Violence from Homophobia
is Never Far Away

Chapter 9

Part 1

The shrill voice stilled the entire room; he saw people’s faces go chalk white as the loud shrill voice boomed over the loud rock n roll music that was blaring. He felt a cold suddenly rush through his body and his heart felt like ice, his breath was burning from the cold that suddenly filled every part of his body and all he could think of was Terry.

He rushed up, knocking the chair over and started to run towards the front, pushing past some older people and even knocking one dyke down as he flew into the small alcove. Carl was at the top of the stairs already and he could see the light glinting off the shiny aluminum bat and he felt the chill grow even colder. For one brief second his feet felt like they were encased in cement and then the pain in his heart just simply shattered them. His feet flew now and his arms pumped and his fists grew hard. Every hair on his body was on edge as the flat of his hand struck the door, wood groaning to violent push and he was out in the night.

Ashley saw the flash of the bat and he saw a rather dark shape go flying down to the pavement in pure agony. His cry loud and shrill and his attention left to seek out any other threat. He saw him; the darkened figure kicking and the anger in his body took hold. He saw nothing but a deep red as he rushed forwards, his voice screaming loudly and the air in his lungs became like frozen icicles as his focus narrowed to that one figure, that one person and he could see the eyes looking up and seeing him, then turning to see Carl advancing on him. 

Carl had heard him, he turned and in that second, he lost the advantage and a huge fist came crashing into his face, knocking him down and sending him backwards. Ashley yelled out louder now, as he came closer to the assailant, and he saw his sneer, the way he just scowled at him and then he saw fear cross the man’s face. He couldn’t even remember anything but the black empty eyes suddenly widening, suddenly showing the fear that his victims must have felt as more came up the stairs to aid in the battle. 

Ashley was almost upon the man when he turned and fled, his legs taking him quickly away and he even managed to scoop up his fallen comrade in evil, and the two of them ran into the night. He didn’t follow, instead he stood, afraid to turn around to see who where the two fallen people. He looked to see Carl staring at him and in that second, he felt like he had just died. There was no heaven after all, only emptiness and a pain that was beyond comprehension. 

He fell to his knees; the hard pavement refusing to yield even to him, and the darkness, Christ the darkness was so black, so empty and so frightening. He couldn’t see anything; nothing registered as his heart felt like it was broken into a million shards of glass. The pain reached him in spots he didn’t know had feelings, and he felt coldness as the flames of his soul were dampened. They were slowly dying; slowly his soul was surrendering to the dark abyss that he was falling into because he knew that the figure behind him was Terry. 

Voices milled around him and he heard someone shouting for an ambulance and he knew that it was just beginning, that the pain he was feeling now was nothing to what he was about to experience and he was scared. He didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to even live anymore as he felt the pain rising, becoming more terrible with every second and with every breath. His body was shaking now, the rush of adrenalin gone, only the deep emptiness of sorrow filled his body and still his soul continued to dampen, to continue to let its light become dark.

The touch on his shoulder meant nothing, he knew it was useless but he had one last act to perform and so slowly he stood up, his back towards the crowd and he turned. His face was like a white mask of stone. There were the scars etched across his cheeks by the rivers of tears that were flowing, but he didn’t even notice them. The figures in front were shadows as his body continued to shut down, continued to die piece by piece as he knew what lay before his shuffling feet. He moved thru the crowd like a wisp of smoke, parting the sea with his scent of death, the odour of one who no longer had crossed over, but was close.

His eyes barely had any light in them, as he cast them down, looking at the growing pool of red blood, staring at the shattered body that was curled into the fetal position, the position that it had first entered the world in, and he could feel the pain rise, the fires grow even colder inside as his body slowly sank to the pavement once more. He couldn’t stop himself, but he wouldn’t live in this world a second longer than he had to.

Ashley reached the ground, blood from his scraped knees now oozed from his jeans, and as he sat among the swirling pool of blood that came from his love, his own blood began to mingle with it. He felt the love, the sudden wave of Terry’s love for him suddenly rushed into his body, coming in from the open wounds in his legs, and he looked at the bloodied face, seeing the flesh swelling before his own eyes and the pain ripped at his already shattered heart. He felt his body shake, saw his hands inch outwards from his trembling body.

His mind no longer thought, it was devoid of all conscious thought; the pain had simply over powered it and reduced it to ash for the time. There was nothing to say, nothing left really for the mind to command, as Ashley could feel the darkness taking him, reaching for what little was left of his heart and as it reached for him, he could feel the last flickering embers inside of his soul start to die. Life was no longer his choice, the pain was too much and even his lungs no longer cared to breath in any regular pattern. Oxygen was no longer something he even wanted as his hands moved towards the broken face before him.

Ashley could see the swollen lips, the once thin lips that had caressed his own, had breathed life into his body, had given him a purpose for living and now they were caked in dripping rivers of his blood. The pale skin of his swollen eyelids now closed the eyes that once held such promise of life. He felt his heart slowly breaking apart as his own cloudy eyes stared lifelessly at Terry’s face. The nose was twisted and broken, there even was a piece of his tooth embedded in his lip and he reached out, pulling the shard from the lip, watching more blood flow from it, and he felt his whole body shaking from the pain.

A hand rested on his one shoulder and he turned slowly to stare at Rob, to see the tears rushing down from his cheeks, angry, as he didn’t want to share one ounce of his grief with anyone. Why couldn’t they all go away, leave him here to die next to the only person he could love, why couldn’t they just leave him alone, why?

