The Last Phoenix

Eight year old John was running for his life, and he had to really run. If his pimp ever caught him, he was most certainly dead, yeah, really stone cold dead, as in shot in the head, dead. He gingerly ran across the busy street, deftly dodging in and out of traffic, ignoring the screeching tires and blaring horns, then he ran down an alley. The alley smelled like a public toilet. About a quarter of the way down the alley, he jumped over a discarded box and ducked behind an even smellier dumpster. He covered himself with trash and became motionless. The three pursuers paused to look in the dumpster then went right by his hiding place. So far so good. John waited for what seemed like hours, before the three older teens who had been chasing him came back by his hiding place.

"I better never see that muth'a fuck'a again, 'cause I beat his brain right outa his head!"

"Uh, huh. Big Daddy sho' as shit ain't gonna be very happy when he finds out we done lost his skinny, gnarly ass."

"Well, fuck Big Daddy, is all I can say. Shit, his ass ain't out here workin' no fuckin' street. 'Sides he jus' gonna kill the smart ass little nigger, and then, course, we gonna haf'ta git rid of da motha fuckin' body! I sure is gettin' tired of dis shit, big time."

"Better not let him hear ya talk like dat, fool, or he fuck yo' ass and cut them balls a' yours right off! Dat'll make him cum big time. I seen him do dat to a white boy once. He said dat was one damn hot fuck. That boy too dumb to find him a damned doctor to sew him up, an' da dumb kid bled hisse'f right to death. Blood was all over da fuckin' place. I had to clean up da shit all by myse'f."

The laughing and voices faded away. John was scared shitless, and he still waited motionless until darkness fell again. 

For the past three years, since John was abandoned by his drug addicted mother, he had made his own way by doing anything and everything he could, so he could get food. It hadn't been very long before Big Daddy had taken him in, fed him and given him a bed to sleep on. Then he started teaching John what to do and how to do it, to please the clients the best. The first lesson was oral sex, and then the rest began. In less than two weeks, John was making Big Daddy some really big bucks. It seemed John was a natural. Sometimes the man would give John a good sized tip, when John did it real good for him, like swallowing everything or making him cum twice. 

From the beginning, John would hide any tip money he got. He found a secret place in an old run down, abandoned building, and he hid the extra cash there. He already knew that Big Daddy thoroughly checked through all the boys' rooms, looking for whatever money they were holding out from him. For three years, John had been carefully saving his tips, and now Big Daddy had apparently figured out that he was hoarding his money, and, of course, Big Daddy wanted it. He considered it his, and he was going to get it, one way or another. John remembered his friend, they had been pretty close, but Big Daddy wasn't going to have any of that. So Big Daddy had hauled the cute blond off somewhere, and John hadn't seen him since. That was a few months ago now. John knew that he would never see his only friend again; he hoped he wasn't the one he had heard died. He was pretty damn sure he would be the next one to disappear. Big Daddy knew the best way to control his boys was to make sure they knew there was no hope. They had to be convinced that nothing they could do would work, and they would always be trapped in the situation.

John knew it was time to haul his black ass out-of-town, fast. John stood up as quietly as he could and brushed off the garbage from his clothes, as much as he could, and then moved carefully, as quietly as possible, staying in the shadows, trying hard to blend in. It wasn't easy. It took him almost an hour just to reach the old building he had been using to hide his money. He carefully loaded his cash into the backpack and picked through the piles of old clothes he'd managed to scrounge; he had to find a decent set to change into as soon as he could get cleaned up. He realized that for some reason he would actually miss this place. A quick check confirmed that he was not leaving anything of value behind, and he left, knowing he would never see the place again, no matter what happened. 

Ten minutes later, John was climbing into the second floor bedroom window of his friend, Jacob. "Jacob, wake up."

"John? What's going on?" Jacob sat up in bed.

"I got to go. I mean, I really got to go, man. Big Daddy gonna' kill me dis time, not just beat my sorry ass black and blue, like before. So I'm out'a here. I jus' wanted you to know I was gone an' not wasted, when you couldn't find me. You been real good to me, and as close to a friend as I got." John fought back a tear.

Jacob got out of bed and handed John a small package, "Here is some stuff to help you out for the next couple of days. It's not all that much, but when Big Daddy's thug squad stopped in here earlier and searched the place, from top to bottom and back again, I figured you were in for some big trouble, and you might be stoppin' by later. You take good care of yourself, and drop me a line sometime and let me know where you end up, and that you are safe. I'm going to miss you, Son, but I know you have to get out while you can. You can't take the chance of him findin' you."

John was getting all choked up. Before he could move, Jacob grabbed him into a big warm loving hug. They didn't say anything else, as both of them were crying. Jacob released John and helped him back out the window. He stood there, looking out the window, and prayed softly, 'Watch out for him, Lord. He's a good kid, and he really needs a break, something good for a change. Thank you, Lord; I'd appreciate it.'

John headed to the bus station as quickly as he could, considering that he had to be very careful not to let Big Daddy, or his henchmen, see him. He stayed in the shadows and back alleys the whole way. He looked around carefully before entering the station, making sure none of Big Daddy's thugs were there, looking for him. In the rest room, he washed up as best he could in the sink, took out the change of clothes he had hidden with his money and threw away his old filthy clothes. Looking halfway decent, and not smelling like the inside of a dumpster, he bought a one way ticket on the next bus out of the city. He sighed in relief when the bus finally left the bright lights of the city and sped along the highway. John tried desperately to plan his next move, but he only managed to fall asleep.

