Chapter 10

As soon as he awoke Miles smelled the sheets and pillow trying to find a lingering trace of Logan's scent and to recall the sweet thrill he had felt due to the boy's presence during a large part of the night. He was also content because for once he had resisted his urges. Well, that was partially true, but still, he felt good that he had stopped in time.

With such a bright morning, it was difficult to think of what was going on in the world. The morning ritual that Miles Dunn had settled into began with a look at his emails. It was striking that there were noticeably less of them as the days went by. Next, it was more patients to escort to the gymnasium, which was looking more and more like a hospital now. More beds were filled; there were now eighteen total. Among the new flu victims was Ted Ackerton, one of the faculty who was going to the other side of the mirror, he was now experiencing the situation from the infected side and did not like it one bit; for now, he was responsible and behaved courageously, but would it last? He knew more about his fate than any of the others did in his situation. There was also little Tommy Seal, the bespectacled ten year old from Miles' first shower duty. Tommy was the one nicknamed "Crybaby" by his peers and lived up to his moniker by crying all the way to his new cot.

There was no room for improvisation now. Ten teachers and prefects had been assigned to tend to and watch the infected on a voluntary basis. Miles was quite appreciative of them. He could not see himself spending his days or nights there, taking care of people condemned to death. There were more and more cases each day now, as if there was an acceleration after a rather slow start. Was there some truth in the fact that contact with the active virus triggered more sickness? It would mean that the quarantine had some sense after all, and that the use of gloves and masks was a necessity.

Four of the first patients were in bad shape; there was no hope of a recovery for them. Stricter measures would have to be taken. They would have to be strapped to their beds and watched closely. All of that would have to take place away from the prying eyes of the other patients.

On the bright side, Ke was feeling better, and one other boy, a fifteen year old, had seen his fever go. Was it the start of a pattern? Had those boys won the battle against the virus? If it was true, was it possible that some of the adults might pull through as well? That would be very good news indeed, but he feared they were merely suffering from some other banal flu from which anyone would recover and they had no means to tell the difference.

He would have to remind Shirley to call one of the numbers provided by Senator Forest, or better yet, do it himself. That information was crucial; it could change a lot of things. There could be hope to seeing the end to this nightmare.

They still had not heard anything from the Senator himself and even his son had not been able to reach him. They had to know what was going on. He had found no trace of any recoveries in Perry's files, was the Shanxi flu losing its virulence? Had a new mutation occurred?

There was also a new, more immediate worry. Due to the lack of personnel, and for security measures, many of the US nuclear plants were in the process of being shut down. It was certainly related to the melt down that had taken place in China. As a consequence, the order to reduce energy consumption all over the country had been issued by the top government officials. Air conditioning was prohibited and all unused electronic devices had to be unplugged. The risk of a black out was rising. That, plus the panic that seemed to seize the police and National Guard meant that the situation was getting out of hand and that chaos was hiding just around the corner. As isolated as they were at St. Xavier, they had no clear idea of what was going on outside their walls. Miles began to wonder how reliable the news was. The few emails he still got from his contacts in the army were much more pessimistic. It looked bad all over.

As he went out into the warm sunlight, Miles felt relieved to leave his room. The weather was still hot and dry; it showed in the browning lawn and dried foliage. It was just one more problem to add to the list. Abram had told him of the widespread fires of 2016, and Miles was not sure the authorities could effectively face such an event anymore.

***

Burt Algood was on the phone, feeling like a lion in a cage.

Ethan was either watching a movie or listening to music, as he was prone to do, in the spare bedroom. The boy had been living with him for three, maybe four days now. The days seemed to blur together and Burt had lost track. The boy's mother, who lived a few blocks down the street, had fallen ill and had asked that he take care of the kid until she could come back. Of course, she was not going to; Burt had had a thing going with her for a time and rather liked her kid, so he could not refuse. She had left Ethan on his porch on her way to the hospital just one day before the quarantine was declared. There had been no news since.

It had been easy going with the kid so far, but he didn't know him that much. The boy kept to his room mostly, moody and worried about his mother, for sure. Burt wasn't used to taking care of twelve year olds, but that was the least of his worries.

He needed a fix. He needed it now. He was an addict and he knew it. His whole life was about sex. He had an average of three good fucks per day with different partners, and more on weekends. That was his main occupation when not at work. Well, at work too, in fact. It was already a challenge in normal times to reach his goal. Now, it was a nightmare. In fact, he had not fucked anything but his five fingered friend for two days now.

He was an addict with talent though, a true womanizer. He wasn't Brad Pitt, but he had charm and knew how to use it. He was thoroughly obsessed with sex. He had an imposing address book and there were few of the available women around him that, at one time or another, he did not get in a bed with or some less convenient place to satisfy his needs. He liked them young but wasn't too picky and never turned down an opportunity.

The quarantine was a problem, but not the only one. Quite a few of his booty calls went without an answer. He had to find some chick available that was not too far away, or was willing to meet him halfway. It had worked two days ago with Helena; she was a waitress that lived in a condominium six miles away. They had decided to meet at the bar where she worked on 8th Street North, which she had the keys to. She was the rebellious type, with tattoos and piercings everywhere. One did not tell her what to do and she did not care whether there was a quarantine or not. When he said he had some weed to share, she was even more enthusiastic and jumped in her car right away. They had spent the whole afternoon smoking and fucking. He would have stayed the night too, if he did not have the kid to look after.

There were now rumors that people were being attacked on the streets by those sick dudes, that or shot on sight by the police or National Guard. Going out or taking his car wasn't safe, but he had to try. Masturbation and porn weren't doing the trick anymore and the kid seemed to have noticed something odd, asking about what he was doing. He should not have accepted to take him in.

"Ethan, I'm going out for a couple hours," he told the boy after knocking on his door.

There was no answer. He knocked again and after getting no reply, he opened the door. The room was empty, the window open. Damn kid! He was gone!

Burt saw Ethan had apparently left most of the stuff he had brought with him. He would be back. Should he go and search for him? The kid had a phone but Burt didn't know the number, had never thought of asking for it. How stupid of him! He had no time to worry about it now or he would miss his rendezvous with Charlene. He needed his fix. The kid would find his way back. Without a doubt, Ethan was smart. If he wasn't back by the time Burt returned home, he would look around the neighborhood for the kid. Burt decided to take his bike this time since it was more discreet. It was a five-minute ride to her house and he would watch out for the boy on the way, he told himself as an excuse.

Where did the kid go? He had no idea.

He took his bike out of the garage and also picked up a baseball bat; he could never be too cautious these days. A group of soldiers had gone through the neighborhood on Tuesday morning, delivering water and food while registering the occupied houses and the number of people in each one. They had warned the residents that there had been a few local feral sightings and that they had been told of many attacks or seen the signs and the bodies. They had warned everyone to stay inside and lock their windows and doors. All those that were currently sick had to be isolated, white crosses were drawn on their doors, and buses would come and pick them up. That statement had stayed unheeded so far, no one had showed up, no army or police, no medical personnel or buses went thought their street since. Burt could hear shouts and yelling from time to time, even gunshots.

Burt went outside, and it was so hot that he could see the haze rising from the asphalt.

It was eerie riding the bicycle in the empty streets. The wheels turning were the only noise that could be heard. It was a residential area and rather quiet, but there were always signs of life. Not anymore, it was like those movies were the world was empty with all humanity gone. I should go back, he thought again and again, I should go and look for Ethan, but his needs were too strong. Nothing was worse than that gnawing craving in the pit of his stomach. His compulsion was stronger than his fear.

He was getting close when he heard the sound of a motor. It belonged to a helicopter that was going west and flying quite low, probably checking the area. He never thought of hiding; only when he saw the flash and a bullet hit the ground two feet to his right did he realize the situation. He let go of his bike and plunged into a copse of trees a few paces away as the sound of a few more bullets ricocheted off the pavement where he had just been. The helicopter circled the area for a few more minutes, and then was gone.

Burt watched the sky and the street, not daring to leave the safety of his hideout for some time. Not sure yet if he should go back or continue, he was about to pick up his bike from where it had fallen when he saw her.

She was gorgeous, wearing sports attire: shorts and a tee shirt that clung to her generous form in a striking way. Her legs looked strong and perfectly smooth, her long auburn hair waving in the slight breeze and obscuring part of her face. He could see her profile with its chiseled features and tanned skin. He was erect in an instant.

What was she doing there in the middle of the street? Joggers were long gone. After checking the sky to make sure the helicopter was gone, he was about to call to her when she turned around, her empty gaze falling on him. That's when he saw the knife she was holding in her left hand, as well as the suspicious stains on her clothes and skin. There was a rictus forming on her face followed by a deep growl, and then she was sprinting towards him with the powerful legs he had just been admiring.

He had lost his bat when he ditched his bike for cover and he was in no shape to outrun her. He raised his bike, mounted it, and after missing the pedal twice in his panic, he finally started moving, ready to feel the knife enter his back at any moment. He didn't dare turn around to see what distance was left between them; he was gaining speed, but would it be enough?

He was giving it all he had, pushing on the pedals with the energy of despair. The street was straight, lined with houses on both sides. Should he yell for help? He didn't dare turn around to see if she was still there.

But, damn I got to know. He shot a glance back and there she was, still running, but with a limp. This had probably saved his life and given him the time to gain enough speed. She wasn't catching up, but she wasn't losing any ground, either. He was only about a mile from his house; he would have to turn onto Third Street and try not to fall.

It was hot and he was drenched with sweat. He hoped he would make it. Yes, he had managed the turn without having an accident. He was getting close. Did I lock the door? He wasn't sure, he could not think clearly. No, of course not, thanks to Ethan. One more turn and he would almost be home free.

That's when he heard the helicopter engine again. Unfortunately, he was in the middle of the street in plain sight. He veered to the right and rode onto the sidewalk, hoping the trees that lined the street would conceal him. He could not stop and hide again this time.

He pumped the pedals as hard as he could and saw the house directly ahead of him, one hundred feet, and closing.

He heard the shots this time, and out of reflex, he threw himself to the ground. He would not make it; those guys should be here to help him, not kill him! The world had gone crazy.

He turned his head and looked back toward his pursuer ready to fight for his life.

There was no one in sight, and the sound of the engine was slowly fading away. They must have thought they had hit him. Wheezing from the exertion, he raised himself a bit and rested his back against the tree that he had used to hide himself.

Perhaps ten feet away, he saw the corpse of his sexy pursuer lying on the ground, a pool of blood forming around her midsection. She wasn't moving but he kept staring at her, not daring to have her out of his sight. The street was silent again as if nothing had happened. None of his neighbors had shown up to see what was going on, perhaps they were not there, perhaps they were dead. Perhaps they did not care. He knew only a few of them, those who could offer an opportunity to satisfy his obsession mostly. He had no time for the others.

He had finally caught his breath. He could not stay like that all day, he had to move.

"Mister Algood, are you alright?"

He jumped at the sound of the voice behind him. He turned around and found Ethan standing a few feet away, accompanied by two other boys and a little girl.

"Yeah, I'm all good. Where did you go? I told you not to leave the house," and nodding towards Ethan's little friends, added, "who are they?"

"Neighbors I found hiding in a garage," answered the boy. "We saw what happened, you shouldn't ride in the middle of the road, it's dangerous. You gotta use as much cover as you can, and you need a weapon or something to defend yourself with."

"What are you talking about, Ethan? How could you know all that?" He saw that each boy was holding a weapon of sorts, a club, a knife, and a hammer. One of the boys had two. "We'll talk in the house, better not stay out here; come on."

"Do we leave her like that, in the middle of the road?" asked the little girl pointing at the body lying under the hot summer sun.

"Yes, let's get you in a safe place first. We will see about her later."

***

Sergeant Glenn O'Malley was watching the ground intently. They were pulling out. The ground units had already left those streets. It seemed they were losing that battle. They were leaving and concentrating their efforts in the more populated areas, the major cities. He knew a significant number of the troops had already been lost to the flu, they were sick or worse, and quite a few had deserted. Then there had been some other casualties because of the enraged, but that wasn't the only reason. There had been riots and shootouts with looters. Large parts of their forces were occupied taking care of the sick: a lost cause and totally useless.

It looked bad and was becoming worse every day. Only five days after the quarantine and he did not think that they could hold on much longer the way things were going. He didn't see how it could change, either.

Yes, the end of the world was coming fast, but he would do his job to the best of his abilities. He knew the others in the helo wanted to call it quits and head back to base, but he would not let them do that. They had thirty more minutes of fuel left, enough time to take out a few more of the deranged bastards. They might be sick, but the results were the same and he wanted to eliminate as many of them as he could. His confirmed kills so far were fifteen and counting. He wasn't the best shot and there were few he had missed.

He had good reasons for wanting to continue. He had seen firsthand the results of their actions: the blood, the victims, the horror. He was on a mission and it was personal.

Brenner had complained, telling him that he didn't really know who he was shooting at. He was probably right, but no one in their right mind would be out on those streets. People had been told to stay indoors. He accepted the risk of making a few mistakes; it would be marginal.

"Sergeant," it was Brenner.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Stan, the pilot, he doesn't feel too good." He had taken a paperboard and written, I THINK HE GOT IT.

He didn't want to be overheard on the radio obviously.

"It can't be that bad. He was okay when we left." O'Malley temporarily abandoned his ground scan and glanced at the cockpit. "He doesn't look too good to me either. You're right. Okay, we go back. Roger."

"Roger," confirmed the pilot coughing.

The sergeant closed the hatch and settled comfortably for the flight back, his M16A4 tucked safely in the crook of his arm.

***

There was a lot of activity happening on the baseball fields. One week earlier, out of habit and despite all that had happened, the soccer and lacrosse fields had reverted back to baseball, one of the true American sports and a mystery for many foreigners. It had been converted this way every previous spring, and Mr. Daniels thought that continuing to do so would be good for the boys, allowing them to blow off a little steam. Perhaps thirty boys were currently busy, preparing for the afternoon play, "Lord of the Flies." There was a lot of coming and going between there and the shop, where Mister Tools was readying the boys and checking to be sure everything was in place.

The play was usually performed in the performing arts center, which adjoined the library, but Mr. Tools thought he could put on a much grander performance outdoors by taking advantage of the wide-open natural spaces. Using very large stage props strategically placed, he transformed the baseball diamond into an island, using the infield dirt for the beach. The spring weather with blue skies and fluffy clouds had just the effect he wanted, and certainly couldn't be duplicated with such splendor indoors.

As he surveyed the transformation, he felt rather proud of his decision and thankful that the weather was cooperating. This production would have felt rather cramped in the confines of the theater, where the rehearsals had taken place. Headmaster Daniels had wanted it to be grand. It was to start at two-thirty and would last for over two hours. A post-production cocktail party was planned to follow the performance, it was always the case on Parent's Day, and once again, Daniels wanted to keep up with the tradition as much as possible, even if it did not make much sense.

Miles stopped by and was quite impressed by the professionalism of it all. The movement of the boys back and forth setting things up was quite enjoyable; most were in character already, some making last minute adjustments to skimpy outfits that would be seen later in the play, others just wearing them now to be comfortable in the heat of the day. Most were wearing only shorts, something that Miles was more than happy to see. It was an agreeable preview of what would be on display during the play. He was very much anticipating watching it that afternoon while hoping his duties would not interfere with his enjoyment of the show.

Miles hoped they would stay in costume after the play and not have to change. He had been told the young actors would participate as the waiting staff during the cocktail. It was made mostly for the entertainment of the prefects and the adults who needed to divert their thoughts from the problems of the moment. Miles was not sure it would be enough, although he certainly agreed with the decision.

He was currently leaning against a tree, more or less hidden from view. Sven was among the boys he was observing from beneath the shady boughs. He could see his lean frame wearing only those same shorts he had on the other day at the infirmary, and not much was hidden from the man's sight. Beneath the sun's rays, Sven's skin was gaining a healthy tan. He was full of energy, bouncing around all over the place and oblivious of the wanting eyes that were following him.

Miles had held that beautiful and trusting creature in his arms. His desire was still there as strong as ever, but guilt was again mixed with it, though not for the same reason. He had avoided the boy for three days now, not giving Sven any chance to talk to him, or simply to be with him, close to him. The poor child was probably wondering what he had done wrong, why he was being shunned after that missed opportunity. It was not right; it was in great part egotism and being cowardly on Miles part. He now had Anthony to satiate his needs and did not want to risk being exposed by initiating a novice into the world of sex. None of these two reasons was very valid, but they were what held him back for now.

In fact, he did not know really how to behave with the boy. It was so much simpler with the all-knowing Anthony. Deep down he supposed that it could be much more rewarding with Sven; that he could mold him to his own cravings, but more than fifteen years of hearing invectives aimed at those of his kind had led to self-depreciation and caution. He had built an invisible barrier he could not cross easily.

He planned on seeing Anthony again that evening after five. Their lovemaking had been as passionate the second time as it had the first, probably even more so. They had kissed; something that was unthinkable with the street boys and prostitutes he had known so far. It was incredibly sweet and it had happened at once; in fact, the boy had started it. Miles was sure he could have spent the whole time just doing that while his hand explored the delicate body offered to him. The boy had wanted more, and Miles was ready to satisfy him.

There had been no apprehension this time. There were no questions either. Miles hadn't wanted to risk ruining his chances again. It was a dream comes true, and nothing would spoil his pleasure. The boy was a mystery, but it was better that it stay like that for the moment. Anthony never had enough and he was often the one who took the initiative: a child who took pleasure in sex without reserve or inhibition. It was contrary to everything society was teaching. It could not be; there had to be consequences later on, even if they were not conscious of it. His life would be ruined. He was destined to commit suicide or even worse, to reproduce what had been done to him and rape little boys when he grew up.

Bullshit! Miles wanted to believe that it was all conjecture, but he could not depart himself from his gnawing doubt. It was far from enough to make him stop having sex. He was an avid participant, a ravenous one, and he knew he could never stop. On the contrary, he would use every opportunity to do it again and again, with Anthony or any other willing boy.

These thoughts brought him back to Sven. He deeply wanted the boy, or at least thought he did. Was it love or did he simply crave Sven's body? Could he love a boy like most men loved adult women? No, it could not be the same. He was sure to feel some affection, an aspiration to protect, to guide, and to teach. Then again, perhaps it was only his desire for sex in disguise. But why this boy and not some other? There were at least ten lads in front of him that he would take to bed without a second thought, they were the Edward twins, Cole the swimmer, Patrick Muller, the German boy, and many others whose name he did not know.

