Whakahapa, 1

The pull of the earth took hold of his spine, his limbs spread over space. There was a fearful moment of falling, spiralling down with the air pressing hard, then it let go. Still falling but up not down.

Falling up??? Piercing light split his eyes open, brilliant painful, enormous light. Silence pulsed, expanded and shrank. All of the world shrunk into nothingness, and back again.

Amos woke and stretched. He rolled on to his back, yawned long and vigorously and flung his arms out wide in the big bed as he stretched and yawned again. He finished with a shake to clear his head, opened his eyes and looked up at the unfamiliar ceiling above him.

'Funny things, ceilings. They're always there, every room has one but no-one ever notices them. They'd soon notice if they weren't there! What's the time?'

He turned his head to look at the bedside clock. The screen was dark and blank. Not going then. Why? He reached out and shook it, but that didn't fix it, it made no difference at all. He switched the radio on. Nothing happened.

He tried again, pushed another button, and another. Still nothing. The radio was as dead as the clock.

Maybe there was a power cut? That happened. The light above the bed-head didn't work. He got out of bed and padded across to the door to turn the main room light on. That didn't go either, so there definitely was a power cut.

He found his phone and turned it on to check the time and that was no help either. The phone was working, of course, but according to the digital clock, the time was now '00:00'. Sure it was! So, he still didn't know.

The phone was working, as he watched the clock clicked over to '00:01'. It just needed resetting then. Strange that it failed at the same time that the main's power went off. What was that about? Were the two things connected, or just a co-incidence?

He tried calling HQ, but had no joy. Now the phone was telling him that there was no coverage for sending or receiving calls.

That was strange too. The motel that he was in was right in the town and it was a popular holiday resort/retreat area. Surely they'd have cellphone coverage here. It would be essential, wouldn't it? Whether it was or not, there was no coverage.

He opened the drapes to look outside and momentarily reeled back from the bright sunlight flooding into the dimly-lit room.

Whoah! Way too bright! He felt like he should be wearing sunglasses even though he was still indoors. The sun was low in the sky, so it was still early in the day and he hadn't overslept by much, if at all.

It didn't matter anyway, he had all day and nothing to do, he'd just like to know what the time was. That was what he was used to and, although his life was on hold for the next few days, he'd still like to have his routines.

He looked outside again. His eyes had adjusted to the bright light now. It was a beautiful day out there, clear blue sky and flat blue water in the bay over the road, with just the smallest of waves slapping on the sandy shore.

The fronds on the tall trees along the foreshore were hardly moving at all. It was a clear, sunny and almost windless day in the attractive little lakeside town. It wasn't hard to see why it was such a popular area for people's annual holidays and retreats.

It was very quiet out there – no traffic passing and no-one in sight anywhere. Good! Everyday life was lived in community, of course, but he did get tired of always being surrounded by hordes of people. It was nice, kind of a relief, to be on his own for a while.

Usually the only time that he was completely alone was when he was in the shower – being totally nude only happened in total privacy, of course. Anything else would definitely not be allowed.

He couldn't remember ever seeing anyone completely naked, certainly not! But, he'd kind of like to – he was curious about what they looked like under their clothes. Sometimes it was a good thing that they were covered up, but not always. Some people he'd really like to see more of!

And that was the main reason that he was there now. It was not just a holiday that he was having. He was meant to be making a prayerful retreat, seeking repentance and forgiveness for the sinful thoughts that he was struggling more and more with lately, but could he be bothered even trying?

Controlling his thoughts and avoiding lust was all-but impossible to do. Why him? He didn't know. He didn't seek to be like this, he just was. The Elders were concerned about him, he'd come to their notice and they knew that he was different. If they found out just how different, he'd be gone.

The best that he could hope for would be to be excommunicated and cast out, into exile in the mainland jungle, and he wouldn't last long out there. He knew that he wasn't, or thought that he wasn't, but he also knew that they'd think he was a 'Spawn of Satan'.

He knew how the system worked, he'd seen it all before. He just never thought that it'd be him in the firing-line one day. He wasn't there yet but he was well on the way and there was nothing he could do about it.

Almost nothing. That was why he was here this week, it was his last chance to get his act together. That wasn't actually said out loud, but he knew that that was what it amounted to.

“A plague on them anyway!”

He went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. That worked fine – hot water and plenty of it, so the shower wasn't dependent on the power supply then. Which was good.

He shut the door, stripped naked and got in under the water. It was dark in there with the door shut. The one small and high-up window was nowhere near enough to light the bathroom. It didn't really matter much, he didn't need to see just to wash himself, but he'd nearly finished and was rinsing off when he realised that he could have left the door open.

He could have, couldn't he? There was no-one around, he was there on his own. But, no. It was better not to expose himself like that. Suppose a cleaner was to come in and see him naked? They'd both be in huge trouble!

So, it was better with the door shut, even if it was nearly dark in there. He finished, dried himself and cleaned his teeth. Then, with one towel around his waist and another draped around his shoulders, he went back to the bedroom to get dressed.

His clothes for the day, dark blue trousers, long-sleeved light blue shirt, black belt and a dark blue tie, were exactly the same as the clothes he'd worn yesterday and almost every day for his entire life.

The only times the regimented uniform varied were when, occasionally, he wore long sleeved overalls when doing dirty manual work and, sometimes, rarely, he got to wear a white shirt and black trousers and tie on special occasions, like at weddings or celebrating someone's having gone to Glory.

He'd often thought that he'd like to wear different clothes sometimes, but there weren't any. Everyone, from the youngest kids to the oldest Elders, wore the same colour and style of clothes that he did. Except for the girls, of course. Girls and women wore long-sleeved, high-necked and ankle-length, blue dresses everyday and, occasionally, pale pink ones for celebrations.

The regimented clothes, and identical, short back and sides haircuts, were just some of the many things that made him want to scream, but they were all that he had. There were no other clothes and no other hair styles.

He dressed, put on his black leather shoes and went out, hopefully, to get some breakfast. It was early in the day but he was hungry.

The Sister who had welcomed him and signed him in the night before had shown him where the dining-room was but she didn't say what times meals were served at. At home, breakfast was from 6am to 7am, and no later. But surely they'd be a bit more relaxed here, wouldn't they? This was a holiday area after all.

