Date: Thu, 10 Jan 2008 05:23:40 EST
From: Djedoric58@aol.com
Subject: THE ONLY WAY TO FLY CHAPTER 15.TXT

	THE ONLY WAY TO FLY

	By DJ

		FIFTEEN

	While the band were away that weekend, Billy and I cleaned the
house from top to bottom, opening windows and freshening the place up ready
for the spring and summer seasons, when we weren't in bed of course. With
the house to ourselves we were free in our affections, cooking together,
relaxing together, taking Jake for walks together. During that weekend I
also discovered Billy was a total bottom guy, happy to let me do whatever I
wanted to him but not inclined to do anything to me further than caressing
and kissing and sometimes nibbling at my nipples.

	"Maybe someday," he signed.

He loved me to be masterful and use my strength during our lovemaking,
manipulating him any way I wished short of bondage and sadism. He was such
a beautiful boy, I could never have used the latter on him, although I did
like to be in control in an affectionate way. We used the whole house to
make love in, on the settees in the lounge, on the floor of the barn, even
the kitchen table got used when our passion took control and we couldn't
get upstairs in time. Billy also introduced me to the delights of showering
together, especially in the postage-stamp sized ensuite shower in Billy's
bedroom. Caressing him with lots of soap added a new dimension to my
learning curve, although it did make me recall a question I had been
meaning to ask since the incident involving Ken.

	"If you have your own shower in here, why is it Ken caught you in
the bathroom on the landing?"

	Billy grinned, and signed, "Simple, I like to take a bath sometimes
and rinse off under the shower." Duhh! Pee brained me! That night we took a
bath together and it was fun, even when Jake decided to jump in with us and
nearly swamped the bathroom.

	One thing that mutt really liked was to be given a bath. We had
till late on Monday evening to throw away our inhibitions and just enjoy
our sex life to the full, and boy did Billy love it. His need to make
physical contact with me seemed insatiable All this did Billy the world of
good, of course. He was happy, and so was I.

	On the Monday he went back to Christies for a mid treatment check
up. A further scan showed the tumour to be greatly reduced and responding
to the chemotherapy. Brent was pleased with Billy's progress and hoped he
would continue to improve, but warned him against overtiring himself, that
fatigue was a major symptom of the Chemotherapy treatment. He also
expressed an opinion that Billy had a ninety five percent chance of a full
recovery with no occurrence of the tumour returning.  We celebrated the
news that night when the band came home.

			* * *

	We had till the 16th of April before the band left for their tour,
and in that time, Billy proved to be an excellent and unselfish teacher. We
had the second drum kit set up in the barn again, and he and Peter spent a
lot of time together, drumming away till Peter could mimic Billy's
strokes. He even let Pete use a video Bill had bought for him giving an
in-depth study of lessons by a guy called Tiger Bill Meligari, who taught
tension free drumming. And all this during his treatment and still
suffering from headaches, which Brent explained, were normal and would fade
with time.

	Daley found another sax player, not as good as me although I say it
myself, but good enough to keep the band going till I was able to join
them. When would that be? How long is a piece of string. To be honest, I
didn't really want to go on tour. I had Billy now, and he was my life. I
admired him for his determination to get over being blind, especially when
Brent's optometrist mentioned that, as the Occipital nerve recovered from
the bruising of the operation and the swelling of the lobe itself lessened,
there was a slight possibility that Billy would regain his sight, at least
partially, but we were not to put too much hope in it.
	Our social worker arranged for us to be screened by Guide Dogs for
the Blind. If Billy were accepted as a recipient for a dog, then he would
go to a centre for training with the chosen dog.

	On the 16th, the band left for their tour. It was a pretty moist
eyed affair, and I stood on the steps with my arms round Billy, after
hugging everyone, and we waved them down the lane till the bus and my
Peugeot were out of sight. Daley and I had swapped cars, as mine was a lot
more comfortable for the long journey south. Jake didn't like the idea of
Daley going off without him and chased the bus right to the end of the
lane, and I had to go after him and drag him back, the only carrot he would
accept being the promise of a bath and a thorough groming.