He saw the mouth move, and he could read the words and his anger grew even more. God? He is praying to GOD? No, not here, not after all this, and he saw Rob’s hand start to cross his chest and in his anger he reached up, to swat away Rob’s hand, to prevent it from completing its reflexive action and he saw the stunned look, the eyes questioning and reaching out for his heart, but there was no answer to be given, his heart was no longer there, it was broken into too many pieces for anyone to reach. Ashley pushed and shrugged the hand from his shoulder, refusing to even let that simple gesture rest unanswered. 

There was no God, not as far as he was concerned and now only one small flicker of his life was left. Just one small tiny ember was left to still burn in his soul and he could feel the hatred rising, replacing his heart with its darkness and he could feel it reaching deep inside of him, reaching for that one stubborn ember, to squash it and put it out, to grind it into nothing just as those animals had pounded and kicked at Terry. No, there was no God for him and he felt the sudden pain in his shoulder.

His anger was growing and he tried to turn, to once more shrug off the comforting arm that someone was trying to give him. He didn’t want any comfort, he wanted only his Terry back and he knew that wasn’t to be, so fuck comfort, fuck all the stupid words of comfort, all he wanted to hear was that someone had caught the bastards and that they were now lying in pools of their own blood, their breath stilled, their hearts stopped forever, that was all he wanted to hear.

The power of revenge was taking hold, and his eyes grew even more narrow, more empty as he wanted to see that revenge, to feel it and taste it was all he wanted, and yet as his eyes began to close, he took one last look at the person who had made him feel love. He saw the shallow rise of his broken chest, blood everywhere and despite all the anger, all the hatred, he found his hands moving forward. STOP! He shouted in his mind, but his mind was closed off, it felt nothing now and he couldn’t understand why, why his hands moved forward as if someone was pushing them, was holding his wrists and taking them towards the red swollen mass in front.

He didn’t want to touch him, he didn’t want to feel anymore and he knew that if he touched the battered body of his lover, he would feel even more pain and he couldn’t do that, he just couldn’t and yet his hands moved relentlessly forward. How could all this be happening? Who was doing this and he wanted to turn around, to stare at whoever was pushing him, whoever was standing behind him now, their weight leaning into his body, forcing his upper torso forwards, making him get closer to the bloodied body of Terry.

The rage inside of him was growing, the anger was all consuming. His body was gone, no longer his as it now belonged to the darkness and yet for one small tiny space where his soul once burned brightly, he was totally consumed by the hatred and anger that was his ruler now. All thoughts of love were gone, replaced only by the burning desire for revenge, to see a long painful end to those who had done this, to all of those who through their blindness, their own prejudice had fostered such hatreds in people that some acted on it, some struck out in such a horrible fashion that a young life was smitten before it could even taste the full body flavour of love. No, he didn’t want any light, and his jaw was set, his eyes blazing with the anger and yet, still, that stubborn ember refused to go out, it flickered, swayed even and grew dim but it held on, it refused to leave him and that only made him angrier.

Ashley watched his hand reach the bloodied face, revulsion in his throat, the contents of his stomach nearing the top as his hand touched the warm pooling blood. The shock was almost too much; he quailed under the sudden bursting of emotions that came flooding into him. He couldn’t believe the brightness that was blazing before his eyes and he trembled, his whole body nothing but a mass of shaking body parts.

His hand gently moved down the cold pale cheek, his fingers shaking with the rest of his body and before him, he started to see fleeting images of Terry and him. He saw his own face floating in front, a painful expression on it and he could suddenly hear Terry’s voice as it calmed him, soothed him and told him that he had done right. Instantly he knew it was from the shower, when he couldn’t find the condom and Terry had wanted him inside of him, and he hadn’t, and now he never would, would he? 

What was the fucking use of this he thought, his anger raging against the images, life no longer had meaning, why bother dredging up what was, and what will no longer be? His hatred was storming through his body but the lone ember no longer quaked, it no longer shook or hid from the raging darkness of hatred and anger. Instead, he felt it flickering brighter, as if it had suddenly been fuelled by new energy, a new sense of power and of purpose.

That only made his hatred roar louder, and the darkness stormed around him, flashing dark bolts of lightning as it reached down with its clammy black fingers, intent on ending the existence of that annoying flame and it was what he wanted too, and he watched as the long tendrils of his hatred reached towards the flame. His eyes narrowed, barely slits now, as he saw the long darkness reached the very tip of the flame and as it grew closer, he watched it merge with the fire. 

Ashley could feel the sudden battle taking hold of him and he felt something else, the hard grip on his shoulder now spread to both shoulders. Two strong hands now held him, he couldn’t turn or move and he felt the power of those hands as they held him, forcing him to look away from himself and downwards, down towards Terry. He saw his hand still moving down the cheek, Terry’s blood covering his hand now as he moved it down, to rest it briefly on the side of his jaw, and then he reached under the jaw, and felt his hand move the face, turn it towards his own face, and for a brief instant, there was a groan of pure anguish in the night.

The pain washed into him, hitting him squarely in the face and even though he flinched, the person behind him didn’t move a muscle. The force of the pain reached all the way through Ashley and struck hard into the figure behind him. He could feel it as it hit, and then he felt it fall away, not even making a dent into the armour of the person who was behind him.