He walked out into the sunshine, stopped and stood looking around. Something was not right. What? He didn't know, but something. How would he know anyway? He'd only arrived there the night before and it was dark then. But still, he felt that something was not right.

There was no-one in sight, maybe that was it. He was all-too used to being with people all of the time, that was what he was used to. Here, he couldn't see anyone at all and there was no passing traffic either – nothing.

It was not a city, that was the whole point in coming here, but surely there should be someone around? It wasn't that early in the day.

He couldn't see, or hear, any animals either. No animals and no birds or anything. It was the lakeside and not a farm, but there should've been birds, there should've been hundreds of them, but there weren't. There were none.

It was quiet; it was very quiet. His ears strained but all he could hear was the waves slapping and his own heart pounding.

Okay, enough! He was letting his imagination run wild. Besides, he didn't have time for all of this, he was hungry.

He went to the dining-room. The doors were closed but not locked. He opened one, looked in and went in. The long tables, covered with gleaming-clean, snow-white cloths, were set up for dozens to eat at. The shining plasteel cutlery and plaspaper cups, plates and bowls sat empty and waiting.

Bowls of native flowers made bright splashes of colour on the tables, but there was no-one there. Not a soul, except him. Was he too early for breakfast, or was he too late? He didn't have a clue. Where was everybody?

He went through to the big kitchen at the back and there was no-one there either. Nobody!

Okay, this was definitely not right. The kitchen should have been full of busy people, of helpers either preparing breakfasts or cleaning up after the last ones and getting ready for the next meal, but it wasn't. What was going on?

He went to the office to find out. There'd be someone there, there always was, 24 hours a day. But, there was not! There was no-one there either and there should have been. There was no power in there either, the lights wouldn't go and the wall-clock was dead.

He grabbed the telephone from the desk, and that wasn't working either. Okay, things were getting weirder and weirder and he was starting to get very worried.

He stood, he sat down and breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down. There was nothing to panic about, there had to be an explanation. Had there been an emergency while he was sleeping? No, not likely. No explosions or noises had woke him up and there was no sign of any fires or floods or anything.

Could it be an exercise, a Civil Defense practice for an emergency evacuation? No, that couldn't be it either. There'd still be sirens and everything, wouldn't there? No-one had said anything when he arrived last night.

Oh! Oh, wow. Oh, wow, wow wow! Was it the Rapture? Had it happened at last? Had all of the True Believers been snatched away to rise and meet the Lord in the air?

The Elders all said that it was going to happen and soon. Just because they weren't living on Earth was no reason why they should be forgotten about. He knew His own and He was the Lord of all Creation, wasn't he?

Bugs! Amos staggered to the door and looked out at the empty scene again. He felt almost ill now. Could it be? Were they right and had it happened?

It really wouldn't surprise him if everyone except him was Raptured. After all, it was a Church Commune Colony. He was born here, like everyone was but they were all true believers and he was not, not really. He was not really a true believer, he knew that. He was different.

Amos was made the same way as everyone was, as far as he could tell. He had two eyes, arms and legs like everyone did. He imagined that what was under his clothes was the same too – not identical, but similar.

It was none of his business what anyone had under their clothes, he knew that too. He'd been told it often enough, probably hundreds of times in his short life. For something that was sinful to even think about, the Elders sure spent a lot of time talking about sex!

Right there was his major problem. He did want to think about sex, he thought about it, wondered about it, dreamed about it, all of the time. What made it worse was that it was not girls he thought about, it was boys. That was just plain wrong. Wasn't it?

It was wrong. Of course it was, all of the Elders said that it was. Was it even possible for a boy to have sex with another boy? Yes it was, the Bible said it was – it said don't do it, so it must be possible to do it.

But, it talked about men not boys. Was he a man yet? Yes. Physically, he was a man, he was capable of fathering children, so he was a man already. The Elders also said that it was better for a man to marry than to burn with lust. Obviously, he needed to get married to stop the evil thoughts. But!!! He didn't want to marry a girl. Ever. Eww!

Whakahapa (Left Behind) Prologue.

Was it John Cleese who said, “And now for something completely different”? This is just a rough draft, posted before it gets lost - there may, and probably will be a lot of changes. Any suggestions/criticisms would be welcome.

Post-apocalyptic stories are always intriguing – to have the whole world and everything in it! Dream on.Here is an attempt at writing an empty-world story. While we're at it, we'll throw in some other interests – boys, of course, families, science-fiction, religion and control.

There is a religious commune not so far away from here. About 400 people live there, almost totally removed from the rest of the world – their lives are similar to how colonists would be establishing themselves on new planets.

They arrived from elsewhere, bought and moved on to a run-down dairy farm, about 20 years ago. They have developed the property, built-up a large herd of top quality dairy cattle and started other successful businesses, including their own airline. They have their own sawmill, fire engine and a brass band. Everyone plays a musical instrument.

Much of their lifestyle is admirable, but there is a cost. They are impressive businessmen, they live in community, safe and separated from the world and they are self-sufficient. Their businesses pay minimal tax because they are a church, but they draw no benefits or pensions of any kind from the state.

Their children are 'home-birthed' and they educate them themselves, from pre-school to university level. And they have got a LOT of children. They do not believe in, or practice, any sort of birth-control and families of 12 to 15 children are not uncommon.

The two youngest children in a family sleep in their parents' bedroom, older children sleep in age-segregated dormitories.

Children are considered to be adults as soon as they are sexually mature. There is NO pre-marital sex and early marriages are encouraged and arranged so that they can be safe from temptation and can start breeding.

Over 250 babies have been born there since 1990. (The pic is of those children who were born after the normal 3 per family - ie. with birth control, these kids would not have happened. Many there now are second and third generations and most are descended from the man who founded the community and still leads it. They live quiet and sheltered, safe and secure, hard-working and productive, but very tightly-controlled, lives. They are told where to work, who to marry and even what to name their children. There is no access to television, movies, internet, newspapers or magazines, except for a selected and privileged few.

They call themselves 'true Christians', but it is a cult by any description and the Church has total control of their lives. For example, nuclear families take annual holidays of about one week. Their vacation is spent in private accomodation, separate but on the same property. Daily outings and business trips to the nearest town are always made in groups. No-one comes outside alone.

Anyone is free to join them. All they have to do is to be 'converted', to hand over all of their possesions, everything they own, and totally submit to the authority and teachings of their church. But the majority of the people there now were born there.