	We spent the next few days, when we weren't in school, getting
Billy used to doing more things for himself, like going shopping in the
village without me, a familiar place for him to practice in where there
were people he knew if he needed help. This came in handy when I was asked
to take on some extra pupils at the school and needed to stay on to cope
with them. As long as he had Jake with him, he could make it round the town
as well, with Jake guiding him to the school after his session at the
hospital. I got used to him arriving at a certain time, with Jake trotting
by his side. One day he didn't arrive.
	I waited another hour before I went to see Stevens and told him I
needed to go and look for Billy. I drove down the street, keeping an eye
out for him. I reached the café where he usually stopped for coffee, and
parked the car in front of it. I went into the café and saw Mrs Sheen
carrying two plates of food from the kitchen. She spotted me, screamed, and
the plates crashed to the floor.

	Mr. Sheen ran out o the kitchen to see what was wrong and stared
wide eyed at me. "Mr. Alton, how did you get here? We were told you'd had
an accident and been taken home."

	"What?" I stared at him then at his wife and they stared back,
confused, their customers forgotten. "Where on earth did you hear that?"

	"The men who came for Billy," Mrs. Sheen said in a small voice, her
hands gripping her apron.

	"What men?"

	"They told him they were police officers and they were taking Billy
home." Mr. Sheen said. "They took the dog with them."

	I felt a cold hand crawl up my spine. "How many were there? What
did they look like?"

	"Three, two came in and there was another in the car. The two that
came in were tall, well built. I don't know about the one in the car, I
couldn't see much of him."

	"What kind of car?"

	"An old blue Ford Sierra. We used to have one like it."

	I had my mobile out as I ran from the café and dialled 999 before
driving home as fast as Daley's Peugeot 206 would go and wishing I was in
the 405. When I got there I didn't even bother to lock the car. I dived up
the steps to find the door unlocked. I searched the ground floor as quietly
as I could and found Jake on the kitchen floor beside a piece of raw
meat. We never fed Jake raw meat.

	I dived out of the kitchen and through the corridor to the
barn. The door was ajar and as I went through it, I saw a naked body draped
round the circumference of the base drum, surrounded by the mess of broken
equipment. The last thing I remember seeing before something hit me on the
side of the head were red drumsticks. I went down under a deluge of kicks
and blows.

			* *

	I woke to the most horrendous headache I have ever had. Zigzag
lightening flashed in front of my eyes and I closed them quickly. My blood
thundered in my ears, and I felt like throwing up. A migraine, I thought,
and tried to turn over but my body wouldn't work. I lay still, trying to
remember why. I heard soft voices and tried to open my eyes. The zigzags
were still there but a face danced behind them. "Daley?"

	"Hey, buddy." His voice battered my ears, and I tried to tell him
not to shout, that I wasn't deaf."

	"He's coming to," another voice shouted. " He's trying to talk but
I can't tell what he's saying."

	What do they mean they can't tell what I'm saying? I'm not talking
a fucking foreign language. "Damn you! Don't shout."

	"Now I know he's coming to." I heard Daley laugh, and I felt him
take hold of my hand. Boy, it hurt! I snatched my hand away, pain shot
through my shoulder and I died. Well, I thought I had, the pain was so
bad. I roused, hours later with Daley still sitting by my side, drinking a
cup of coffee. This time, my eyes worked okay, and the thundering in my
ears was bearable. I was aware of my body hurting all over but I couldn't
remember how I'd hurt myself.

	"What happened?" I asked; my voice sounded like a croaking frog.

	"You got worked over. Don't you remember?"

	I shook my head and the headache came back with a vengeance. I
waited for it to subside and opened my eyes again. This time there was a
blue uniform sitting on the other side of the bed, notebook at the
ready. Trouble? It had to be.

	"Okay, tell me."

	"Do you remember going home in search of your friend, Billy
D'Marco, Mr Alton?"

	Billy! My eyes shot open wide and I stared at Daley. He had a
strained look on his face and there were dark circles under his eyes, like
he hadn't slept for ages.

	"Where's Billy? What's happened?" I reared up off the pillows and
felt as if my body had been torn apart. I yelled and fell back. It took me
a while to get my breath back and stop my head from spinning. I waited for
the pain to subside and tried again. "What's happened?"