It was almost as if the figure behind him had summoned the pain towards him, to have it strike and fall lifeless at his feet. Ashley began to be scared, not knowing who or what was holding him in place, who or what was forcing him to stare at man’s inhumanity to man, knowing that the waves of pain were flying through his own body, leaving trails of their sorrow inside of him, fuelling the already potent force of his rage and his lust for vengeance. 

As the pain bounced harmlessly to the ground behind him, the raging hatred inside of him faltered for a second, unsure of what was happening around it. It felt its own fear now, but only for a second and then it turned its full fury onto the stubborn flickering flame that defied it. It struck out; throwing its entire weight into the battle and Ashley felt himself sinking forward suddenly. The hands pushing him and yet still holding onto him and he felt his breathe coming back from the face in front of him. He saw into the eyes, the oh so sorrowful eyes that were still covered by the bruised flesh, but he could see them none the less. 

He was frightened now and he knew he had cried out, but no one seemed to hear him. Sirens off in the distance were shrieking and there was no one to hear him, no one to take him away from this and let him end it all. He cried now, as he could feel the pain coming from Terry’s broken body and he shook even more as his hands held the face tenderly. He didn’t want to touch him, oh please no he cried but his hands and body suddenly were no longer under his command. Not even the anger or hatred he had inside could summon enough strength to fight whatever was guiding him.

Terry broken face was now turned towards him, the images that were mere shadows earlier no longer were clouded by Terry’s pain or blocked by Ashley’s anger and hatred. They grew before him, the way Terry had laughed when he had sprayed Ashley with water from the kitchen sink, the way Terry smiled at him while he was sleeping, the way Terry held him under his arm when he was scared, all of that flashed in front of him and suddenly the flame inside no longer flickered. For a brief instant, his hatred howled with victory as it saw the flame die before its immense dark power, but then the howling turned from victory to dismay.

From out of nowhere, a strong warm breath crossed his face and filled his body, and the fire in his soul suddenly reached upwards, no longer dead, no longer lifeless or devoid of power. It was like it had been reborn and the strength it carried was untarnished by the scars of humanity. He shuddered at its amazing strength and he was blinded by its brilliance as he felt something moving under his own hand. His eyes no longer were clouded by the veil of anger and he saw the eyes, those soft blue eyes that held his heart so many times before, and once more it appeared like they were holding his heart again. 

Ashley couldn’t stop from crying, as he saw the eyes open and hold his own ones. He felt the strong love coming into his body, the broken body may be battered but the love that Terry held for him was unbuttered, unbroken and he could feel it coming to his rescue. He felt the fires in his soul rising upwards to greet the strong bond of love from Terry and the anger was screaming now. It was surrounded, as from behind him he felt the heat of love entering his back and he had no idea who or what was behind him, but then his eyes fell back towards Terry. 

He saw the eyes growing wider, open fuller and he saw the reflection of a huge golden flame inside. The flame was pure white with its intensity and slowly it was taking shape. An ancient face of pure love and warmth was filling Terry’s eyes and he could see the long strong hands that gripped him reflected in the soft warm blue eyes of his lover. Watching he felt the strange new power of his soul as it flung the hatred aside, tossing it like so much garbage and there was more too, he could actually breath now, and the air was sweet, fragrant almost.

The eyes held him, and there was so much to see that he was afraid he wouldn’t see it all, and yet as he looked, his one hand rested on top of Terry’s, and with a sense of pure disbelief, he felt a finger move and squeeze in between one of his, to rest and curl around his own shaking finger and he knew that Terry was with him. He could feel it suddenly too, the way he felt the new strength roaring into his body from all directions. His heart was suddenly there again, no longer cloaked in black, and the fingers of the strong man behind him were slowly lifting the tiny broken shards of his heart upwards.

Inside the battle was raging full force now, as allies of his soul were racing to its call to arms. Leading the charge came the armour of their love, decked in the suit of armour that they had formed together, and he felt the power of that shield as it came to surround the small pieces of his heart. He felt the loving touch of the hand as it continued to pick up the pieces, protected by the glistening blue shield of eternal love 

He saw the battle grow hotter now as his soul reached further outwards, gathering in its own powerful forces. His hatred hacked and hewed at the strong bonds of love that now fuelled his soul but to no avail. The axes made no difference, not even a dent as he felt the finger gripping his own finger with increasing strength and he felt the slow beat of his heart start once more to pound in his chest.

The soft aroma of his ardour suddenly assailed the pain in his chest and as he felt the shift in the waves of pain, a fresh new breeze came rushing in to join the fray. The sweet fragrance of new borne love began to flow into his lungs, and it rode on the titanium wings of Terry’s own love for him. He could see it fly through the deep shields of pain, shattering them with one massive stroke of its wide wingspan and he could feel the warmth returning to his body once more. His eyes softened, now able to see and though Terry’s face was battered, swollen, and broken he could see him smiling up at him and that was all his heart and soul needed. That one sight, that one brief glimpse of love and the fires now raged forward, unstoppable, unbeatable as they slew and hacked away at the anger, at the hatred, and with it came the sweet breath of life, flowing from behind, rising up to push forward the power of their love, giving it strength and encouragement.

Ashley trembled to the raging war inside and as his heart grew stronger, piece by piece grew and knitted together once more, his soul rose higher, the flames dancing now as they sniffed the victory in the air and Ashley felt the cleansing waters of his tears flowing down his cheeks, mingling with the red blood that covered him and terry and he bent down, his face soaked by his tears, and he gently wiped away the tears of pain that were crawling down Terry’s face. His eyes looked deeply into Terry’s eyes, and he saw nothing but the vibrant glow of his soul, saw nothing but the pure white glow of his love and as his eyes closed, and he kissed Terry’s swollen lips.

