Read The Light at the End of the Tunnel Online

Authors: James W. Nelson

Tags: #'romance, #abuse, #capital punishment, #deja vu, #foster care, #executions, #child prostitution, #abuser of children, #runaway children'

The Light at the End of the Tunnel (18 page)

BOOK: The Light at the End of the Tunnel
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Jeezus!
Les Paul came out of his
memory.
That would hurt!

The two or three thoughts about the prior
kindness of his new foster mother lasted just that short amount of
time. Then he began watching Jasper again as he stripped off her
nightgown. Such a flimsy thing, because it came loose and ripped
off so easily, like paper almost, then he was getting his first
glimpse of a naked woman’s body, which didn’t last long—

“You get the hell out to the front door now!”
Jasper ordered, as he started undoing his belt and jeans, “Get
going—
NOW
!”

Continuing to stare at his new foster
mother’s naked body, he backed up to the bedroom door, then left it
partway open and ran to the front door. Everything was dark except
for a street light a distance away on each side of the property. No
cars were moving. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t have
stayed and watched. He should have been able to watch, and at least
find out for sure what was meant by
‘rape.’
But he was
beginning to get at least the beginning of an idea, if one had to
open his jeans, but still…

Sounds began to reach him. She must have been
able to get rid of the wash cloth—

“No! You—“ His foster mother’s voice but it
didn’t last long. Jasper must have gotten the cloth back in—and
then he heard a whap!

He must have hit her—“You leave that in
there! And shut the fuck up!”


Fuck?’ Now what on earth is that
word?

More sounds left the bedroom, but just Jasper
now. Not words, really, just…he didn’t know, yet the sounds
reminded him of, something…something he had experienced himself
long, long, long, ago, so long ago he had trouble believing it was
his own memories—they weren’t his memories!!!!…
He saw her face,
her eyes full of fear as he had seen from his foster mother just
minutes ago, and her face, so young, much, much, younger than his
foster mother. Who was she? Then he realized he was inside her, a
part of him was inside her and he was pushing against her and
grunting, and she kept making frightened sounds with each push, as
if she was trying to get away from him—why? Why would she do that?
What they were doing was pleasurable, yet she didn’t appear to be
enjoying it—

“Your turn, Dumbass.”

Jasper’s voice brought him out of his memory,
his memory that couldn’t even have been his…then
why
did he
have it? “My turn?”

“Yeah, Dumbass, get the hell in there!”

He hurried to his turn in the bedroom, yet he
wasn’t really sure what having a turn meant…? What was he to
do
? He had a chance to learn a life lesson tonight but that
asshole Jasper wouldn’t help him! Wouldn’t let him watch! It made
him so mad!

He reached the bedroom door. A soft glow from
the bed lamp reached into the hall. He stood looking in. She was
still naked of course. He stared hard. He wanted to remember this
life lesson, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered,
if this raping is so wonderful, why did we have to tie you
up?

He walked to the bedside. He wanted to see
her naked body close up. He looked at her from her feet, up her
legs, stopped for a long time on her midsection, then moved up to
her breasts, again a long time of looking and studying and
imagining and enjoying, and finally he reached her face. Her face
still showed fear. Her eyes were big. She was shaking her
head—
No? Why?

Then, finally, he began to feel the change
occurring in his own body, the same feeling that he had begun to
feel in his stomach earlier—and somewhere else too—when this brand
new pretty foster mother had put her hand on his back when she took
him to his room. A pleasant feeling, and he suddenly knew that
feeling had something to do with this naked woman and what he was
supposed to do with his turn.

She kept shaking her head—
No!
He
looked away. He would ignore what
she
wanted and would do
what
he
wanted. The feeling in his stomach increased and had
now moved down to where the real feeling was beginning to take
shape. He stared at his foster mother’s midsection. He didn’t see
it as beautiful. He
couldn’t
see it as a loving husband
would. He only saw it as something that would immeasurably increase
the feeling he was feeling all over his body now, something he had
never experienced, but if he didn’t do what he had to do next the
feeling would be gone, maybe never to rise again.