	"Billy was attacked in your home, Mr. Alton," the police officer
said gently. He was only a slip of a kid and he wasn't enjoying his job at
this point in time. "Apparently he was last seen in the Rose Café in
Bingford by the proprietors who saw him and his dog leave with three men
driving a blue Ford Sierra. I believe you called us from there on your
mobile, believing he had been kidnapped. You got to the house ahead of us
and you were attacked. We found you in the barn, and the dog dead in the
kitchen. He'd been poisoned." The officer stopped talking and he looked
down at his notes, looking quite sick. He swallowed hard and tried had to
appear in command of his feelings, but failed miserably. I looked at Daley
and found him sitting hunched over with tears in his eyes.

	"Is someone going to tell me what happened or do I have to get up
off this bed and found out for myself." The force of my own voice startled
me never mind Daley who shot up straight in his chair. "Well?"

	"They tied him over the base drum and..."

	I closed my eyes and immediately recalled the scene before I was
clouted.  Billy! Oh God, Billy! No!

			* *
	They put me in a wheel chair and took me to see him. It was as if
he had just come out of his operation; a small boy with a ski cap, only
this time his face was bruised and stitched. He was lying on his side and
seemed to be sleeping peacefully, like those picture you see of babies in
their incubators. I stayed there for hours, just watching him, refusing to
go back to my own ward and getting shirty with anyone who tried to persuade
me otherwise, including Daley. In the end they brought a bed in and placed
it beside Billy's, so they could carry on treating my own injuries.

	 Daley told me we'd both suffered extensive bruising. I had a
wrenched left shoulder, a badly bruised spleen and kidneys, and should
never have got out of bed I the first place, and I had cuts to my head and
face, all stitched. Billy had head injuries, hence his ski cap dressing, a
load of bruises on his back and torso and grazes round his wrists and
ankles where he'd been tied to the drum and he'd struggled to get free. I
felt sick when Daley explained about the red drumsticks.

	When Billy stirred at last, I insisted on a nurse helping me into
my wheel chair. It bumped the bed as the orderly manoeuvred it as close as
possible to the head of the bed. Billy roused and opened sightless eyes,
and reached out a wavering hand to feel who was there. I caught his hand
and squeezed it, and felt an answering squeeze. I was so choked up I could
hardly speak. "Billy, why did you go with those men?"

	"Because I love you," he said.

	I stared at him. Wait a minute! My mouth dropped open. "You spoke!"
I couldn't believe my ears. "Billy, you spoke to me!"

	His eyes were closing but his lips moved. "What?" I felt his hand
relax in mine and I felt so disappointed that he should fall sleep just
when a miracle had happened.  Just then, Daley walked in with a bunch of
flowers. I grabbed him, and tears flowed from my eyes. "Daley, he can
talk."

	"What?" Daley stared at Billy and almost dropped the flowers.

	"He spoke to me."

	"You're kidding!"

	"No, I'm not."

	"Well what did he say?"

	"That he loves me." I started to cry buckets as Daley's arms came
round me.  As he hugged me I heard him whisper, "Halleluiah!"
			* *

	The next thing I heard from Billy was a loud groan. I was back in
bed and the nurses had come in to turn him over. The doctor had come in
earlier on Daley's insistence, and had explained to us that a traumatic
incident similar to that which had robbing him of his speech sometimes
triggered a reversal. When they had gone, and Daley had left to phone the
boys with the good news, I sat up and looked at him. He was lying facing
me, and his face was contorted in a grimace of pain. "Hey, little man, how
do you feel?"

	"Fucking sore." What a wonderful mid-to-high tenor voice he had.

	I laughed and got out of bed, almost falling in my attempt to get
into my chair, I was so excited. Wheeling myself over to his bed I took
hold of his hand, and I was rewarded by an answering squeeze. "You can
swear all you like, Babe, it's so great to hear you talking at all." I
leaned over and place a light kiss on his cheek, and saw a tear trickle
from his left eye. "Can you tell me who it was did this?"

	Billy nodded. "It was Ken."

	Shocked, I sat back and struggled to take it in. Then Daley walked
in and I beckoned him over. "You remember Ken's threat?"

	Daley looked like the world had dropped on his shoulders as he
grasped what I was getting at. "The drumsticks!"

	"Billy just told me. We'd better get PC Plod in here."

	"Oh no," Daley said with a firm shake of his head. "Not till I've
done some phoning first. We itinerants look after our own, and Indian and
Rob are straining at the leash to do some folks a real injury. Let me phone
my dad and have an APB set up first."