The sounds of sirens were close now and the tall white robed man behind him still held him, but he no longer stopped him from looking, and as he brought his face up from Terry’s lips, he turned his face to gaze upwards into the old face behind him. He stared into the glowing embers that were his eyes, and he saw the streaks of blue that seemed to just magically bolt from everywhere around the man in white. He saw the soft full lips, the long white beard blowing gently in the night’s wind and he could feel the man’s hands, their wrists on his shoulders, the fingers reaching deep inside of him, holding his heart while his soul, joined by the unbreakable bridge of Terry’s love, slowly pieced it back together again.

Looking into the burning embers, he knew where his soul had gotten its new power from and he shivered in sudden panic, sudden fear. The face looked down on him and smiled, and the fear and panic suddenly vanished from his heart, and even though he was still fighting his war inside, he knew that it would be a war that he would win, one that would end with his victory and with that certain knowledge, Ashley turned away from the man to once more reach down, to hold Terry’s head in his lap, and to continue to fight his war.

The flames had burned hot and bright and now he knew it was his time to reach out and looking down into Terry’s face, he smiled, blowing softly against the face, letting his new strength reach out and cover them both. He could feel the warmth surrounding him and he could feel the hands now, they were leaving him, and for an instant, he felt panic, but his soul reached up and calmed him, thanking the parting man in white by simply burning bright. Ashley watched the man leave, and he knew he was going to the next of his children who was in need of his love and of his strength. Watching, he knew that he had the strength, the courage, and above all, the love that he would need to face the coming days and nights. He knew there would be pain, he knew their would be doubts and fears, but he also knew that he wasn’t alone, the his real father would be near, and that if he needed, he would be there with his love to aid him, to help him in his long battle with the pain that being a free spirit could sometimes bring on other spirits.

Ashley let the hands of the paramedic take his away and he quietly let himself be led back from the terrible scene by Rob and Carl. He looked down as the two men in uniform began their own efforts, and he saw one turn briefly to look at him, and give him a small smile, as if to offer some encouragement. He just smiled back, softly, and kept his eyes fully on Terry, telling him to rest, telling him that no matter what, he loved him and he could hear Terry breathing easier, thanking him for his love, and he knew then that with God’s help, they would meet again, and soon.

Part 2

The words were like ice, they shot up his spine even as his legs began to churn and he was already racing up the stairs, the bat swinging lightly but purposely in his massive hand as he threw open the door to see Marvin falling to the ground. He felt an icy grip on the beating organ, like a hand of pure ice was now wrapping its long thick fingers around his heart, stilling it with its frozen breath. Carl cast an eye heavenwards as he moved quickly into the fray, the bat raised, the pain growing inside and he saw one man kicking and spitting, another raising his foot to try and crash it down on Marvin’s head. 

He lunged forward, the bat swinging even as he came near, the sound of the metal striking flesh echoed loudly in the busy nights street. His eyes were focused on the one assailant, knowing that others were coming to join with him, but he needed to stop this one, he needed to feel the heavy bounce of the bat once more and even as he thought that, he could feel the deep pain down in his soul. He felt the dismay grow as he raised the bat once more, and he saw the pure terror of the man as he started to bring the bat forward with all of his 220 pounds of weight.

His body was like a charging steed in battle, his nostrils flared with the anger in his soul, the power of his heart was roaring, feeling the blood lust taking hold and his muscles were once more as they used to be, strong, coiled, and dangerous. The first blow had struck the man in the lower leg, causing him to howl, and to stop his own downward thrust at the stilled figure on the cement street. He had turned to face his attacker and that split second they looked at each other. The black knight facing the fury of the aroused white knight and he quailed under the righteous glare of his opponents stare.

He felt the power and his sneer and hatred fell powerless at his feet as he saw the glistening weapon swinging towards him. The terror showed in his eyes and his body was frozen by the fear of what was to come. The crush of the bright glowing weapon struck him squarely across his hip and the rush of pain was unstoppable as he crumbled to the ground in a mere second. The pain made blood spurt from his lips as he started to crawl away from the very horror of his own creation. His ears thundered to the sound of his pain, and reverberated to the sounds of his own bones breaking and shattering in that one instant, when his flesh met the well aimed weapon.

The scream had penetrated the hate soaked brain of the other assailant and he turned to see the blood caked weapon coming for him now. He glanced away, seeing his fallen comrade in evil screaming and crawling away and he knew that he was suddenly alone, suddenly facing an enemy that only made his hatred grow, made his anger rise hotter into his black heart. A thin sneer crossed his face as he waited for his opponent, years of training taking hold as he waited for the time, for the moment to send one more of these freaks to their end.

The noise from his back drew his attention and his unyielding desire was suddenly broken. His dark eyes saw the fury in the face of the oncoming person, and it was a fury that matched or even surpassed his own anger and he knew that no training, no tricks or tactics could hold up against such a mounting rage that was coming full tilt for him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his other opponent suddenly stop, distracted by the fury and rage that was coming to aid him and he seized the moment.

Quickly he struck out with the force of his anger, his hard fist crushing into the soft flesh of the one with the bat, and he felt a strange exhilaration as he felt the force of his blow stagger the taller man, saw the force of his own power as it send the tall 6 foot 5 inch man reeling backwards, making him stumble but he didn’t lose his grip on the aluminium bat. The other figure was getting within range and he knew he would have to flee.

