insurance and registration, please," he asked me, sounding bored.

"Yes sir," I replied. Nervously I offered him the requested information. He didn't start looking at it though.

"Where you two boys heading? You're a long way from home, aren't you, son?" he asked, shining his flash light at the passenger seat so he could, I assume, make out my brother. I grimaced briefly at the word son, hoping he didn't notice. I hated when other people used that word on me. A second later he had the light shining back toward me.

I nodded at the officer, unable to keep up the smile on my face.

"It's Micah, sir, and yes sir, we are a long way from home. We're heading up north to..." I paused a moment and eyed his badge, wondering where exactly we were. Washington.

"...Seattle. We're going up there to visit our Grandmother," I finished.

The officer nodded and shined his flash light on the driver's license I had handed him.

"Well, Micah. You're a little young to be heading all this way by yourself, aren't you?" he asked.

I frowned as a memory of something someone once said came to me.

"No sir," I answered as I forced myself to sound indignant at the insinuation in the officer's voice.

"Let's see, nineteen ninety..." the officer said, his voice trailing off as he looked up from the license.

"...how old did you say you were again?" he asked.

I raised an eyebrow, amused.

"I'm eighteen Officer, it says so right there on my license. Twelve seventeen nineteen ninety-one. That's my date of birth," I offered.

The flashlight shone down on the license in his hand. He looked at the date of birth again for a moment before he finally nodded in agreement.

"Who is this with you?" he asked.

I felt a tap on my arm and turned briefly to face my brother. He started waving his arms around and wiggling his fingers. At least, to most everyone else he would have looked like he was just waving his arms around in the air and wiggling his fingers. But, I wasn't most everyone else.

"Micah, why's he pulling us over and how come you're lying?" he signed at me.

"I'm trying to keep us out of trouble," I signed back.

"Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't know he couldn't hear..."

I sighed, quietly cursing my luck. I would run into another asshole making assumptions.

"He can hear, he just doesn't speak..." I quietly interrupted. My stomach clenched up for a moment as I was once more reminded of the reason why he didn't speak.

"Oh..." the officer replied. I looked at him just as he shifted slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the situation now.

"Joel asked why we were being pulled over..." I said. "He's anxious to see Grandma," I added, pleased with my quick thinking.

"Do you know why I'm pulling you over so..." his voice trailed off and he shook his head, catching on that I had just asked that question. "Sorry, uh..." he looked at the license in his hand again and then pulled out his ticket book and began writing in it.

"...Micah. I pulled you over because one of your taillights is out. I'm not going to ticket you but you will receive a warning. You're about forty five minutes outside of Seattle, so if you hurry you might be able to make it before nighttime sets in," the officer finished. He ripped out a piece of paper and, along with the rest of the information I had given him, handed it to me.

"You boys have a good evening and drive safe, alright?"

I nodded my head. "Yes sir," I replied. "... and thank you," I added as an afterthought.

He smiled at me momentarily and started walking away, but he hadn't gone far enough.

"Such a polite kid, pity ‘bout his brother." I heard him mumble.

I sighed, suddenly relieved and leaned forward, placing my head on the steering wheel even as I felt another tap on my shoulder.

Turning my head to the side I looked at Joel. "What?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes at the tone in my voice.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes back at him. "Seattle, didn't you hear me tell the police officer that?" I asked him.

His hand moved, slapping the back of my arm even as he leaned back and placed his head against the passenger seat window. I smirked even as I sat up and, watching for traffic in my mirrors, pulled back into the interstate lane when I could and got us going on our way.

*             *             *             *             *             *

Bright lights lit up the sky, hiding the glory of the evening stars that I was used to seeing. Cars were honking everywhere, pointlessly adding to the noise of a city that didn't seem to sleep. People were all over the place; talking on their cell phones as they hailed taxi's or walked around in a hurry to get to a destination that only they seemed to know about. The endless pavement of the streets was my only guide, and I could have gone anywhere. But I had finally admitted it to myself. I had no clue where I was or where I was even going. I felt helpless, and I hated it.