He awoke to the bus driver shaking him, "Hey kid, wake up. End of the line. This is as far as we go. Hurry up; they want to clean the bus."

John grabbed his backpack and moved slowly off the bus. Another big city bus station. He carefully looked around, there was the usual crowd. He didn't see any pimps, but then, that could easily change at any moment. He headed first to the restroom to relieve himself. The floor was sticky, and the smell was terrible. He couldn't believe it. Even at this early hour, there were grunts and moans coming from the end stall, the one mandated for handicapped people. What a laugh that was. He finished his business and exited the place as fast as he could.

He watched the people behind the ticket counter and decided on the window where he figured the clerk was most likely to just sell him the ticket without a lot of questions or hassle. He took a schedule out of the rack, then looked over the destinations listed and found one that seemed promising. He was right about the clerk, and he had a ticket for a bus which was scheduled to leave in less than an hour, headed East. He figured the farther away he was from Big Daddy, the better off he would be. He went to the restaurant (that is using the term very loosely), and ordered scrambled eggs, link sausage, toast and coffee. The waitress looked at him kind of funny, but he had a twenty setting on the table, so she kept quiet. 'What the hell,' she thought, 'It's none of my business,' The food was, to him, wonderful, although most of us wouldn't have touched the greasy slimy mess.

He drank a second cup of what might have passed for coffee under some circumstances, left the twenty under his plate, and went out to sit on a bench to wait for his bus. When it was finally called, he quickly jumped up and was the first one to the door and to get onto the bus. He moved all the way to the back and settled himself in. He looked at the bus schedule and map he had picked up. He had to really search hard to find the town that was shown as the destination on his ticket. Well, that was just fine with him. Maybe he could get along without having to do that stuff anymore. As the bus left the city, he watched the countryside pass. It seemed to him they stopped at every little town they came to. Well, it was a local run, so they probably did. He had lots of chances to get off the bus and walk around. They stopped around lunch time, and the driver said they would be there for an hour, and there was a fast food place across the street, if anyone wanted lunch. John ate a good sized burger, fries and a large cola. He hadn't eaten this good in a long time. When the bus started again, a teenager about sixteen or so sat next to him. The boy was definitely putting the moves on John. Finally John had had enough, "Look, Fella, if you want to suck my dick it's twenty dollars, If you want me to suck yours, its fifty and to go all the way either direction, it's two hundred."

The guy stared at John in shock. "Shit, I only got fifteen."

"Sorry."

The teenager moved up a couple of rows to an empty set of seats and got off the bus two stops later. He seemed to be in quite a hurry.

After the teenager left, John remembered the small box that Jacob had given him. He opened the box and looked inside. There was a nice wallet, it had fifty dollars in it and a card with Jacob's address and phone number printed neatly. There was also a silver chain in the box and when he pulled it out there was a six pointed star on it. In the bottom of the box was a note.

John,

My father gave me this on my thirteenth birthday and told me that God would always be with me. He has. You are as close to a son as I will ever have, and I want you to have this, and it is my sincere hope that God will always be with you. Remember, you have family, if you ever want or need it.

Shalom,

Jacob

John cried quietly for a while then he put the Star Of David around his neck, under his shirt and the wallet in his pocket. Funny how Jacob would pay for doing it, and yet he never did, even when John brought the cute little white boy in; he only had him sweep the back room. He just always made sure John could have a safe place, even if it was just for a few hours. Family, who would have thought anybody would want him for family. Well, Jacob was Jacob, he was just crazy, and John loved him, and he knew he always would.

By nightfall, they had covered less than half the distance to the destination John had bought the ticket for. He had to switch buses several times, and this driver didn't stop everywhere unless a passenger was getting off or on.

About an hour after sunrise, the bus finally stopped in this little town. "We got a thirty minute stop, so if you want something to eat, this is the time and place." the driver announced, over the scratchy PA, as he stopped the bus and opened the door. John woke up, rubbed his eyes and looked out the window, well, the sun was up and they were in some hick town. He got off the bus and checked his ticket, and the town name; this was actually the end of the line for him. He hiked the backpack over his shoulder and walked down the quiet street. He was looking for a place to stake out as his turf. There weren't any signs of homeless folks or other street kids, or even street walkers. This really was a hick town. Well, not totally hick ... worse, the County Courthouse and what looked like a brand new modern Police Station and County Jail were just down the street.

One other thing struck him; he was the only black person in sight. After checking out a few possible places, he figured this was not the place he easily could disappear. He was turning to go back to the bus station and buy another bus ticket when the bus sped past him and on out-of-town. 'Shit,' he thought and looked around for someplace to go. There was a little diner across from the Courthouse. It was bright and cheery looking. He went in cautiously, looked around and then went to the booth as far back as he could go. He got out a twenty, so the waitress knew he could pay, like he always did, and when she came over with the menu, he ordered the 'Farmer's Breakfast' without really looking to see what it was, just 'cause it was the most expensive item on the Breakfast Menu. He also asked for coffee. Oddly, the waitress didn't bat an eye at an eight year old ordering coffee and brought him a mug with a little pitcher of cream, and there was sugar and sweetener on the table. He put a couple packets of sugar in the coffee, but no cream.