With a quick glance down at the bleeding figure, and then a quick pleased grin at the tall giant, he ran towards his fallen comrade, his eyes blazing with his own fury, his own hatred as his strong hands picked up the still screaming friend and they headed off into the night. His job wasn’t as complete as he had wished, but it was sufficient to give him a glow of satisfaction as he moved through the coming crowd of people, attracted by the noise, and he could see their eyes, the way many just seemed to ignore him and stare at his carnage instead.

He finally regained his balance and he quickly strode over to Ashley, and he saw the fury burning in his young face. For a brief second he felt that pain inside of his own chest, as he stared past the trembling young boy towards the slumped figure laying in the growing pool of blood. Carl knew it was Terry and there would be no easy way to explain this loss to his own heart, let alone to the tall young man who stood there now.

His eyes flashed to the other still figure and he could feel the anger growing in his own heart, the pain was becoming too much as he saw the two silent figures on the ground, blood slowly seeping outwards and as the crowd of people raced upwards, he turned to stare across the street. He saw people standing, many coming out from the other bars on the strip, many of them pointing and gesturing, and yet not one came forward, not one had stepped out to stop the two escaping disciples of evil. Some were even pointing with their beer bottles, as if they were witnesses to some macabre television show. Only a few eyes registered dismay or even anger at the scene before them and his heart grew a little colder as he turned back to stare at Ashley.

How could so many have stood by, have come out to witness the horror of such a vile act and yet stay rooted in their vantage spot. How could so many have watched as two evil beings slipped past them, none raising a hand or a voice to stop their fleeing? As he saw Ashley battle with his own anger and hatred, he felt his rising up, he felt himself struggling to seek answers to which there really were no answers.

For most of his young life he had donned the brown robe of a religious person, walking the streets of San Francisco in peace with himself and with God, and even the horrors he had seen then had not rocked his faith or stopped him from talking about God’s eternal love, his solid belief of a loving God was never threatened, and yet now, he stood on the street, in one hand a weapon that he had used, two friends laid on the ground in a state of leaving the bonds of mortal life, and staring at him was one young man, wanting to know, needing to know, where was God?

How could he answer him, he didn’t know where God was, he wished he did, but even his own solid faith was dented by the horror of the night. He was still stunned by the feeling of gratification that had entered his body when he felt the bat striking and connecting with the flesh of another human being, and all he could really think of, was that he needed to feel it again, and again, until that person no longer could move. Murder was in his heart at that point, him a man of God, a man who had lived with only the desire to help others now had murder in his heart.

Carl felt his whole body start to shudder and shake as the awful realization that he had wanted, even craved, to kill another human being filled his soul. He could feel the pain of his injury but it was nothing compared to the pain he was starting to feel from deep within. He, a man who truly believed in God, a man who believed that every human being had some worthwhile quality, had desired to kill. It shook him like nothing else could and he could feel the tears now, as they started to roll down his bloodied cheeks.

He could feel the anger that was surrounding him as others reached him and walked past, staring at the growing crowd of on lookers. In a sense, it was gratifying to see so many come to his aid but it had all been too late. He turned to see the crumbled figure of a young man, his large plastic bag ripped and its contents spilled out. He had risked his own life to help another, and now he was paying the ultimate price. A bright coloured dress was slowly turning red as his life blood continued to pour from his broken body and Carl began to weep harder, not just for Marvin or for Terry even, but for all of them. They had been given an immense cross to bear, and unlike the Christians of old, there was no one to support them, no divine sign that they were on the right path, just a stubborn faith that God wouldn’t make them this way if they were not meant to be this way.

The pain in his heart was like someone was inside of his chest tearing away with sharp claws at the very fabric of his being. Huge chunks were being sliced away as he stared into the crown, then down at Marvin, then over towards Terry and finally, at Ashley. He shivered as he saw the hatred forming around the young innocent boy and the claws only dug in harder and faster. His soul cried out in agony as it saw the terrible blackness descending on the tall young man, watched his face go from chalk white to a dark shade of almost black, as his quivering body was being filled by the anger and hatred that seemed to just be around.

He wanted to reach out, to touch Ashley and try to comfort him, but he felt himself frozen by the intense struggle inside. He also felt the fear as he looked out on pure hatred, as it blazed from Ashley’s eyes toward all who stood near him. Even as his own heart was being ripped away, his soul tried to move him and he was able to see Rob moving closer, his hand resting lightly on Ashley’s shoulder. In a surprise gesture, he watched the tall young waiter as he began to cross himself, only to be rebuffed by Ashley. 

It felt like someone had slapped him hard across the face, as he watched Ashley’s young hand push Rob’s hand from his shoulder and worse, reach out and prevent him from completing the simple gesture of making the cross. It stung him deep inside, and for a second his soul trembled in fear, and horror, its flame flickering and sinking down. His eyes were clouded with the tears of his own sorrow and the grief he felt for Ashley, and he cried heaven wards, begging the Lord to come to his rescue.

His eyes closed and his lips moved as he prayed for help, as he struggled with the torment of his own soul and his own doubts but his faith was still there, bloodied, bent, but not yet broken and so he reached upwards, crossing his own chest in the sign of the cross and he prayed. The words were words, but his voice wasn’t that of mortal man, for his voice came from deep in his soul. It was the words of love, the belief in that force and in a God who loved all of his children that raised its words and spoke to the silent skies above.