It is possible to leave the community and the few that do are given financial assistance to get started outside. However, it is not easy to leave. Before permission is given, those wanting to depart have to undergo long counselling sessions over several days and up to 15 hours per day, before a panel of Elders.

Those who leave are then considered to be dead. They are allowed absolutely no contact with family members left behind and they are not ever allowed to return.

Leaving would be hard for adults, it must be almost impossible for kids to do it. They've never known any other life and all they know of the outside world is what they have been told. Pity the queer kids – statistically, some of them would have to be gay – gay and repressed. Poor little buggers!

In this genre, it is common to preface a story with a disclaimer stating that it is totally fiction and not based on any real people or events. If you believe that, I know of a bridge that you might be interested in buying?

cheers

Watch Wills!

(This is him in the orange top & yellow helmet.)



Filmed in & around Kaikoura and one of the other boys is from Westport! NewZealand's a village.



cheers

Gimme Shelter II, 5

(Here y'go - last one & i hope it's not a fizzer. Off to Christchurch now, for i don't know how long - again!

cheers)

Jim stopped in the doorway and looked back. “Ronnie, your brother's up in the workshop. Give him a call on the intercom and tell him to get down here, right now.”

“Will do, Dad.”

“Good boy. He's not to go upstairs either. I'll be back.”

They tried to eat, but neither of them was very hungry. They were too worried.

“Gran, what do you think Dad's doing?”

“I haven't a clue. I'm no more a mind-reader than you are. We'll just have to wait and see. Don't worry, Boys. Jim usually knows what he's doing.”

“But not always.”

“But usually. Settle down, Ronnie. Patience is a virtue.”

They were still sitting at the table when Ronnie's Uncle Stephen came in. A big guy, Stephen was ex-army and it showed, in his bearing, in his clothes and especially in his haircut. He seemed really ezcited, for once. He was rubbing his hands together and all-but bouncing as he walked.

He grinned and greeted Boy with a firm handshake when Ronnie introduced them, and then he wanted to know where his brother was?

Gran replied, “I think Jim went back to his workshop by now.”

“He did? Damm. Now I'll have to go out again. I've just come in from the cold.”

“No you don't,” Ronnie smiled. “You could go up the stairs at the end of the south corridor. That'll take you up into the workshop without going outside.”

“He's opened the south stairs' entrance up? Great. About time too.”

“Yeah, Dad said he's sick of going out into the weather too.”

“Right, I'll go and check-in with Jim. See you soon, Boys. Take it easy, Mum.” He hurried out again.

Ronnie watched him going. “Someone's all excited.”

“He is,” Gran agreed. “My sons are never going to grow up. When they get together, they're like a pair of big kids.”

“You still don't know what they're doing?”

“I still don't know what they're doing.”

“Okay. Want to watch some TV, Boy?”

“Only if it's switched on.

“That can be arranged, and shut up!”

They lounged and watched TV for a program or two, then, when something good came on, Reggtie came in and switched it off.

“Hey!”

“What're you doing?” They both protested.

“Never mind,” Reggie grinned. “That's enough TV for one day. Dad wants you both to come with me.”

“With you? Where to?” Ronnie queried. “Up to his workshop?”

“No. To the garage on the front street. Come on.”

They went along the corridors, up the stairs and into the garage and Ronnie's cousin Marcus met them there.

“Hey, Marcus. What're you doing here?”

“Just doing what I'm told, Ronnie. It's easier that way. This is your mate, the maori boy, is it?”

“Does he look like a maori boy?”

“Shut up, Smart-Arse. Of course he does. Hey Boy. I'm Marcus, Ronnie's cousin. Good to see you, real good.”

“Hey Cousin Marcus.”

Yeah, it's good to see him, it always is,” Ronnie said. “What're we meant to do now?”

“Wait here a minute, I'll be back.” Marcus went out into the street.

At least the weather had improved out there; the sun was shining. In a couple of minutes, he returned, shut the door and stood looking at his watch. He waited, nodded, and then said, “Right then. Boy, you are to go out and stand in the middle of the street with no coat or scarf or anything on.”

“I don't know about this.” Boy was looking worried.

“Just do it, Boy,” Ronnie said. “They know what they're doing. If Dad doesn't Uncle Stephen does.”

“This was Stephen's idea,” Marcus said “C'mon, Boy – outside! You're holding things up.”

“Well . . . okay.”

Boy opened the door to go outside and a group of noisy motorbikes cruised slowly past. He slammed the door shut and leant back against it. “Whoah!”

“Come on, Boy, get out there!” Marcus opened the door again.

“But that's them!” Boy protested. “They'll see me.”

Ronnie said, “I think that's the whole idea. You've heard of whitebait, haven't you?”

“Yeah, of course I have.”

“Well, you're the Black bait. Go and stand out in the street.”

“Cheeky Honky! That'll keep,” Boy grumbled as he walked outside.

He stood in the middle of the street and looked up and down. The bikes were still visible in the distance; there was no other traffic around. He didn't know if that was normal or not.

Three bikes went around a corner, the fourth one stopped and the rider looked back, and then raced off after the others.

“I think he saw me!” Boy yelled.

“Good,” said a voice between two buildings over the street. “They're meant to, that's the plan.”

“Wait there, Boy,” said another voice on his side of the street. “Think like a bullfighter.”

“I haven't got a cape! Haven't got a sword either, wish I did.”

“You don't need them,” Marcus called from the garage. “Here they come – Bandits at one o'clock! Stay there, Boy. Don't move.”

“Sheeet!” Boy went as white as a ghost, facing the bikes roaring up the street towards him. All 7 of them were coming now.”

“We've got a full house, all 7 bikes!” Marcus yelled. “Holding, Guys, and counting. One, two, three, four. Go, go, go!”

Ropes were pulled tight on both sides of the street and what had looked like a couple of lines across the road turned out to be 2 walls of old fishing nets hauled up a couple of meters into the air blocking the path of the motorbikes skidding into it.

Three bikes went down in a jumbled, tangled mess. Another one skidded sideways, bounced over the kerb and smacked into a wall. The other 3 bikes braked and stopped.

One rough and dirty-looking rider put his bike on the kick-stand, the other two just dropped theirs and they advanced on Boy. “Shouldn't've done that,” the leader taunted. “Now you're gonna die!”