So it was with relief that I finally pulled off onto a side street, only, a moment later I had cars honking behind me and it took a moment for me to see them. Toll booths, and there was no where I could go to get out of the line that I seemed to have gotten in.

A sharp intake of breath to my right let me know that Joel had woken up. He had fallen asleep awhile ago while I was driving around the city; lost, confused and incapable of deciding what to do.

A tap on my shoulder a second later had me looking at him.

"Where are we?" he asked.

I shrugged at him, even as I allowed the truck to idle forward and come to a stop at the toll booth.

"Nineteen dollars and eighty-five cents, please," a bored voice on my left requested.

"Huh?" I said, looking in that direction only to see a bored woman wearing way to much make-up and earrings the size of my wrist.

"Nineteen dollars and eighty-five cents, please," she said once more.

"Uh, can you tell me where we are?" I asked.

She let out a sigh and finally looked me over.

"Pier 52, heading to Bremerton..." she replied, looking at me like I was stupid.

"Oh, oh-kay," I said, slightly confused as I pulled out my wallet and handed her some money. She handed me back my change along with a ticket stub.

"Please pull forward and pay attention to traffic signs. Enjoy your ride on the ferry," she replied.

Ferry? I questioned myself silently, even as I pulled forward and obeyed her instructions. It was then that I saw it, a big ship with open ends on either side that the vehicles ahead of me were boarding. It was white on the sides and green on the bottom; looking rather unseaworthy. Despite myself, I swallowed the lump that managed to form in my throat as we followed the other cars moving ahead of us until I was parking.

Another tap on my shoulder.

"Where are we going?" Joel asked. He looked at me, annoyance written all over his face.

I smiled at him.

"Bremerton, Washington" I replied.

*             *             *             *             *             *

Bremerton, Washington.

I'd never seen a bigger shit-hole in my life, and frankly, I wasn't even sure I'd want to call it a shit-hole. Too demeaning to shit-hole's everywhere, if you asked me. That's why it was with relief that I finally found myself on a highway heading further north, and a bit to the east, it seemed.

Only, it wasn't much longer before I was in another town. That's when my real troubles began.

The truck started sputtering and, out of concern I pulled over when I could, right into the parking lot of what seemed to be a huge mall. At least, it was huge to me, considering we didn't have one back home.

I just barely got it into a parking space when the truck died. Then I killed the battery trying to get the damn thing re-started again. And, it didn't help that Joel was laughing at me the whole time, just adding to my stress and frustration with the entire situation.

With a sigh I looked around me, hoping there would be someone around who might be willing to help us out, but there wasn't a soul in sight. Not surprising really, considering it was probably close to two in the morning.

That was the trouble with people. They were never around when you wanted them, and always around when you didn't. And it sucked. Because, Joel and I would have to sleep in the truck for the night, since I didn't have a clue if there was a hotel around anywhere.

And that's what we did. After much grumbling and complaining on my part, and a lot of backhand slapping on Joel's, we finally managed to fall asleep.

*             *             *             *             *             *

I yawned and did the best I could to stretch out the kinks in my body. You ever try stretching with an 11 year old lying on top of you in a pick-up truck?

It's near impossible, and extremely frustrating. I'm not talking about the stretching thing either. I'm talking about my morning wood being crushed against my stomach, along with the uncomfortable sensation from my bladder that was telling me I needed to go pee, and soon.

Just as soon... I tensed up a moment,

....as my brother... I rolled over onto my side, and watched...

...was no longer on top of me.

The thud of him hitting the floor was kind of satisfying, especially as he was no longer on top of my hard on. But I still needed to pee, and I just watched as he sat up as best he could, rubbing his head and glaring at me.

I smirked.

"Morning, I have to pee, now hurry up so we can go," I stated, emphasizing the last word.

An uncomfortable look on his face let me know he needed to pee too, and without waiting for him I opened up the closest door and crawled out of the cab. A moment later he was at my side. Making sure the truck was locked up; I headed for the mall, hoping that it was open.