As his words climbed upwards, he felt a strange warmth fill his body and suddenly his frozen body was no longer stuck. He could feel the slicing claws stilled in his heart and as he tried to focus, a brilliant white glow of light filled his soul and for a second he was blinded by its brilliance. He shuddered as he felt the power that was suddenly all around his trembling body. He had no idea what was happening and as he opened his eyes, he felt his heart being opened, his soul being lifted upwards, a new burning passion for life filling him and commanding him.

He walked towards one fallen figure, glancing to the other side, to see Rob kneeling next to Ashley, and behind Ashley he could see a swirling glow of light, a burning fire of something that was wrapping itself around the shaking young boy and in that second, he knew that Ashley would be alright, that he was needed more here.

Bending down he looked into the scarred face of Marvin and he reached out to pick up the trembling hand. He could feel the pain flowing into his body but his soul was no longer afraid, and it reached out for that pain, its warmth and tenderness gradually easing it, gradually sending its own form of comfort back towards the source of pain. He looked into the eyes, and he saw them flicker in recognition. 

With the sounds of sirens off in the distance, he knew that time was slowly running out and he bent down, his large frame now stretched out on the cold pavement, as he stroked gently the broken face of his friend. He prayed for his soul and he could feel his own soul crying for him and yet refusing to surrender to that pain. Instead he felt himself talking to the man, telling him not to move, telling him to trust in him and in God and he could feel the pain growing less, the soft words of his soul slowly taking control over the pain racked person in his hands.

Nothing really made sense to him as he suddenly felt the need to turn away and stare at Ashley. As he did he saw a floating image of a tall strong man, a long beard flowing down from his face and the eyes were like two burning suns. They were so golden in colour, so rich in warmth and as he looked, he saw that face torn briefly to him, a thin smile grew across the face and the eyes blazed brightly, as long golden beams suddenly shot forwards and into his body. 

In that millisecond, Carl felt the warmth of a new love that was filling him with its brilliance and he turned back towards Marvin, to share with him that warmth. He could see his hand stilled by the power of that love, and he no longer trembled with fear and uncertainty. His soul had reached out and been touched and now was touching another and the family of man was slowly being reunited on the cold bloodied street.

Marvin’s hand clasped his and he could sense the need and he bent down, kissing the young man on the forehead, and he began to pray for him, his words coming from the heart and not from memory. Now the words had meaning to him and he could feel his strength giving Marvin strength. The fear of the unknown no longer troubled the young man for the truth was now in him and for that Carl thanked God.

Part 3

The emergency room at Mercy General was busy tonight. They already had two gunshot wounds being dealt with, a drunk driving accident, and now the charge nurse was telling them that two young men were on route suffering from an apparent gay bashing. The words sent a chill down his spine as he headed towards Trauma #1 and began to supervise the set up. 

They already had tested his skills but finding a bullet was easy, a beating was something else. He had the assisting nurse check for the portable x-ray machine and he knew from the scanty information they had, that both young men were in critical condition. One had been resuscitated on scene, his heart failing but the paramedics had brought him back and were transporting him even now, but he knew it would be iffy, as both had severe trauma to the head, and that was the worse.

As trays of instruments were readied once more in the small room, he looked past the curtain to see how things were going in the other trauma room. He would supervise both cases until a determination could be made, but he felt a sense of sickness inside, as if his life was about to be twisted apart. He had no idea why, but just the mention of a gay bashing had made him feel sick and glad. Glad that he kept his own sexuality a secret, sick that there were people out there who hated with such passion that they sought out others of his kind to wreak havoc on them.

This wasn’t how he thought the world should be, and he had spent many nights arguing with Connor about just such things. He couldn’t come out, because the risks were too great. Their was not just the work environment, and the whole AIDS issue as well, but there also was the safety concern and as he slipped the white latex gloves on, he felt himself shake a little, knowing that but for the grace of God, there could go him. It could very easily be him or Connor in the back of those ambulances, and all because he had a different need than the majority did.

Waiting for the cases to arrive, he leaned against the medicine cabinet, and he wondered if this was how other minorities had felt? Could the feeling of fear for him be the same fear as that experienced or felt by the young black man going home in his new car, being stopped by police for routine checks? Was that how they felt, wondering if the person coming close to them on the dimly lit street was some redneck bigot who had a baseball bat behind his back?

Could the fear he felt at times be the same fear some Jew felt when they signed their obvious ethnic name into a register or as they walked out of their place of worship and saw a group of shaved head youths standing by their cars? Was all this fear the same or was it different? Were gays singled out more or was it just their own paranoia?

Bruce wasn’t a fighter except maybe for his patients. Then he was a tiger but in real life, he really preferred to be quiet and sit back and let things go by without any fuss. Yeah, he wished he could stroll down their street arm in arm with Connor, but he knew it would only lead to confrontations, and that he didn’t want. His life was fine the way it was, and sure he could mark an ‘x’ on a ballot to help change things, but he just couldn’t bring himself to stand and speak for those changes, whether it was for nationalized health or same sex marriages. He just didn’t have that kind of strength, which was odd, and maybe that lack in him was one of the things that attracted him to Connor.

Connor could and did mouth off, he didn’t care who knew he was gay or not, and yet his constant confrontational attitude didn’t always work out. For example, he didn’t get the choice shifts and yet he was the most qualified of the paramedics, and there were maybe only two or three others who would even consider a swap with him. Hell, there were even one or two who refused to be partnered with him and one time, he recalled how Connor had come home white as a ghost. Someone had punched holes in the box of surgical gloves for his ambulance, a note stuck to the pin that went through the entire stack of 100 gloves, and when he saw the note, he too had paled.