When his food arrived, he was surprised, A stack of three, big, thick hotcakes, two scrambled eggs, three sausage links, hash brown potatoes and onions and a small bowl of hot cinnamon apples. John was so busy putting away the food that he didn't notice the man move to his booth until he sat down across from him. John looked up and froze. All he saw was 'a big old COP'.

"Well, don't mind me, Son. Keep right on eatin'." He turned to the waitress and said, "The usual, Mary, and a refill for the lad, here."

John was still frozen. The hick cop was sitting right next to his pack, with all his money in it. He kept looking back and forth, from the pack back to the cop.

The cop noticed, of course, and picked up the backpack, "Something in here you don't want me to see?"

John figured he was screwed; at least he had the twenty he was going to pay for the food with and the fifty in the wallet Jacob gave him. He bolted, and was going to try to run for it. He didn't make it out of the booth. The sheriff's leg had extended across the booth and blocked him in.

"Now, son, calm down, I can't let you run off without finishing your breakfast. Go on, eat up, then we can have us a nice little talk."

John slowly continued eating. He was trying hard to figure out a story that the cop might believe, that would explain the twelve thousand dollars in cash in his pack. There just wasn't anything.

The cop sipped his black coffee, "You know, I've been wearin' a uniform for a good long time. If you're going to be any good at this at all, you get so you are able to read folks pretty good; you know what I see right now?"

John just stared at him, with the 'deer in the headlights' look of a trapped animal.

"I see a very scared young kid; you're running from something. I'm looking at a basically good kid, there just isn't that look in your eyes. Well, I don't know what you're runnin' from, but one thing is for sure, you have a chance here; trust me with the truth, and let me protect you, or don't trust me and I'll be forced to protect you against your will. You want to tell me what's in here that you don't want me to find?"

"Don't matter what I say, you ain't goin'a believe it."

"So? What you got to lose?"

"Oh right, the hick-town cop is going to believe the homeless Nigger boy; yeah, I almost believe that shit."

"Hey, watch your language."

At this point, Mary brought the cop's breakfast, a plate with two eggs, over easy, three slices of crispy bacon and two golden brown pieces of toast. "Anything else, Sheriff?"

"No Mary, this looks great. Just some more coffee for both of us."

John figured he was so busted. The cop was THE Sheriff, shit. He might as well just tell him and hurry things along. "Money," John mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, money. That's what's in the backpack. I been saving any extra tips I got, for the last three years of sucking dicks and getting' my ass plowed. Then Big Daddy, he's my pimp, figured I was holding out, so I grabbed my stash of cash and ran like I was bein' chased by the devil himself."

The Sheriff just kept eating, didn't react one way or another until he finished eating. "So, where you headed?"

"Just as far as I can, and be safe."

"Well, Son, you're here. Got anyplace to stay?"

"You crazy? How the f...heck am I goin'a have a place? I just got off the bus." John sulked.

"Well, how about if I find you a place?"

"In jail?"

"You done something to be arrested for, in the last hour?"

"No."

"So that means I can't 'run you in'." The sheriff smiled a genuinely friendly smile.

John just stared in disbelief. Was this guy for real? He was acting friendly and John really wanted to trust him, but he was 'The Man', and his experience was; cops were crooked.

Mary came back and topped off their mugs of coffee. The Sheriff handed her a nice crisp twenty, "Does that cover us?"

"Sure, Eric, I'll get your change." Mary smiled.

"Keep, it, Sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow." Mary left.

"Why you payin' for me?" John asked suspiciously.

"Jeez�, can't I even be nice?"

"Nobody's ever been nice to me."

The sheriff shrugged and finished his coffee. "You ready?" he asked.

John sighed and followed the Sheriff, who had calmly picked up his backpack, out of the diner and down the street towards... the jail. To his great surprise, they walked right past the jail and entered the bank. The sheriff walked right over to the New Accounts desk and spoke to the young man sitting there, "Good morning, Jason. I have a young man here that needs to open a savings account and a checking account."

"Sure thing, Sheriff Henry, The Haven Bank and Trust is at your service, as always."

Jason took the backpack and started sorting, then counting the cash. He then asked, "Well, now, what name is to go on the account?"

The Sheriff nudged John, "Ah, John."

"Last name?"

John didn't know his last name, he didn't know Jacob's, either... "Jacobs, John Jacobs."

The Sheriff grinned, thinking, {Yes, Darryl & TSL!} 'John Jacob Jingelheimer Schmitt...'

Okay, great, just one little problem. We can't open an account with just a minor, we need an adult." Jason looked at John, then at Sheriff Henry.

"How about we put my name on it, but require both of our signatures for withdrawals?" Eric suggested.

John thought for a minute, well at least that way the Sheriff couldn't steal his money, even if he couldn't get it himself. Well it was better than loosing it altogether, anyway.

"What kind of account do you want?" Jason asked John.

"Huh?"

"Well, you could put in a checking account and be able to write checks on it whenever you want. Or a savings account that earns interest, so the amount of money grows. There are even things to invest the money in, like CDs, but for now, I would suggest you put some in a checking account to use, and the rest in a savings account. You can come in anytime and move the money from the savings to checking."