He undid his belt, then undid his trousers
and was amazed at what now moved freely and stiffly from his own
midsection. He climbed onto the bed, only vaguely noticed his
foster mother’s eyes getting even bigger and bigger, that she kept
negatively shaking her head, that her body was trying to move away
from him. He only saw what he had come for and continued his
approach…and then it was over—over, so
quickly
!

Oh, that immeasurable feeling came all right
and reduced him to a jerking idiot totally out-of-control—

“You completely dumb ass!” Jasper’s voice.
I must have done it wrong!
“Get up! We’re gonna turn her
loose now! You, dumbass, are out of luck!”

Wet from his own excretions, he rolled off
the bed and hitched up his clothes. What’s next, he wondered, and
watched as Jasper used the handcuff keys to release his foster
mother. Good, it was over. They could go to bed now. In his young
psychopathic mind, he did not really see that they had done
something really, terribly, wrong.

In his mind his foster mother had not really
agreed to what they had done to her, yet they had not really hurt
her,
had they
? And he felt really surprised when she jerked
the cloth out of her mouth, got up, put on a dark robe, walked
quickly to the bedroom door, then stopped and turned, “You boys
stay in this room! Do not move!”

Then she left and he could hear her on the
phone but couldn’t hear what she was saying.

“What’s wrong, Jasper?”

“Oh you are the stupidest idiot I have ever
known. She’s calling family services to come get us.”

“Why?”

“Because we just raped her…well, you didn’t,
ya little dumbass, you just sprayed all over yourself, the bed, and
did you even get any on her? I doubt it!”

“You mean you knew this would happen, that
family services would come get us?”

“Yes.”

“Then why’d we do it?”

“For fun. I thought the ol’ lady would like
it. I guess she didn’t.”

A few minutes passed. Outside the bedroom
window they could see red lights flashing. Family services with red
lights flashing? That seemed unlikely.

“I think it’s the
police
.” Jasper
said, and the look on his face said that was
not
a good
thing.

 

Chapter 30
Jail

The young blonde-headed nine-year-old boy in
the cell did not look like a criminal, and for sure did not look
like worst-of-the-worst criminal Les Paul.

“Do you think it’s him?” Nicole asked.

The chaplain could only speculate, “If he
performed his own rape, as they’re saying, I can imagine that it’s
him.”

The door to the viewing room opened and the
detective they had spoken with earlier stepped in, “We were wrong,
at least partly,” he said, “This boy only helped the older boy do
the actual rape. But helping put on handcuffs, standing guard, and
then attempting to…also…rape….”

“‘
Attempting’
…?”

“Right. This boy only tried, but to hear the
older boy tell it, this boy didn’t have a clue. I’ve spoken to the
boy myself. This boy doesn’t even know—or didn’t know—what the word
‘rape’
means.” The detective held his chin with his right
hand, “Something strange, though….”

“Strange?”

“Yeah. Just as I was leaving this boy asked
me—he barely got it out. He asked me what
‘reap’
meant.”

Nicole elbowed the chaplain and said barely
above a whisper, “It’s
him
!”

“Now, I have a question for
you
folks—“

A sharp rap came at the door. The detective
excused himself and left.

Saved by the bell, maybe. The chaplain’s mind
went directly to the conversation with his partner after they heard
the news of two boys raping their foster mother.

“That’s got to be him, Radford,” Nicole said,
“Reap is how Cassandra pronounced rape, and if he got close in the
house with Cassandra, he’s got to be wanting to finish the
job.”

“Could be,” the chaplain agreed, “And if it
is him, we’ll save us a lot of traveling. As it is we were about
three houses behind. If this kid is Les Paul we can save all that,
but what reason can we give for wanting to see him? Have you
thought about that?”

“I haven’t, but now I will, but really,
what’s wrong with just saying we’re tracking a young boy for the
birth parents? We have his age, and a vague description of how he
might look.”

“And if they ask for a name?” asked the
chaplain.

“You mean of the boy? “Can’t we just say
‘Baby Boy-Doe9.’