His thoughts were rambling again, and he was becoming aroused. He had to stop and get hold of himself before somebody took notice. He could enjoy Anthony every day, wasn't that enough? He thought of how the situation could evolve. Two of the sick boys appeared to be recovering; if it was the beginning of a pattern, it could mean that the flu scare had been disproportionate, at least here in the states. It could mean that the country would slowly recover, that things would eventually go back to normal. It also meant that he might live, and would have to keep his true nature hidden. That was what he should hope for, but was it what he really wanted?

***

"Come on Bruce, you can do it."

Raymond Tools was patient and passionate; he knew how to get the best performances from his boys. Even from those that were not that gifted, which was the case of Bruce Jennings. Bruce was the best of his category and there weren't really any other alternatives for the part. The boy had to be overweight and he was the right age. There were not many at St. Xavier, so it had to be Bruce.

The shop was bustling with activity, and Tools was in the back of the theater where he had taken three of his young actors to rehearse a few scenes he was not quite satisfied with yet.

He loved what he was doing. Being with the boys, sharing with them the beauty of the texts, exchanging ideas, seeing them come out of their shells, discovering their unknown qualities and talents. He had devoted his life to them and did not regret it one bit. He gave all he had to his work, both in class and outside of it. He didn't bother counting his hours, he was always there for his pupils, and he was always ready to counsel or help them in any way he could. He was also a perfectionist, though, hard to please and expecting nothing but excellence from them. He did not stop until it was reached and in most cases, he succeeded. His critiques were always justified and he knew how to present them so as not to debase the students, but to stimulate them.

He had no private life to speak of; when not teaching, he could be found reading, usually in the very lavish library at his disposal in the school, or working on a new project. He loved the library with its rows and rows of books. He liked the smell, the touch of them. Nothing could replace them in his heart and certainly not those bulky computers or reading machines. He had fought tooth and nail when there had been talk of getting rid of most of the books in an attempt to digitize the library, and he had won.

There were books on every conceivable subject in this library, collected over more than one hundred years: a vast treasure trove of knowledge. He was saddened that less and less new books were being bought and that most of the students deserted them to work on their laptops. He often brought a group of boys to this place and tried to communicate to them his love of books: how to wander in the alleys, browsing and picking books here and there, and discovering unexpected marvels by mere chance. Though most of the boys weren't interested, he did manage to reach a few, and he often enjoyed discussing with them the finer details of the stories he had read and so treasured.

As he was finishing his first round of rehearsals, Cole Anderson entered the small stage to tell him that they were about done installing the props and background scenery on the baseball diamond.

"You did well boys. I am done here." Tools turned towards Bruce and added one more word of encouragement to his "Piggy." "Bruce, I am sure you will be perfect this afternoon, even if you miss a line… as long as you stay in character, no one will notice it. You can even improvise if necessary; it will work. Now, let's go see our new expansive stage. Lead the way, Cole."

Tools was very proud of having Cole Anderson among his cast. He had fought with the boy to make him accept the part of Roger, Jack's lieutenant. The boy had thought he would not have the time to get involved in Tools' theater activities and maintain his swim training at the same time. Nevertheless, it finally worked to everyone's satisfaction. The man thought Cole had the energy and physical presence to make a great performer. The boy, in his stead, had discovered a new and fascinating world where he could express himself and find new challenges.

Tools always made sure that the boys participated in each and every aspect of their performance. Acting was only the most visible part of the plays; they also took part in creating the props, costumes, special effects if required, and setting up the stage. They studied and discussed the play and its meaning together. That way, all of them had an opportunity to shine in one discipline or another. He thought that this year, the nature of the show was unfortunately very in-phase with the events unfolding around them. He hoped it would raise many questions and thoughts among his audience; it was his responsibility to offer a spectacle that talked to the senses, the heart, and also the mind.

He was already thinking of what other plays they could perform in the next few days: his choice was limited to those they had already studied and performed this year, or the previous. It would be arduous work for the boys to be ready to deliver it on such short notice, yet he was sure it could be done. It would keep his mind from the difficult times ahead and it would do the same for the kids who worried about their families and their own possibly bleak future.

***

Sasha Bronski had been hiding in the cupboard for two hours now. He was holding his baseball bat tight and was ready to use it again if necessary. The stickiness he felt on it was blood, but it was not his own.

He had thought he was safe; he had been wrong. He had learned to hide from the start and for very different reasons. He had been rather good at it so far. It had been fun before but not anymore.

It had been fun at first as it always was, when his mother had left him in the charge of his grandparents. They lived in Crestview, a walled in community for the elderly with maximum security. It was a place where dogs were banned and children under eighteen could only visit on weekends between 9 AM and 6 PM.

Life was quiet and serene behind the walls; children were not allowed to run freely or to play as children do. "Seen but not heard" was okay on the weekends, but outside those times, his grandparents could have been evicted for breaking the rules. These communities worked together, being banned from one meant banishment from all the others, for life.

His mother traveled a lot for her work. From time to time, when she found no one to watch over him and as a last resort, she brought him to Crestview, usually only for a few days. It was all a game, first to pass the gate undiscovered, and then he would play the invisible boy, being cautious that no one except his grandparents saw him for the few days he would spend with them.

To tell the truth, now that he had grown up some, it was not as fun as it had been. He was very limited in the things he could do. He could not go outside or use the community pool. He missed his friends and there was no one to play with him. Even if he missed a few days of school, it was still annoying.

Now that he was twelve, he understood that his grandparents were not too happy to have him there, constantly afraid that he would be discovered and they would have to justify themselves to the association. They insisted that he be very careful and never show himself to anyone, no matter what the reason. He was their only grandchild and they had always done all they could to please him, which was nice. Nonetheless, all they had to offer now seemed quite insufficient, cookies and stories, card games, and board games. His books, music, and video games were all he really had to occupy himself. Because he had to remain quiet all the time, headphones were required whenever he listened to music, and he had to turn the sound down very low whenever he played video games. At every visit he soon had seen, listened to, and played them all, he was getting tired of it and wanted something different, something new.

This time, his mother had said she would be gone for four days, but for no clear reason her return was delayed and then the restriction of travel was ordered and she was stuck in Tucson, a couple thousand miles away.

Last Tuesday, his grandma complained of feeling really sick. She had been coughing for two days before his grandpa had decided to take her to the community clinic. They had been gone now for four days. They had forgotten their old people's big-buttoned smartphone so he could not call them. He could have called the clinic, but that would mean having to explain himself, risk being discovered. His mother had told him to wait and that she would call herself, but that had been two days ago.

There were advantages to having the villa to himself. He could watch any program that he wished on TV, go to bed at whatever time it pleased him, and there was no one to wake him up in the morning and tell him to get up. He could eat all the junk food he wanted, ice cream by the gallons and candy by the pound. There was no need to dress up either, it was hot even with the air conditioning on, and it had never worked that well anyway.

There were disadvantages as well though. He could watch whatever he wanted to on TV, but he soon tired of afternoon talk shows, soap operas, and reruns of The Golden Girls. He could eat all the ice cream he wanted, but all his grandparents had was Neapolitan. The only candy they had was that sticky ribbon candy, the kind where if he picked up a single piece, the entire bowl would come along with it. He could sleep in as late as he wanted, but when he woke up, there was nobody to talk to, and he felt very lonely.

Besides all that, things had gone weird lately. The community seemed awfully quiet as of late, even though the villas were very close to each other, separated only by a wooden fence with some grass and trees on either side. His villa was at the end of Boulder Circle, a bit more apart than most. Still, over the last couple of days, he had heard a lot of strange things; shouts, sirens, even a few detonations. He had seen smoke coming from a street further south, a fire? Just the day before, he had seen an old lady wearing nothing but a nightgown pass by on the road in the front of the house; she was disheveled and appeared disoriented. He was about to go out to help her but decided not to. After all, his old folks had told him not to show himself, he had to obey or else his mother would ground him for life.

That morning he had woken late, as usual, and soon realized that there was someone else in the house. He lay silently in bed, wondering if his grandparents had returned, or maybe his mother. After a few minutes, he sprung out of bed, ready to open the bedroom door and shout for them that he was upstairs, when he heard a big crash downstairs. He froze in his tracks and listened intently: more ominous sounds could be heard coming from below, as if someone had decided to destroy the furniture and more. He heard the sound of glass shattering as a window was smashed.

He turned around and quickly put on his shorts and sneakers, grabbed his old baseball bat, and then, trying not to make a sound, opened the squeaky door. There was no one on this floor, but the intruder could be heard downstairs, possibly in the kitchen.

His heart was pounding so strong that he was afraid it would be heard and give him away. He held his breath and started down the stairs, not really knowing what to do.

How stupid! He scolded himself. He simply had to call the cops. They would take care of it, or would they? They might not believe him or think it was some kind of a prank. His voice would betray him and give away the fact that he was just a kid, and everybody knew there were no kids at Crestview. It was a moot point anyway, as he had left his phone behind. His head was a jumble of thoughts and ideas with no clear direction. He wanted to see who was there, perhaps it was someone sent by his folks… but why so much noise? He now saw that the front door had been left open and there were ceramic shards lying on the floor from a vase that had been broken.

There was no one to stop him if he wanted to flee; he just had to start running. No one would be able to catch him after that since he ran pretty fast. He had reached the bottom of the stairs now, and decided to have a quick peek. He needed to know who was there, if only to tell the cops.

When he saw his grandpa he felt a great relief, but it did not last. It was all wrong and now it was too late. The elderly man was already upon him and he was falling backward, his back and head hitting the carpet. Grandpa had lost one of his shoes and his shirt was ripped and stained. He was pinning Sasha down with one naked foot planted upon his chest. There was no sign of recognition on his face.

"Gramp, please stop, it hurts," pleaded Sasha.

He felt the pressure augment, as if the old man wanted to crush him underfoot like a beetle. He twisted himself and managed to escape for a few seconds before the foot stomped back into place.

"What's wrong with you? Please stop, it's me, Sasha!"

The pressure was relentless now, painful, and the boy was losing his breath. Right under his hand, he felt the bat that had fallen beside him. Without really thinking of his actions, he seized it and smacked it against the leg that held him in place. Old man Bronski capsized and fell heavily. Sasha crawled backward away from his Grandpa, totally confused and afraid, terrified of what he had just done.

"Gramp, please stop, did I… did I hurt you? Say something, please! You're scaring me!"

The old man remained silent but stared at the boy like he was nothing more than a piece of meat, or rather, a disturbing nuisance that had to be smashed. He did not show any apparent pain from his fall and was already back on all fours and ready to pounce at his grandson.

"NO!" shouted Sasha, swinging the baseball bat at the now strange man's head.

He held back on his swing at the last minute but it still hit the old man's head, sending him reeling backwards. A few drops of blood landed on the floor, having come from the newly made gash on the side of his grandpa's face. The boy was already on his feet and running up the stairs, where he crashed into his room and locked himself in his closet, holding the sticky baseball bat tight as he cried softly.

The old man entered his bedroom with heavy breathing and coughing. He scraped at the closet doors but did not get them to open or break. He stood in front of the closet for a long time, his breath wheezing and whistling through a broken nose. Was he waiting for Sasha to come out? After what seemed an eternity, he left the room to roam elsewhere. For hours, he heard the man that up until now had been his loving grandfather, roaming around the house and then there was silence.

Immobile and holding his breath, the boy waited. As he felt a damp warmth spreading down his leg, he only now realized that he had pissed his shorts during the fight. It shamed him, but not as much as hitting his own grandpa. He did not come out until the next morning. By then, the house sat empty. He closed the front door and after pulling off his pee-stained shorts, he went for a shower, not really knowing what to do next. He heard his phone ring but did not answer it. What could he say? That he had hurt his grandpa? Hit his head with his bat and made him bleed? No, he could not tell that to anyone, not to his mother, and not to the police. He would wait and see what happened. He had never thought of the Shanxi flu that made all the headlines on TV before. He did not watch the news. He knew of the sickness that had spread all around the world, there had been talk of it at school, but it was a faraway thing that did not concern him.

He went to the living room and turned on the TV. Silhouetted by the soft glow of the television, Sasha sat on the couch and put on CNN for the first time in his life.

***

"Mister Daniels, I think I'll go take a seat with the boys, if you don't mind," said Miles with a smile. "They asked for it very sweetly." The bleachers were slowly filling with spectators all around them.

"I don't mind at all, on the contrary, it is a tradition that the staff mingle with the boys during the show. One thing, though, is it true that two of the boys seem to be recovering at the gymnasium?"

"Yes, there is Ke who was the first to fall sick and seems to be bouncing back, and another, a fifteen year old, whose fever broke this morning."

"That is certainly great news worth spreading around; I'll tell Fisher right away."

"I'm not too optimistic just yet, but it is encouraging for sure. I have tried to get some confirmation that it's not an isolated case by calling Senator Forest's numbers, but without success so far."

"Either way, it will help us enjoy the play more. See you later during the party."

"With pleasure, sir."

Miles wanted to sit with the Bear boys and Matthew of course, but he was also very interested in having a word with Walt. He had had what he thought could be a great idea: if he regrettably could not have the type of relationship with Sven that he wanted, why not try to pair him with the older boy to avoid any complications? They seemed very close to each other and Miles had seen something that looked very much like jealousy from "The Mountain." notably since he himself had almost been caught in the act with the boy the other night in his office. Could he make it happen between them? Did Walt have more than a friendly interest in the younger boy as he suspected? That was well worth exploring.

His hero status was now established and as he passed the rows of seats, he got a lot of attention from all those gathering in the audience. He finally reached the little group of boys he was seeking. It was hard to miss them with Walt towering above them, as well as everybody else, by a head and shoulders. He seated himself between Walt and Matthew. Johnny and Bob, who of course was seated with his friend, warmly welcomed him. Logan was there too, beside Bob.

"Hello, boys," he simply said, sitting down.

"We kept this seat for you, sir. We hoped you would join us," said Matthew, obviously very pleased to have his adult friend with him.

"Where else would I go?" he answered with a large and genuine smile; then turning to Walt, he added, "I think Sven is playing a part? Do you know which one?"

"Yes, it's a small part, but he was considered for the role of Ralph for a time. In fact, he could play it if anything happened to Chandler Terril, who finally got the job. He's his stand-in."

"I see; does anyone else that I know have a part?"

"The Edwards twins, who play… the twins," said Johnny with a grin.

"Cole Anderson plays Roger, Patrick Muller plays Jack, the bad guy, and Jeffrey Sims plays Simon, who gets killed. Those are the main roles," said Bob.

"William Forest plays a small part too," added Walt, handing him a play brochure, "here."

Miles looked over the cast list and scenes.

"It seems you already know a lot about the play and the characters."

"Well, that's a classic. Everyone's read it, or at least part of it, for school," said Logan, who was two seats away, and seemed to be looking for a way to get closer to Miles. He finally decided to take the seat right behind the man that was still unoccupied; it would have to do.

"It will start anytime now," he whispered in Miles's ear conspiratorially.

Miles tapped the boy's naked knee in acknowledgment. He had brought his binoculars but now saw that they wouldn't be needed. They were very well seated and would have a perfect view of the proceedings. Facilities had moved the aluminum bleachers onto the infield grass, and everything looked solid and professional. There was music playing over the announcement loudspeakers while the last spectators took their seats.

He had seen Carl Fisher talking with Daniels and then going to sit with Gregory Sutton and some of the boy's friends that he recalled from his interview. Shirley Cahill and Abrams were on duty at the gymnasium but promised that they would show up later for the reception. There was some anticipation mounting from the audience, helped by the music and by the fact that everyone could focus on the play rather than the Shanxi flu and its consequences.

Miles had been looking for Anthony and finally spotted him high on the bleachers with the same blond kid that he had often seen with him in the dining hall. Feeling a stirring in his crotch at the sight of the alluring boy, he now thought that they could have used that time for more sex in the infirmary – or anywhere else for that matter, since everyone was gathered here. He would make sure not to linger too long at the cocktail party and signal the boy to join him as soon as it became possible.

He put his arm around Matthew's shoulders, delighting in the feeling of the boy's soft body against his own as he looked all around him at the young beauties offered. He could content himself with the prospect of some good entertainment and their company for the moment. He hoped Tools had not watered down the story or the costumes. It had originally been meant to be performed on parent's day, after all.

Finally, some trumpets were heard announcing the start of the show. Covers were dropped off the large scenery props and the audience applauded. Miles was stunned. There was a jungle straight in front of them with palm trees and off to their right, a beach and miniature sea. Two boys wearing wet English schoolboy's uniforms were coming out of the fake sea and stepping right onto the beach in front of the bleachers. To the left was a small rocky mountain with a cave. It was not Broadway, but it was still spectacular and far from the clumsy end of the year spectacle that most schools offered. Mr. Tools certainly took his job as the director seriously.

Of course Miles knew the story, he had read the book and seen both movies, and still he was taken up by it all. The acting, the direction, the sets, the special effects, everything was top notch and quite unexpected. Miles marveled at the colossal amount of work that had gone into the production.

To Miles' satisfaction, Tools had not watered it down at all. There was the right amount of violence, there was blood when Simon died, lots of it, almost like in the Grand Guignol, that brought a vibrant reaction from the crowd mixing horror and excitement. As time went by, the costumes slowly became tatters, and almost disappeared to the point that Miles, in the end, finally found a use for his binoculars. He didn't want to miss any asset of the young actors.

Some scenes stuck in his mind: the arrival of Jack and his choir singing and wearing long capes taken from the first movie, if he recalled properly, Simon's cruel death with the clever excessive use of blood, Jack hunting Ralph with his boys. The action moved from left to right, right to left, with the boys running and gathering in large numbers, disappearing into one side of the jungle, and then reappearing again. They certainly made use of this expanded outdoor stage. There had been one lucky incident with one of the Edward twins losing what was left of his pants that made the whole audience laugh, the mischievous boy never acknowledging it and finishing his scene stark naked. Would he have dared to do that on parent's day? Miles had resisted using his binoculars at that moment but Logan seized the opportunity and did take them.

Miles had difficulty deciding which boy was the best little actor. There was Patrick, the German boy, with a slight accent that gave Jack an interesting complexity. He did not play him as evil, but rather as a lost boy, searching to reassure himself by using his strength and imposing his leadership. Simon was played by the boy that reminded Miles of Eddie Munster, with the right amount of sensitivity. Then there was Cole, the swimmer that played Jack's lieutenant with real brute force, using his physique expertly.