John was surprised that he actually liked this guy, and even trusted him. "Okay, let's do that."

It wasn't long before they left the bank. John had the savings book and a checkbook, and he had kept a hundred dollars in cash. He followed the Sheriff back to the jail, but stopped outside. When the Sheriff realized John had stopped, he turned, "Hey, my office is in here. I'm not going to lock you up. I just need to get my keys. You can walk around the building, or follow me through and meet my deputies; that way they will know you're my friend and to not mess with you."

John figured he knew just what that meant, but doing things for the Sheriff and being left alone by the other cops was probably a good thing. Inside, there were two deputies; one was at the radio/911 center and the other was busy doing some paperwork. Sheriff Henry introduced the deputies, and John shook their hands, but didn't say anything.

When they went outside, Eric said, "You know, that was kind of rude. You could have said hello, or good morning, or something."

"Don't really matter. They ain't messing with me, right?" John asked.

Eric stopped dead in his tracks, turned and crouched down to be on John's eye level. "No, if they 'messed' with you, they would spend about twenty years in jail. I guess you don't believe it, but nobody is, especially me."

John's expression showed he didn't believe that for a second.

They got in the car and drove out of town.

"Where you takin' me?"

"Well, in order for you to check into the place I have in mind, we need to have you see a doctor."

"A doctor!?! I don't want to see no damned doctor!"

"You scared?"

"I ain't ascaret of nut'in'!"

Soon the Sheriff pulled up to the gate of some really fancy place. "Hey 'Philip', open the gate, please, I have someone to see the Doc."

The gate swung open and a voice said, 'Good morning, Sheriff. Dr. Turnman has not returned from his rounds at the hospital, but he should be returning soon. Do I need to notify him of an emergency here?'

"No, no problem. We'll be right up."

John's eyes were about popping out of his head as they drove up to the front of Haven Manor. He had never seen a place anything like this. It was huge, with fancy steps and those stone lions on either side were kind of scary. Then the front door opened, and a bunch of kids came rushing out and down the steps. The sheriff got out of the car and was surrounded by the kids.

"Hey, Uncle Eric."

"Why are you here today?"

"Who's the kid?"

Meanwhile, a small black haired boy approached the passenger side. He looked at John with his eyes wide, "Hi, I'm Moe, who are you?"

"What's with you? Ain't you never seen a Nigger before?" John lashed out at Moe, for no reason except fear of the unknown.

"Is that what you are? I'm a Muslim."

David stepped up behind Moe, "I didn't think you were supposed to call anybody a Nigger, it's like faggot. Isn't that right, Uncle Eric?"

"Yes it is, David. I'm proud of you for knowing that," the Sheriff said.

Moe returned his gaze to the boy in the car, "So, what is your name?"

"Uh...John."

"Hi John, come on, let's go play, until Daddy Doc gets home. How about tag?"

"I don't know how to play," John admitted, as he bowed his head down.

"It's easy! Come on, David and I will show you." Moe grabbed the door handle and opened it, dragging John behind him.

Tom Richards joined the group, and he and Sheriff Henry watched as Moe and David taught John the rules for tag. Soon the three were chasing each other around, laughing and basically having a wonderful time.

Suddenly, John screamed and backed up into the bushes. Everyone turned to see what the problem was. A Jack Russel Terrier was approaching, and John was terrified.

Monty came and picked up Jack. "He just wants to say, 'Hi.' He won't hurt you, honest."

"No, no, keep it away, it'll bite me!" John was almost hysterical.

Tom walked over to John. "I promise you he won't bite. Can you just let him sniff your hand? That's how dogs get to know you."

John slowly held up his trembling hand, as Monty brought Jack closer. Jack sniffed the small black hand, then licked it.

In amazement, John whispered, "That tickles."

"Here, you can pet him," Monty said. John slowly lifted his hand and touched Jack's side.

John softly stroked Jack's fur. Jack held still and enjoyed the attention. Soon John was really petting Jack and Jack was leaning into the petting. Jack was in heaven. His tail was flipping back and forth like it was powered by those energizer batteries. Monty set Jack down, and he came closer so John could keep petting him.

Sheriff Henry walked over to Tom and said, "Well, that confirms it. I was pretty darn sure before, but now I know for sure, John is okay. Jack is an excellent judge of character."

Before Tom could make a wise crack about Neal, Dr. Leo Turnman arrived. "So Sheriff, what brings you out here, this fine morning?"

"My Police Car." The old joke was still funny and the boys all laughed. "Actually, I brought you a patient. He needs a physical, STD panel, and all his vaccinations, As far as I can tell, he's never seen a doctor before."

"Lucky kid." Dr. Turnman looked over and saw the black kid staring at him. "Okay, which one of you has never seen a doctor?"

"Daddy Doc, you're crazy!" one of the boys called out.

John tried to make himself invisible, of course, he failed miserably, kind of like a raisin in a bowl of rice.

Neal stepped up and gently put his hand on John's shoulder. "He's not like a regular doctor, he's our second Dad, and he's really a good guy. Want me to hang with you?"

John nodded, then let Neal guide him into the mansion, down the hall and into the doc's exam room. The walls were painted with cartoon characters with a certain gray rabbit holding a carrot and asking 'What's up, Doc?'