The overcast sky wasn't really telling me much about the prospective time of day. I felt relief when the doors pulled open at my grasp and, rushing inside, found myself in the food court. And there, a sign that had me practically singing ‘Hallelujah'. Grabbing Joel's hand, I hauled him across the food court and into the restroom.

Two seconds later I let out a sigh of relief as my aching hard on began to subside as my bladder released its heavy load against the back of the urinal. With my penis once again soft I began to pretend like I was a fireman putting out fires, aiming my hose any which way I pleased until the source of fluids had dried out.

Smiling, I tucked my penis back into my shorts and careful of the razor sharp teeth that were the zipper, zipped up. Yeah, let's just say zippers are the main source of danger when one is free-balling and leave it at that.

Washing my hands I waited for my brother to finish up and wash his own hands. Done, we left the restroom and practically fell into a herd of giggling girls and a guy. All of them were staring pointedly somewhere behind me; at least I thought they were, until...

"Hey big boy, wanna go for a ride?" a fairly tall, slender brunette called out.

Ah crap.

I felt my face heat up with embarrassment. That was the other danger of free balling in loose, slightly baggy shorts. I grabbed Joel's hand and took whichever direction would get me away from the group of laughing girls and the young guy, until they were behind me, apparently done having their fun with me, as they made no move to follow me like the kids from back home would have done.

We wondered around the mall aimlessly after that, until I found a store called ‘Hot Topics'. I wandered around in there for a good hour or so, checking out the shirts and hats. They even had CD's. After being stared at suspiciously for a good portion of time I finally went to the cash register, my arms fairly well loaded.

Yeah, I know. I only had maybe five hundred dollars left to our name but, after all those years of wearing second hand clothes that I had worn until they were beyond thread-bare or passed down to Joel, I just couldn't resist the temptation.

That's why we found ourselves in the restroom again, checking ourselves out in the mirror. Yeah, I didn't have the heart to tell Joel no either, which was why he was looked like a miniature me.

I had changed into a ‘Dropkick Murphy's' shirt with a skull and swords, a striped fedora and baggy black shorts with a chain dangling down the side leading to my new wallet. I must admit, I was rather pleased with the look.

Adjusting the fedora on my head, I watched as Joel did the same and then we were heading right back out of the restroom, stopping long enough to throw the rags we had been wearing into the trash bin before we headed out.

A tap on my shoulder had me glancing at my brother as we entered the food court again.

"I'm hungry" he told me.

I acknowledged his complaint with a nod and headed outside. About 15 minutes and three whines later we were back at the truck with Joel sitting happily on the tail-gate munching away at a hamburger. I was idly smoking a cigarette and staring, with confusion, at an atlas that I had just acquired.

If I was reading it right, it looked like we were about an hour away from the Canadian border; but that led me right back to our problem. I put the atlas down and stared at the truck. I would have popped the hood, seriously, but, aside from knowing how to hotwire cars, I didn't know much else about them.

Another tap on my shoulder had me looking at Joel as he stuffed a handful of fries into his face.

"Where are we going now?" he asked.

I bit my lip a moment. "Canada," I finally replied with a nod.

He looked dubiously at the truck for a moment.

"In that?"

"No," I answered.

He raised an eyebrow questioningly, a trait he had acquired from me.

"How?"

I smiled at him and turned around in a circle, looking at all the cars and trucks in the parking lot, feeling a slight thrill in the pit of my stomach as a shiver went down my spine. It could have been part of the excitement, or something else. I never really questioned it.

"Your pick," I replied with a broad grin even as I swept my hand across the parking lot in a broad gesture.

*             *             *             *             *             *

Would you believe how argumentative and bratty an 11 year old could be? I'm not sure you could, and I still wasn't even sure I believed it as the sun finally began to set.

I was still sitting in the parking lot of the mall, only, now I was watching as cars pulled in and out of the mall area and went between two restaurants. One appeared to be Red Robin and the other was called Silverdale Brewery.