“He bloody is not!” Ronnie, followed by Marcus and Reggie, ran out to stand with Boy. Marcus and Reggie both had short, solid, wooden batons in their hands.

The bikers stopped and paused uncertainly when they were suddenly surrounded on all sides by a growing group of older youths, men of all ages and even a couple of women – they were not ladies. Many of the grim-faced crowd were big, burly guys, obviously manual workers, maybe miners, sawmillers and fishermen. A lot of them were carrying the same batons, slapping them on their hands.

Ronnie and Reggie's father and uncle, Jim and Stephen Martin, walked out and faced the bikers. They stood silently eyeballing each other until Jim said, “Pick up your rubbish, get the fuck out of our town and don't come back.”

“Or what?” a shaking voice replied.

“Or hurt – a lot,” Stephen answered.

They looked around; they backed off. Two of them got back on their bikes, wheeled around and left. The other helped one of his mates up and they got out of there. The remaining two, scowling, limped as they pushed their bikes away up the street and it was over.

“Choice! Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Uncle, everyone!”

“No worries, Ronnie,” his dad replied. “Nobody messes with our town and our family and lives to tell the tale. Boy, as long as you're here, you are family too.”

“Whoah, thanks.” Boy stood there like he was stunned, stray tears escaping his eyes.

“Well done, Boy,” Stephen spoke out. “I was impressed with how you stood fast with all that lot bearing down on you, you never even flinched.”

“Thanks,” Boy nodded. “I couldn't have moved if I tried, I was bleedin' terrified!”

“Would have been something wrong with you if you weren't, but you stood there. I'll be proud to call you family too,” Stephen nodded.

“Thank you . . I . .” Boy's bottom lip quivered, his eyes teared-up and he fled into the garage. Ronnie hurried after him.

“Okay, Guys,” Stephen smiled. “Get rid of those nets and we'll go for a beer. I think Jim's buying.”

“That's what you think, Mr. Money-Bags, but, yeah, let's have a beer.”

They all adjourned to the nearest pub.

Ronnie went into the garage, down the stairs and along the corridors to his room, looking for Boy. He was in there, of course, sprawled across the bed, face-down, like he'd been thrown there.

“Boy? You okay?” Ronnie sat and put a hand on his back.

“Yeah, I'm okay,” Boy sighed. He rolled over to look up at him. “I'm good now!”

“Why are you crying then, you Twit?”

“Because, well because I was getting overcome, whakamau and emotional. That was awesome what all those people did for me. I didn't want half the town to see me crying.”

“I can see you crying.”

“You can, but you don't count.”

“I don't? Why don't I”

“Because you're my Mate.”

“Oh yeah!” Ronnie bent forward and brushed their lips together. “I'm your Mate and you are mine. I love you, Boy. I'm so glad you came back.”

“Ronnie, I love you, I always have and I'm real glad that I came back too.”

They kissed.

End.

Gimme Shelter II, 4

Not for the first time, Ronnie wished that he was more like his brother. Reggie never seemed like he had a care in the world. He just breezed through life with a smile on his face and never, ever had any doubts about himself. He just assumed that people would like him and, generally, they did.

Ronnie was much more timid, even with Boy and he was the closest friend he'd ever had.

He hoped that he'd still be a friend like that, but he didn't know. Reggie would just bore on in and ask him, he knew that but he couldn't do it himself.

His dad and Reggie arrived home and Reggie, true to form, greeted Boy with a huge grin. “Boy! Good to see ya. How the hell are you? What's to eat, Gran?”

Okay, Boy's return wasn't the big event in Reggie's life that it was in Ronnie's.

Reggie and their father were sitting eating their re-heated dinner. Reggie, making conversation, said, “What d'you reckon those goons on the motor-bikes are up to out there, Dad?”

“Goons?” Ronnie asked.

“Yeah, Goons. There's a couple of groups of them, just cruising up and down the streets, like they're looking for trouble. You'd think they'd find something better to do when the weather's like it is – it's foul out there!”

Boy went all quiet. He just sat and looked at his feet. Ronnie watched him, something was bothering him. The bikes? “The bikes? I saw 3 bikes before, going up and down the front street. Any idea who they are?”

“Not a clue. There's one bunch of 3 and another of 4 bikes. They're strangers in town, as far as I can see. It's hard to tell with the helmets and everything. And it's dark out there.”

“Is it really? That happens sometimes, especially at night.”

“Shaddup Ronnie!”

For Boy's sake, Ronnie thought it best to change the subject. “How did your embroidery materials get on, Gran?”

“They'll be fine, thanks. You saved the parcel before it got wet on the inside.”

“That's good then. I guess you'll be making baby stuff now?”

“Possibly.” She was still not smiling about all of that.

Bedtime came early because Boy was obviously ready for it; he was sitting there yawning his head off. They went to bed in their separate rooms, across the corridor from each other.

When saying goodnight, Ronnie asked, once again, “Are you sure that you don't mind sleeping down here? You could still go up to the cottage if you like.”

“No thanks. I don't like. Stop and listen.”

They stood quietly, facing each orther, heads cocked to one side and grinning as they listened to – what? Nothing?

“What? I don't hear anything.”

“Exactly. Neither can I,” Boy replied. “Good eh? No wind, no rain, no traffic noise – nothing but peace and quiet. This is real good, Ronnie, and it's just what I need. We're got shelter from the storm and this is where I want to be – thanks.”

“Thanks? Thank you! It's so good to see you, Boy.”

“'Course it is,” he grinned. “Good to be here at last. G'night, Ronnie.”

“Night, Boy.”

Ronnie left the doors open and was to be glad that he did. He turned the lights out and settled down in bed, thinking that he was never going to get to sleep, he was way to excited for that. So, of course, he went to sleep straight-away – out like a light!

An hour or so later, he was jarred awake by a weird wailing sound. Sitting up in the dark, trying to figure out what was going on, his first thought was that it was some sort of siren going off. But, it wasn't – it was Boy!

Ronnie stumbled out of bed, turned the lights on and went over to check on him. In the other room, by the light coming in from the corridor outside, he could see Boy thrashing and wailing in his sleep.

The Kid was obviously having a nightmare. Should he wake him up? He was bloody going to anyway – he had to do something, he wasn't leaving him like that. He turned on Boy's light, sat on the bed and shook him by the shoulders.