	"But that's heading for trouble. Let the fuzz handle it."

	Daley shook his head and turned to walk out. "Not till we've given
Ken and his friends our own brand of punishment. We can find him faster
than the boys in blue can in any case. We'll just let our two rottweilers
have a quiet word with him first, then we'll hand him over to the law for
due punishment."

	"But, Daley-."

	"Trust me, Mags. I know what I'm doing, okay? Now remember, no
talking about it to anyone till I get back." He pointed to Billy. "Keep
that one's mouth zipped as well."

	That was easy enough to do as Billy slept on for quite some time
and only stirred again when Daley walked back in, followed by the young
police officer. Daley signed to me that his dad had got the grapevine
working and people all over the country were looking for Ken. The boys were
keeping the tour going and would await further instruction via Daley's dad

	 I sat and listened to the police officer interview Billy about the
attack, and marvelled at my lover's new velvety voice, but not the details
of the attack.

	 Billy had gone willingly with the two guys because they said they
were cops, and that they had come from an accident in which I was supposed
to have been involved in. He didn't give the officer the same answer he had
given me when asked why he had gone with those men. He just said he wanted
to get to me as quickly as possible and they offered to bring him to
me. Now I understood his answer to me, and I believed him because he had
said it aloud, to my face; the first wonderful words he had ever spoken to
me. I would never forget them, and at that moment I wanted to lift him from
the bed and hug him tight, and tell him how much I loved him too, but I
didn't think the officer would have understood, and I wanted to spare him
any embarrassment. He had a hard enough job as it was, writing down every
detail of the attack.

	Ken and his thugs had brought Billy to the house and had offered to
feed Jake then grabbed him and forced him to walk into the barn with
them. He had put up a fight but Ken's friends were oversized wrestlers and
he stood no chance, especially when they beat him up. They had stripped him
and tied him to the drum, and Ken had taunted him with the drumsticks. Then
all three had made him suck them off before they raped him and Ken had
carried out his threat with the drumsticks and caused him to bleed heavily,
hence the red drumsticks I saw before my own lights went out. That had hurt
the most, and it had happened seconds before he heard me yelling his
name. He didn't remember the drum kit being smashed up. He thought that had
happened before they brought him to the house. That meant Ken must have
been watching us for a few days for him to know when we would be out of the
house.

	"If that's the case," the officer asked, " how did Ken get into the
house without a key."

	 All we could think of was that he had taken an impression of the
key he handed back to us the day we chucked him out, and had a new key
made. Daley confirmed this when he remarked that, when Ken tossed him the
key, it felt greasy. The key was in Bill's desk and no one had used it
since. The officer said he would pick it up and have forensics look at
it. There would be evidence of the soap and of Ken's fingerprints on
it. Otherwise it was a mystery how Ken had got into the house. It was
double glazed with modern five point dead locks on all outer doors,
including the backyard hatch to the cellars.

	"What about the Sierra?" I asked. "I didn't see it at the house"

	" We had found recent tyre tracks in the back yard and at the front
of the house, which don't match the ones made by the 206 or the 405." I
guessed Daley had used that to get here fast.

	We were kept in hospital another four days before Daley was allowed
to take us home, hardly able to walk. We found that the band had cancelled
two gigs to be with us and insisted on acting as nursemaids to the pair of
us. They refused to let us go upstairs except for a bath or shower, an old
toilet in the hall having had a thorough scrubbing, and turned the lounge
into a communal bedroom with Billy and me ensconced on two of the sofas,
which I had to admit were a lot softer than Billy's bed. The only thing
missing, and for which we were all sad, especially Billy, was Jake.