My brother had stopped talking to me two hours ago, after I continued to insist that we had to steal a car. To say he didn't like the idea very much is probably an understatement, considering the silent temper tantrum he had thrown in the middle of the parking lot.

And, I hated the fact that he wasn't talking to me. I was on the verge of apologizing to him and telling him we would just call for a mechanic to come out and look at the truck for us when I saw him.

He was a beauty, dressed in red, black, gold and silver. Hell, I'll admit it, seeing him had me popping a boner and ready to cum in my pants. Before I knew it I was standing up from the bench I had been sitting on with my brother and tracking his progress across the parking lot.

He came to a stop and looked right at me, and I'd swear to god he was winking at me.

I started walking across the parking lot, aware of my brother behind me. He kept going and I was ready to run after him and introduce myself any which way I could, when he came to a stop again, this time in a parking space at Red Robin's.

A guy that looked to be in his forty's got out of my singing beauty along with a kid that I recognized from earlier that day in the food court. A nod from both of them had me nodding back, before they headed toward the restaurant. I watched as the man came to a stop in front of a woman and planted a peck on her lips before he took her arm in his and she had her arm across the boy's shoulder and, together, they headed into the restaurant.

Just as soon as they entered the restaurant I was heading toward him, still unable to believe my luck. A Ferrari F430 had practically landed in my lap and was screaming at me to take him for a spin, and, I was all for it. As I approached the car Joel latched onto my arm and started pulling on me until, finally, I turned around and looked at him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Relax," I replied, "I'm just looking at it." I smiled reassuringly at him.

He rolled his eyes, clearly not believing a word I was saying. But that's okay, because at this point in time, I was pretty sure I wouldn't believe anything I was saying either. Let's face it, I just wasn't thinking very clearly.

I started messing with the door handle and, to my relief; I found that the car was unlocked. Pulling the door open I peaked inside and, unable to resist, I ran my hand across the leather seat. Without realizing it I was leaning further inside.

He was definitely a beauty but, he was a stick shift, and I just wasn't very good at driving stick shifts. Yeah yeah, I know I'm gay and us gay boys, our knowledge of handling sticks is extremely vast, but this one was just a little bit beyond me.

But I was definitely willing to try. I stood up and slid into the driver's seat until I was caressing the steering wheel lightly. Yup, I was definitely willing to try. I looked at Joel, who was watching me with a worried look on his face.

"Let's go," I said.

He scowled at me.

"No" he said. And, just like that, he crossed his arms and glared defiantly at me.

I sighed.

"Look, I'm not stealing it. I'm just...borrowing it. We'll take it around to the other side of the parking lot and...use it to jump start the truck, then we'll be on our way."

I'll admit it, I was practically pleading with him at that point, if the whine I heard in my voice was anything to go by. He shook his head at me.

I found myself growing frustrated with him and, reaching out I grabbed on to him and pulled him toward me, fully intending to drag him into the car with me. But, as I've said before, the Fates seemed to find humor in putting me in the worst situations just to see how I would handle it. The voice I heard had me letting my brother go. It was every car thief's nightmare.

"Hey, kid! What the hell are you doing in my car!" a man shouted.

I panicked and tried standing up, bumping my head against the roof of the car in the process. Rubbing my head I finally got out and looked back, to find the man that had been driving the car running across the parking lot toward me. Shit. Shit. Shit. I thought to myself. A moment later I found myself slightly amused, because I realized that I had been signing my thoughts.

"Ya think?" Joel replied as he backed away from me and the car, a deer in the headlights look on his face.

I don't know why I did what I did next. I just couldn't help myself. I put as big a smile as I could muster on my face and waved at the man, then I slammed the door to the Ferrari shut and turned, fully intending to run across the parking lot as fast as I could.

I didn't make it very far.