Soon the basic exam was done, and Neal explained what was going on, and even turned his back when Daddy Doc had to do the 'personal' part of the exam. Then the worst part; the blood tests. Dr. Turnman went to the small refrigerator and got Neal and John each a soda. He was explaining to John what he was going to do, and, when John took a drink, Doc did the deed, so to speak, and John didn't even notice. Soon the four vials of blood were drawn and then it was vaccination time. Neal had helped with this before, and knew he needed to distract John for each shot. He fell off his seat, fell to the floor, knocked over a metal tray and then made a goofy face at John.

"Okay, we're all done." Daddy Doc said, opening up the door.

"I thought I had to get shots." John said.

"You, got them. Two in the right arm and two in the left. Neal was helping me, by distracting you, so you didn't even notice. Kewl, huh? Besides, us Jews got to stick together." Daddy doc said.

"Wow, that wasn't so bad. If I ever need a doctor, can I get you?"

"Sure. Here is my card. Just tell them you are my patient, and they will call me."

John looked at the card and then carefully took out his wallet and put it in one of the slots. This was, by far, the weirdest day he had ever had. The thought crossed his mind that he was really still asleep on the bus right now, but this stuff was just too weird to be a dream. Why would the Doc think he was a Jew? He was black as the ace of spades, and his dick wasn't cut like Jacob's ... Weird, very weird.

When they left the exam room, they met the Sheriff coming down the hall. "Hey, John, we've been asked to stay for lunch, interested?"

Neal said, "Kewl, I think it's hot dogs today. Come on John, let's see how many you can eat." The two boys disappeared down the hall.

Dr. Turnman said to the Sheriff, "This kid is in worse shape than Jimmy was. He's heavily scarred in the back and shows signs of at least two STDs. Here are the prescriptions he needs, until the tests are done. He's up to date on all his shots now, and needs a booster series in three months. I want to re-examine him then, anyway, and see if surgery on his rectum will be necessary. He's been pretty roughly used, much worse than Jimmy was. He is wearing a Star Of David, yet has not been circumcised and seemed confused when I said we Jews had to stick together."

"Thanks Doc. This little guy has some huge problems. He's running for his life, and still doesn't realize he's safe now. I hope John and Becky can handle another one," the Sheriff said, shaking his head.

"Well, if they can't handle him, bring him back here, and we'll give him to Neal." Doc Turnman said.

"Hey, I've taken a liking to the kid!" Both men laughed at the Sheriff's remark.

John was amazed at lunch. There was food, a lot of food, more food than he had ever seen in one place. Each boy had taken a plate and took whatever he wanted. John watched, then took a plate and went through the line. Two hot dogs, baked beans, some whitish lumpy stuff (potato salad) and chips. (Not exactly a balanced meal, but this was Saturday, 'boy food' day at Haven.)

When his plate was full, Neal called to him and had a seat saved at the long table. John sat down and picked up a hot dog. Neal touched his hand, "Wait, Grace."

"Huh? Who?"

Moe, the little Muslim boy, stood, "Allah be praised, we thank Him for our bounty and our family, oh, and for John too." Then Moe sat down and everyone began eating.

John was shocked, he had never heard a prayer before and the little guy thanked God for him.

"Earth to John, Earth to John? Hello?" Neal said.

"Huh?"

"You can eat now."

"Oh, thanks." John proceeded to clean his plate. He liked the potato salad and asked Neal what it was. Neal told him and said, "Go back and get some more, if you want." He wanted, and even went back for thirds, and another hot dog, and no one complained or even commented.

After they were finished eating, the Sheriff and John left. "Where we goin'?" John asked.

"We are headed to the local head of Child Protective Services." The Sheriff said.

"Shiiiit, I should have knowed." John tried the door, but it was locked.

"Hey, relax. I haven't done anything bad to you yet, have I?"

John looked at the Sheriff, "I don' know what game you be playin'."

"It's not a game, John. I know you are having a hard time believing it, but we are helping you. Give us a chance, like we are giving you. Besides, what have you got to lose?"

"My money."

"Ah," The Sheriff pulled over, snapped John's Check book out of his hand and signed a check, then handed it back. "There, now you can get the money. I'm sorry, I didn't even think about that."

He pulled back out on the road and, after a few silent miles, turned into a driveway to a big three story house that looked brand new. As the Sheriff turned off the engine, John said, "I don't understand."

The tremor in his voice got Eric's sympathy, "I know you don't, Son. Some day, you might trust one of us enough to let us know what is going on, but until then, we just want to help and protect you. You should have a chance to be a kid... and grow up."

"But you don't know what I's done..."

"No, but I have a pretty good idea. You aren't the only one around here that has had a bad time. Almost all those kids you ate lunch with, for example," the Sheriff said.

"Yeah, sure."

Eric turned to face the boy sitting next to him, "Yeah. You know that kid that went with you and the Doc? Well, he was gang raped repeatedly and nearly died. The kid that was sitting next to him? He lived for a year and a half, selling himself for food and rides, to truckers. One of the twins that live here was a sex slave for a couple of years. So I don't know exactly what you have done, and if you want to talk, I'll listen, but it isn't going to change how any of us feel about you one little bit. Now there is only one thing this cop likes more than a nice fresh lemon creme donut, and that is one of Aunt Martha's chocolate chip cookies, and I think I smell them."