Boy? Boy! Wake up, you're dreaming. Boy, wake up, it's okay.”

Boy's eyes flicked open and, for an instant, he looked terrified, and then he relaxed. “The bikes!” he wailed. “Ronnie!!”

He sat up, wrapped his arms around Ronnie clung and sobbed over his shoulder.

“It's okay.” Ronnie held him and rubbed his back. “It's all right, it was just a dream. It's over now.”

“Oh, but it's not! It's never over, I'm living in a nightmare, on and on and on! Hold me, Ronnie. Hold me.”

“I've got you. I've got you and I'll never let go. Never.”

“Oh Ronnie! Thanks. Sorry. I didn't want to involve you but I didn't know where else to go. I've got nowhere. Sorry, Ronnie.”

“Hey.” Ronnie pushed him off so that he could look at his face. He shook his head at the sight and started crying himself, just because Boy was. “It's okay, Boy. Really it is. Don't be sorry, you came to the right place. You'll be safe here. I love you, Boy, and I'm so glad you came back to us.”

“To you. Ronnie. Just to you. I love you, I always have and I always will..”

They embraced tightly and cried again. They broke apart and looked around at the sound of a throat-clearing cough in the doorway.

“Dad! Gran. How long have you been standing there?”

His father had the oddest look on his face and he stood gazing into the distance.

Dad?” Ronnie was worried now. “Dad are you okay?”

“Yes.” He shook his head and smiled, so that had to be good. “Yes, I'm fine. Things just fell into place – a lot of things. It's okay, Son. Don't worry. Go back to sleep, Boys, and we'll talk in the morning.”

“Sorry I woke everyone up, Mr. Martin.” Boy swung his legs out of bed. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, we don't want you to leave. Don't be silly, Boy. You're very welcome and I'm glad you're here. Now settle down and go to sleep.”

“Thanks. I'll try to.”

“Yeah, we all will. G'nght, Boys.” He went back to his room.

Gran said, “Anything you need? A drink or something?”

“No, I'm fine – really I am. Thanks anyway.”

“Right then. I'm going back to bed too. Forget about whatever was worrying you, you're in the safest place in town here.”

“We are!” Ronnie agreed. “One day we might go upstairs and find that the whole town's been blown away and we don't even know.”

“We probably wouldn't,” Gran smiled. “Goodnight Boys.” She went back to her room.

Ronnie smiled. “Everything's good. Are you sure there's nothing you want?”

“Well. . “ he drawled in reply. “There is one thing – can I come and sleep with you?”

“In my bed? Of course you can, that'll be great. Come on then.” Ronnie turned the lights out again and they slid into his big bed together.

Boy lay away over at the side, facing away from him. “Thanks, Ronnie. It's so good to be here. Even if it's just for tonight, it's worth it.”

“Just for tonight?” Worried now, Ronnie moved over, spooned around his back, put an arm around him and hugged. “Why would it be just tonight? You're not going again already, are you?”

“I don't want to. I really don't, but I think that I'll have to.”

“No! Why would you have to?”

“Your dad, your family, they won't want me here, not when they know.”

“When they know what? That we love each other? If they don't want you here, then they won't want me either. If you go, I'm coming with you.”

“No, Ronnie, you will not. It's not that, it's something else and it's not safe around me now.”

“Not safe? Are the Police looking for you?”

“No, not the Police. I wish that's all it was.”

“What then?”

Boy didn't answer. They both lay quietly thinking. Something clicked in Ronnie's head. “It's the motorbikes, isn't it? It must be. Something about them is upsetting you. They can't get at you here, Boy. This is the strongest, safest shelter you'll find anywhere.”

“I know. I know that it is, and that's great, but I can't stay down here.”

“Yes you can. Stay here forever if you want to.”

“I wish I could, I really do, but I can't.” Boy turned over to face him, hugged and clung. “It'd just make trouble for everyone and I can't do that.”

“Yeah you can.”

“No, Ronnie, I can't. You don't know. When you do you'll probably want me out of here too.”

“I won't, you know. I promise you, no matter what it is, I don't care. I don't ever want you to leave again. I love you.”

“Ronnie, oh Ronnie! I love you so much!”

“Tell me then. Tell me so I know what to do to help.”

“There's nothing you can do, but thanks.”

“Tell me then.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“All right, I will. Don't let go of me, Ronnie.”

“Never!”

They lay together, in the bed, in the dark, and cried together as Boy told his story. He finished, saying, “Now you know. I should go, shouldn't I, Ronnie?”

“The hell you should! You should stay right here where you are.”

“I don't want to bring you troubles, but that's what you get with loving me.”

“Rubbish! What I get is a beautiful boy, nothing else matters, nothing in the world.”

“Oh, Ronnie! I do love you.”

"Good! Keep it up.”

They both stopped, then giggled at what he'd said.

“Keep what up? This?” Boy's hand slid between them and grasped 'Little Ronnie'.

“Well, that too,” Ronnie chortled and did the same back to him.

It took a while, but they did eventually get some sleep, tangled together. They woke in the morning, stuck together in places, and carefully and slowly separated. They got up and showered together. Back in the room, they both dressed in Ronnie's clothes, and then went in search of food.

Ronnie's Gran and his Dad were sitting at the kitchen table.

“Well! The resurrection,” Gran grinned. “Get a drink and come and sit here, Boys. Sleep well?”

“Eventually, yeah,” Ronnie agreed.

They got coffees and sat together on one side of the table.

“Okay,” Jim Martin began. “Talking time. If it makes it any easier, we already know that you two have a relationship, a gay relationship. I suspected it a long time ago and last night you confirmed it.”

“You don't mind, Dad?”

“I don't mind. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters.”

“Great! We are happy, very happy and I love him.”

“Obviously,” Gran agreed. “Boy, do you feel the same?”

“I do, Mrs. Martin. I love Ronnie heaps. I always have and I always will:”

“Good then,” said Jim. “So where is the problem?”

Boy hung his head and sat quietly, the others all watched and waited until Ronnie, feeling sorry for him, spoke up.”Boy's in big trouble. Some people are looking for him and, if they get him, he's dead.”

“A bit over the top, Ronnie,” said his Gran. “Keep it real. Okay, they might beat him but. . . “

“But nothing, Gran! They'll kill him. They're real bad news and they'll do it if they get him.”