I had probably gone about three feet when I abruptly bounced off of something and fell to the ground. Probably another car, I thought. I lay on the pavement and found myself looking at a pair of huge feet in black shoes and black pants. My eyes trailed upward, following the black pants and white dress shirt, security belt, walkie talkie, big face, military cut...

I let out a sigh. I had run right into a mall security guard, and he was trying to calm down a struggling Joel that he had in his grasp. I stood up and charged the man.

Stupid right? Yeah, that's what I was thinking, which was why I stopped and grabbed my brother, yanking him out of the man's grasp and into my arms. He was heavy, but I lifted him up and turned, ready to run the other way.

But the car owner was blocking the way, along with a couple of security guards. I sighed and let my brother go. I felt myself slump when Joel was on the ground. I had given up. That's right. I was busted. The Fates were laughing at me. Now I was going to jail, not only for kidnapping my brother, but for attempted car theft as well.

I wouldn't be seeing some guy named Ronald. I'd be seeing some guy named Dwight, Ronald, and all their friends. My knees gave out and I found myself slumping forward on the ground, my arms wrapped tightly around my legs as my hands clasped together.

"Kid," the voice was hazy, distant. "You're in a lot of trouble..."

"Honey, what's going on?" I heard a woman's voice say next at the same time a fairly young voice said "Dad!"

I ignored the voices, but couldn't ignore the familiar tap on my knee as I idly watched an ant crawling across the parking lot. I looked up and found Joel sitting next to me with a quivering mouth and tears in his eyes.

"What's going to happen now, stupid?" he asked me.

His signing seemed to make the world pause, for in that moment everything seemed to fall silent and stopped.

Everything but me.

I closed my eyes and let out a sigh as I rested my head against my knees, unwilling to let the world see the tears that had welled up in my eyes and were currently trekking down my cheeks.

Joel tried getting my attention again, tapping my knee repeatedly until I found myself looking at him in annoyance.

"What's going to happen now, Micah?" he asked, looking concerned as he saw the tears running down my face. I guess you could say he had a right to be concerned, since he'd never seen me cry.

*             *             *             *             *             *

Who would have thought that a town bigger than the one I used to call home would have more bored sheriffs then I knew what to do with. There had to have been more than ten of them on location, and considering my town only had three on the force altogether, that was quite a lot for someone who wanted to borrow a car.

Apparently, at some point in time after the first deputy had arrived on scene and watched me and Joel communicating with one another, it had been decided that I couldn't speak either, and they, along with CPS, were waiting for an interpreter. Since I was busy trying to ignore the situation, I wasn't about to disincline them of that notion. But, more importantly, I just wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone now.

But Joel was, because he was still calling me a bunch of names, at least, when he decided he was speaking to me.

"Idiot," he gestured at me, and then turned away before I could respond.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, putting my head back on my knees, hoping that the headache I had developed would go away. Not a chance though, not with all the conversations going on around me.

"Has anyone at least figured out who they are and their ages?" the woman from CPS asked.

She must have been talking to the lead deputy on scene, because his voice responded.

"No ma'am, not yet."

I lost interest in the conversation, still surprised that no one had put me in handcuffs and searched me yet. I apparently wasn't considered a threat.

It was then that another voice caught my attention.

"Hey Reese, what's going on?" the voice flowed smoothly. It was simply music to my ears.

I turned my head and found myself looking at a boy about my age, dressed in tight blue jeans, boots, a button up white shirt that was open at the neck and a white cowboy hat that sat on top of his head. But that's not what had me staring. It wasn't the huge belt buckle that looked like it was the size of my hand and then some that had me staring either.

Yup, you guessed it. I was staring at the bulge in the crotch of his pants that left nothing to the imagination, and, he was talking to the dark-haired, younger boy who was still standing there next to his mother and father whose name I now knew to be Reese.

"Hey Patrick," Reese greeted the taller boy who was now looking at Joel and me.

I guess Reese wasn't about to answer Patrick's question because he just fell silent again and continued to stare at us as the woman from CPS and the lead deputy approached him and his parents.