For Miles, the real discovery though, was the boy playing Ralph. It was a kid named Chandler Terril, and the boy immediately went to the top of Miles' list of the most attractive boys in the school: jet-black hair that was slightly curled, green eyes, and long limbed with a splendid posture. A flat stomach, full butt, and creamy skin that was revealed more and more as the story progressed, were all the attributes that Miles could wish for. Plus, he could act. He showed the strength of character, the intelligence, courage, and the incredulity necessary as things went from bad to worse, as well as a welcome eagerness in showing emotions. Sven had a few lines but did not get enough exposure to compare with the others. The boy that played Piggy seemed ill at ease with his lines, but it was very much in the character of the shy and hung up kid.

The final scene unfolded with the fight between Jack and Ralph with an intensity that had the audience gasping. Ralph escaped and was next seen running out of the jungle straight towards the stands, collapsing in exhaustion before them, while body-painted warrior-boys wielding sharp wooden spears suddenly appeared from the lavish jungle props. Tools played the part of the naval officer, bringing the play to a close as all the boys came out onto the beach, and what a spectacle, so many nearly naked, and yes, a few even naked boys, gathered to take their bows.

Miles had not been the only one to succumb to the excellence and power of the performance. The whole of the audience jumped to their feet and roared as if they had just watched a hard fought sporting match. There was no end to the applause for a long time. Tools towered in the center, surrounded by the boys and beaming, bowing, and waving in response as he pushed forward and highlighted the main stars of the play.

Matthew, who had huddled against him during the whole show, had been a good example of how the rest of the audience responded. He had felt the boy tense up, shiver, laugh, jump, and cry, while seizing his hand or thigh during the show. He surely didn't regret being there instead of with Anthony. He would be among the first to ask what other play was scheduled in the next few days and would await it eagerly.

"What did you think of it, boys?" asked Miles who had completely forgotten his scheme of trying to pair Walt and Sven during that time. There had been no real opportunity; few words had been spoken even by Logan.

"It was great. Those plays are always great. There are usually three each year, at the end of the fall, winter, and spring semesters," said Walt. "Sven was good. Don't you think?"

"Yes he was. He shone in the few scenes he was in; all the boys acted quite well."

Yes, Miles was sure there was more than friendly interest in the boy's words and expression, something akin to passion. It was discreet but it was there. He knew that feeling so well, that enthusiasm that you dared not show at the risk of being noticed.

After a moment of pause where the audience exchanged their impressions, the bleachers started to clear. The teachers and staff slowly gathered beside the stage before heading in the direction of the dining hall. The reception was to take place on the lawn in front of the two-story building where tables had been set up.

It was a rather strange and futile gathering. First, considering the circumstances, people in the gymnasium nearby were in the process of dying, and no one was sure of their future. Second, there were the young actors, still wearing their very skimpy costumes that were now taking the role of waiters, standing behind the tables or walking with platters among the guests. The whole thing was decadent, its imagery worthy of the end of the Roman Empire, which had strong echoes with the present situation.

Miles did not mind it at all though, and in fact, he enjoyed it immensely. He was also determined to compliment Tools and exchange a few words with Chandler Terril. He wanted to see if, up close, he was as stunning as he looked on the stage. He also planned to be careful to avoid meeting Sven, if possible, who was probably one of the young waiters. There was quite a crowd gathered on the lawn, and Miles thought he had a good chance of running into the boy. He would not linger long; once he had his fill of the pretty sights offered by the young actors, he would be more than happy to join Anthony without any further delay.

Tools who was still in his navy uniform for the time being, was surrounded by a crowd of enthusiastic spectators. It would not be easy for Miles to get close to him at the moment. He would have to wait for a few minutes; so instead, he went in search of his other goal. He found himself distracted several times by many of the good-looking boys all around, whose forms and assets were barely covered by the few scraps of clothing they were wearing. He often stopped one or the other when he wanted a better look, on the pretense of picking some of the food or drink that they had to offer. He took his time to choose which food item he wanted, while devouring the "other goods" with his eyes. The talk of the evening, besides the play, was the news of the apparent recovery of two of the boys at the gymnasium. It had spread like wildfire. When questioned, Miles was very careful to avoid false hopes and refused to draw any conclusion from his simple observation.

He met the Edwards twins and was not able to resist making a pun in relation with the earlier incident:

"Are you sure you won't lose your pants again? It looks like you're wearing the very same costume you wore then."

He did not really know which one of the two it had been so he addressed them together.

"We are, and you can never be sure, Mister Dunn, but so far, no one complained," they both replied with amused tones.

"Anyway, I think it'll be talked about for quite some time. It could be said that you stole that scene," Miles added.

"We did our best," they answered in a way that could let one think it had been done on purpose. Those two were certainly capable of that.

"I enjoyed it thoroughly boys, I can tell you that."

"Thank you, sir," they replied as they presented their platters of canapes and petit fours before moving along.

Fascinated, Miles watched them leave. With some regret, he could see their identical exposed buns walking away. What a dream to have those two in bed at the same time! What an experience it would be to make love to two different boys that were so similar, almost duplicates of each other. Just thinking of it was enough to make him hard. He would need to find Anthony soon to get some relief.

He briefly thought of leaving right away, but at that moment, he saw a group of boys standing a little bit apart from the crowd and among them, he could clearly see the four main stars of the show; Ralph, Jack, Simon, and Roger. Two of them he had formally met already, one he had often seen at Bear House, and the other he very much wanted to get to know better.

They were definitely very popular, surrounded by many of their peers who wanted to tell them how much they had enjoyed the show. It must have been the reason why they had chosen this spot, which was slightly away from the party itself, where to the exception of the prefects, the other boys would not be allowed. They appeared to have been exempted from any serving duties. Instead, they were basking in their sudden popularity. Cole was probably used to it, and the others had shown such talent that it was safe to assume they might have already been in other plays with major parts.

As he got closer, and after making sure Sven was not with them, he hastened his steps. As soon as he was noticed, the boys made room for him and he was soon face to face with the four young celebrities of the day.

"Mister Dunn, did you like the show?" asked Cole, stepping forward in a manner that left no doubt that he knew the man quite well.

"I have to say that I loved it beyond all my expectations. You were all excellent. Patrick, you did not tell me you were part of the theater club during your interview. You must be Jeffrey; I've seen you during showers and in the corridors at Bear House. Chandler, is that your name? You are the only one I have not met so far."

He faced the fourth boy that was indeed as much of a beauty as Miles had thought him to be on the stage. Of course, there was something more than just physical beauty, there was a presence, an inner charm, which made him rather special. Once again, Miles counted himself lucky to be in a place where so many of the students had that kind of quality.

If he had the opportunity to choose a boy at leisure, he would be quite overwhelmed with so many worthy candidates. The pendulum was indeed still swinging. One moment he was resolute to keep himself in check and avoid any new temptation, the next he was ogling any comely boy he saw and imagining scenarios that would bring them to him.

"Yes, friends call me Chand, nice to meet you, sir. Did you have fun? You're the man that killed Nakata, I'm a Puma, and I have been told about how you saved the life of William and Sven, and probably others too. I would have liked to see that myself!" His enthusiasm was uncalled for but to be expected from a thirteen year old.

"I was at the right place at the right moment, and that's my job. There was nothing really heroic in what I did, believe me. What you all did today requires talent and lots of work."

"It helps that we like what we're doing. It makes it much easier."

"I can bet on it and your passion showed today."

The boy was so close, his skin so smooth. Miles would have loved to be able to touch him, caress him, but it was not possible. Still, at least there was a way to make contact. He extended his arm and shook hands with Chand while trying to fix the boy's image in his mind, the almost perfect features with turquoise piercing eyes, and the slender torso that still bore the fake smudges that had recently been washed off. The skimpy tattered shorts that gave generous hints of what was hidden there and granted a spectacular view of his long and well-shaped thighs. Miles definitely needed to get to Anthony, and soon. The boy's grip was firm and friendly, and Miles kept the contact as long as he deemed acceptable. He then shook hands with everyone else and left them to try one more time to talk with Tools before leaving.

The man was still in an animated conversation, but the number of people around him had thinned considerably. Miles had no problem getting his attention and expressing his enthusiasm and compliments.

"We were not quite ready yet, I am lucky it went so well. It's all thanks to the boys!" said Tools, his attitude somewhat contradicting his words. He was beaming still, obviously quite proud of the achievement of the day.

"You are too modest. I can tell you I never expected it to reach that level of excellence. For me, it looked professional. You can be sure I'll be waiting eagerly for your next production."

"I'll have to get to work then, first thing tomorrow; I don't want to disappoint you."

"I doubt you could disappoint me. I really had a wonderful time, but unfortunately, I have to go now. I have duties awaiting me. I'll see you at dinner and we will discuss it further, Mister Tools."

"You can call me Raymond. I will gladly do that."

Miles had a look at his watch: five ten pm, he knew where to find Anthony to give him the signal to join him at the infirmary. As he was turning around, he felt a small hand pulling at his sleeve.

"Sven!"

The boy was there, indeed, a pleading look in his eyes and his empty platter under an arm. He looked splendid, still in his stage costume and makeup. Sven was just as desirable as the young Chandler he had just left, a beautiful creature, at the same time fierce and proud, hurt and fragile.

"Where were you the last few days? It was like you didn't even know me. Were you avoiding me?"

The tone was more of longing than demanding. Miles felt immediate guilt at having neglected him in such a cruel manner. He knew from experience that nothing was worse than indifference and being ignored.

"It's all my fault, Sven. I didn't know how to continue with our …uh… relation, or if it should continue at all, in fact. I didn't know how to discuss it with you. You must forgive me; I want to be honest with you. It is a difficult time for me; I have a lot of responsibilities and duties. I want to do the right thing with you and not give you false hopes."

As the words left his mouth, he knew it was adult talk; nothing that the boy could really accept or understand.

"But I thought… you were…"

"Yes I know. Let's go over there by those trees and discuss it further."

Miles didn't want to risk having the boy overreacting in front of everybody. It was clear he still did not know what he wanted to do with him. As usual, his mind was full of conflicting ideas and concepts. He had to take hold of it all, and not let the boy see any of his doubts or hesitations. Sven's best interests had to be at the center of his preoccupations. He didn't want him hurt but was afraid it was already too late for that.

He placed his hand affectionately on the boy's shoulder, bending slightly, to steer him in the right direction, and at his touch, immediately felt a flush of emotions and desire he knew too well. Then suddenly, a voice behind them broke it all.

"Our hero and the boy he saved. What a lovely couple… and a lovely boy… You definitely have good taste," added Carl, interrupting them.

Miles, surprised, straightened right away, and separated himself from the boy; old reflexes back in place. It was the first time Carl had used such allusions so openly with Miles, and he resented it.

"I don't think you've met Mister Anderson, our art teacher and Cole's father. You know the boy, I think, our star swimmer?

"Excuse me, but this boy here needed to confide something to me. I'll see you later if you don't mind," he replied dryly, barely acknowledging them before turning his back to follow the boy.

Miles saw that Sven, who had frowned at the interruption, beamed with pride and contentment at being treated as more important than the two teachers. He had certainly loved the incredulous expression passing over Mr. Fisher's face; it seemed he did not like that man. He preceded Miles, walking toward the copse of trees and away from the party. Soon, the caressing hand of the man was back on his shoulder.

***

"What do you think, Alfred? Wasn't that a bit rude? I think he did not appreciate our interruption. I think he prefers the boy's company… he is one of us for sure."

Anderson, with a sad face, did not respond.

"Speaking of which, it's been a few days now and Cole has not shown up for his lessons. That's not good at all."

"You think I can talk him into it? That's crazy! Anyway, it won't work. I've told you again and again, Cole will never do it. You know how difficult it is between us right now. Besides, haven't you got more important things to take care of these days?"

"A debt is a debt. I never forget and I strive to always be ready, whatever the outcome of this crisis. It is the only way for you to get out of your troubles and keep indulging in your addiction. Derek got a delivery just in time, before it became impractical. Excellent quality he says, but I have no knowledge in such matters."

"Again, I thought that with all that's going on, it would be the least of your worries."

"But I do worry, my dear friend. I worry, and with these recent events, you should worry too. It seems things will get difficult and finding what you need may become near impossible. Even if the crisis is rapidly resolved, getting back to normal will take some time."

"You know I need it, I can't think of anything else. You can't abandon me like that."

"It all depends on you and Cole. You are lucky, my friend, that Greg took an interest in your son; even better that we thought of him when Sven became unavailable as a worthy replacement for our influential partner. In such times, having someone like him on your side can make the difference."

"I know all that. The problem is Cole; he is a stubborn child. I don't know how to proceed."

"You're still his father. He has not heard from his mother for how long now? Six months? Nine? More than that? He'll understand he has no choice if he doesn't want to lose his father too. If he wants to stay on the swimming team…" Carl patted the man on his back. "I am sure it will work, but hurry up. Greg needs to teach him a few things and wants to start this week. Talk with your son, explain the situation, I am sure he can be convinced. Or else…"

"Or else?"

"You will cease getting your fix, you will probably have a visit from your debtors – not a very nice one, and your boy could be left to fend for himself in a very short while."

"You have to help me Carl. I…I know… I know things."

"Be careful what you say, Alfred. I have offered you a very fair way out of your troubles."

Carl's attitude and manner had changed drastically; his apparent joviality had disappeared, replaced by a cold and intimidating determination.

"I can crush you whenever I want," he continued, "I have well documented evidence of all your actions: drugs, of course, misappropriation of funds, but also your own sexual contacts with boys. Do not threaten me."

Alfred was trembling in fear. "But it was you that demanded I do it," then seeing his mistake, "forget what I just said, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."

"All you have to do now is to deliver the goods, and fast. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do, I do."

"Good, hope to hear from you very soon. Have a pleasant evening."

Carl slipped a small baggie containing some pills into Alfred's pocket and then walked away his natural self again, smiling at the boys in their skimpy costumes, mingling with the crowd, and enjoying the scenery. He had reveled in this little talk with the man. He always did, when he had cornered someone with no way out. Even if he never really needed the boy, it would have been worth it, just to see Alfred alarmed, distressed, trembling, and at his mercy. If Thorvald and the outside world ceased to matter, he could also have the boy for himself. If the situation was redressed, as many thought today with the news of some recoveries at the gymnasium, he would have a new gift for Ivor. He could not lose.

***

Carl's intervention had been a blessing for Miles; it made dealing with Sven much easier. A promise was all the boy needed now.

"As soon as it becomes possible, when it gets better here, I'll find a way for us to get together again. Right now, I am way too exposed to risk anything. I'm sure you can understand that. If someone found out about us, it would be very bad for me, as well as for you."

"I know, but…"

"I'm so sorry Sven, but there's nothing I can do about it. Better not to rush it and find the right moment and circumstances. I want it as much as you do, believe me. I'll work something out, it won't be long."

"I'm sure we could find a place if you really wanted it. You're an adult; you're among the most important people around here now. Please, I need you!"

Miles was searching for a way out but he saw none. He felt his defenses crumble. How could he resist those pleading eyes, such attraction? Crazy ideas and images were invading his mind. They were more or less alone; the trees were thick enough to hide them from prying eyes. He had a look around to be sure. Carl Fisher was nowhere in sight, and they could barely hear the sounds of voices and glasses coming from the party, which was a hundred feet away at least. They were in a kind of dead end; it was quite improbable that anyone would come this way. He could do whatever he wanted with the boy.

He pulled Sven close to him, embracing him, and letting his hand roam over the delicate skin, smudging the makeup on the way. He bent over and kissed the boy on the lips, intoxicated by the taste and fragrance coming from the child's body. It was beyond his ability not to succumb to such pleasures. He wanted the boy and the boy wanted him, even if he did not really know what it entailed. He would find a way indeed. He would take this boy's virginity and teach him all that he had learned with Anthony…Anthony, who was probably waiting for him. His right hand had finished its wandering on the boy's behind. Through the holes in the shorts, he could feel more skin and dared to introduce a finger into the boy's crack, searching for the orifice there. He found it and explored it, feeling the child tense and shudder in his arms. Should he go further? It was so tempting, so natural, in a way.

Finally, he got back his senses and gently pulled away.

"No, I don't want it to happen this way. I love you, Sven. I want that first time to feel special. I want the best. It will be soon, I promise."

The boy was rubbing his tented crotch, his eyes half open and totally absorbed by his passion and need. It was lewd but also beautiful for the man. What are those boys finding in me? He wondered. It can't be true; I must be dreaming the most powerful and extraordinary dream of my whole existence.

Miles lovingly caressed his velvety cheek, smiling at him.

"I promise, very soon."

He kissed Sven's brow and left him. He knew where to get his release; his cock was straining to get out. He had no doubt the boy he just left alone would seek a similar release using his hand.

Miles would be with Anthony very soon and be able to vent that formidable sexual tension he had accumulated over the last few hours. That one was an entirely different story, kind of a mystery that he would have to solve. For now, he had decided to take what the boy offered without asking too many questions.

He would devise a way to live up to Sven's expectations, soon. Carl was right that he was a lovely boy; it would be a totally different experience that he did not want to miss. He would have to be careful though, since things were more difficult with sentiments attached. It was selfish, but it was true. He would also have to keep an eye out for Walt; he did not want to hurt his feelings.

Appearances had to be kept for now, the future was more uncertain than ever. How lucky he was to have those two wonderful boys to enjoy. Whatever happened after that, it would be worth it.

***

Greg Sutton had loved the play and he was in the right mood for a party; the one he had scheduled for himself and some of his friends. Like all the prefects, he had been invited to the reception and had made a short appearance; but he had devised a much better way to spend his time and had decided to replace it with his own celebration. He very much wanted to invite some of the main performers to it. Quite a few were very comely and had noticeably aroused him, but none, were members of the club. Anyway, they could not have left after the show since they all had duties to attend to.

He had selected three of the club's youngest members as fuck toys. Enrico, who was ten had not yet been officially enrolled, but had been groomed by his brother, Lewis. He was already a wonderful performer himself and delivered great blowjobs. His ass, unfortunately, had been promised to Carl and was out of bounds for the moment.

He had sent the two Lewises who had sat with him, Sam Lewis and Lewis Silva, to pick them up. After leaving Carl, he had taken the direction of the shop building with Omar Seku and Pablo Munez. They had set up a few unused rooms in the back of the building; it was secure and they knew that they could indulge in any activity there without being disturbed. The only access was through a door that could be locked and no one had the key, besides Greg.

They were discussing the play as they walked slowly towards the shop building. Greg was casting a glance back from time to time to see if the Lewises were catching up; he wanted little Enrico's mouth first, and then planned on fucking the other three.

"Here they come," he announced, "and it looks like they got them all."