John just opened his door, which apparently was now unlocked, but he didn't even think about that. All of this today has been like a weird dream, a very weird dream. He hoped he remembered some of it when he woke up on the bus. He followed the Sheriff to the front door. A middle aged lady opened the door; she was wearing an apron and had a warm friendly smile. "Hello, Eric!" She gave the sheriff a big hug. "Who's your deputy?"

"That's John. He's new in the area, and I'm showing him around. Is Linda home?"

"She's around here somewhere, I'm sure. You two come on in, and I think I can find a cookie or two, if the fearsome foursome haven't found them yet." Martha led them to the kitchen. John looked around the kitchen and was confused; there were two of everything, on one side, what looked like a normal kitchen, then the other side had a restaurant Kitchen. Martha explained, "This is my kitchen over on this side, and that is my husband's. He is a trained chef, quite a good one, I might add, and he doesn't do things half way. Our demented architect did us a double kitchen so we can both work comfortably and not get in each other's way. Here, I just finished these." Martha placed a plate with five nice warm chocolate chip cookies on it and a tall glass of ice cold milk in front of John.

Eric reached for a cookie and Martha smacked his hand with her spatula, "Stop that! Those are his. You know better than that. Go talk to Linda, and if you're really good, I'll save you one."

"One? I'll be good, I promise." The sheriff pleaded.

"We'll see. Go."

Eric left to go see Linda.

He hadn't been gone long when John became aware of a presence next to him. He looked and there was a big dog standing right next to him, looking up at him. He started to move and felt something against his leg and looked to the other side. There was another, smaller, brown dog, also looking up at him. He froze and began to shake with terror.

"Max! Ginger! Leave John alone." Martha commanded.

Both dogs whined and moved back a couple feet and sat still, watching John.

"They goin'a bite me?"

"No, they only bite bad people. They just want a cookie and to be petted. They like you, see them wagging their tails?"

John slowly turned and, sure enough, both Max and Ginger were wagging their tails. Ginger made eye contact and John froze. Ginger's eyes seemed to change into a starfield and John felt that he was safe and loved, two feelings he was certainly not used to. Then the feeling passed, and he was just looking at a very friendly dog. Somehow he wasn't afraid of these dogs anymore. Ginger came up to him and he held out his hand the way he did at Haven, and she sniffed it, then licked it. John slowly moved his hand and petted her. Then Max moved forward and repeated the process. Suddenly there was the sound of running feet.

Martha yelled, "NO RUNNING OR NO COOKIES!"

Four boys came to a dead stop at the doorway, three on foot and one in a wheelchair. The oldest, who looked to John to be in his late teens, said, "Sorry Aunt Martha, but they smell so good. And I didn't want those three to beat me here and eat them all."

"AAAnnnnddddyyyyy, we would have left you one." The twins said in unison.

"Yeah, one." Andy replied.

John picked up his second cookie and giggled. That got the attention of the boys. John shrank back, as the bigger boys looked at him.

One of the twins approached him, "Hi, I'm Mitch."

"Ah, hi." John said, nervously. This kid sure acted friendly, what was his angle.

The other twin pushed the wheelchair over, "Hi, I'm Travis and this little guy is Lou and the big dufass over there is Andy."

John looked back and forth, "Hi, I'm John."

"Hi, John, nice to meet you." Andy said from the other side of the island as he snatched a cookie before Mitch and Travis got theirs.

"Ooohn, cok cok yum." Lou said, reaching his good hand for the plate that Travis was holding for him.

"Yes, they are very good," John said, looking at Lou.

Lou smiled and giggled.

"Wow, you understood him. You're good, John," Mitch said.

Before John could ask anything, Sheriff Henry returned. "Hi boys, can I borrow John."

John managed to get his last cookie in his mouth as he got up to follow the Sheriff. When they were gone, Mitch said, "He has been through Hell, but his soul is still good. I know Mom will help him."

Travis said, "He is full of distrust."

"He has been taught by his life, so far, not to trust anyone except himself." Mitch remarked, snatching the last cookie before Andy got it. He broke it in half and gave half to Lou. "I seem to remember when you were like him, not trusting anyone older than me."

Travis shrugged, "I knew you weren't going to hurt me. I could see your thoughts."

Martha watched from across the kitchen and smiled. There were two cookie sheets in the oven, but with any luck, those would be for dessert.

This was not at all what John was expecting. It was not in any way like the Government office with the gray metal desk, uncomfortable chairs and ugly green walls. This was like a fancy-ass office. There was a big wooden desk that nearly glowed and a sofa that a pretty lady was sitting on and several chairs that looked really comfortable too.

The woman stood up when he and the Sheriff came in. "Hi, John. I'm Mrs. Harris, the head of Child Protective Services."

John just nodded. As Linda had requested, Eric said, "Okay, I'm going to go get my share of cookies."

"You dumping me?"

"No, John, I'm going to get a cookie. I'm not going to leave you here. I wouldn't want those four to corrupt you." Eric laughed, then left and closed the door behind him.

Linda indicated a chair for John to sit in. "So, the sheriff tells me you need a place to stay. There is a place not far from here, called The Phoenix House that has a bunch of boys living there, and it's really nice. It is the only place I have open on a weekend. I think you would like it there, and if not, we will look for someplace else for you, on Monday. Will that be okay?"