"Hi Reese," she said. "Elizabeth, Ken, would you mind coming over here for a moment?"

A nod from the two adults had the group moving off a short distance. I guess Joel and I were the topic of conversation.

"...still waiting for an interpreter," the deputy said, while a jab from Patrick had Reese giving Patrick a run down on what was going on.

A tap on my shoulder had me turning to face Joel, again.

"Asshole."

I looked at my brother, startled. Not because he had called me an asshole, believe me that had been rather common in the last thirty minutes. I was startled because the gesture had been accompanied by the clear, musical voice that was Patrick's, and it sounded out of place coming from his mouth.

I wasn't the only one startled either. Reese was looking at Patrick in surprise.

"Patrick!" The woman, Elizabeth, said, aghast at the foul language coming out of Patrick's mouth. Patrick didn't seem to be paying any attention.

"What the fuck are you doing? Will you look at me, I'm trying to talk to you," Patrick stated, bemused as he looked at Joel and me.

I shifted uncomfortably, aware of everyone falling silent as they looked between where Patrick was standing and where I was sitting with Joel.

A moment later, I felt a pair of small hands grabbing my chin, attempting to turn my head in a different direction.

I resisted at first but finally gave in and looked at Joel.

"What's going to happen to us...?" Patrick paused, unsure of the last bit that Joel had said. I guess he wasn't shy though.

"Excuse me," he called out politely, a hint of something strange and exotic underlying his voice "can you spell out that last part, I don't know what it means."

"I don't think they can hear you...hey, where are you going?" I heard the deputy ask. I attempted to look in their direction but Joel reached out and grabbed my chin again, not letting go until he was sure my attention wasn't going anywhere.

A moment later my question was answered as Patrick knelt down next to us and tapped Joel, politely, on the shoulder. Joel looked at him.

"Excuse me, sorry," Patrick signed and said aloud for the benefit of everyone around us who had followed him.

"Can you spell that last word out, I don't know what it means," he requested again.

His request had Joel squinting at him for a moment, but Joel must have decided that Patrick was harmless, because he started spelling it out.

"M-I-C-A-H..." Patrick mouthed, intently watching Joel's hands.

I watched as Patrick's mouth moved a few more times, shaping the letters as he spelled it a couple more times and tried to sound it out.

"Micah...His name's Micah!" Patrick said suddenly. I guess he was pleased with himself for figuring out my name.

I wasn't pleased though. Not at all.

"Wait, whose name is Micah? The little one?" The deputy asked, standing next to the woman from CPS, both of them scribbling in note pads.

But calling my brother little had Joel glaring at the deputy, and I was glaring at Patrick. To say I wasn't pleased with the new situation was an understatement, most definitely an understatement.

Patrick wasn't paying attention to me, because he was beaming and had his head turned upward, facing them and the family that he apparently knew.

"No, the big one," he replied and pointed as he turned to look at me.

I would have hit him, I think, just to shut him up and I guess it must have shown on my face because he scrambled backward like a crab a moment later, causing the deputy to look at me.

"Easy there, fellow, or I'll have to put these on you," the deputy stated as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I guess he had caught sight of my face too.

That was when I found the guy's actions kind of cute, because he paused and then started signing, translating what the deputy had said for me. Although, the smug look on his face wasn't very endearing.

I scowled and shifted away from the man. I guess my brother wasn't done talking to me either because he suddenly grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled on me until I found myself lying on the ground. Then he was sitting on top of my chest, his knees pinning my head in place.

"Did you even think about what you were doing when we left Oregon?" Joel asked, with Patrick still translating.

"Or about what would happen when Dad sobered up and found us missing?"

"Dad's a drunk and the chances of him sobering up right now are slim to none," I signed back without thinking about it.

"Then why didn't you call someone and ask for help? You didn't have to try and steal that man's car," Joel, with Patrick's help, said.

Joel, with Patrick's help, said.

"I wasn't stealing the car, I was borrowing it," I signed swiftly, keeping my movements short and abrupt to let Joel know how agitated I was with him.