“Is that true, Boy?”

“It's true, Mr. Martin.”

“I think you'd beter tell us all about it. Who are these people and why are they looking for you?”

“Highway One, the motorbike gang. They're out for my blood and dead serious about it.”

“Highway One?” said Gran. “Really? They are bad news, really bad.”

“Told you, Gran. They're trouble.”

“Definitely not good people to get on the wrong side of. What did you do, Boy?”

“I put two of them in jail, and now the rest of them are out to get me..”

“I suppose they would be. But why did you put them in jail?”

“They killed my Aunty, my mother's sister. The bastards raped her and then they beat her – beat her so bad she died in hospital. No-one else was doing anything about it. They all knew but they were scared to speak-up and they were going to get away with it. So, I did, I went to the cops and I talked. I testified in court too, and that's where they found out who told and so they're after me.”

“But why are they? Were these gang members who did it?”

“Yeah, they were. Aunty's new boyfriend was in the gang. I told she was playing with fire, but no-one listens to me. One of his gang brothers came to town and the three of them were drinking, smoking and doping together. The brother had his eye on her and the boyfriend said that they could share – three of them in the bed.

She said no. They smacked her over and dragged her out to the backroom and they both raped her. The guys came back and carried on drinking, she came out and attacked the boyfriend. The brother pulled her off and gave her a hiding. He punched her and knocked her backwards into the fireplace.

She banged her head and fractured her skull, she never woke-up again. They killed her. The pair of them killed my Aunty. No-one was talking, nothing was happening and they were going to walk free, so I went to the cops. Now they're both doing time for manslaughter and the gang is looking for me.

I ran away, but, somehow, they picked-up my trail in Nelson. I ran again and here I am. Sorry, I shouldn't have come here.”

“Wow. Yes, you should have come here, I'm glad you did. But your pursuers are here too? How many of them are out there?”

“There's nine of them, I think. Nine guys on seven bikes. Sorry, I'm just making trouble for you. It'll be best if I leave. Do you think you could drive me out of town if I hide in the back of your car, maybe?”

“No, I don't think so. That won't be happening.” Jim didn't look happy.

“No? Okay, sorry. It was just a thought. I'll try to slip out the front street without them seeing where I come from.”

“No!” Ronnie wailed. “You can't! Boy, stay here, you're safe here.”

“I wish I could, but I can't. I'll go before it makes trouble for you.”

Jim stood up. “You're going nowhere. You were right to come here and this is where you're staying. Ronnie, just so we're perfectly clear here, you two are boyfriends, right?

“Exactly. We are and we always will be.”

“Not a casual relationship then? You expect this to last?”

“It has already been 3 years, it will last forever!”

“Life-partners then? I hope you're right. Okay, you two are to stay inside and stay downstairs. Do not put your heads above ground until I say you can. I'll make some phonecalls.”

“What are you going to do, Dad?”

“I told you, I'm making some calls. There's more than one gang in town you know.”

“Oh?”

“Nevermind, you'll see. Stay here. Mum, feed them, that'll keep them quiet.”

“It will,” Gran nodded. “What would you like for breakfast, Boys?”

Gimme Shelter II, 3

Ronnie showed Boy where the showers were and told him to throw all of his clothes out on the floor. He went to his room, got some warm clothes for him to wear and took them to the bathroom.

Boy was already in the shower and Ronnie could almost see him through the fogged-up glass door. He could see his long, slender shape and coffee-coloured all-over tan, but couldn't see much in the way of details, worse luck.

He would've loved to get in there with him, but thought he'd better not. He wasn't sure what their relationship was about now and didn't want to freak him out. The last thing he needed was for Boy to run away again. It'd been so long since he'd seen him last he'd feared that he would never see him again.

“Okay in there, Boy?”

“Yeah, thanks. This is great! All right if I use the shampoo?”

“'Course! Use anything you want. Oh, I'd better get you a towel too. I'll do that now and chuck your clothes into the washing machine, okay?”

“Yes, okay. Thanks, Ronnie.”

“No worries, My Friend. Come back to the living-room when you've finished.

“Be there soon.”

He took Boy's clothes to the laundry, left a couple of towels in the bathroom and went back to sit and wait by the fire. Boy came in a few minutes later, combing his fingers through his damp and tangled hair. He was wearing Ronnie's clothes – rugby socks, faded blue jeans and a red hoodie with a white t-shirt.

He looked good. Ronnie thought that those clothes never looked that good on him – (but they did!)

“Okay, Boy?” Gran looked in.

“Yeah, good thanks. Feels much better now.”

“That's good then. Sit down there and I'll bring it to you – just hot roast-beef sandwiches. I suppose that you'll want some too, Ronnie?”

“Thanks, Gran. I think I could force myself.”

“I'm sure you will.”

She came back, left a couple of plates of the thick sandwiches and went back to the kitchen. Next time she returned she brought steaming mugs of drinking chocolate and tea for herself.

“If you want more sandwiches, you'll have to get them yourself. I've finished in the kitchen for today.”

“Thanks, Gran. These are great.”

“They are!” Boy agreed. “And there's plenty here. Do you still make your own bread?”

“I do,” Gran nodded. “But I've got one of those bread-making machines now, much easier than doing it by hand.”

“Still good bread,” Boy smiled. “Much better than that bleeding Maori Bread.”

“You don't like that?”

“I don't, I never have, it's awful stuff.”

“Some maori you are!”

“Shaddup, Honkie!” He was still grinning.

Finished eating, they sat back with their drinks and relaxed, at opposite ends ofd the same couch.

“So, Boy,” Gran said. “Where have you been all of this time?”

“In Aus. The family all moved over there when Koru decided that he wasn't dying after all.”

“I'm glad he did! Have they all moved back to New Zealand now?”

“No, not all of them. Most of them are still aropund Brisbane. I came back here on my own.”

“All that way?”

“It's just a couple of flights – to Auckland, and then down to Nelson. I got a bus from there and here I am.”

“Wow.” Ronnie was impressed. “You made of money?”

“Yeah, sort-of. I was but not now. It cost a fortune!”

“I imagine it did,” Gran nodded. “A lot of money for a boy. What brought you back to Westpoint?”

“The bus did!” Ronnie exclaimed.

“Don't be funny, Mr. Smartie-Pants. We know that. Boy, why did you come back here?”