John stared at her for a few seconds, "You mean I's get ta say where I go?"

Linda softened her voice, "Of course you do, sweetheart. It is a big decision, and it certainly affects you, so of course you have a say. After all, if we don't want you running away, we'd better make sure you like the place you are staying in."

"I guess I can try it... 'til Monday." John agreed, hesitantly.

"That will be fine. Here is a card with my name and phone numbers on it. If anything goes wrong, just call me, please, and don't worry, you can call any time, and one way or another, I will be around." Linda handed him her card. She watched as he took out his wallet and placed the card in it. She then began asking John questions, so she could get the paperwork done to officially place John in the Phoenix House.

When she was done, she said, "There are more than forty boys there."

"A group home, huh." The way John said it made it a statement.

"Not like you are thinking. All the boys there were originally in a group home, run by monsters, and they have been saved. I think you will be surprised at just how kid friendly it is. Actually, it is run by kids. You met the twins downstairs? They are, together, half owners of the place and they, and Neal and Brian Richards, make sure everything there is run correctly."

"Neal? I met him, and Brian too. Lady, this has been one weird f... oops, weird day." John shook his head in wonder. That greasy food must have gone bad and made him have really weird dreams. No one would believe a CPS case worker actually cared about a kid, much less a smelly little nigger like him.

Linda checked through the papers one last time. "So, there will be a whole bunch of things happening when you get to this place. I think I have some clothes that will fit you if you would like, you can have a shower and get into clean clothes before you go over there."

Linda turned to her computer, "'Philip', make yourself useful and tell Andy to come in here, please."

The computer screen changed and John was startled to see a grumpy old man's face fill the screen, 'Harrumph! Honestly, you'd think I was a slave or something! 'Philip' do this, 'Philip' do that, 'Philip' fetch Andy...

"I did say 'please', you old windbag."

'Windbag!?!'

"Oh, can it, nanobrain."

"Mom? 'Philip' said you needed me."

"Yes Andy. Could you please take John and get him some clean clothes and shoes and then get him a shower?"

"Sure thing, Mom. Come on John, let's get you done."

John slowly got up. So, now the payment came.

Andy led the way to a room filled with shelves of clothes. "Mom keeps these here because a lot of the kids she helps need new clothes. What's your favorite color?"

After getting new jeans, T-shirt underwear socks and running shoes, Andy showed John the bathroom and got him a new toothbrush and started to leave.

"Ain't you goin'a..."

Andy turned to face John and knelt down to be on a level with him. "No John, believe me, that isn't a part of the price for this, I promise."

"What the fuck is the price? Ever since I got off that bus, nothing is right, it's all fucked, shit. I just a worthless little nigger, and all yuse been treat'n me like I mattered, or somf'n!" John had tears of frustration pouring down his cheeks.

Andy moved forward and hugged John to him. "Well, John, that's just it. You DO matter. Mom really cares. I care, too. I know the guys where you will be. If you've got a problem, you can talk to someone. If you don't want to talk to an adult, try one of the Squad Leaders, or for that matter, any of the other guys. If you want, I'll drive over there, anytime. All you have to do is call and ask."

John was overwhelmed. This guy was hugging him and wasn't trying to get his clothes off. He was offering... what? Help? Friendship? John pulled back, and Andy released him.

Andy smiled and said, "You go get that shower now, and if you don't want those old clothes any more, then just trash them. Monday, they will take you shopping and get you a whole new set of clothes and all the other stuff you will need. I'll go get you another set of underwear and T-shirt for tomorrow." Andy grinned and left John alone in the bathroom.

John enjoyed the first non work related shower he could remember. After washing his hair three times and washing himself twice, he felt really clean, and he was amazed at the soft fluffy towel Andy had left for him. He put on the new clothes. These were really nice, he never found clothes this good in the trash. He cleaned out the pockets of the old clothes and put his wallet in the back pocket, the change he had into the front pocket of his pants, and the checkbook and savings book in one of the big pockets on his leg. He considered the old clothes for only a few seconds, and then balled them up and stuffed them into the trash.

Andy was waiting in the hall for him and led him back to the kitchen. The Sheriff was there, drinking a cup of coffee, and Aunt Martha, Mrs. Harris and another man were talking. Sheriff Henry said, "John, this is Mr. Regnad. He is Aunt Martha's husband, and someone you can trust to help if you need it. He's a private detective, and unlike Sergeant Bradshaw, the guy he used to have run-ins with in L.A., I trust his judgment completely. He will never steer you wrong."

"Hey there, John. I'm glad to meet you." Nick held out his hand.

John flinched at first, because he thought he was going to be hit. When the blow didn't come, he slowly extended his hand. The man's hand was warm and his grip was firm and gentle. "Ah, hi, Sir."

"Nope, sorry, Son, we'll have none of that 'Sir' stuff. I'm Uncle Nick. You need any help, I'm your man. No case too small. I also make a wonderful assortment of cookies and other pastries."

"Nicholas!"

"Well, of course mine are not as good as Martha's, but hey, if you don't compare them to hers, they're pretty darn good, if I do say so myself. Of course, I make a damn good Pizza too, no anchovies. I spell My middle name, DANGER. Would you like a pickle?" Everyone laughed. John just looked around, his head was swimming, with all that was happening around him.