I was also tired of him sitting on my chest, because he was making it harder to breath.

Grasping him by the waist, I bucked myself at the hips and, not bothering to cushion Joel very much, I sat up and watched as he almost landed on his head. He caught himself though.

"Then why didn't you..." Joel began to ask.

I caught his hands, afraid that the next question would reveal that I could speak.

"Be quiet, they don't need to know everything," I signed.

"Well," I heard another deputy mutter, "I guess he knows he has the right to remain silent, though I'm sure we won't have to worry that much about him invoking that right."

I paused when I heard him and, along with Joel, found myself glaring at the man, angry. I guess I wasn't the only one either, because everyone else was glaring at him too, and I found myself hard pressed not to laugh out loud when a female deputy slapped him upside the head and told him to shut up.

"Excuse me, what's your name?" Patrick asked a moment later. I guess he was talking to Joel though, because he already knew mine. I turned and looked at him, to find he was reading from a piece of paper that another deputy who was squatting next to him was holding out for him.

I guess they had found another way to communicate with us after all.

He still must not have realized that we could hear him though, because a second later he was watching me and scrambling forward, just to tap Joel quickly on the shoulder before he was scuttling backward again. Joel looked at him again, suspicious. It was my turn for revenge though.

"His name is Joel, and we can hear you, you know," I signed, satisfied with my revenge. Patrick obliged the people around us and translated again.

Only, Joel had decided that he wasn't happy with that because he punched me in the chest, and it hurt. A lot.

"Oh, okay..." Patrick paused a moment and took off his cowboy hat, revealing his short blond hair underneath that was slightly covered in sweat while he looked at the next question, apparently having trouble reading the man's handwriting.

I guess Patrick couldn't translate and understand what I was saying at the same time though, but the deputies, apparently, could.

"Do you have ID?" the man sitting next to him asked.

I glared at him and crossed my arms. He just looked at me, a bemused expression on his face.

"Yeah, that's it," Patrick said. He looked up from the piece of paper. "Do you have ID?" he asked politely, a genuine smile appearing on his face.

Okay, is there something wrong with this guy? I mean, the politeness thing is getting kind of old, although, the smile is kind of nice, but doesn't he know he's talking to a juvenile delinquent? For all he knows I could be a murderer, so seriously, is he mental or something?

I don't know why I did what I did next, I just found myself amused with the whole situation. So I pulled out my wallet and flipped it over to where Patrick was sitting. The deputy glared at me for a moment while I smirked at him and then he grabbed my wallet from Patrick's hand, stood up and walked over to his car. Everyone else followed him and I watched with continued amusement as every single one of them began to finger through the items that had been in my wallet.

Except, I wasn't so amused now; more like annoyed. Hadn't these people ever come across a run-away teen before? You'd think that from the way they were acting I was the legendary Big Foot or something. It was just a matter of moments before the deputy and CPS woman came back to us, only this time the lady had my school ID, the fake ID and my learners permit in her hand, and she didn't look very happy either.

The deputy, well, he had his handcuffs out and was looking at me warily.

Resigned, I sighed and stood up, put my hands on the back of my head and turned around. Then Joel grabbed me around the waist and those heart wrenching silent sobs of his began wracking his frame.

"Easy son," the woman said, reaching out to rub Joel on the shoulder. He jerked back from her touch, taking me with him.

"Uh, Mrs. Emerson, what's going to happen to the younger boy, Joel?" An unlikely source asked.

I looked at Elizabeth, confused as to why she would care.

"Uh, well, I'll have to try and find a foster home for him until I can get in touch with someone in Oregon and figure out what, exactly, is going on," Mrs. Emerson stated, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Oh..." Elizabeth said, chewing on her bottom lip.

Mrs. Emerson must have decided the conversation was over because she turned to Joel again.

"Well take him, then," Elizabeth stated.

Mrs. Emerson paused and then turned around to face Elizabeth.

