Chapter 10

Tommy awakened at once with a silent scream, frightened by the dream that seemed too true. He had been there in that wretched, stinking trailer up until the last moment when the little girl died. Although his room was black as pitch in the dark of night, and he could hardly discern the features of his room, he knew that Martin approached close. He lay unclothed and uncovered on his bed. The monster of a man had already undressed him while he slept. The draft from the air conditioner sent goosebumps over his flesh.

Tommy had long ago learned not to resist the man for fear of the consequences. Martin could be brutal, especially when there were extended periods when he went without sex. They had known each other for six years. The night before the raid, the man had conveniently disappeared, and Tommy thought he had been free from the torture, however Martin returned when everything had calmed down.

Tommy clutched at the sheets on his bed in terror and revulsion as Martin approached. Sometime during the night, the man had come into his room as silent as a mouse. A massive hand circled the boy’s diminutive wrist.

Martin sensed that Tommy had awakened and was glad. He did not much like molesting and torturing unconscious boys. It took away most of the fun.

"Tommy," Martin whispered as he worked. "It will not be long, now. Tomorrow night, maybe the next, we will both go back to the Cult of the Blood Rose together. Your father has been waiting for you."

Tommy slowly shook his head to protest. He hoped he would never go back there again, though he remembered little of the circumstances regarding the strange turn of events leading to his freedom from the dark, evil place. A young woman with beautiful dark hair took him by the hand when the turmoil began and led him out of the caves. He could remember the prominent rock covered with rose petals and the evil men waiting for him to approach. Martin had been his priest.

"You do not have a choice." Martin leaned over and brushed the child’s ear with another whisper. "Morgan needs you for his claim to take the power which belongs to him. You know, the prophecy requires him to sacrifice his first-born son."

Tommy wanted to push the man’s roving hand away from what should have belonged only to him, but he knew that would be a dumb mistake with dire consequences. Instead, he reached up with his free hand and wiped away the vagrant tear which had rolled down his cheek. His hands clenched into tight fists as he pulled at his hair in desperation. Had he any voice, he would have been sobbing in protest of the violation.

Then a knock on the door startled Martin, who checked around at once. Although the knob rattled, he had taken the precaution to lock the door. He could not risk any of the other children walking in on them; especially that nosy punk who knew more than he ought to. The man’s heart caught in his throat as he considered the surrounding room.

Susan Farnsworth ground her teeth together as she gazed back at Jeremiah and then tried the knob again. She glanced at Robert and motioned for him to approach. The giant man stepped out of the restroom and walked up to the door. At her instruction, he threw his shoulder against the door. When Jeremiah growled a few cuss words against Martin, Susan took him by the shoulder. The boy glowered as if he could visualize the crime through the closed door.

"Are you sure?" She felt a sickening knot rolling in her stomach. “How could I have missed this?”

Jeremiah stood with his eyes fixed on the door. "I watched Martin go into his room and lock the door. Tommy is terrified of him and I know why." He ground one fist into the opposing palm. "Tommy is my best friend, and I will bash that mother fu...” He looked down at the floor for his slip of the tongue. “Excuse me, Miss Farnsworth."

"We will get the street out of you yet," Susan said with an admonishing tone, “but my main concern right now is Tommy’s safety.”

Within the room came the sound of glass breaking. Robert surged one last time and the door finally gave way. The giant Indian picked himself up from the floor when Susan and Jeremiah entered. Susan reached desperately for the light switch, found it, and turned it on.

"Oh, God!" Susan gasped. "Why?" She rushed to the child as her heart broke. “Keep the children out!” For a moment she thought she glimpsed murderous intent in Robert’s eyes. “Now, Robert! I don’t want them to view Tommy like this. Take Jeremiah with you.”

“I’m staying with my friend,” Jeremiah stated defiantly. “I’ll get him some clothes.”

“Get a blanket for Tommy.” Robert put a hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder to stop him and shook his head. “No clothes…crime scene.”

Tommy looked even smaller and more vulnerable, huddled up in the corner on the floor. His skin, too pale for a child, appeared to have an almost faint purple shadow. He looked up at everyone with terror and shame. Martin had left him with a small gift in their parting. To comprehend it made Susan's anger boil over, her compassion to drive her to tears, and her revulsion to drive her utterly sick at her stomach.

Tommy favored the injured arm. Martin left it as a reminder of his strength and ever-present threat. The boy cradled the broken arm folded over in the middle of the forearm. Both bones had been shattered and the jagged edges ripped up through flesh. Blood dripped steadily from the wound. Such a wound would bring howls of anguish from any child, and despite his silence, she could see the pain and terror in his face. Tommy thought he was in trouble. Tears streamed down as he sobbed quietly. Jeremiah produced a blanket from the bed and as he grasped his young friend’s anguish, he desperately wished for an opportunity to hurt Martin.

"You want me to call an ambulance?" Jeremiah asked, the anger betrayed in the quavering of his speech

"Yes go!" Susan reached out and tried to give Tommy a touch of comfort. "I just hope they do not take as long as the police."

"I hear police," Robert said as he strode across the floor.

Jeremiah disappeared out of the door in a flash. Robert went to the window to look out for Martin, but he had disappeared into the night. Susan gently picked up Tommy’s broken arm and raised it above his head. She took the arm and applied pressure just above the wound to stem the flow of blood.

"Martin gone." Robert turned away from the window. "Police almost here."

"We have got to stop this bleeding. Tommy is going into shock." Susan said within tears of frustration and anger. "Why did that bastard have to hurt this little boy so badly?"