He had not been too sure that Milo would come. Either Sam had done a good job – he had been the one that initiated the boy – or as Greg had speculated, the boy had liked being roughed up and wanted some more. Greg would make sure he got it. The other two were Sean MacCullen, who was the same age as Milo, and Ochii Omeida, a very talented thirteen-year-old Japanese boy who looked much younger. He would have liked to add young Alex to the bunch, but he was among the actors.

"Still not interested, Omar?"

"No way Greg, I'll never put my thing in a boy's ass, or any ass for that matter. I don't understand how you can do that, it's only girls for me."

"Well, I'm sure you'll let Enrico suck you off. You know how good he is."

"We'll see, but I plan on getting high first."

"Good of you to let us have all the fun. That way, we all got one boy to fuck. You know which one I want Greg?" said Pablo.

"Ochii, of course. I expect we will all share our goods though, I want to fuck them all."

"We'll see. Yes Ochii, that's the one," said Pablo as they reached the shop.

Greg stood by the door, left it open, and had a look around. He feared nothing, but some discretion was always welcome.

"Come in boys, come in. Let the party begin."

He patted each boy on the ass as they passed the threshold, as a rancher would do with cattle. He did not have that much consideration for them and they were basically that, cattle, not for food but for pleasure.

Two minutes later, he was locking the door that guaranteed their privacy, and then followed a short corridor and entered the second room. Sam was setting a few glasses; it would be scotch for them, orange juice and vodka for the fuck toys. It would help them relax and get in the right mood. He knew Sean would want some puffs off Omar's joint that had just been lit.

Everybody was here to get what he wanted, some more than the others, of course. Drugs were used as gratification for the boys, even if Carl forbade it, not the hard stuff, but drugs still, as well as cigarettes, liquor to mellow them, or anything else depending on their tastes. Money was no problem.

Omar had settled in the big leather armchair that had two large mattresses on either side and inhaled deeply. He would not participate but would gladly watch. The boys, for the moment, sat on a couch set against the opposite wall. A coffee table was in front of it with glasses set on top that were being filled with the liquor that Sam had fetched from the adjoining room. That was where the booze and other goods were stocked. Also in the stock room, a real bed could be found that was usually reserved for Greg, who sometimes wanted some comfort and privacy. There were a few folding chairs that the prefects used while they sipped at their drinks and observed the boys, who were getting slightly drunk. Sam always had a heavy hand when pouring the vodka.

"Since you've recently been promoted, Pablo, I'll let you choose first," said Greg.

He had gently pulled Enrico from the couch, unzipped his own slacks, and offered his hardened rod to the little boy's lips. Enrico was a Latino with lustrous black hair, coal black eyes, a sun filled skin tone, and sweet features. A "little angel" as Carl had said, who knew how to use his mouth and tongue.

"Get to work Enrico."

"You know who I want," said Pablo, "Riichi, come over here."

"Ahh yesss… that feels so good. I really needed that," Greg exclaimed as the child engulfed his cock head. "You did such a good job with your brother Lewis," he added appreciatively, pushing as much of his hard meat as he could into the welcoming mouth.

He loved to see the interaction between the two brothers whenever he had the occasion. The grooming had not been a gentle one. Lewis was always rude with the younger boy, verbally, but also physically. He was always pushing, slapping, pinching, or twisting something with sadistic glee. Enrico was used to it and endured it with a resigned attitude.

"Have your pick next, Lewis, you earned it well."

"It will be Sean for me, no question about that."

"Sam, you won't mind if I borrow Milo from you, do ya? Our last encounter was not as thorough as I wished. I have not used some of his assets yet. If Thorvald was that enthusiastic, they must be worth my attention."

"But there's no one left for me, Greg."

"That's true. I'll give you Enrico here, but remember that his ass is reserved. I know your enthusiasm. You can also have your share of the others once our buddies are done."

Both were already undressing their chosen boy.

"They always shoot rather fast the first time. Come Milo, I'll ride you on the bed. I promise we'll have lots of fun together."

The boy had an almost imperceptible moment of hesitation, but quickly accepted being ushered into the adjoining room.

"Take off your clothes," ordered Greg dryly, "I wasn't sure you'd accept our invitation today. At the same time, I thought you rather liked our little games that one weekend, probably more than Anthony"

The boy pulled off his shoes but did not answer.

"By the way, how is young Anthony faring these days? Has he forgiven me?"

He had made a mistake, a thing he rarely conceded. He had pushed the kid too far, and that one, behind his smiles, was a rebel. He would not let it go like most of the others. That boy might need some more discipline, or perhaps that was not the best method for him?

"You hurt him," said Milo, "he fears you."

"What do you think about it?"

"I believe him."

"Of course, after all, you were there. So what are you doing here then?"

"Sam told me I could not say no."

"That's certainly exaggerated, but I can understand that. Is there nothing else?"

"What else? What do you mean?"

"Like I said, did you like it that last time?" They were both naked now, both sporting firm erections. "Come on, tell me."

The boy inhaled deeply and finally answered.

"Yes, I liked it, but you didn't hurt me like you did Anthony. You just bossed me around."

"You're right; I probably went too far with him, but what's done is done. I'm not the kind to make excuses for myself or harbor regrets. I must say, it was a great experience. Would you agree to be hurt?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Not even just a little bit? Just to see how it felt?" He saw the boy hesitate. "So, you're not sure?"

"I don't want you to use that plastic bag on me."

"Did you tell anyone else about that?"

"No, of course not."

Greg had moved closer, and was now sitting beside the boy on the bed. He seized the boy's young, rigid stick and started playing with it.

"It seems to me you rather like being with me. As you can see, I don't have any plastic bags with me right now. There might be one somewhere around here, though," he added a large, creepy smile to his face.

Milo tensed and tried to move away.

"Stay with me, little one." He brought the boy back to him by pulling on his cocklet and balls. "I promise I won't use it… not today that is. If we get along fine, I'm sure you might get to like it more than you think."

"Please, don't hurt me," pleaded Milo in a way that gave way to various interpretations.

"I won't, well, no more than you want me to, no more than necessary. If you ask for a repeat, as I'm sure you will, we will move on to other things… next time."

Greg watched the boy attentively; he was a cutie and would be perfect. His breathing was shorter, he was trembling, he had tensed up, but he did not try to run or shout out for help. He was looking at Greg with fear, but also with anticipation and acceptance. He was the one Greg needed, the perfect match. He would have to go slow, help him discover one thing after the other and see how far they could reach. He had made a mistake with Anthony; he had acted on impulse. He would try again with this one, who at least looked interested. He would also be careful not to damage him or leave any visible traces.

He planned other types of entertainment, too. Sam had told him that Milo liked dressing up and enjoyed tie-up games. He would simply bring them further and add a bit of real pain, small though it may be. The bag would be introduced later. He had tried it on himself, and it had brought great sensations when well handled. He had read a lot about erotic asphyxiation, it was used by many, even to the point that schools now issued warnings to parents and students.

There were many variations and many names for it; the choking game was the most common. Would he be able to resist achieving some of his darkest fantasies? He thought so; he wanted to keep having fun with the kid until he left the school in June at least. That is, if that flu thing didn't kill them all first. He was not afraid to die, but he hated the idea that he would not be able to achieve everything he had dreamed about.

"Suck on it, take as much as you can. Your saliva will be the only lube today. If you took Thorvald's tool, you can certainly bear mine," he said, letting go of the boy's genitals to catch him by his neck and bring his mouth to his waiting rod. As soon as he was in place, he pushed Milo's head down, trying to deep throat him, but the attempt made the boy gag. He eased off a bit and tried once more, but again, Milo gagged. The boy's face was turning a deep shade of red as he planted his hands on Greg's thighs and tried pushing away, while at the same time reflexively pulling his head back from the invading cock.

"Whatsa matter," Greg said, annoyed, "didn't Sam teach you how to do a proper blowjob? Get on all fours and let's see if your ass is any better."

Milo obeyed right away, showing a little too much eagerness for Greg, who did not want the boy to enjoy his predicament. Out of a rising anger, he slapped each buttock forcefully. He would have kept doing it until they were red but he thought his cock entering the kid's cunt would bring more immediate pain. It would be a more efficient message to teach him who was master and who was slave.

He did not let the kid catch his breath. Placing one hand over the boy's mouth, he pushed forward and with one forceful thrust, broke in all the way. He gave no time for the tight sheath to get used to the invasion before he started an earnest fuck. Milo let out a muffled shout, followed by moans of pain that subsided after a few minutes. Greg took off his hand from the child's mouth to hold him firmly by the hips to intensify and accelerate his pounding.

"You're doing great, bitch. Is that the way you like it? Tell me."

Only grunts could be heard from the boy with each relentless thrust.

"I don't hear you, bitch!" Greg demanded.

"I… I like it. Keep going… Please…"

"I knew you were made for this. Oh yeah, you're so tight! Let's go faster!"

Greg was close but he still wanted something more; he was never satisfied. He could have easily choked the boy…no, not this time, not with the others only a few feet away. He needed to stay in control. He would find a way to repeat his experience with Anthony next time with Milo's consent, more or less. He had time; he had two more boys to fuck waiting just beyond the door. With one last powerful shove forward, he came, spraying the boy's innards.

Oblivious of the boy, panting on the bed and without a word, he pulled out and wiped his cock on the boy's shirt. Then, he stood up and left him to go see how things were going with his friends.

The action was heating up there, too. Riichi was servicing Pablo, who was sharing a joint with Omar. Both were sprawled on the couch, the Japanese boy bouncing on Munez's lap while sucking on the black prefect's cock. Little Enrico joined in on the effort, lapping at the impressive tool and balls with an eager tongue. They were both watching young Sean's opposite ends being worked with vigor by the two Lewises.

Greg was satisfied to see his influence in the way the younger boys were treated. Fuck toys: that's what they had progressively been turned into. Of course, from the beginning, it had been the goal of the club to provide young boys to those who appreciated them, but they were treated in a considerate way, and as they grew up, they were destined to replace their elders and profit from the advantages of their affiliation.

It was not quite so anymore. Over the last few months, Greg had been able to bring a large amount of brutality, cruelty, and contempt into the club, notably among his close circle of friends. How far can I lead them this way? he wondered. To say the least, the future was uncertain anyway.

Of course, there was that flu thing right now. Carl was clearly affected like all the adults. All the boys were kind of worried too. They had seen the news. They had seen the messages from their families and friends outside the school, and even more upset were those that did not get answers anymore. They saw the videos posted on YouTube, first in China and other far away countries, but now also from American cities. More and more of them were posted each day, quite scary stuff. At first, they made fun of the ones with the ferals, which looked like bad horror movies, not anymore.

Greg was practical and a fatalist; he thought the current events would help him gain even more of an advantage. Nothing could go wrong; they followed him without asking questions. He didn't have to lift a finger anymore; fear would only reinforce his leadership.

He sat on a chair thinking who would be next to ride his cock.

"Riichi, leave the couch and come dance on my lap now. Milo," he shouted into the adjoining room, "come back here, Pablo needs you!"

"Did I tell you guys, Carl wants me to take care of young Cole Anderson and make him a member of the club?"

"You sure? He doesn't look the type to me," said Sam who slowed his fucking of Sean's arse. "What's in it for him? He is the school's swim team star."

"I was surprised too, but I'll gladly be the first one to plow his splendid ass."

"That's true. He has a great body, I want him next," said Sam.

"You'll have to wait, he is reserved for someone outside the school first, a generous benefactor."

"I don't mind, I can wait; you're lucky to be first."

"What are you talking about? Haven't you seen what's going on out there?" intervened Omar.

"Yes, I've seen it but some say it will be over soon. There are people already recovering in the gymnasium, all the teachers were talking about it. It will be like that scare a few years back when they gave vaccine shots to everybody and nothing happened."

"That's not what happened in China or any of those other countries."

"Whatever happens, I'll have had my fun with Cole. I think Fisher is working on his father to force him. If it's true that he's not the type, then it will be even better for me. I prefer when they fight back, when I have to tame them. That's way more fun."

"That's not Fisher's way."

"And it doesn't always work," offered Lewis. "We still haven't cornered Sven. One more I would gladly play with."

"We can't always win. Come on, dance for me Riichi."

Greg had settled the boy on his lap and made him impale himself on the hardened rod. The boy was gifted and had often performed that trick; taking care of everything and leaving Greg to relax and enjoy himself.

"There are so many I would like to fuck. That Terril kid was quite spectacular today, but let's not complain too much; we have enough fresh meat for now and more coming soon."

Greg was already thinking of the pleasures he would get at deflowering Cole. He knew Thorvald liked his boys trained and ready, though whether to appease his conscience or to make it easier, Greg didn't know. Still, he thought he was missing the best part. There was nothing more satisfying than a virgin's ass. The fact that he would be the first in and the tightness of an unused hole, of taking something that would be gone forever and being the one the boy would always remember. He would have to thank Carl for that one.

He was watching Milo. He knew the boy had liked being hurt and treated that way. The potential was there, he just needed to manage it skillfully. The boy was throwing glances at him from time to time with a mixture of fear and excitement on his face. Greg was sure they would meet often in the future, it would be a game, that needed the right balance between pain and pleasure, and he already had many ideas.

He did regret how it had unfolded with Anthony. Not what he had done to the boy, that was his most intense and pleasurable experience so far. It was the fallout afterwards; it was too much, too soon. He had been foolish, not taken enough precautions. He would not repeat the same mistakes with Milo, but in the end, he expected to be able go as far; perhaps even add a few variations and innovations.

He had not even been able to force the boy to hold his tongue. That was an offense that required retribution, but it would have to wait. Carl would not let him do anything for the moment. He needed to get at the little snitch but he would bide his time, he didn't mind. He would also need to find more convincing ways to enforce his commands. He had been sure the boy would not tell; if it was known, it could harm his reputation.

Riichi was doing an excellent job, and Greg could feel himself getting close. He stood up, his rod still embedded, the boy's feet no longer touching the ground.

"I'll finish now, you did a good job."

He pushed the boy against the wall, putting his hands under the kid's armpits to hold him in place. He then began to fuck that tender young ass in earnest. Two minutes later, he was having his second orgasm of the day. He pressed himself against the delicate body till the last jet of cum was spent, and then let the boy slide down as his member went limp and left its warm and narrow sheath.

"Your turn Sean," said Greg, now oblivious of the boy that had just satisfied him. He did not check if either of his friends were done with the kid he intended to fuck next. He wasn't used to waiting when he wanted something, and indeed, Sean scampered over to him right away, cum leaking from his rear and some splattered on his face.

As he came close, Greg slapped his face.

"What were you thinking? Go wash yourself first, slut."

Sean hid a scowl as he went to the small bathroom in the back. Riichi had already replaced him, servicing Sam and Pablo.

"Those kids need some discipline don't ya think?" asked Greg.

"Perhaps we shouldn't treat them that harshly, they are members of the club, after all," said Sam cautiously, then hesitantly added, "Carl wouldn't like it."

"Carl's not here, is he? These little bastards get many advantages from the club; they need to pay for it. We all went through it, in our time." His tone and stare silenced his friend.

"Are you sure you don't want to try one of those boys on for size, Omar? I'm sure you'd like it. I would love to see that big tool of yours enter one of those pale white bums; that would be spectacular."

"No, no chance of that, you'll never tempt me, Greg. I'm happy with Enrico's mouth. I'll never go further and I'll never have any other use for them."

"You don't know what you're missing, Omar. It's true you're big, and Enrico can barely get your head in his mouth. I heard Walt Turner was even bigger though," said Pablo.

"I don't believe it, not till I've seen it myself," answered Omar, irritated.

"I bet that even if you wanted to, your prick would never get inside any of those boy cunts. It's not the length, it's too thick."

Greg knew Omar well and thought that he would take up the challenge, but Omar was not to be deterred. He swore he would never go further than the occasional blowjob, and he did not fall for the trap.

"Don't waste your saliva. I won't do it and that's final. Bring in the girls and I'll show you what I can do; we should have invited Shirley…"

"She's been busy lately. Besides, I'm not sure she likes them that big."

Sean had come back and was approaching Greg apprehensively.

"At last! Come on over here. Don't be afraid, I got no grudge. You're allowed a mistake from time to time. Kiss me."

Greg took the boy in his arms gently and tasted the boy's mouth, their tongues playing with each other. His hand was on the boy's lap rubbing his young cocklet that soon stood up straight.

"You see, he likes it," he said to his friends between mouthfuls, "probably even more than some of us."

The other four were too busy to pay attention. Following his example, they had forgotten all the restraints they once held a few months ago. Greg raised the boy and skewered him on his fully restored erection. The boy was already stretched and ready for him. He set the kid to the side and started pumping in and out steadily but mechanically. His mind was already planning ahead.

"There's not much better than that," he said, watching Milo being fucked by Lewis and thinking of what he would do to the boy the next time they met, in private.

***

The three fuck toys could be seen walking in silence together shortly later. They were all Eagle boys. They needed to shower before going to dinner, and probably change their clothes, too. Enrico, the youngest, had stayed with his brother Lewis. Finally, Sean broke the silence.

"I'm fed up with Greg and the way he treats us. He has no right, we have to do something."

"I'd rather not. He'll be gone by the end of the year; there's no need."

"I guess, Riichi, but if we do nothing the others will keep at it. We have to show them we don't like it."

"I think they know it very well. Next year we won't be the youngest anymore; there will be others to replace us. They'll leave us alone."

"Not right away. It'll take months."

"I don't care; I won't risk pissing Greg off. I'm not that sure we'll get rid of him anytime soon, and I don't mind it so much," said Milo.

"It was your first time with them. They can be way meaner than that. What did you do with Greg in the other room?"

"Got fucked, what else?"

"A lot more, if you knew him well," answered Riichi. "Why do you say Greg could be with us next year? He's graduating."

"He plans on coming back from time to time I heard, and even without that, do you know when the quarantine will be over? When we will be able to leave the school? Will we ever be able to leave? I dunno…"

A gloom settled over the small group with those words.

"I don't mind the sex. It can be good, but still…" Sean was at a loss for words. "I got cigarettes, what did you get?"

"The last GTA game."

"WOW! Milo, Greg likes you. I would be careful if I were you, and you'd better share your game."

"No problem. What about you, Riichi?"

"A few grades that needed to be improved."

"But you're already very good!…Oh, sorry, so that's how you do it."

"No, I'm good, but my father wants excellence."

"That's a Japanese thing." Sean joked. "Here we are, let's go get that shower, I'm all sticky."

***

That cocktail party had been a waste of time and quite ridiculous. She had escaped it as soon as possible and went to her apartment for some real high time. Shirley was exhausted and fed up of taking care of people who everyone knew would be dead in a few days, not to mention the fact that they were dangerous, too. What a waste of time and energy. She seemed to be the only one in favor of the most extreme measures and had expressed them often to Carl.