“This is my home and it's where I belong. I haven't been happy since we left, so I came back.”

“All that way. You came back without your family. Do they know where you are?”

“No, they don't, and that's the way I like it.”

“Okay, it's your business, but I really think that you should tell them that you're alive and well and where you are. If it was one of our boys, I'd be worried sick. No? Okay. Now, if you're on your own, where are you going to be staying?”

“I don't know now. I was hoping that Ronnie would let me stay in his reading-room until I found something, but that won't be happening.”

“Obviously not. Ronnie, you're happy to see your friend again aren't you?”

“Oh yes!~” Ronnie sighed.

“Yes, I thought so. Just wanted to make sure. Boy, you're welcome to stay here with us, we've got plenty of room for you. There's still a bedroom up in the old cottage on Swanson Street, use that if you like. I know that you don't like being underground.”

“That was a long time ago, when we were kids. I'd rather be down here in the sheltere if it's all the same. Iot's safe and secure down here.”

“O(f course you can stay down here! I just don't want to put you where you wouldn't be comfortable.”

“I'm comfortable down here. Thanks, Mrs. Martin.”

“That's good then,” she smiled. “Ronnie can get you set-up in a bed, there's plenty to choose from. Boy, think about ringing your parents. I'd be much happier if you did and I'm sure that they would be too. Think about it, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks. Where are Reggie and Mr.Martin?”

“Oh, they're up in Dad's workshop, working.”

“Working at this time of the day?”

“Well, kind-of working. Reggie's working part-time for Dad and, after-hours, they're building a hot-rod together.”

“They are,” said Gran. “It's an excellent bonding-exercise for a faher and son.”

“You're not involved in that, Ronnie?”

“I'm not. It's not my world and I'm not interested.”

“But he's your father too.”

“Sure he is, but Reggie's the grease-monkey, not me.”

“Okay.”

They went out and Ronnie installed Boy in the bedroom across from his. He would've preferred to just bring him into his own room, but thought that he'd better not do that, not yet anyway. He still didn't know what sort of relationship they were going to have.

He knew what he wanted, but could they just go right back to where they were when they were 13?

Gimme Shelter II, 2

Sitting together on a train travelling through the Swiss Alps, were a
Kiwi guy, an Australian bloke, a little old Greek lady, and a young
blonde Swiss girl with large breasts.

The train goes into a dark tunnel and a few seconds later there is the sound of a loud slap.

When the train emerges from the tunnel, the Aussie has a bright red hand print on his cheek.

No one speaks.

The old lady thinks:
The Aussie guy must have groped the blonde in the dark, and she slapped his cheek.

The blonde Swiss girl thinks:
That Aussie guy must have tried to grope me in the dark, but missed and fondled the old lady and she slapped his cheek.

The Aussie thinks:
The Kiwi bloke must have groped the blonde in the dark. She tried to slap him but missed and got me instead.

The Kiwi thinks:
I can't wait for another tunnel, just so I can smack that F***ing Aussie again.

(Baruch made me do it! Hey Aussies).


A couple of hours later, Ronnie walked home with his arms full of books and his own key to the library in his pocket. Mrs. Thompson said that he was welcome to borrow any, and as many, books as he liked and for no charge too. She gave him the key so he could come and go as he pleased. All she asked in return was that he leave a record of which books he had and that he'd come and help-out for a couple of hours on Saturday mornings.

He'd love to do that! It would be good practice for when he had his own bookshop too.

A year, then almost two years slipped by. It was decided that the fire must have been caused by an electrical fault. The insurance company paid out and, after the rubble and ashes were cleared away, a 2-car garage, with a side-extension covering the stairwell, was built on the site.

Ronnie was beyond caring, but Reggie tried his best to get their father to have a second storey over the garage with rooms for Ronnie and himself. He got nowhere.

“No, Reggie. Definitely not. The insurance cheque will be barely enough to cover the cost of the garage, we can't afford extra rooms and you boys don't need them anyway. There are plenty of unused rooms downstairs, we don't need any more.”

“But, Dad.”

“But nothing. The answer is 'no'.”

“Gran!”

“No, Reggie.”

“Damm. Ronnie, back me up here!”

“You're on our own. The rooms are gone. Accept it and move on.”

“Great one to talk you are. When are you going to move on?”

“Mind your own. You've got more than enough of your own business to worry about.”

“No worries, Ronnie.”

“Yeah, and that's the trouble – you should be worrying.”

Their dad and gran both nodded in agreement. Everyone worried about Reggie's business except Reggie. He just shrugged, grinned and drifted along carelessly, which was dumb. Being easy going was all very well, but there was a limit.

Reggie had things that he should've been worrying about, like the fact that he was about to become a father at 15 years old. It seemed that he was not gay after all and, after a few casual relationships, he'd turned his back on all of that. Now he said that that was just kid-stuff and he was past that. He was very happy with his girlfriend, Beth, and they'd be getting married just as soon as they could.

It was just a shame that it was Lisa having the baby and not Beth. Dad and Gran were both freaking out, but he refused to worry. She'll be right, apparently. Ronnie was concerned about them too, but at least it took the attention off of him and his life.

He did his best to live quietly and mind his own business. He certainly was not going to get a girlfriend! He wasn't getting a boyfriend either, he wasn't interested. Even if he was, there was no-one that he saw who measured up to Boy.

He had his Saturday morning job in the library, which he loved, and was also working in Mr. Parkhouse's shop for a couple of hours each week-day. He got paid for that job, which was good, he could buy more books.

His dad had arranged that one. He said that he was serious about buying the business, Reggie was keen on taking over the family's garage business. Working there meant that Ronnie was learning the trade and would be ready to takeover when the time came – in another year or two, after he'd finished his schooling.

Between his jobs and his endless stream of new books to read, Ronnie was busy and he was contented enough with his life. He wasn't looking for any more than what he had. (Odd really, for a boy, but it talkes all sorts).

His 16th birthday came and went, there was no celebration. He didn't want any fuss and if Gran even thought about arranging a party, he'd be out of there and staying out until they'd finished and gone.

A few days after the non-party birthday, he came home from working in the bookshop, cold and wet. It was foul out there, cold driving wind blasting through the town, and it was a real relief to get home and downstairs where it was warm and dry.

He often thought that a disaster, like a tornado or something, could sweep the town away and they wouldn't even know about it until they came up top. There was no weather downstairs, and that was good.