“No, I mean the parents—what if they want to
know the names of the parents, and the true name of the boy, that
is, if he has ever
gotten
a real name…?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they won’t ask, or,
maybe we could just look in the phone book.”

“Fictitious names?”

“Well, the police wouldn’t know the
difference, not quickly anyway, and maybe we should try to
find
the real parents.”

“Good idea, but in a country of 300,000,000
people, where on earth would we start?”

“Maybe he re-incarnated close to where he was
executed,” Nicole offered, “That would narrow it down.”

“You’re correct, my dear—what a partner you
are! All I have to do is make a request and you come up with a
solution.”

“A possible solution, anyway.”

The detective returned and pushed the door
open part way, and spoke, “The older boy has been processed, do you
want to see him?”

“Could we actually speak to him?” the
chaplain asked, “He could shed some light.”

“I guess that would be possible. Say, I’ve
been wondering what connection you folks have—“ The detective was
interrupted by another detective as they passed through a room full
of desks and other detectives.

Another save by the bell.

“Devin!” Their first detective gestured to
another detective, “Could you take these folks in to have a chat
with the boy Jasper?”

“No problem.” The second detective stepped up
and directed them down a hallway, “Your son?”

“No relation. We just want to ask him what he
knows about the other boy.”

“He’ll probably lie to you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen this kid before. Always
juvie, though. I was along when we picked them up the other night.
I think little Jasper thought the worst that could happen would be
they would be picked up by Family Services again. Not this time,
sonny. Rape is a felony.”

“And the other boy?”

“Well, he helped…to a point, I guess, but I
doubt he’ll be staying here long, not if it’s his first offense,
anyway.”

Believe me, it’s not his first
offense
. “Do you mean first offense with the law?”

“Yes. If he’s had offenses with the foster
system we won’t know that…yet, not until he commits a felony
himself.”

He will
.

“Well, here we are. You can sit at the table
and talk through the glass to him. I’ll get him out here soon as I
can.” The detective left.

“Radford, I wonder if it’s a good idea to
talk to this boy. What if he tells Baby Boy? I mean, we don’t want
Baby Boy to know about us, yet, do we?”

“I doubt they’ll even see each other again,
especially if Baby Boy goes back to Family Services.”

A door opened off to their right and a young
boy maybe fourteen entered, looked at them, then settled on the
chair across from them, grabbed the phone and motioned to the phone
on their side.

“He probably thinks we’re here to help him,
Radford. Maybe he thinks we’re attorneys.”

The chaplain knew Jasper couldn’t hear what
Nicole had just said, not until he pressed the button on the phone.
He nodded to Nicole that he had heard.
Good thought, my dear
partner. What would I do without you?
Maybe it was time he told
Nicole how much he appreciated her input, how much he appreciated
her
.

He pushed the button.

“What do you good people want?” Jasper
asked.

“We have a couple questions, if you don’t
mind.”

“What about?”

“The boy who helped you perform the rape,
Jasper—“ Jasper smiled crookedly at mention of
‘rape’
—what
did you think of him?”

“An idiot! I don’t think he has a damn
clue!”

“But you
do
.”

“Damn right, man, I wasn’t born
yesterday!”

“Okay, Jasper, but what did you think of the
other boy? Did you like him?”

“Didn’t have time to even get to know him. We
had like four hours together.”

“Four hours?”

“Yeah, that stupid foster lady—she even
escorted him to our room, even had her hand on his shoulder, even
acted like she wanted to hug him. What a dumb bitch! She asked for
what she got, man!”

Enough! This boy was not going to tell them
anything they didn’t already know, “Well, thanks, Jasper, we’ll be
going now.” He hung up the phone.

“Hey! What about me? Don’t you want to know
about me?”

Not really. They turned their backs and
slipped through the door, did not see their first detective, or
their second one, and they hadn’t yet been asked anything
officially.

“Why don’t we just quietly leave, Radford? I
don’t feel nearly as comfortable in a police station as the family
service centers, and that second detective I don’t think will even
miss us.”

BOOK: The Light at the End of the Tunnel
10.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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