She had not signed up for this. Until then, she had a great life and a quite easy job. Those rich kids were all in great health and apart from the occasional bruise, sprained ankle, or asthma bout; it was all very quiet while giving her access to many of the boys' assets and time to enjoy other forbidden pleasures.

Thanks to Carl and because of her services, she could get the most sought after drugs and visit the artificial paradise of her choice, at no cost. She had also tasted most of the available male staff. She liked cock, whatever the size, but she had to recognize that initiating the boys had the most appeal. Taking away their innocence and offering them to Carl and his club was pleasantly wicked. Unfortunately, she really had no time for that recently, busy as she was.

She was also terrified; she guessed the odds against her surviving the next few days were slim. She did not want to die. The problem was that she did not have many options. Stay at the school and fulfill her duties or escape to the outside world, party, and try to enjoy herself before the end. The outside world wasn't that appealing anymore, and probably even dangerous. Plus, where else could she find boys so willing?

When she thought about it, her pleasures were rather simple, but she had to have the time to accomplish them. The diverse drugs she could use helped her overcome that difficult period. The future was blurry, but she still thought about it. If Carl survived, he would certainly be able to build a world of their convenience. He had plans, she knew. He had not disclosed them yet, to her or to anyone else that she was aware of, but she trusted him to find the right formula. She would also do her part.

That bitch Louise. She loved that word and used it to characterize most women she knew, always feeling superior. She hoped they would soon get rid of her, but for now, she had one quality; she could teach how to use guns and Shirley wanted to learn all she could about them. It could certainly become handy later on. She would have no qualms in using them to assure her survival and take what she wanted.

She certainly wanted that Cole kid, the star swimmer of the school; she had her eyes set on him for quite some time now. He had come to her, effortlessly; he had a crush on her, the little darling. It had been quite simple and not very time consuming to find ways to get him hooked. Now all she had to do was to pull the line, not too fast or too tight. Don't want it to break, she thought with a smile as she caressed herself. She would put what little free time she had to good use. Tomorrow would be the day.

Soon, if her luck kept up, she would have the means to get whatever she wanted.

As she wearily left the Teacher's House, she saw the boy she had just been thinking of standing in the alley, obviously waiting for someone… his father? She looked around but saw no one. He was kicking some gravel and looking upset, and she noted that he had shed the skimpy clothing he had worn for the play and was now back in his school uniform and ready for dinner. Well, she could be late. As he spotted her, he went to her without hesitation. She took him to a less exposed place while he told her his story.

"Miss Cahill, can I talk to you?"

"Cole, you know you can call me Shirley. We're alone; no one can hear or see us here, love." She kissed the corner of his mouth, which chased the frown he had wearing before and brought a smile to his face. Such a hot smile, she thought.

"That's better; now what did you want to tell me?"

"It' about my father, he's gone crazy, I don't know what to do." He was obviously miserable and furious.

"Calm down, love." She embraced him, letting his head rest against her large bosom. "I can't help you if don't tell me what's the matter. What about your dad?"

"He's crazy."

"Yes, we all know that," she said, stifling a giggle, "sorry, that's not what I wanted to say… I know of his problem."

I should not have taken that second pill. Stay focused, Shirley.

"You know about it?" The boy, surprised, had raised his head and was staring at her.

"I'm a nurse, people confide in me."

"He's mad, I tell you."

I heard, I'm not stupid, you pretty little thing. Come on, tell me what it's all about.

"He wants me to do things…"

"What kind of things?"

"It's difficult, I can't tell you."

Come on, I don't have all day!

"I'm fed up with him. I can't tell you, really, it's so embarrassing. He wants me to… I don't know what to do. He's got huge debts… you know, because of his problem…"

I think I know what this is all about now, poor little thing.

"Don't tell me anymore. I think I can help you."

"You can help me? How? I didn't…"

"No need to." He was looking at her, close to tears.

She decided it was the moment to take a sample of what she would get in full the following day. Draping an arm across his shoulders, she bent over and kissed his cheek. Then, going further, she tasted his mouth while groping his crotch. She felt him harden under her touch. He was ripe for the plucking and from what she just heard and understood, it would be a double plucking.

"Don't worry, love. I think I know what's happening. Come to the infirmary tomorrow as we planned and you'll get your prize, and I'll help you manage that situation. You'll see; it's not so bad." She could not resist feeling his ass, knowing what was on her mind. He looked a bit befuddled, but she knew he would come.

"How can you know, that's impossible."

Damn, he wasn't completely stupid, the little prick.

"Trust me. You can do that, can't you?"

He hesitated for just a second.

"Yes, of course I can."

"I've got to run for now sweetheart, they're waiting for me at the gym."

"You'll talk to my father? I'm not really sure that's a good idea."

He is wondering what I know and how I'll take care of it, she thought. She knew exactly what was going on; Carl had often talked about his father's huge debt and of the ways to pay it off. She had planned to keep the boy to herself, but she wasn't against sharing.

"Don't you worry love; I'll manage it without any consequences for you. You'll soon see it's not that bad, believe me."

He was not totally convinced but he could not refuse a way out, not from her, not from anyone. He wanted to believe in it. He had no other choice.

"Don't be late tomorrow love, I'll have good news for you, and you know my time is short these days."

She kissed him one last time and left him, allowing her ass to jiggle a bit for his benefit.

She would fulfill her task and bring him to the club more or less willingly, and she would take so much pleasure away from it! She knew ways to make him accept all his father's demands for the good of all. He probably wouldn't like it, but she didn't care. Once it was done, he would not be able to back out; that was the beauty of it. She had never failed. Whatever happened after that, Carl would be thankful.

She threw a last glance at his silhouette as he walked away, head down, and hands in his pockets.

***

As his third week at Saint Xavier was coming to an end, Miles Dunn was in turmoil. He would have never expected such a turn of events when he had accepted this job. He was confronted by a situation unlike anything he could have imagined. He had been given a life and death responsibility towards Matthew first, but now also close to three hundred boys, not counting the school staff. He had been given information that could save lives, but that responsibility was a terrible burden. Certainly worse than when he took his men on combat missions. They were soldiers and had chosen their fate, even if some were quite young, not much older than the seniors were here, in fact.

He also knew that he was as concerned as any other adult was and could have to face an ugly and miserable death in the days or weeks to come. One could think that compared to that, the problem that occupied his mind at that moment was ridiculous.

It was also a problem that he never dreamed he would have the chance to face: two boys that wanted his love and accepted it in all the ways that were known to man. That, in such terrible times for his kind, a lover of boys, was extraordinary in itself. Two beautiful, lovely boys, ready to offer him all they had and all he wanted.

In normal times, it would be a blessing and a curse, yet in this crisis, it was sheer madness. He had to be focused on his mission. He could be called upon at any time to face life or death situations, and he had to be able to react within a moment's notice. He had no time for them. He had a duty to perform, a responsibility towards all the boys at the school. The risk of being exposed was higher than ever, the stakes so important; he did not want to consider that possibility.

Then again, he could be dead in a few days. It could be his last chance to experience what he had always been looking for. How could he refuse such an opportunity?

With Anthony alone, it was rather easy: the boy was no novice and was actively looking for sex. Where he had learned all that he knew and why Miles had been chosen were questions that would be answered soon.

Miles was at the infirmary waiting for him.

Having Sven on top of that was much more complicated. He thought there was more than sex on that one's mind. Was it love? It was said, kids that age were not capable of such feelings. However, that's what it looked like to Miles, himself no expert on that matter.

How he would be able to manage it all, he had no idea. Nevertheless, he wanted to make the most of the incredible occasion that was offered to him and in what little time he may have left to do so.

What if Sven learned about his relationship with Anthony? He would probably feel betrayed and miserable. The older boy would probably just find it funny and simply ask to join in. At that thought, Miles got hard right away. The image of himself and the two boys in the same bed was striking and quite exciting.

Calm down, Miles thought. He had to stay level headed once again. He felt that these last days had taken their toll, and those crazy ideas were gaining ground. Seeing opportunities with all and any boy he was in contact with, it was like being drunk and not willing to refuse the next glass of whiskey. He certainly wanted the sex, but he wasn't so sure yet about the love part. If it could stay simple and not cannibalize all the other worries occupying his mind, it would be even better. Deep down, he knew this was just wishful thinking. He was hooked, and as more time passed, the more obsessed he became.

He resolved to try to take some time the next day with Sven and see what course of action would be best with the boy. He had not had that much of a talk with him yet; he could not say he really knew the kid well enough.

Anthony still wasn't there! Miles was getting worried… well, rather frustrated. Where is that damned kid? He had said he was coming over right away. What could be holding him up? Miles had waited for this moment all day. He needed the boy now more than ever, after having been submitted to so much erotic stimulation, the play, the party, Sven… He wanted the boy, his relief. He paced the room looking out the window and listening for any noise coming from the corridor.

The boy finally arrived five minutes later, just as Miles was about to leave and go look for him.

"I thought you would never come!"

"Sorry, but be sure, I didn't want to miss this appointment, either."

Miles did not lose an instant, grabbing the boy and undressing him right away. With a smile, Anthony undid the man's belt and zipper to get access to his erect cock. Now that they knew each other better, they were both bolder in their actions and desires. They did not have to talk so much anymore. They voiced their needs through their moves, expressions, and bodies. Miles was still very careful, his strength and stature so much larger than the boy's. He had kept close to mind the risk of involuntarily hurting Anthony; still, he was gaining more confidence with each encounter.

He was so excited by the wait and the events of the day that he came after only a few minutes in the boy's mouth.

"That was fast, what's got to you?" said the child, amused by such enthusiasm.

"I've been pent up all day. I needed it fast. I'll take my time for the second one; don't worry. Let's cuddle a bit till I get hard again."

They laid on the bed; the boy spooned against the much bigger man. Miles kissed the child's neck, shoulders, face, and mouth. His hand in the kid's crotch played with the hard cocklet; his own member poking and grinding in the boy's warm crack, waiting to get back in shape to enter and play with the orifice there.

He came twice in the next forty minutes and had no time to ask his questions. The boy was not outdone, reaching a few strong climaxes himself. Both had loved every minute of it. This session of lovemaking had been gentle and sweet, ending with a bout of long, deep, and wet kisses.

"Same time and place tomorrow?" he asked the boy. "And please don't be late!" he added with a smile that took any reprimand from his words.

"I'll be there."

"I'll count on you," finished Miles, appreciatively clapping the boy's ass as he left.

So many things could happen until then. He suddenly wished he could take the boy and go far away, where they would live happily together for as long as it could last, but he knew it was impossible.

At dinner, reality imposed itself onto him again. Shirley's report had both good and bad news in it. Ke seemed to have totally recovered, no symptoms, no fever now for close to twenty-four hours. The second boy also seemed on the way to recovery. She had called Senator Forest's staff; they seemed to have no reports of such recoveries concerning the Shanxi flu. The other patients in the gymnasium did not fare as well, in fact, far from it. She was even quite worried about five of them. They now had twenty beds filled up.

***

At the dining hall, Anthony was seated with Milo again. He was lost in his thoughts and had no appetite. He had been late because of a call from his father. Two days before, they had told him they had been too busy to answer him. They had many things to settle due to the effects of the quarantine on their various businesses, and nothing more.

So he had been a bit surprised to hear his father's voice that day. The conversation had been rather short, his father stating facts without really listening to him or answering his questions. His family was currently in Boston, stuck in their penthouse. The streets were dangerous, as much from the security forces that were in a panic as from the looters and the enraged ferals, the new growing menace. His mother had fallen sick. He had called the emergency services to have her picked up and taken care of, but as of yet, to no avail. He had finished with a, "Love you, son," something Anthony had rarely heard.

The boy knew all too well what it meant. His mother was sick. It was the Shanxi flu, what else could it be? Like all the others in the gymnasium, like Nakata. All over the news it was clear, if you got it, you died. That's why his father had called him; his mother was dying and he was going to have to live without her. Perhaps it was even worse for his father than for him when he thought about it. They were always together, when Anthony had seen her perhaps five to seven days in all during the last year. Still, she was his mother…

"What did you do after the play?" he asked Milo, to change the flow of his thoughts. "You disappeared."

"I went with Sean and Ochii… We had stuff to do."

"You went to the shop. I know the drill. I've done it before you. Who was with you? Did you have fun?"

"Kind of."

Anthony understood right away that Milo didn't want to talk about it.

"Greg was there, I see."

"How did you know? Yes, he was there."

"Did he hurt you or any of the others?"

"No, not really. He wasn't kind, either."

"You're telling me… you were fortunate not to be alone with him. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

"What did you do after the play?"

"I had my own fun, but I can't talk about it. It's a secret, for now."

Sex with Mister Dunn… Miles, rather, had been great again. It had given him the opportunity to chase away those thoughts about his parents, for a time at least. It had been somewhat different from the other times, from all previous times, in fact. It had been more intimate; there had been great sex, of course, but also something else. He had felt good in the man's arms even after the sex was done and they had spent their cum to satisfaction. They had stayed like that for a good ten minutes, just cuddling and kissing in a comfortable silence, as if words were not really necessary anymore.

He did not want to miss it tomorrow. He knew he would never make any record of it again. He also wondered how he would manage with Carl. That was his new worry; he didn't want the man to know he had betrayed him.

Life was cruel and complicated.

***

Now that the procedures were in place, Miles didn't need to be present each evening at every house to check that things went according to the new regulations. He made his rounds later, at his discretion. He could enjoy Matthew's evening visits again.

When the knock came, he was expecting it and felt quite relaxed. All the tensions of the day and of a different nature had been very well taken care of by the quality time spent with Anthony.

He was surprised when he opened the door to see Bob accompanying his regular visitor. He looked behind them but there was no sign of Logan or Johnny coming. The presence of a Puma boy at Bear house at shower time showed how lax discipline was becoming. The number of adults was dwindling, and the prefects had other priorities than maintaining discipline, it seemed. He had to do something about that, but first, he would enjoy the boy's unexpected presence.

"Bob, nice to see you but what are you doing here?

"I got permission to spend the night here. The prefect said so."

"Welcome then. This is a nice surprise. Matthew, you must be overjoyed."

"Yeah, it's the best! Do you think it might stay like this? We would always be together."

Matthew, probably due to the presence of his friend, had slightly changed his behavior and stayed back for a time, although it did not last, and soon he was seeking contact again. He was also using this show of affection, his smile, and charm, to bring the man to support this brilliant idea.

"I don't know. I'll have to see if it can be done," Miles answered cautiously, while observing his new guest.

Once again, he was struck by the differences in their looks and attitudes. Matthew poised and focused, while Bob went from one subject to another. Always on the move, his gaze and hands exploring the man's small bedroom: picking up a book, having a look at his laptop screen, sitting on the bed, and then standing up again to lean against a wall, his piercing eyes seeming to take in the measure of Miles talking to his friend. The man felt it and turned his head, holding the boy's inquisitive gaze for a full minute. That boy, he told himself, is quite captivating.

"I want to hear it again, what did my father tell you he was doing?"

"You must know it very well by now. He went on a secret mission with other scientists. They are secure and isolated somewhere, trying to find a vaccine or cure for the flu."

"He didn't tell you where it was?"

"No, he didn't."

"You would tell me if you knew, right?"

"Of course I would tell you. Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, maybe because you'd be afraid that I would go and try to find him."

"You and your friend are way too intelligent to try and do something like that."

"He's right, that would be stupid," said Bob as he examined a photo on the wall. "Where was that taken?"

"In Afghanistan, during a diplomatic mission."

"Who is the boy?"

"He was the son of a war chief, I think."

In fact, it was a photo that had been sent to him a few days after that night with the bacha bazi. After the dream he had during his first days at Saint Xavier, he had searched for it, found it, and put it on his wall. He thought it had originally been sent to intimidate him since he had not even noticed that pictures had been taken during the reception. The boy had been a ploy, as he had suspected. It didn't work, by that time he had already written all about the episode in his mission report, omitting to say how difficult it had been to resist the bait, of course. He had learned later that he had not been the only one with whom the same stratagem had been used.

Still, the boy had been beautiful and that night had been sweet and magical. It was a very fond memory.

"How long did you stay there? Did you know the boy well? He's smiling; he seems to like you. What was his name? What were you doing there again?"

"Hold on a minute Bob, you sure you're really Bob? I thought I was talking to Logan for a minute."

"Sorry sir, I get carried away sometimes."

"No harm done, son. I don't recall his name, sorry; I was carrying negotiations trying to get his father's support against the Taliban."

Matthew pulled on his sleeve, asking again about his father and wanting to catch Miles' attention again.

"Do you think he'll succeed? That he'll save us all?"

"I sure hope so."

"How long will it take? Did he tell you that?"

"I'm afraid it will take some time. It will not be easy, that much he told me."

"But he knows where to find me when he's done?"

"Yes, that's the plan. As soon as he has finished with his duties, he will be coming here, to Saint Xavier. You will be together again."

"I hope he comes soon," said the boy with a sigh. Miles held him tight in his arms, feeling his light frame heaving.

"I'll be here, don't worry. For as long as you need me."

"I know."

Miles could have finished his unspoken sentence, but it is not the same.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" It was Bob, who seemed to have finished his inspection of the room.

"Why do you ask?"

"There's no picture of one."

"Now that you mention it, that's true. I didn't put up a picture of her. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"A girlfriend? Me? No, not yet." The boy seemed troubled by the question and took a step back.

Miles, meanwhile, had slipped his hand under Matthew's tee shirt. It was in direct contact with the boy's flat belly, caressing it gently. It was enough to rouse his desires once again, his appreciation of Bob shifting. The kid was a beauty himself, a lissome athletic boy, with unblemished skin, graceful legs well in evidence, escaping his skimpy shorts. His raven black hair was rather long, refined features, pert nose, and ruby lips with a smarting of discreet freckles; a work of art, well worth his full attention.

Here you go again not two hours after leaving Anthony, he thought with guilt, but nonetheless went on.

"Would you like one?"

"I… I don't know, probably."

"I'm sure he would like one," said Matthew, who had comfortably nestled himself against the man and appreciated the light rubbing of his belly. "Or perhaps…"

Bob made eyes at him, clearly meaning he should hold his tongue.

"Seems you're not telling me everything I should know about, boys, but that's okay. You don't have to tell me everything. We all got the right to a private life, like my girlfriend and me. Isn't that right Bob?"

"Yeah, of course."

He seemed embarrassed and clearly happy Miles had put an end to that subject. What was going on between those two? Or perhaps it concerned only Bob? The man made a note of exploring the matter further, but later, and with Matthew alone; it would be easier. He was very interested to get to the bottom of it. Even more so if it could lead him to the gorgeous bottom of the boy. Perhaps his libido made him see things that were not there, like between Walt and Sven. It was certainly worth some of his precious time, though.