He curled-up on the couch by the fire, with a book of course, and ignored the phone beside him when it rang. It wouldn't be for him, it never was. Gran came over, answered the phone and frowned at him as she spoke to whoever it was. She replaced the handset on the cradle.

“Ronnie, Sweet, there's a parcel been left outside the gargage doors on the front street. Your cousin's doing the delivery run and didn't put it inside out of the weather. It will be my embroidery materials and they'll be ruined if they get wet. Go and get it for me will you, My Lovely Boy?”

“Aww! Gran, I've just got comfortable here.”

“It'll only take you a minute. Go on, Lad, your legs are younger than mine.”

“You think? Oh, all right then,” he grumbled. “Only 'cause it's you, Gran.”

He went out, along the corridors, through the fire-door at the bottom of the stairs, and up into the garage. He opened the door onto the street and, whoah! The weather was getting worse out there and that rain was SO cold!

So, where was Gran's parcel? It wasn't outside the door. He looked around and, ah yes, there it was. Janie really was a lame-brain. She hadn't put it outside the foot-access door, she left it by the car-door where it'd get run over. Idiot!

With his bare feet picking through the cold puddles, he went over and picked the parcel up. It was heavier than he'd expected. He hurried back ninside out of the wind and was about to shut the door when he saw someone standing across the front street, looking at him. Well, probably looking at him, he couldn't see the eyes or face or anything. The figure was all wrapped in a big yellow raincoat with the hood covering their head.

It could've been a boy, it could've been a girl. It could've been an orangutan, there was no way of telling. But, there was something familiar. What? He didn't know.

He shook his head, grimaced at the weather and raised a hand to wave goodbye before he shut the door. The figure's gloved hand came up and waved back and it came across the road towards him. Did he know that walk?

“Hey, Ronnie.”

“Hello . . . Boy??! Boy, is that you in there?”

“That's me.” He pushed the hood back and pulled the scarf away from his face, showing his trade-mark wide, white smile. “Great to see you.”

“Yeah? Good to see you too. What're you doing here, Boy?”

“Just passing through, I think. Ronnie, what happened to the old shop and your reading-room and everything?”

“Gone up in smoke. There was a huge fire a couple of years ago and it all burnt down.”

“It did? Oh, Ronnie! Your books?”

“Gone. I lost every single one of them.”

“Damm, that must've hurt.”

“It did, but I'm over it now. I'll tell you what else hurt too. You left town without saying goodbye and I've never heard from you since – not one word! That hurt. I thought we were mates, shows how much I knew.”

“We were mates.”

“Yeah? Didn't know you cared.”

“I cared. I loved you, Ronnie.”

“Love? Sure you did. Why didn't you say goodbye then?”

“Hey, I was upset too you know. Everyone up and left in a huge hurry and I didn't think that you wanted to talk to me anyway.”

“Well I did. I came looking for you but you'd already gone.”

“Bugger!”

“Yeah, bugger. What are you doing back here now? Passing through to where?”

“I don't know where, I've got nowhere. I was hoping that you'd give me shelter in the old shop, but,” he looked in at the bare and empty garage, concrete floor and unlined walls, “that's not going to happen. Goodbye, Ronnie.” He pulled the hood forward again and turned to walk away.

“Hey, wait up!” Ronnie grabbed his arm. “Don't walk away. Please don't go, Boy. Come inside out of this weather.”

“Well,” he looked around at the sound of a group of noisy motorbikes coming down the street. “Okay. For a minute I will.”

He quickly stepped inside, shut the door and leaned back against it. “How've you been, Ronnie?”

“Not bad, how about you Where've you been all of this time?”

“Aussie.”

“You're living in Australia?”

“I was. In Brissie – Brisbane, that is. Koru decided that he's not dying after all, he's much too busy for that, so we all went to Australia where it's warmer.”

“Anywhere's warmer than out there. Why did you come back?”

“I, umm, I ran away I don't belong there, this is my home. Plus, I wanted to see how you were.”

“I'm good now – really good! Can you stay a while?”

“If you want me too, I can. There's nowhere else to go.”

“Sure I want you to. Take your wet coat off, hang it there and we'll go downstairs where it's warm and dry.”

“Downstairs?” Boy looked down the concrete stairwell, his head came up at the sound of the motorbikes out in the street again. “Yeah, let's go downstairs to your shelter.”

“Great!”

He helped him out of his coat and hung it up while Boy removed his scarf and gloves and stepped out of his gumboots, leaving all on the floor under the coat. Ronnie grinned at his now-revealed friend. He was taller and longer but just as thin as he always was.

“What you grinning at, Honky?”

“At you. You look good. It's so good to see you! Can I have a hug?”

“Only if I can have one too!”

They stood and hugged each other, heads resting on each other's shoulders. It felt so good, even though Boy was a bit smelly, Ronnie didn't care about that.

Boy did care though, because he pulled away suddenly. “Sorry.” He gave a wry grin. “I haven't had a shower in ages and I've got no clean clothes to change into.”

“No worries! Come down below. You can clean up and you can use any of my clothes, we're still about the same size.”

“We are, but I'm much better-looking,” Boy grinned.

“Shut up! But, you might be right. Come down and we'll get you sorted. Have you eaten?”

“Not today.”

“We can fix that too, or Gran will. She'll fill you up.”

“Thanks, Ronnie.”

“No worries, My Friend!”

They went down and back into the living-room. Ronnie led the way in, Boy hung back a bit. Gran looked up.

“That took you long enough. Have you got my . . Oh my Word! Boy!! Where did you come from?”

“I found him out in the rain,” Ronnie answered because it looked like Boy wasn't going to, (he was blushing again). “Can I keep him?”

“If it was up to me, yes you could, but it's not, unfortunately. So nice too see you, Boy. Are your family moving back to town?”

“No, they're not, Mrs. Martin, there's just me. Good to see you too – real good.”

“He hasn't eaten, Gran, and he's hungry. What've we got to feed him?”

“I'm sure we'll find something,” she replied, rising up from her chair. “Leave my parcel there, Ronnie. You boys sit by the fire and I'll be back soon.”

“Don't rush, Gran. He needs to have a shower too, we'll do that while we're waiting.”

“Okay, fine. You've got 10 minutes.” She headed for her kitchen.