It was a crude note, written in red crayon but the words were clear enough. It said simple

Why waste the gloves faggot?

AIDS is God’s way of removing pestilence!

That was it, and it was someone in the department, one of his so called co workers and it had scared him, made him nervous as well as angry but all the shouting and ranting wouldn’t change the fact, there were people who objected to him being gay and his own ‘shove it down their throat’ attitude only made the situation worse.

They had argued strenuously over what he should do, Bruce wanting him to ignore it and go on with his work, Connor wanting to hire a civil rights lawyer and force the department to ferret out the culprit. It was their one major fight in their relationship, one that had made Bruce take to the couch for two whole days and yet despite all that, they still never really resolved it.

Connor had gone to his superiors but he got the answer he expected, he was told to simply go and buy his own box of gloves, bring them with him and submit a receipt each month for the expenditure. He was furious but Bruce had won out at last and so that was how it was, Connor bought his gloves and took them with him to and from work.

Even at the ER where people were supposedly professionals, he knew of some who would refuse to work on known gays. They simply used the excuse that they had families to consider and walked away, and yet those same people may have hated people of colour, they still worked on them and tended to their needs, but not if a person was gay.

His thoughts were finally interrupted by the sound of sirens entering the parking area and his team headed out towards the entranceway. They were all gowned and had protective masks on as they knew it was a bloody pair of bodies coming. He rushed ahead and reached the door as the automatic swinging doors came crashing open, two sets of paramedics rushing in with two red gurneys. 

For a second Bruce was stunned by the amount of blood and then he leaned over one, saw the swollen face and bleeding chest and then he ran to the other gurney, heard the report and found that the young person had coded on the scene but had recovered after the paddles had been applied. His eyes were lifeless still but he was still alive and so he rushed him straight to the main operating room, knowing that he was the more serious case.

The second gurney was wheeled into his trauma room and he watched as they lifted and dumped the body onto the bed. His clothes were being cut off, those tatters that remained, and he was surprised to see how young the person was. He couldn’t have been more than in his early to mid twenties. His blond shoulder length hair was matted by blood and he could see the indentation on the side of his head. 

Whoever the animal was that did this, had used the toe of his boot to crush into the skull and he felt sick to his stomach, knowing the only reason this happened was because the kid was gay. There should be an outcry and for the first time he felt ashamed of his own stand. His eyes glanced up and he stared into Connor’s eyes and he could feel the fire as well as see it. Connor was outraged, and as he looked around the room, he saw some who were just as angry and then he also noticed that others weren’t. Some even moved as if there was no need to hurry and he barked at one nurse, making heads turn as he urged the man on.

No, sitting quietly back was not an answer, but then neither was Connor’s solution the right one either. Bending over the shattered young man, he realized that he could no longer sit back either, his voice had to be raised and somehow, he had to find a way to make it a voice that was heard. 

Blood was being pumped in and he moved aside as the portable x-ray unit was pushed into place, tubes were sticking out from all over as they rushed to try and stabilize the young man, who was on the edge of being lost. Bruce always prided himself on his professionalism, and he thought he always gave it his best when it came to patient care but looking at the pale skin, seeing the dark welts and cuts and bruises and blood, he shivered and grew angry, as if the assault was directed at him and he was rapidly losing his calm. Sweat was dripping from his forehead as he continued to push his team, making them run instead of walk and his own motions were unrestrained.

He had lines in both arms, pumping blood in and he waited impatiently for the x-rays. He had blood rushed for tests and he began to administer various cosmetic chores, to help get a clearer picture of what he was dealing with. He saw the rigid stomach, and he felt like vomiting as he looked at the boy’s groin, seeing the puffiness that virtually covered the young boy’s penis and testicles. Vomit was rising in his throat as the first pictures came in and as he studied them, orders began to be barked out as he commenced the efforts to try to save the life that now depended on his skill as a surgeon.

Connor watched the change coming over Bruce as he stepped out of the way to let the team do its work. He watched the eyes of his lover grow narrow and cold and he shivered a little. He had never seen such anger come over his lover’s face before and it startled him. Looking at the battered young man, he felt the same anger, but not to the force, that Bruce seemed to be feeling.

In his line of work, you got used to such horrors but this one hit too close to home. He had seen the people lined up watching when they had pulled up and he knew none had rushed to help, and that had made him angry, but seeing the two young bodies, to see another holding this one in his arms, crying, the anger had almost broken him. His equipment had dropped and when someone in the crowd had laughed at that, he had turned and just the look of his face was enough to silence them all.

He had worked hard in getting this young man stable enough for transport, and when he looked over at the other team, he saw them standing around, as if it was all over and somehow he just knew he had to go there. He ran across to the second victim and he knew the kid had coded, but the other team hadn’t even bothered to unlatch their cardiac defibulator. He swore as he tore at their case, unlocking it and wiping the paddles before he placed them on the bloodied chest. He called out for one of the team to clear the bag, and then he waited as the unit charged. His anger showing and he zapped the body, watching the body buck and heave upwards by the strong force of electricity.

It didn’t work and he thumbed the button again, raising the current level and he waited for the charge another person, a civilian began to pump the bag, keeping air flowing until it was time. Once more he yelled clear and felt the jolt as the body bucked and kicked and heaved upwards, and he waited, praying for it to work and was rewarded by the sounds of a heartbeat. He glared at the other paramedics; tossing the paddles down and the force of his stare made one move and begin to take vital signs.