"It's getting late; you two should already be in bed. We don't want to twist the school rules more than they have been already."

"That's true; Walt will be upset now that he is a prefect."

"Yes, you should go now."

"Bob is sleeping in Ke's bed, I hope he won't mind."

"I'm sure he won't."

"You'll think about Bob staying with us, won't you?"

"I will, I swear, but don't get your hopes too high, it's far from a sure thing."

Matthew gave him a quick hug and kiss before leaving, a first in front of Bob, who smiled and seemed to acquiesce. As Bob passed in front of Miles, he hesitated, raised his head and first went for a handshake, but changed his mind. The man, right on cue, bent slightly, and got his second peck of the evening. It landed close to his mouth, more than likely a coincidence, but enough to fuel the man's fantasies and offer him a suitable climax a few minutes later.

***

Rufus Aims was sick but had no intention of being herded like cattle to the gymnasium like the others.

In fact, he was hiding in the very same place; his work place, or for that part of it, his pleasure place. The one where he took the boys he wanted to have some fun with. It was well hidden, just under the roof. He had provisions and all he needed for the next few days until he recovered. He did not think that any of the boys would talk about his hideout. That would be compromising and they had been well taught to never disclose such information. Carl or Shirley did not know of it. He could come in and out quite easily for water or to relieve himself since a large number of storerooms and offices had been left unoccupied. He slept during the days and came out at night.

The only problem was the heat… or was it the fever? He had been sick for some time now. Without the cough, he could have tricked them all. It was easy to hide his temperature. He was sure he would have done that easily. He was going to recover soon now, it could not last that much longer. He would be back to normal soon. He had thought of leaving the school for a time rather than hide himself, but where could he go with the damned quarantine? He would have been stopped.

It was boring and lonely though and there was the heat, the pain. He was hurting all over. Then there was the cough, he thought he had coughed blood the last time. He must have been wrong.

He should have brought a boy with him for his entertainment, but it would have made too much of a ruckus. No, it was better like this. He needed rest.

Why did he catch this bug? Whose fault was it?

No, he didn't need anyone. He did not know why he felt such anger.

Who had passed him that flu?

Probably one of those damn kids with their snotty noses and dirty hands.

Wait… He knows what will happen to them…

When he gets better…

He'll catch one and that brat will regret the day he had been born…

Yes, that was it… soon…

Chapter 11

WARNING: Violence and blood in this chapter! But lots of love too!

Miles opened his eyes to another beautiful day. The weather had been so since his arrival here; a little hot at times, but nice nonetheless. The sun was shining, its rays reaching his bed through the open window. It was already hot and he knew it would get hotter as the day wore on. Looking out the window, he didn't see a single cloud on the horizon. It constituted a terrible contrast with the events unfolding in the world, in the country, and in the school, more precisely, in the school's gymnasium. Nevertheless, there was an easy way for Miles to be reminded of the situation and crisis they were facing. The air conditioning was off and the window had been left open to let in some fresh air during the night. He went to shut it before getting dressed for the heat.

Miles wanted to concentrate on the good side of things: Anthony, whom he would see again in the afternoon, and Sven, whom he would try to have a serious talk with and make a decision on how to develop their relationship based upon that talk. First though, he had his emails to read and news to look at. Afterwards he would make his rounds and probably have to take a few more poor souls to the gymnasium.

He had taken the habit of getting up early since he liked to have the school to himself before everyone else woke up. On his way to take a shower, he had a peek in Matthew's room, another thing he often did now. He did not enter, he just wanted to check and make sure that all was fine with the boy. On this fine morning, Matthew was sleeping peacefully, his golden head reflecting the sun's rays. Here too, the windows had been left open.

Bob was in the bunk above but he was not asleep. From the muffled groans and quick, thrusting movements beneath the sheets, Miles immediately understood what Bob was doing. He silently closed the door, not wanting to disturb or surprise the horny kid – not just yet, anyway. He wanted to get more information first, and he would try to get it from Matthew.

The scene had aroused Miles, of course, and after a few paces, he almost retraced his steps. If he caught the boy in the act, maybe it would lead to an interesting development. After tossing the idea around in his head however, he decided to move on. The risk of waking the other boys was too great. He didn't want to embarrass Bob, who was Matthew's dear friend, nor bring Walt's attention to that delicate subject. Walt was a light sleeper as he had recently learned.

It could wait; he already had his hands full for the moment with Anthony and perhaps Sven. He even felt slightly angry with himself for those thoughts. He just couldn't seem to get enough! Any boy he fancied could easily awaken his lust. He certainly had excuses, years of frustration along with the impending threat of death. Still, he should be able to be content with one boy, or maybe two. A few weeks ago, that would have seemed impossible.

After his shower, he went to his office to read his emails, which were few and quite alarming. He watched the news for a few minutes, noting how the TV newscasters all looked tired and tense. The talk show hosts were few and solitary; there was no one left to interview it seemed. All they could do was communicate by phone or the equivalent of Skype with their interlocutors whenever they found any. There were no more heated debates on the economy. Government bulletins interrupted the programs at regular intervals, repeating again and again the same safety measures and asking everyone to respect the quarantine and martial law, and apply the restrictions on electricity consumption.

After Tools lavish production of Lord of the flies the previous afternoon, that Saturday was to be dedicated to sports. It was again a rather restful time to Miles who took some leave from work to watch a few competitions and matches and enjoy the sights. He was surprised again at the number of pretty and athletic boys among the students, it appeared odd to him even for an elite school such as Saint Xavier but he had no real experience of such and it did fuel his libido during his always-terrific encounter with Antony at the end of the afternoon. All in all a rather agreeable and, for once, uneventful day except for the gnawing matter of the disappearance of Rufus Aims, whom he kept always at the back of his mind.

His only task had been to see how they could use and eventually develop the community garden kept by a small number of teachers and students, seeds and plants had not been on their lists so far. It would be now.

***

It was on Sunday when the call came and put an end to any hope of a return to normal. Miles was about to go for breakfast when he answered it.

"Dunn speaking."

"Mister Dunn, this is Senator Forest." There was a clear catch in the man's voice, which alerted Miles.

"We haven't heard from you for some time now, Senator."

"Yes, I know. I'm sick; I have been for a few days now."

"I'm sorry to hear that Senator."

"Thank you, but by now you must have quite a few people in the same condition at the school."

"Yes, sir, we have."

"William?"

"William is fine sir; you don't have to worry about him."

"But I do worry, Mister Dunn. What about you?"

"I'm fine."

"Glad to hear that. You are a reliable person, William and the others will need you, and now more than ever. I am still at work despite my condition; here too in the corridors of power, everyone is needed. We have been impacted as much as the rest of the population." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I wanted to warn you that the end is upon us."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"The situation is getting out of control. There will be major disruptions of all the government and state services, leading us to chaos."

"You don't think it can be reversed?"

"We are way beyond that point, and it will come very fast now, soon; I'm afraid, you will be on your own."

"I've been working on it. I think we are ninety percent ready."

"That's better than I expected."

"Your staff has been very helpful."

"That's the least I could do. William is at Saint Xavier, with you… I'll call him and try to explain what to expect. Can you help him?"

"I will, of course I will. He is a good boy. I like him and we owe you a lot … just as we do for Doctor Perry. I'm already looking after his son. Speaking of which, do you know where Doctor Perry could be?"

"There are several locations possible, several teams working. Some important people have been put away in secure locations too. The goal is to rebuild once this is all over, but there is no guarantee they will make it through or that it will work. As you well know most of the population is already infected, has been for months. Without a vaccine only those naturally immune will survive the pandemic."

"What about the vaccine?"

"No news so far, anyway we would not have the means to produce or distribute it on a large scale anymore."

"I see."

"I honestly don't know if there will be any more calls from me; some of the phone numbers I gave you should keep working for some time, and you have the satellite phones."

"We will use them for as long as it is possible."

"Unfortunately that's all I can do for you now."

"You've done a lot already."

"I regret that I could not be there for William, with him. I hope he will understand. I was needed here. And in my condition… we did our best. We tried everything we could, but we failed."

"From my point of view, there was no way you could stop it. Nobody in the world has."

"That's kind of you to say. I don't feel so good at the moment, I'll have to leave you. Be sure to be there for my son. So long, Mister Dunn."

"So long, sir, and you can be sure I'll take care of your son, in the best way I can."

After the call, Miles opened a file on his laptop. It was a few notes he had assembled from Perry's information, research he had done, and answers from the Senator's staff.

The government had some knowledge months ahead of time but they did not understand the full impact nor the devastating speed this crisis would travel around the globe. The CDC, along with various government agencies, started to create plans towards the protection of the citizens, the infrastructure, and the continuance of government. Homeland Security, the National Guard, and the military also made plans. They did not have enough time to implement them. Too little was done, too late.

Miles read the summary report he received from Senator Forest's staff:

Electricity:

Half of the electricity in the US is produced from coal-fired plants that need constant refueling. Power output would begin to decrease within 2-4 hours if the bulldozers stopped pushing coal onto the conveyors that feed them. They would shut down completely within 8 to 24 hours. Some date to the 50's, some are modern.

Nuclear plants theoretically could continue for a year or more before needing to be refueled. The electricity they produce would need to be consumed or they would go into auto-shutdown. Likewise, if anything mechanical failed, they would go into automatic shutdown. Twenty percent is nuclear. They are now being voluntarily shut down to avoid any risk of meltdown like in China.

Hydroelectric plants would continue to operate for potentially years, seven percent is hydroelectric.

Natural gas, wind, and solar form the balance.

The power grid system is shared across the US and Canada. There is no storage, so the electricity produced must be consumed, somewhere. The power grid manages this. Problems in one location can have a chain effect, taking down other parts of the grid. One problem in one part of the chain can take down other parts across multiple states and Canada. The grid is the weak link. It is constantly managed by people.

Solution: Create islands of electricity disconnected from the larger grid. Downside, you may have "brown-outs" or intermittent electricity. If consumption gets too low, a plant on the smaller grid may shut down so as not to overload the system. Then someone has to restart it.

Georgia, North and South Carolina, receive their electricity from the same mix as above, only the percentages are a bit different. Forty percent is from coal, more is from nuclear, and then a mix of the others.

Intermittent electricity would result. Blackouts would begin the first day, with blackouts happening with increasing frequency and duration for the first year. This is all predicated on people managing the grid, and that it is isolated from problems in other areas. Having only one source of power is possible, and that is all you would need with the lower demand because of less people.

Water:

Water could be plentiful for weeks, months, years, depending on the source. If it comes from a mountain reservoir, then it could last years or decades. If it comes from a water tower, and most of the population dies, then the water in the tower could last months. After the backup generators fail, and if the electricity comes on from time to time, then the electric pumps would refill the towers extending the time water would be available. Georgia, North and South Carolina have both towers and mountain sources.

Internet and cell phone:

These systems depend on electricity and do have backup generators and battery backups. They do have auto reboot when electricity is restored, so these too would be intermittent.

Natural gas:

North Carolina is the end of the line for natural gas piped from fields in Texas and Louisiana. There would be enough in the system to last years, maybe decades, because the use would drop dramatically with 9 of 10 adults not surviving. Sections could be cut-off automatically if something happened, but there still would be enough in any one section to last years at a lower consumption rate.

At least, Miles thought, I more or less know where we stand and what to expect.

***

After Senator Forest's call, Miles had lost his appetite for breakfast. The good news was that there seemed to be no new patients to escort to the gymnasium that morning. Instead of going to the dining hall, he decided to visit Ke and see if his complete recovery had been confirmed. If it were so, he would be much better off with his friends than in the place where death would soon be visiting often. He would have to discuss the boy's case with Miss Cahill.

Arriving at the* gym, he again felt the sense of dread that he associated with it. He had a quiet discussion with Shirley, which was only more bad news. She told him that two of the patients were close to the end and they had been moved apart from the others; the leather straps kept on to avoid any danger. She asked to have two armed people at all times to avoid any risk. Miles agreed and promised to be there as soon as the first case of rage occurred; he wanted to check if the straps would hold and make sure there were no problems. He had to be sure they could face any unexpected event.

Shirley was clear in her meaning. For her, the best way to deal with it was to put them out of their misery, and the sooner, the better. Miles found that her way of thinking could make sense. To his knowledge, nothing could be done for them that would change the outcome. They were in pain, wracked by fever, and the school did not have the equipment or personnel to alleviate their agony. They would never have the agreement of the school for such a decision since it went against all the principles they had been taught and accepted. It might be the most pragmatic answer, but it would never be adopted. If there were no other choice, it would have to be done in secrecy.

On the good side, Ke and the other boy had not shown any symptoms of the flu for some time now, and since Ke had been fine for the last few days, it would be reasonable to send him back to his house very soon. Shirley, who was among the few to still wear gloves and a mask when attending her patients, wanted to wait some more. They finally agreed on releasing him after the next twenty-four hours, to Miles satisfaction.

Miles went to him right away to tell him that he would be back with his friends very shortly, but it wasn't enough for him. He wanted to be released immediately. There were four other boys with him, and they had all been put together; separated from the adults. The boy had drastically changed over those last few days, and he had lost the energy of youth. With a pervading sadness, he stared up at Miles through sunken eyes.

"Tomorrow," Miles told him, "you'll be free tomorrow."

Miles left, feeling that he had not found the right words for the boy, who still felt let down. As he was about to leave, he saw headmaster Daniels enter the building.

"Miles, glad to see you here, I didn't know what to expect." The man seemed tired and somewhat unfocused.

"What can I do for you? Were you looking for me? I just had a call from Senator Forest and wanted to talk with you and Carl."

"I'm sorry, but I think I'm sick."

"What do you mean? I'll get Shirley; she'll have a look at you."

Miles stopped in his tracks. He suddenly realized what Daniels' words really meant. He turned back around to face the man.

"Is it the flu?"

"I'm afraid so."

Miles then saw that Daniels was clutching a small bag, one that might be filled with clothes and toiletries. It seemed tragic and ridiculous at the same time.

Miss Cahill, showing some compassion for once, wanted to set up the headmaster's bed apart from the others, but he chose instead to be among them and close to the boys; he wanted no privileges. He remained the man he had always been: responsible, generous, and humane.

He himself put the manacle around his ankle after changing into his pajamas.

Carl Fisher was there within a few minutes after Miles' call, and without any direction from the board of directors, was handed the headmaster's position by Mr. Daniels. He embraced it straightaway, and after a few words with Daniels, he left and went back to work.

The news of the headmaster's sickness spread quickly throughout the school and was a shock to all. He was the heart of the school, loved and respected by all, staff and students alike. It was one more blow to the school's resilience. Miles was as impacted as everyone else was. The headmaster was his anchor in the school, the person he could listen to without reserve.

His relation with Fisher was working well but did not have the same level of trust by far. Luckily, he had developed a good rapport with Miss Simons and Abrams; a very strong and satisfying relationship these last days. He would not depend on Fisher alone. He had not liked the man's attitude with Daniels; it was as if the headmaster already was ancient history. There had been a dryness in his words during their short conversation, mixed with some poorly hidden glee in his expressions when he registered that he was now the man in charge of the school.

Miss Simons met him as he was leaving the gymnasium. She had taken over the training of the staff and prefects concerning firearms but before starting her day, she wanted to see Daniels and express her sadness at the news. Miles waited until she was done to tell her the content of Senator Forest's call.

"So, what should we do now?" she asked, after his summary of the situation.

"First we need to know what is going on in the area; how far it has deteriorated in the few days since the quarantine. We've had no contact with the outside for some time. Then, taking Senator Forest's information into account, we probably need to obtain more weapons and ammo to train the staff and boys to face the difficulties ahead. Also, we need to stock as much canned food as we can and whatever we can get our hands on. All of that before others get the same idea and nothing is readily available anymore. We probably only have a few days to do it all."

"I can take Lucent and have a look around; I know the area rather well. With the horse, I can cover a lot of ground while going unnoticed. I don't have to stick to the roads."

"If you do go, there are two places I would want you to visit."

"What and where are they?"

"There's a gun shop, and a food depot set up by the government, close by that could hold a lot of what we will need. I'll show you on a map."

"For the gun shop I think I know where it is."

"That seems logical; you've probably been there before. Now, let's go to my office and I'll show you on a map how to get to the government food depot."

Fifteen minutes later Louise Simons was saddling her horse, the printed map in her pocket. She had two guns slung over her back, one long range rifle and a shotgun. She had a Bowie knife hanging at her belt for close combat, and a crossbow stuck out of one of the saddlebags. "For stealth and silence," she said. Miles thought that she looked like she was going to war.

It would take her quite a few hours to fulfill her tasks; if possible, she would avoid all contacts and have a look from afar with her binoculars. Miles watched her go, and was again surprised by her confidence and relaxed attitude. She is one very peculiar teacher, he thought as her figure disappeared over the crest of the hill. Mathematics was certainly not her only talent.

Miles then joined Carl Fisher and informed him of the content of Senator Forest's call. Once again, he registered a strange and surprising exuberance from Fisher as if he was bringing good news. The man had asked for the help of Ms. Eldritch, Daniels' former secretary, who was still striving to keep a semblance of order by rescheduling the classes to keep as many of the boys in them as possible.

Carl had certainly wasted no time in taking on his role as headmaster, with general approval from the rest of the staff. But Miles felt a new tension in their working relationship that morning as Fisher made the rounds of the school to inform everyone of his new position directly. Fisher also gathered and took charge of the new prefects, a task that had become essential. He spent a large amount of his time with them that morning, distributing roles and duties.

Miles felt uneasy as lunch got closer: the loss of Daniels, the dire news from Forest, and the new attitude of Fisher, who had been usurping him and others in all areas without asking anyone for counsel. It did not bode well for the near future. Fisher was infatuated, and seemed to thrive as the situation became grimmer.

At least Miles had not fallen sick yet. He had retained his position of training and distribution of weapons to the staff and prefects. That would occupy his time that afternoon while Louise was away. He went to lunch without appetite again, accompanied by an unsettling new restlessness.

***

As Miles entered the dining hall, his mind was elsewhere as he contemplated what it meant to have Carl Fisher now in charge with the running of the school and becoming its main authority figure. Something he was accustomed to in the military, but in the Corps there had been a trust that commanding officers were well trained and well informed. Trust – that was the missing element between himself and Carl; Fisher was certainly competent and efficient in many areas… but was he trustworthy?