Finally, Sheriff Henry said it was time to go. Mrs. Harris said she would call and let The Phoenix house people know they were on their way.

In the Sheriff's car and on the road, Eric asked, "You doing okay?"

"No. I really don't understand. I know I'm dreamin' but it's just too weird."

"You're not dreaming, I promise. All of this is quite real. You have just run into a bunch of good people who really do care about you. I know that is weird and not at all what you have ever experienced before, but we really do care. Just try and relax, and time will take care of a lot of this for you. Remember, if you need me, just call."

"I don't have your number."

"To quote Neal, 'Jeez�.' Just dial 911, tell the Deputy that answers who you are and to get the sheriff; you will get me."

"Okay."

"Here we are. Get ready for the Horrible Herd. Let's have some fun, flip that red switch."

John jumped when the siren came on. They turned off the road at another huge beautiful mansion and drove around back. As they stopped, boys poured out of the place. There were little guys that looked like they were maybe four or five, all the way up to teenagers. Then some adults followed, two guys in wheelchairs, an old dude that looked for all the world like Santa Clause, then a guy that reminded John of a Drill Sergeant, there were some women and girls, too.

John got out of the car looking at all the boys' faces. There were some other blacks there and they were just mixed in with the rest, and not off to themselves. Then he saw... There was a scream from one of the boys, and John fell to the ground.

Author's Notes:

"Dramatic Pause!" I say. Would I end a chapter in a Cliff Hanger? [TSL heard growling in the background, or is that 'Goos'.] {Both} Okay, so I would.

Now there are a few threads that are loose ends, and need to be tied down. There is a character in a great deal of trouble and that needs help desperately, can you figure who? [Hush, Darryl. You too, Arli.] It's not John, or Neal. Tune in next time to hear John say, "How the Fuck!" and Sheriff Henry say, "I'd rather not have you arrested, but if that's what it takes..."

Let me hear from you.

Str8mayb

Editor's Notes:

My goodness, just when I figured that John was going to have things turn out cool, something happened. I wonder what that is all about. I think maybe he was just finally overwhelmed. Maybe it was just too much for him to take. Or maybe, he got shot in the stomach and is lying on the ground with a dark red stain on his shirt. Somebody had better check to see if Shorty is holding a gun. Oh wait, that was already done. Never mind.

I suspect that Arli has already figured out what is happening. He does that, sometimes. In fact, as often as not, when he figures it out, it turns out he was absolutely right, even if it wasn't originally going to happen that way. Don't let him fool you, he is psychic, or is that psychotic? In either case, he knows how to keep his mouth shut and not tell what will happen, even though he already knows. I think Neal tells him stuff sometimes. Sometimes TSL figures stuff out too. The funny part is that we often don't give him as many clues as we do Arli, Sometimes TSL's scenarios are really good too. He has a lot of comma sense, period. To quote Neal, "Jeez�!" Is that a good enough exclamation? Do you get the point? That is the question; mark my words. Care for a tall glass of cola'n? Sorry about that or at least semi sorry. Hyphen idea, let's dash to the next chapter. I just want to underscore the fact that I can pun-k-chew-eight a sentence.

P.S. The following notes are just now being written as of 11 May, 2009. This particular chapter has been waiting in the wings for quite some time, but it couldn't be released any earlier, due to some complications; just know that we have had a lot of flack from certain people to get this chapter out there, and now things have come together to let that happen. Did you notice that the end of this chapter and the end of chapter 19 happen to be at the exact same time, but from different points of view?

There are some more surprises as well to be released soon. These are things that had to happen, before we can start Book Three of Haven. Don't worry, everything will eventually make sense. I think that will occur sometime around the year 2525, if man is still alive.

P.P.S. This last little bit of wordplay was just something I did so that the total word count would be more than 9000 words. Deal with it.

Alright, Associate Editor and 'Goos', have at it, and see how many of my commas you have to remove to make it make sense.

Darryl AKA The Radio Rancher

Associate Editor's Notes:

I hardly know what to say after all that! But this is why they pay me the big bucks! (And you thought I just did this for fun, Darryl? I know where the body's buried!)

Poor John! What a life that poor child has led! And now his whole life has changed; he must think that Big Daddy's gang killed him, and he's in heaven! Well, like Grasshopper's "single starfish," (courtesy of IOMFATS, a wonderful site, if you haven't discovered it yet!), the gang at Haven and Phoenix House are rescuing lost and hurt kids, one at a time! Maybe if more of us followed their example, there would be a lot less kids falling through the cracks of our society.

But trust our Evil Author to leave us hanging by our fingertips from a crumbling cliff! C'mon, get a new chapter to us!

Aloysius Abercrombie

'Goos's' Flames [Just' deal with it]( Is this an elexiian year?): TSL has asked me to say thanks to the Evil Author finally posting two years of mental torture. TSL says he fell in love with John and then the Evil Author decided to torture him by keeping the chapter in a dark closet for a long, long time. {Two years, three months, twenty-one days to be exact.}

I like John he is a nice guy but Uncle Str8mayb is mean by making so many nice things happen to him all at once. I hope John enjoys The Phoenix House a lot they be nice boys or I have read. Now we just have to wait to wait for the evilest of authors to write Chapter Twenty-One.

Til we fly again,

'Goos'