For almost twenty minutes, Connor ran back and forth between the two victims, keeping his temper and wishing that he could have five minutes alone with those who had done this. His anger was replaced by his need to do his job, and with the aid of a tall bloodied man, he managed to get both boys stable enough so they could transport. Bags of fluids were draped and both of them looked like pincushions, with so many tubes dangling from their broken arms.

As they headed towards the ambulances with their charges, Connor stared at the younger paramedic who had failed to try to bring back his victim. His eyes stared at the man and he knew that he was the same person who had left him the note. For one brief second he wanted to smash his face in, instead he just shook his head in a sorrowful fashion and checked the patient. Then in a very calm voice, he whispered into the man’s ear, telling him that if his patient didn’t get their alive, he wouldn’t live to see the sun rise himself.

Connor walked away from the stunned paramedic and climbed into the back of his own ambulance. He saw the bloodied figures of two young men, and he yelled at them, telling them Mercy General and then he bent back over his patient, telling him to hang on and he held his hand as the ambulance sirens roared back into life and the vehicle rushed away, scattering the curious and forcing the traffic to the sides.

He heard the doors opening and closing constantly and yet it never registered on his mind. Connor was too absorbed in watching his lover perform his work and for the first time he felt a strange new pride rising up inside of him. He could hear him barking orders like a field general, making grown men jump and run and he knew that something was taking place, he just couldn’t place it yet. 

The way he moved, the urgency of it all was like the boy on the table was his own flesh and blood, and you could see him working the room, his head constantly moving in all directions as he kept his team moving. Tubes were checked, then rechecked, film looked at and studied and decisions made and all the time the young man lay there, unconscious now from the shock and trauma, and his only hope lay in the hands of a 31 year old surgical resident.

Long locks of matted hair fell to the floor, needles were being poked into various parts of the anatomy of the young man and through it all he could feel a strange sense of excitement. It was almost as if he was witnessing a rebirth of someone, and the outcome was still in doubt. Would the new person be nice, would he be mean or what? All of the questions were flowing through his mind as well as his own needs. He knew that in many ways Bruce had been right, that you couldn’t shout out and say in your loudest voice that you were gay, but you didn’t hide it either. 

He knew that he was going to have a tough fight, because there was no way he could let what happened on the field continue. Even as the young man was fighting for his life, he knew that he would soon be fighting for his own life, maybe not in the same way, but a fight for a life none the less. His heart ached as he wondered if Bruce would stand with him or would he continue to hide his head in the sand? Looking at the man run around the table, grabbing an instrument because the nurse was not doing it fast enough, he thought that maybe there was a chance Bruce would stand with him.

The two way radio continued its non stop blaring as a busy night got busier but so far no calls for him and his partner who stood off to the side, talking to one of the young nurses on the desk. Parker was okay, he was totally straight and would talk about his dates, but what surprised Connor was that he actually seemed interested in how he was doing, if he and his ‘special friend’ as he referred to Bruce were having fun together. It was almost as if Parker really cared and he wondered, would he still even talk to him after he reported the incident to the watch commander, Sullivan?

For a second he thought back, wondering if he was really meant to be a paramedic, because for a brief time out there, all he could think about was getting his hands on the animals that had done this, to feel their necks under his fingers and he knew he would kill. It was scary, to think that here he was, supposedly dedicated to helping save lives and all he could think of was how good it would feel to end some unknown persons life. That had to be wrong, and yet was it?

The sound of feet behind him made him turn to look outwards. He could see several people entering the emergency lobby caked in dried blood and he knew it was some of those from the scene, coming to check on their friends. The tall man he knew, he was the bouncer from the bar and he nodded at him.

Connor watched as the young blond boy who had been cradling the patient he had tended to, walked closer to the plexi-glass wall and stared at the hustling people working on his friend. He could feel the boy’s pain and yet there was something else, as if the boy was feeling something more than just sorrow or anger, but it was almost like he was trying to reach out, to touch his fallen friend. 

Looking at Ashley, he saw the endless array of tears that flowed down his cheeks and somehow he just knew that those tears had started a long time ago, and that so far they hadn’t ended. The face was ashen from the tragic circumstances and yet the boy held his head high, he didn’t slouch or look like he was in anyway beaten. There was a quiet dignity about how he stood that amazed Connor as his attention turned back towards the trauma room.

Parker “Connor, the watch commander is on his way”

Connor “huh? What for?”

Parker “Uh, its about what happened at the scene, uh, you want a cup of coffee? We can talk in the lounge maybe”

Fuck, why did Connor always have to make things harder than they needed to be, he didn’t want to air the departments dirty laundry out here, besides, these guys had enough on their minds, why add to it? Fuck, maybe he should have kept his mouth shut, but no, he couldn’t do that and still look at himself, it was wrong what Stephens and Kursk did, it was wrong.

Connor “How does he know what happened at the scene?”

Why is he so nervous? Something is going on, fuck I bet that shit Stephens made up some bullshit report, fuck, well so what, Parker knows what went down, I think he’ll back me up, or will he?

Parker “I, shit Connor, I reported it okay, it pisses me off as much as you, and well, I thought if it came from me first, well, it wouldn’t… shit do I have to explain all this out in the open? Come on, let’s go get some coffee”

Connor “No, thanks Parker, no I think I need to, oh shit, he’s coding, NO DAMN It! NO!”

 

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