	The band brought their sleeping gear in and used the floor. It was
real cosy in there, and Billy and I were able to witness Pete's coming
out. Todd had revealed that Pete had been a closet gay since he was sixteen
but had not had the courage to do anything about it. Whereas my own
initiation had been asked for and almost clinical, Pete's was a full-blown
show with all the tassels and whistles to go with it. We were having a bit
of a party one night to celebrate our return from hospital and there was
lager and wine, and even a couple of bottles of scotch that Billy had
brought out of the cellar. Daley and Rob had made a pile of finger food,
which Billy yearned for but couldn't eat because he was on liquids only,
and we were getting into the swing of the party when the band buttonholed
Pete about his gay feelings. He turned it into a joke till Todd and Rob
grabbed him and tossed him onto their settee. All three were laughing as
Ron held him down and Todd went for his belt. Once that was undone the
others joined in except for Indian who made himself scarce.  Billy sensed
what was about to happen and a deep frown creased his face. I struggled to
my feet and managed to reach for his hand without losing my balance. I
hauled him up and steered him towards the door. Behind us, Pete was
squealing and shrieking with laughter as he tried to prevent all those
hands from getting inside his shirt and pants. It was a losing battle and
he knew it. As I opened the door and pushed Billy through it, his pants and
shirt sailed over the back of the settee and his protests became muted
moans of "Oh no, please, no, oh, oooh! Haah, Mmm! Ooooh man! Wooooow!"

	Our own journey up the stairs was painful but it was worth it when
we finally sank onto Billy's bed and helped each other undress. Sex was out
of the question, we were too badly bruised to do anything, and Billy
certainly couldn't go any further than be petted and caressed, in fact I
doubted Billy would ever allow me to penetrate him again after what Ken had
done. We just wanted to be alone together. He just wanted to lie in my arms
and be kissed and loved. I just wanted to hold him close and watch him fall
asleep. I loved to watch him sleep, he was so beautiful, although at the
moment his face as a patchwork of fading bruises and cuts. Mine was no
better. He no longer wore a ski cap and his hair was beginning to grow
again, in uneven, spiky strands. I remember him weeping in my arms when
they had first shaved his head, and signing that it had taken a long time
for him to create the hairstyle he had, his hair being so fine and fly
away, and he was afraid it would never grow back that way.

	I woke up to find him sobbing his heart out.

			* *
	He was lying facing away from me and curled up a tight foetal
position that spelled the aftermath of a nightmare. I coaxed him back into
my embrace and held him till he calmed down then asked him what the
nightmare was about. He shook his head. "It wasn't a nightmare. I
remembered about my mum; what happened to her; how she was murdered." He
started to cry again and I tightened my arms about him, while he sobbed the
whole story out.

			*
	In the eyes of a six-year-old boy, most of Mummy's boyfriends were
nice. They played with him, and cuddled him when he hurt himself. They
bought him ice creams and toys, and he treated them as if they were his
daddy, whom he missed terribly. Mummy didn't give him hugs or kisses, she
said she wished he had never been born, and she was sick all the time. He
heard her boyfriends talk about her being drunk and if they didn't stay to
look after him he would be taken away from her. He didn't want that so when
a couple of them did things to him, he didn't object. They loved him so he
loved them back. But one day Mummy brought a new boyfriend home. Billy
didn't like him.
	The other boyfriends had done gentle things to him, which he liked
and made him feel good, but this one hurt him and did nasty things to him,
and broke his toys when Mummy wasn't looking. He told Mummy that Billy had
broken them himself and Mummy smacked him. The new boyfriend hurt Mummy
too, and hit her a lot. Billy didn't like that even if he didn't love her
and she didn't love him. He tried to protect her, but he always got thrown
in a corner while they fought. One day he hid behind a chair and watched
Mummy's boyfriend hit her again and again with a heavy stick till she fell
to the ground screaming. Then he dropped his pants and stuck his tool into
Mummy and hurt her with it, like he hurt Billy. Even when she became quiet,
the man still did it. Then he hit her a lot more times and left the
house. Billy stayed hidden for a long time, in case the man came back, then
he crept out of his hiding place to go to Mummy. She was covered in blood
and her face looked strange, like the doll of a little friend of his that
had been squashed by a car wheel. She didn't move, and she was cold and
limp. He tried to wake her up but she wouldn't open her eyes. Then Mummy's
friend from next-door came and someone took him away. They asked him
questions but he couldn't talk. He never saw Mummy again.

			*

	I held Billy in my arms for a long time after he fell quiet,
shocked at what he told me, and realising that what Ken had done to him and
been so similar to what he had witnessed. It had surely reawakened his
memory of that horrific time. At last I said, "You have to go to the
police, Billy. You must tell them everything. Do you think you could
recognise your mother's killer if you saw him again or saw a picture of
him?"

	"I don't have to." Billy began to sob again. "I've already seen
him."

	"Where?"

	"Here."

	"In this house?"

	"Yes. It was Ken."

			* * *