Robert approached the child and assumed the first aid. His hands were considerable, and Tommy's arms were scant. It appeared effortless for Robert to form a circle with his thumb and forefinger around the soft flesh of the boy's upper arm just above the elbow. He began to apply pressure until the blood stopped flowing through the wound. Tommy's eyes fluttered as he began to sway.

"Stay with us, Tommy!" Susan said sharply. "Stay awake!"

"Do not go away again." Robert drawled out in his slow voice. "Please."

Though Tommy fought to maintain consciousness, his body remained far too weak to support his effort. The room swam above him, and the light appeared to move to the strange buzzing in his head. Noises were melted together into incoherent garble. The blackness crept upon him. He eagerly welcomed the dark silence which promised to calm his fears, and perhaps, even an end to his tormented life.

Tommy blacked out just as the police arrived in the inner courtyard. Susan tried to wake him back up, but he could not respond to her. When he fell limp in her arms, she expected the worst. A check of his frail wrist gave her a brief fright; she could find no pulse. She stifled a gasp and looked down at her hand. In her haste, she had positioned her fingers wrong. She readjusted them and found his pulse. Although slight, it made her sigh with relief.

Jeremiah led the police officers up the stairs to Tommy's room. Susan delighted in the maturity the older boy displayed. When he acted like a boy of many more years of life than his, he showed much promise. He approached the doorway first and the look on his face told her more than words could ever express. A friendship existed between the two boys that time could never destroy. Jeremiah nearly broke down and cried when he saw Tommy again, assuming the worst had scarcely happened. The cruel life on the street stole away the tears he would have shed immediately, turning to a fit of rage instead.

"Jeremiah!" Susan said quickly. "He only blacked out. He still has a pulse."

Jeremiah's fists knotted tightly at his waist as he approached his younger friend. "Hang on, Tommy." His face twisted in agony. "You are my only friend in this place."

The first police officer to enter the room, a gigantic plain-clothes detective, cleared the top of the doorjamb by only inches. He wore a heavy wool suit despite the spring weather warming the city streets outside. He looked as if he used to work indoors. He loosely combed his hair in a way he could try to hide an area of receding hairlines. His nose was broad and flat, and his forehead dropped down over his eyes to make him appear scowling at whomever he talked to.

"I am Captain Brody." He said in a steel voice. "Is this the boy you called about? Who attacked him?"

"Yes," Susan replied. "Martin Stone escaped through the window."

Captain Brody motioned to one of the uniformed officers with him to go check out the window. He took out a notepad and a pencil. Another officer moved to assist Susan with Tommy. One more began snapping photographs of everything in the room.

"This just happened?"

"Jeremiah approached me about fifteen minutes ago and told me what he thought happened to Tommy. We called the police and then came up here to see if we could help him." Susan held on to Tommy protectively. "Robert had to break the door in to get in here."

Brody glanced at the door only briefly. "Was the man still in here when you crashed through the door?"

"No." Robert cracked his idiot grin. "I fell on the floor on the door."

"We heard the window glass shattering before we were able to get into the room." Susan stood up after another officer relieved her of holding Tommy. "How could anyone do this to a child?"

"No one can ever know why."

Brody regretted he could not offer any compassion. He had been a police officer too long to let emotions overwhelm him. When they pulled the blanket away to photograph the child, he steeled himself. No one could comprehend that deep down in his soul, his heart wrenched to observe the destroyed child.

Brody had seen too many of them beaten beyond recognition by drunken parents or perverts who preyed on them. There were just too many of the victims hurting out there that he wanted to help. It was even more frustrating to find out that those he had been able to help, often returned to the same dangerous life they had attempted to escape, sometimes ending up in the morgue to find true peace. Therefore, he could not show the emotion he so desperately wanted to for Tommy.

"Did anyone actually see the man break this child's arm?" Though the question seemed apathetic, concrete evidence sometimes won in court.

"I told Miss Farnsworth about Martin and Tommy." Jeremiah could not suppress his anger well. "That pervert messed with my friend!"

"Have you ever seen it happen?" Brody turned to Jeremiah.

"You can tell what sort of man he is," Jeremiah said with conviction. "They all have a certain way they act around us."

"What makes you sure?"

Jeremiah's jaw locked down, and he turned to one side, crossing his arms over his chest, then he looked back at Brody with cold dark eyes that spoke the truth. "I have been with enough Johns to know what they want, when they want it, where they want it, and how they want it. Martin was like that with Tommy."

Brody swallowed a dry lump in his throat. His gut instinct told him the boy was on the level with him. “I’m sorry, young man.” The captain glanced to Susan. "Has Tommy ever told you anything?" He broke the tip off his pencil because he could not scribble swiftly enough.

"Tommy is unable to speak to anyone openly, but I have noticed he can communicate some concepts with his friend there," Susan said, gesturing to Jeremiah. "He experienced some sort of trauma in his early childhood. The doctors say he should talk. Everything is there. He simply isn’t able."

"He does respond," Jeremiah added. "He can answer yes or no to questions. There are times that you can tell what he is remembering by the look in his eyes and the expression on his face."

Two paramedics pressed their way into the bedroom with a stretcher. They immediately understood Tommy needed urgent attention. The one who carried an emergency kit knelt near the boy and set to work tending to his vitals. When it was determined he was stable, they loaded him onto the stretcher.

Jeremiah stood near Robert as the paramedics carried Tommy downstairs and loaded him into the back of the ambulance. Other children had awakened with all the commotion caused by the police and gathered in nearly every opening of that part of the building facing the inner courtyard. Some younger ones cried, frightened by all that happened. Tommy’s best friend did not shed a tear, however. He wanted to find a gun and end Martin’s life.