Miles needed to use the toilet so he headed into the boy's room, forgetting that he should be using the faculty restroom. Rushing through the door, he nearly knocked Sven to the ground, who was on his way out. He quickly grabbed the boy by the arm, keeping him from completely falling down. Then, without really knowing what he was doing, he seized the boy by the neck and silently directed him into one of the empty stalls. With some surprise and trepidation, but keeping quiet, Sven went in willingly.

Miles' hands were immediately at work, all over the young and tender frame. His mouth latched onto the boy's, and their bodies ground against each other. Sven, after a moment of surprise, reciprocated eagerly, overjoyed by that sudden explosion of passion.

It did not last though, since a boisterous group of boys entered the place an instant later. The two lovers froze in place, Miles hurrying to lock the door and safeguard their liaison. They waited for the intruders to leave, listening intently, glued to each other with minimal movements, and barely able to breathe. They were happy to be together, touching, but clearly yearning for much more.

When Miles was sure they were alone again, he said, "Sorry, this wasn't safe, it was stupid of me."

Miles had acted impulsively but did not regret it. In his present state of mind, he wanted them all: Sven, Anthony, Logan, Johnny, William, Chandler, the twins… even Matthew, who was no longer out of bounds. His mind was racing; he quickly ascertained his current situation and determined the best way of achieving his priority objective.

"After showers and just before lights out, leave your house. I'll be there and make sure the prefect on duty is occupied elsewhere; he won't see you leave the building or enter it again later in the night. You'll go to the infirmary since it's empty there, I'll meet you, and no one will know we're there. Can you do it?"

"No problem, I'll be careful not to be seen."

"You'll be mine tonight Sven, I promise."

"I've been waiting for it."

The boy was clutching to him and Miles had the greatest difficulty not to succumb to his strong desire to deflower him right away. He gently disentangled himself from the slight and seductive body, keeping the contact only by a flurry of kisses.

"Now go, let's not take unnecessary risks. I'll follow in a bit."

That was a sequence he knew well now, even if he dreamed of one day being able to enter the dining hall hand in hand with the boy of his choice and to show his true self and love, something he knew would never happen.

***

The woods were dense and quiet. Nothing there was different from a few weeks back. Louise knew she was the best fit for that mission; she knew every trail every shortcut, she had the best horse, and she had been there countless times before. She had no real need of a map. She wasn't afraid; on the contrary, she almost enjoyed the sense of danger. It was almost like a kind of hunt, one like those she had been on so many years ago. Only this time, the objectives were different.

The boys being trained with weapons meant they would need lots of ammunition, and probably fifty or so would have to be armed. They had obtained about twenty guns, mostly thanks to her secret cache, but they were handguns or hunting rifles and only a few were fully automatic. Those could become handy later on.

Then they had over three hundred mouths to feed. Food reserves were currently full; but would empty quickly, with so many people. They could last three, maybe four months at most without power and with working generators. The school had not been fashioned to live in self-sufficiency. Dunn was right, they had to gather information before they could act and take what they needed.

So here she was. She had taken Lucent, her preferred mount, and set off to scout the area. There was a secondary gate two miles to the north, which was largely unused, and it opened to trails in the surrounding forest. From there she planned to go check the road to see if it was navigable, then some inhabited areas, get the feel of the town, and end with her two main targets. She felt good in those woods and for a time she could forget the reason for her presence there.

She noticed nothing special at the first few houses and farms she encountered, the roads were clear and the buildings intact. The only odd thing was the absence of any activity: no one in sight, no vehicles on the road, no one working the fields. Only when she approached a group of condominiums closer to town did she observe the first signs that all was not as it should be.

Keeping a good distance, she made her observations through her binoculars. At least one of the apartments had burned; black soot could be seen on the facade above the cracked windows. Two cars had crashed head-on against the building, with the driver of one of them having gone through the windshield. He was still lying there.

Two other bodies, crippled, broken, were lying on the ground nearby. Did they fall from the open window on the third floor? From the state of the decaying bodies, she thought they might have been there for several days. Where are the other occupants of the place? Why were they left like that to rot? She didn't get closer to investigate; it was not her mission. There was no sound, no movement. Giving the place a wide berth, she kept going.

Before arriving at the city, she heard a few sporadic gunshots to the west, breaking the eerie silence. She also heard one or two vehicles pass by out of sight. Even before that, she noticed the columns of smoke rising towards the sky, probably from some of the still burning buildings in the east, where most of the residential areas were located.

As soon as she could, she found a spot where she could get a clear view with her binoculars. From this vantage point, she clearly saw the main street. There were definite signs of some kind of recent fight: broken glass, cars left in the middle of the road with open doors, brown spots on the ground that could have been blood. There were no bodies in sight, and no activity except for a few papers and debris swept by the wind. Stores were closed with some of the shop windows broken. The place seemed frozen in time. It astonished her how much the scene was reminiscent of the many end of the world movies she had seen in the comfort of her living room. Only this time, it was for real.

After giving the small town another once over, she set out for her next objective which was to observe the strip mall to the west. She used the cover of the trees and avoided riding out in the open as much as possible. Now that she was close to civilization, the silence and deserted surroundings were eerily abnormal.

Coming up on a knoll, she could see the strip mall in the distance. Moving on, she cautiously kept to the woods for cover; even at this distance, she wasn't going to take any chances. The main building housed several stores and a restaurant, and there were smaller buildings nearby. The parking lots were mostly deserted. She circled around to get a better view of the food depot, which was located in a large space that previously served as a storage area for agricultural equipment. It was a rather large and imposing building, yet very bland in construction, made mostly of concrete and cinder block.

Louise slowly dismounted and pulled out her large binoculars to get a better look. There were military vehicles parked in front of the main entrance, forming a defensive line. Two of them had machine gun turrets facing the outside. She saw at least four soldiers standing nearby, National Guard for sure. They looked quite serious about their jobs.

There were two bodies lying in a pool of blood thirty yards from the vehicles, the gunshot wounds clearly visible on the twisted bodies. One of them wore the same uniform as the men standing near the vehicle. Left as a warning? She thought it was quite peculiar.

While she observed the activity for about an hour, a truck came into the staging area, escorted by two more Joint Light Tactical Vehicles. They loaded some merchandise onto the truck and then left, ignoring the bodies. Not much else happened during the hour she observed them. Activity was obviously at a minimum there, but the exposed bodies on the ground didn't tell a good story.

As Louise was on the way to her last objective, carefully avoiding a few more houses, tenements, and communities, she caught sight of a group of five children running along the street, pursued by two women holding a baseball bat and a large knife. The first woman was young, the second one middle aged and half-naked. The kids were faster but slowed by the youngest, a girl of about seven that the oldest was pulling along. He had to have been fourteen or fifteen, and was rather stocky.

The women were gaining ground and one of the kids stumbled, catching his foot in a tree root. The women were almost upon them when one of the boys pulled out a gun and opened fire, mostly missing them. Only one bullet found its mark in one of the women's shoulders, but that didn't stop them in the least.

Louise had taken position with her rifle, and without a moment of hesitation, she took aim and pulled the trigger twice. She took them both out with clean shots to the head, not missing once. There was no trembling; she showed no emotion as could be expected. It was as if she had just crushed a mosquito.

She then approached the kids slowly, her gun hanging on her shoulder to show that she meant them no harm. The boldest, a boy with long sandy hair falling partly over a pleasant face, took a step forward, and when he spoke, the other four huddled around behind him.

"Thanks Lady, that was close."

He was obviously shaken, as were the others. Sweat ran down his face and his tee shirt was stained. He looked in much better shape than the others did: one was wearing pajamas, and the bigger one had a dirty, torn up shirt. A sorry bunch if she had ever seen one.

"What are you doing alone in open ground? That's not safe," said Louise

"I'm taking them to Mr. Algood's place. It's real close, we'll be alright there."

Louise looked around for a moment, observing the surroundings. The shots did not seem to have brought any unwanted attention.

"I'll go with you, if you don't mind." She then whistled and the horse came to her, impressing the children, "Are there many like those two around here?"

She pointed at the two bodies a few feet away, using her teacher's tone, which meant business.

"More and more each day. You're right, we've got to be careful, it's getting dangerous. People are killing each other all around, even their kids… name's Ethan, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Ethan, I'm Louise. I come from Saint Xavier; the school…Have you heard of it? We have food and shelter there if you need it."

"Thanks Miss, but we got Mister Algood. He's taking care of us. I never brought back this many before," he said, motioning over his shoulder at the four huddled there. "But I'm sure he'll take them in."

"With a name like Algood, he can't be bad," she said, trying to break the ice with a little humor.

"He is a bit odd sometimes, but he is a good man. Took me in when my mother went to the hospital."

"I see." She turned to the boy holding the gun. He was about the same age as Ethan, with a mop of blond hair. "You'll have to learn how to use that, you know."

"His father gave it to him. He didn't want to let me use it," answered the long-haired polite boy, who seemed to do all the talking. "Follow me, guys, we're almost there."

Louise kindly picked up the little girl to put her on the horse's saddle.

"You're not afraid I hope," she said smiling.

When they had traveled the two blocks to the house, she saw a worried looking man coming out onto the porch with yet another boy by his side. He wasn't very tall but rather fit, and many would have found him attractive with his small mustache, beard, and his winning smile.

"Where have you been, Ethan? I told you not to go out again. Who are these people?" He was talking to the boy but his eyes were fixed on her as if he was gauging her."

"I had to go get my iPad with all my music; I forgot it the last time I went there. I found them hidden in a garage and told them to come with me. The lady saved us from two ferals not far from here.

"You can't bring every kid you meet here, Ethan. I can't care for that many," said the man, and then turned to Louise and added, "Thank you so much, misses. What can I offer you?"

"Nothing really, they were just lucky I was there at the right moment."

"You got the proper tools to get around, I see," he said, impressed by the weapons she was carrying. "I tried a little escapade on a bike a few days back, you should watch out for the helicopters. Believe me; they shoot at everything they see. I won't leave this place again any time soon." He turned back to his young charges. "Okay y'all, get inside. Let's not attract attention."

"I can't stay," said Louise, "I have to get back to Saint Xavier."

"Saint Xavier, the school? That's pretty far from here. You sure you don't want to come in for a bit? I've only had kids to talk to the last couple of days."

"No, thank you, it's not that far and I need to move on. As I told the boy, you could find refuge there if you need it."

"For the moment we'll stay put, wait it out. They're saying on TV things will get better soon."

"We must not watch the same channel, but it's your choice."

She was somewhat relieved that the guy had refused her invitation to come with her; she had a mission to complete and no real way to escort them safely to the school. Not to mention several more mouths to feed, depending on how many more were cooped up inside the small house. She probably knew more about the town's situation now than they did and had already seen a lot. She cut the exchange rather abruptly.

"Got to go; bye kids, Mister Algood."

As she turned to mount her horse, the man was already ushering the group of kids inside the house and closing his door. She saw a few young faces pop into view from behind some of the windows that faced the street, most of them looking sad and fearful. It broke her heart to see such dismay written on their tender faces, and so she turned her back to them and quickly set off. She made her way back to the safety of the woods as fast as she could to find cover and to avoid any more unexpected encounters. At the same time, she was very satisfied that she had been able to save those kids from the ferals. It could have ended badly for a few of them.

Her last stop was the gun shop a few miles away. There was a military vehicle parked at the front, but no one in sight. The place looked abandoned and well locked up and did not appear to have been looted. After waiting thirty minutes and some hesitation, she decided not to get any closer. It wasn't worth the risk right now; she had a report to make first.

***

After a moment, Miles followed in Sven's steps and sat quietly at his table. All around him, lunch was a silent affair among the boys, the fate of Daniels weighing heavily on everyone's thoughts.

Once again, many were looking at their phone screens to get the latest news. There was nothing coming from China anymore, and a few other countries seemed to have gone dark as well. Warnings were flashing on TV every hour with information on how to get the government emergency broadcast on radio in case of power failures, and various other instructions on how to make it through the quarantaine.

Miles was now convinced that news people had received orders from their higher-ups; they were not free to inform their audience as they would like any longer, at least, that's what Miles had surmised. Society outside the school was breaking up, but inside, they only got hints of it. The internet showed a quite different picture with riots, vandalism, and fighting in the streets. Miles understood how lucky they were, away from major cities in the remote boy's school. What the senator and Doctor Perry beforehand had told him made sense now.

Carl, was surrounded by a few members of the staff, and seated at the same table as Miles, but ignored him. He was taking possession of all the levels of power without wasting a minute. What a difference from Daniels, Miles thought. More and more, he thought that Louise was right in her warnings about the man, but Miles had no choice and still wanted to give Fisher a chance. They needed everyone to make it through the next few days; he did not dare think of the weeks and months ahead. His ambition was limited by day-to-day matters for now.

Tools was there too, a little apart from the others like Miles was himself. His world was probably ending too. With Daniels gone as well as more of the staff each day, there would probably be no more plays to produce; literature would become a thing of the past, at least for a time.

In the afternoon, Miles worked with some of the new prefects while regularly checking his watch. His chance encounter with Sven did not diminish his ardor for Anthony; on the contrary, it amplified it. He also thought of Louise, alone and on a perilous mission. He would feel better once he saw her safely back at the school. He trusted her to take every precaution necessary, but his years in the military, with danger all around, had taught him to, always expect the unexpected.

The rest of the day went by in a subdued atmosphere. Everyone was focused on their own tasks with the thought of Daniels' fate still very much at the forefront of their minds.

Miles felt frustrated. There was not much more he could do now but wait for the next problem, hoping that the measures taken would be the right ones to contain it. With some luck, the information Louise brought back from her tour of the surrounding areas would help them to keep ahead of any disagreeable surprises. It would also give them the opportunity to plan a few raids to get the weapons and other items they would need, things that might soon become impossible to procure.

He didn't regret talking to Sven and setting their meeting for that evening, even if it might appear selfish or foolish. He already had Anthony to satisfy his needs, but he wanted the other boy too, he needed to feed the craving that he felt growing stronger and stronger each day. He knew being exposed could ruin his efforts for the school and put the survival of many in peril. He knew this should be his priority. At the same time, a few days from now, it might not even be noticed. It would appear without importance compared to the other major concerns facing their community or he could just as well be dead, a thought he tried to push away but still influenced all his actions.

Late in the afternoon, he had to escort one more feverish teacher who started coughing and vomiting to the gymnasium. Inside, he had found Abrams and Carl lecturing the prefects they had called upon to help for the night. Greg was there with two others that were already qualified by Louise to use guns. Only Abrams was armed for now, but Miles soon understood that Carl had decided the boys would share a gun; held by the prefect on watch each night.

Miles did not think it was really necessary with Abrams or Jon Kent there at all times, but knowing that such responsibilities would sooner or later befall them, he approved the initiative. Once again, he observed that Fisher had already taken a step without consulting him, something Daniels would notably have never done in this matter, since it was in his field of expertise. It was irksome, but at this time, his mind was focused on his imminent meeting with Anthony and he let it go.

At 4:50 pm, he was in the infirmary waiting for Anthony, who also arrived a few minutes early. Without a word, they embraced and started to undress each other.

The evolution of his relationship with Fisher made getting some answers from the boy more necessary, and after a first round of sex as satisfying as the previous ones, if not better now that they knew each other's needs and inclinations, Miles tried to coax some information from the boy. Anthony, who was now feeling a bond of trust with the man, started talking, hesitantly at first, but soon much more easily. The questioning took place between kisses and caresses as they cuddled together.

Miles soon had a better picture of his situation. There was indeed a club of like-minded people, who helped each other and shared many things. Sex was only a part of it, but an important one, notably for Anthony. The boy told him that since he had joined the club, he had learned to enjoy it a lot and had developed some talents, too. The club gave advantages but also duties. He didn't want to drop any names or too many details yet, but without giving a reason for it, he hinted that he had been asked to test Miles. He confessed that he knew at once that Miles would be interested, as he had learned to see the signs, but he had been surprised and hurt by Miles' rebuttal after the soccer match. He claimed that it didn't matter anymore now that they were close, had a relationship and that he didn't think he wanted to play by the club's rules anymore.

There was a lot of confusion and a lot of contradictions in the boy's words, but Miles didn't pressure him to explain himself. He knew that after that first step, Anthony would tell a lot more at his own pace and initiative. Miles understood he was not telling the whole truth and there were still things the boy wanted to hide from him. It would come in due time, he was certain.

Miles had been putting the puzzle together for some time now. He was convinced that Greg managed the club, perhaps with a few others, and that they had a liking for boys. They probably dealt in other areas too, including alcohol, cigarettes, and most likely, drugs. Adults had to be involved too, if only to procure the goods. There were those organized weekends too, highly suspicious in context. Did they pimp the boys? It seemed unlikely, but possible. In other times, he could have easily made the headlines with such a story!

He had time to see only the tip of the iceberg and he wondered how much remained yet unseen. He also believed that Carl Fisher was involved. Is he just looking the other way, or does he take part in some of it? His innuendos concerning Miles' own tastes certainly gave a direction, but the recent events made most of it irrelevant. His investigation was over.

However, it could also make Miles' own position stronger, in a way. If his appreciation for boys was shared by many others, that could make things much easier for him later on. If he were caught with Anthony or Sven, it would give him some much-needed leverage.

After answering Miles questions, it was the boy's turn, and he wanted to know everything about the virus and its effects. It seemed he knew that the man held a lot of information about it. Miles finally understood that Anthony had just learned that his mother fell ill; he had been without any news since the day before. Miles was touched by the boy's show of distress, and saw the very young child in his arms for what he was: despite his apparent composure and knowledge of sex; he was still just a very young boy.

He tried to find the right words and gave half-truths to relieve the boy's worries while avoiding useless lies. Anthony listened and was grateful not to be treated with the blunt reality of the situation and given some hope. He opened up some more and told the man of his loneliness and distance from his parents, who always behaved liked strangers with him, but that he still loved nonetheless. Those confidences were very touching to the man.

They simply cuddled for a few more minutes, taking pleasure from the presence and closeness of each other. They talked of this and that, their likes and dislikes, and their favorite hobbies. Finally, feeling the boy at peace and ready to confide, Miles asked one more question about the club.

"What's wrong with the club, Anthony? Why don't you feel like being a part of it anymore?"

"Because of Greg and what he did."

The name had come up without any resistance this time, and it seemed that the dam had broken for good. Miles took advantage of this opening.

"What he did? What do you mean?"

"He did stuff to me, he scared me. You remember, that last weekend before it all started, when you questioned me."

"Yes I remember, and I knew something had gone wrong."

"Greg was there; Thorvald wanted Milo because he was new, so I ended up with Greg."

"Was it the first time?"