"Are you sure, Mrs. Windleton?" Mrs. Emerson asked. I don't know what it was that caught my attention then, except she sounded like she was kind of relieved.

"Wait, no, I can't let you do it," Mrs. Emerson abruptly stated, shaking her head. At the same time, Elizabeth's husband and son were looking at Elizabeth like she was crazy.

"Sure you can, you know we are certified for emergency foster care. You need someone to take him, and we have the room," Elizabeth argued.

"Uhm, Honey," Ken said, tentatively trying to gain his wife's attention.

"Oh, c'mon Ken!" she said, stomping her foot lightly in exasperation.

"Elizabeth, if you take him, I don't know how long you'll have him. Foster homes out here are scarce...I don't think this is going to be a temporary situation. You could end up with him for months...are you prepared for that situation?" Mrs. Emerson asked her voice calm and firm.

I frowned and looked at Joel, who was staring at the woman. I couldn't read him; his expressionless face wasn't really telling me anything. I squatted down and poked him in the stomach.

"What are you thinking?" I asked him.

"I don't want you to go to jail," he said back.

I smiled at him, a little sad at the whole situation. Who knows, maybe all those kids back home had been right the entire time I had been there with them. I was a no good nothing whose only accomplishment in life would be to land in jail where my father belonged. Except; I wanted them to be wrong about one thing.

I didn't want Joel to end up there with me.

"Don't worry about me, Joel. You just go with the nice lady, and be good for her and her family. Do everything she says, stay out of trouble, and remember that I love you, ok?" I smiled at him as I tried to keep the tears back.

Feet shuffling against the pavement caught my attention and I looked up in time to see Patrick staring at Joel and me, only it looked like he was crying a little bit.

Nosey twit.

Joel tapped my nose. "I don't..."

I caught his hands and held them still while I looked in his baby blue eyes.

"I love you, now go on, Joel." I stood up and grabbed a hold of him, hugging him, tight, to my body. Then I stepped back and gently pushed him toward Elizabeth, who was still arguing with Ken and Mrs. Emerson.

Joel approached Elizabeth and simply took her hand, effectively ending the argument as he looked up at her expectantly. I guess she hadn't expected it either, if the stunned look on her face was anything to go by. Neither Mrs. Emerson nor Ken seemed to know what to say then as they looked at Joel, the trust of a little boy stamped all over his face.

The deputy was still standing next to me and had been watching me interact with Joel, I guess, because as Mrs. Emerson and the Windleton's looked at each other and Joel, he placed his hand on my shoulder.

"You know, boy, I don't know much sign language, but I know what ‘I love you' means, and you did a good thing. Something good will come of it, I'm sure. I don't know what it is yet, but it'll happen."

The look on my face must have told him I didn't like this conversation, and I didn't. I didn't want Joel to go with that woman and her family. I wanted him to stay with me. But he couldn't, because I didn't even know where I was going.

"Yeah," the deputy continued as he fiddled with his handcuffs, "I'm sure you don't believe me, but you'll see."

I just frowned at him and watched as he continued to fiddle with his handcuffs. Then he surprised me and put them away.

"C'mon son, I don't think we'll need these today."

I looked up at his face then and saw him still watching my brother and the Windleton's. I guess Mrs. Emerson had relented and given in, because all of them were watching me now, and Patrick was stroking his smooth chin in idle thought.

The deputy squeezed my shoulder for a moment, and then I turned away before I could do something stupid and, rather than wait for him, I led the way to the nearest cruiser and opening the door, I crawled inside and buckled up. I didn't look back either. Not when I got in the car and not when the cruiser pulled away from the parking lot. It wasn't because I didn't want to, but because if I did, the dam holding back my tears would break, and I wasn't sure if I could handle that just then.

It was when we came to a stop on a main road that I saw it, a gigantic spider web woven between two trees. Barely seen, but still there, was a bug that was caught within its strands.

That's what I felt like in that moment. I was a bug caught in the strands of a gigantic spider web, and the Fates, they were the spider.