Miles was getting a look at the bigger picture of "the club." Its reach extended much further than the school obviously, and as he had predicted, it involved adults, teachers, and staff.

"No, not the first time, I never liked him, he was never much fun. He doesn't care about us, and he doesn't mind if he hurts us during sex."

"Why did you let him do it then?"

"You never say no to Greg Sutton. Everyone at the school knows that. It can cost a lot, even more if you're part of the club."

"I see. So what did he do that weekend?"

"He had a plastic bag that he used to suffocate me while he was fucking me. I passed out several times, and it went on and on for a long time. I lost count of how many times. I thought he was going to kill me, really kill me!"

The recollection made the boy shiver. Miles took him in his arms to comfort him. On the outside, he was calm and collected, but on the inside, he was seething.

"You should have told me when I questioned you. I'll break the bastard's neck!"

"No, please don't do that! I shouldn't have told you."

"Why? It can't go unpunished. Why didn't your so called friends in the club do something?" Punish seemed to tame a word for what had been described, indeed, thought Miles.

Miles saw the worried look on the boy's face and felt the hurricane of emotions that was taking place in his head.

"They did. Well… no, not really. But… you can't…"

"Calm down, I won't do anything that you don't want me to do. It's clear I still don't know everything there is to know about this club and what it means for you. But let me tell you that, I, personally, would never have let that go unpunished, whatever the reason."

"You won't do anything for now? Promise?"

"I would love to, but I won't do anything. I promise."

Anthony seemed relieved and melted into the man's arms. Miles wondered what kind of brainwashing had been performed on the poor boy. Who was the mastermind of it all?

"Let me tell you this: we will leave it alone for now, but if and when you want to tell me more, come to me at any time. I'll do what has to be done, I'll protect you, I'll take care of you, and no one will hurt you again; agreed?

After a few seconds, the boy answered.

"Agreed."

"Good, you're sure you don't want to add anything?" and after the boy shook his head, added, "Let's get dressed then."

He surely wouldn't see Greg in the same way he had before, and from now on, he would watch him very closely. And you never knew, accidents do happen, don't they? This guy was a psycho.

***

That evening, before lights out, Miles had put his plan into action to give Sven time to leave his house unnoticed. He had kept the prefect on duty busy for a good ten minutes, and the diversion should have worked. The boy should now be waiting in the infirmary if he had not chickened out. Miles honestly would have hated that, even if it made things much simpler for him.

Without surprise, Miles was nervous. It was his first time with an inexperienced boy, at least to his knowledge; he had never bothered before to ask his paid partners their pedigree. In fact, he was as inexperienced as the boy was in such a situation, and was asking himself many questions on how to proceed. Anthony had been something completely different, he was there for the sex and more knowledgeable than his adult partner. The boy probably could have answered many of those questions, although Miles did not think it wise to ask for his advice.

Perhaps it would be more or less similar to his few experiences with girls. He had known a few but it had never been their first time, either. How had it been, his first time with a girl? What did he remember of it? Nothing too good. His main concern had been to perform what was expected of him, to prove himself. In the end though, it had been totally unsatisfying. He had tried again, gained some confidence, and it somewhat worked, but he knew that it would always be make believe.

Had it only been sex he was seeking, it would have been simple. But there was more to it with Sven: there were emotions, sentiments, things that he thought impossible to share with a boy. Things he now knew existed. What had started as pure sex with Anthony had evolved into something else. A true relationship had been established even if the sex still came first when they met. He wanted to try something else with Sven, while still satisfying the intense craving the boy stirred in him. There was uncertainty, and he was betting a lot, unsure of what the boy's reaction would be or what his willingness would be when confronted with the real thing.

As he entered the administration building, he came face to face with Carl and Shirley, talking in hushed tones.

"Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt," he said.

Behind them, he noticed that the door to the infirmary was slightly ajar.

"Good evening Miles, we were just leaving. What brings you here?"

"I have some files to check in my office. I wanted to put down on paper what I thought of Louise's report," he answered instinctively, taking that direction at a brisk pace.

Louise had returned safely; he had learned of it after leaving Anthony. He had gone to her immediately and she had given him a detailed report of her observations. They would meet again in the morning to plan their next moves. It had been easy to postpone it to the next day by using the woman's tiredness as an excuse, when Miles in fact had another scenario for his evening.

As he was passing them, Carl did not stop him. It meant that Sven had either not been caught coming in, or had not come at all.

The door to his office was unlocked and he went in; didn't he lock it when he left earlier? As he switched on the light, he saw Sven crouched behind the desk. He motioned to him to stay silent. He hoped Carl wouldn't want a last word. When he heard steps coming his way, he signaled to the boy to get behind the door, the only place that could not be seen from the corridor. He followed the graceful moves of the boy, who was very lightly dressed. Sven was in his night garb, shorts, and a sleeveless tee shirt. Even with the stress of the situation, Miles felt a well-known stirring in his loins.

He stood in the doorjamb to prevent Carl's entrance. The man simply passed by him, saying, "Forgot my phone, good night. There will be a lot to discuss tomorrow," and then continued to his own office.

Miles closed his door and waited for two minutes before he heard Carl retrace his steps and exit the building. Sven had taken his hand and was leaning against him in an affectionate posture, holding his breath.

"All clear, it seems," said Miles, loving the boy's natural intimacy, "let's go to the infirmary, it will be more comfortable there."

Still holding hands and after a final hallway check, they entered the now quite familiar infirmary where Sven had spent a few boring days. Miles took him to his previous bed; there the light from the bedside lamp would be almost impossible to see from the outside. He sat on the bed and contemplated the boy he was about to make love to. Yes, with Sven, it could very easily become love, while with Anthony he considered it to be more about sex. If a difference could be made, it did not in any way lessen his appreciation for Anthony, but the relation with each one felt clearly different. That's why he felt obliged to give a small preliminary speech, while the boy, who was sporting a very nice erection that stretched the thin cloth of his shorts, was quite ready for action.

"Just a few words, Sven, before we go any further, and don't worry, it won't be long."

The boy's brow furrowed and his eager smile receded.

"First, I want you to be sure that this is what you want." The boy immediately acquiesced. "Then I have to tell you…that I already have another boy I do things with, you know…"

The boy's smile disappeared, "Sex, you mean? Here, at the school?"

Did I hurt him, I should not have said that, Why did I say that, that was stupid! thought Miles.

"Yes, I wanted you to know that, to be honest with you."

"I don't care," he finally said in a determined way.

"We don't know each other that well yet, but I want our relation to be one of trust and to take it as far as it can go. If at any time you feel bad about something or want to stop, you have to tell me right away and we will discuss it."

"That won't happen."

"Don't be so sure, boy. I sure hope you're right. I insist; if anything we do feels wrong, you have to tell me."

"I will," agreed the boy.

"Good," replied Miles, his hand starting up the boy's smooth and slender thigh to stop on the very hard bump in the boy's shorts. "Come closer."

Sven moved forward and with his hand on the boy's neck, Miles bent him slightly backwards for a lingering kiss, first quite innocent but becoming more intimate as tongues and saliva came into play.

In the same movement, the man made the boy lie on the small bed in a tight embrace. They stayed this way for a few moments, the man trying to imagine the shapes under Sven's light clothing and appreciating the silky feel of the naked skin under his fingers, notably of those generous, well-formed thighs.

He then moved his hand up along the inside of one thigh to the crotch, and slipped it under the shorts to play with the boy's small balls hanging in their sack, before moving on to caress the throbbing erection. He pulled away from the kiss, watching with interest the effect it had on the virgin boy, who gave small sighs of pleasure, eyes wide open, full of passion and unmasked desire. All scruples, if there had really been any, were soon forgotten; the boy was willing, there was no doubt of that.

He would go all the way and satisfy his own cravings. He would go slowly, taking it one step at a time; they had all the time and privacy they would need. This part of the building was deserted at night.

He started undressing the boy slowly, uncovering each of the hidden marvels one at a time. First, he pushed up the tee shirt to expose the taut belly and its cute navel. It was an innie that he kissed and then explored with his tongue, testing its salty taste on his tongue. He then went up to the chest and its two little nipples, which he attacked, one after the other. He licked, pinched, and nibbled at them gently with his teeth. All the while, he made sure to press and rub the curved erect cocklet still hidden beneath the shorts with his own chest and body. He finally reached the clavicles that marked and defined the limit of his progress and turned the boy over to enjoy his other side.

As soon as he was in position, the boy, who was not being taken care of anymore, strained to rub himself on the bed, showing his own strong arousal, which greatly pleased the man.

Miles glanced first at what would later be the epicenter of his discovery, a well-rounded bottom that stretched the fabric tightly over two perfectly shaped globes, and then down to his thighs; two of his most prized delights. He would concentrate first on the boy's upper body, and gave his total attention to the boy's back and spine, kissing each of its visible little bumps, caressing the velvety skin following each apparent rib with a finger, and ending his tour at the well-defined shoulder blades. Finally, he got rid of the annoying garment, slipped the tee shirt over Sven's head, and tossed it aside.

Now in position, he could join the boy's efforts in finding more satisfaction by grinding his midsection against the boy's rump, pushing him against the bed. Miles could feel his large erect member hard as a rock and ready to burst through his underwear and slacks, asking to be set free. It would come, but not just yet. He wanted the boy to feel his own desire and perhaps also warn him of the shape it would take.

He was not done yet. There was muffled laughter when he kissed and tickled the child's armpits. Despite the heat and perspiration, their taste was just a bit salty; the smell was all boy and nothing else. He went on to the shoulders, and then to the nape of the neck and the peach fuzz to be found there. Until now, the boy had been totally hairless, which was rather pleasant to him. It was only on his forearm that he found a light down, so soft that it was almost imperceptible.

Turning the boy around once more, he could not resist kissing the boy's mouth, nose, and ears, and caressing the flowing hair that came almost to his shoulders. Now that he was done with the top half, he wanted to be out of his clothes and allow the boy to see his own body. Straddling Sven, he quickly pulled off his shirt, and then opened the slacks by unzipping the fly and pushing away the underwear to free his compressed, very much erect cock, giving it a few strokes while doing the same to the boy's through the tight shorts.

Sven had raised himself onto his elbows and was staring intently at the tool in front of him. Miles wondered what thoughts were brewing in his head; was he afraid, fascinated, curious… excited? They had both taken off their shoes but not their socks. Still facing the boy, he pulled them off his own feet, and then took care of the boy's, tickling his soles once done and listening to the boy's light giggles.

During this time, the boy, limited in his movement by the man's weight on his thighs, had settled on one side and sent his free hand forward to touch the man's impressive rod.

"It's big; hot."

"Do you like touching it? Do you ever touch yours? I mean…"

"Of course I touch it; I wank; that's what you meant, right?"

The boy had started an up and down movement. Miles was ecstatic and put his hand over the boy's own hand. His cock was oozing precum.

"Does this feel okay?"

"You're doing great Sven."

He moaned slightly as the boy continued to rub his shaft with a gentle, delicate hand.

"What do you think about when you wank, Sven?"

The question had come naturally, Miles was curious; did the boy dream of girls? Of boys? Possibly of men?

At first, Sven did not answer but concentrated on following the slow, steady rhythm Miles had imposed on the boy's hand.

"Come on don't be afraid, tell me. Is it girls? I don't mind."

"I think of … these last couple of days… I was thinking of you, only of you," the boy blurted out, his cheeks blushing red at the statement.

Miles was taken aback; he had never thought of such an answer. Despite the fact that it was rather obvious, now that he thought of it. The boy was smitten by him, had been for some time. The man was touched, and his boylover side was delighted. He was loved, or at the very least desired by a beautiful boy, could it be true?

The boy's next words were far from the sincere and emotional declaration he had just made but more to the point.

"Would you like me to… you know? He asked miming a blowjob.

Miles was quickly brought back to earth but the feeling of elation lingered.

"You want to suck me? Have you ever done it before?"

"No, never."

"Would you like to?"

"I don't really know…"

"Well, there can be no harm in trying, but wait, let me do it to you first, to show you how it's done. Let's get rid of these shorts first, okay?"

Miles took off his own slacks and underwear. He wanted to get comfortable for what was to follow. Sven started to fumble with the elastic of his own shorts while pushing them down, but Miles put a hand over Sven's, stopping him.

"No need to rush; let me enjoy the rest of you first."

"But I need it now," said the boy as he rubbed himself, "I want it so badly!"

Miles knew the feeling and although he would have preferred to bask in the child's beauty for a bit, he saw no reason to delay the boy's pleasure. At that age, he would be ready again in no time. Slipping his hand under the shorts, Miles seized his cocklet, determined to bring the boy to his first orgasm of the night.

"Let me take care of it."

Miles rubbed the glans steadily, mercilessly, while his other hand caressed the skin of the boy's inner thigh, close to the crotch. He covered the child's ruby lips with his own at the very moment that Sven climaxed. It was a dry orgasm but a strong one. He felt the spasms under his fingers that lasted a good ten seconds.

"Did you like that?"

"I loved it!" Sven exclaimed through his panting, "Let me do it to you now."

"Not so fast young man, I'm not your age; I can't do it over and over like you. See, you're getting hard again. I'll try to hold off until you have it in your mouth." He hesitated before continuing, "Have you ever tasted sperm before? No, I guess not since you can't make any yet; would you be up to it?"

"What's it like?"

"A bit salty. Not too bad."

"Like that?"

The boy was pointing at the precum visible on the man's glans.

"It's thicker; the taste should be more or less the same though."

"I'll suck you and give it a try then."

"Okay, great."

Miles resumed his exploration a little faster; he wanted to get to the main course and his ultimate reward. Would Sven let him cum in his mouth? It was worth a try, he had clearly enjoyed everything so far. That was Miles' goal, that they both have a great experience. He had not anticipated cumming in Sven's mouth though. He could let it go if need be, it was just a bonus. What he really craved was the boy's ass. He would be really frustrated if he didn't get it. He was sure the kid would be up to it, he was ready for everything it seemed, but it would be his first time. There could be pain, and he might change his mind.

He attacked the boy's feet, kissing the small and delicate toes one by one. He was not much of a foot lover though, so he did it swiftly to continue with the elegant ankles and then moved on to the legs, petting the calf on the way. There was no hair on those creamy legs, just some fluff to be found there like on the forearms.

He liked the sculpted form of the knees that gave the leg and thigh their perfect joint. His desire for perfection was chagrined by the sight of a scab on the left one, but it was to be expected in a boy; scratches and a few bruises. He lingered on the thighs; he loved their sight, their touch, their density, their generosity. He liked everything about them and spent some time caressing, kissing, licking and kneading them all the way to the boy's still covered crotch. Now was the time to take off Sven's final garment and uncover what had been hidden from his eyes up to this point. It would also be the first time he would see the boy naked.

Before the grand unveiling, he nibbled through the material at the boy's sack and balls, finishing with the rigid cocklet and observing the effect it had on Sven's face with great satisfaction. He suddenly wanted to delay the outcome, and wished that these preliminaries could go on forever. He was as much a novice as the boy in the matter of foreplay, and like Sven, was enjoying it all tremendously. He had never had the leisure to play such games before, and as much as he wanted – needed – an explosive relief right now, he also did not want it to end.

He thought of those porn movies he had seen on the internet, where the boy was usually no more than a fuck toy, an object, where there was rarely a kiss or caress for him, just the sexual act in all its crudity. He had never understood why those lucky guys on the screen behaved that way; they did not make love, they just had sex. He had thought of different reasons to explain that, some that were related to his own experiences.

Most of those boys were probably prostitutes, wanting it to be over as soon as possible. They did not want to be kissed or touched any more than necessary. Then there was the guy himself, wanting to record the act and post it on the internet. It showed some selfishness; it was consumerism, more the attitude of a collector than of a lover, or again, someone looking for a performance to show the world, the boy often being no more than a notch on his belt.

What he was experiencing at that moment was the opposite. He was trying to share, to give pleasure to the boy. Of course, he wanted to receive but he also had to refrain his urges to take from Sven and place his own satisfaction first and foremost, as was his habit. Those different intentions were well balanced for the moment and the boy's comfort was important to him. He wanted it to stay that way. He dreaded the resurgence of those cravings that could overcome everything else, like that time in the Philippines and in other parts where other such moments had occurred…

With Anthony, it had been something else. The boy was no virgin by far, and knew what he liked. He loved the sex, and he had often taken the lead during their encounters. They had been a perfect match. It had been raw sex from the start, with no need to slow things down before their relationship progressed. It had been a wonderful, liberating experience, one without guilt or challenges. With Sven, the stakes were much higher. There was the emotional charge, the love that the boy had expressed in many ways. Miles didn't want to lose any of it, at the same time he knew that sex was an integral part of the attraction he felt for the boy. All these questions would soon be answered, and by morning, all would be resolved, one way or another.

He felt the boy wanting more and decided it was time. At first, he simply pulled down the front of his shorts, revealing the slender cocklet. He put his tongue at its base and licked it to the top. He then captured the glans between his lips and started stimulating them with his tongue, passing over the piss slit, while his finger played with the small sack and the two sensitive marbles inside. The boy's reaction was strong and almost immediate. He orgasmed again, wrapping his hands around the man's head to steady himself and alleviate sensations so exquisite as to be somewhat painful.

"Stop! Please stop! Ohhh, no, go on…please…stop… oh yes! No!"

Miles let go of the boy's slight pulsating shaft, sliding down his shorts while Sven recovered, and then threw them aside, where it joined the tee shirt that was lying haplessly upon the floor. That was it; he could admire the boy in the nude for the first time. He pulled back some to see everything that Sven had to offer. He looked so young, so small, so vulnerable, and yet so beautiful, so desirable, so perfect… so willing… he was mesmerized.

It was impossible to resist. The last shreds of apprehension or doubt were fading away. Miles had been expecting, hoping for this moment forever. Now he would fulfill his purpose in life.

"Can I see your backside?" he asked gently.

The boy readily turned over, wanting only to please. Miles stayed silent for a minute, simply observing what was offered to him. The two generous orbs practically glowing in the light of the lamp, the cleavage between them was much darker and did not let the man discern what he knew was hidden there. That part of Sven's body had retained much of its original paleness in sharp contrast with the rest of the body, where the strong sunrays of the last few weeks had left a healthy tan.

He got closer and cupped one of the cheeks with his right hand. He did not move it, just let it assert the firmness, the resistance, the volume, the satiny skin. He let his thumb follow the crack and graze the anus hidden there. The boy emitted a small sigh as if he longed for a more intrusive exploration. At least this is how the man interpreted it. Using his other hand, he kneaded both globes before spreading them apart to reveal the little rosebud that was to become his ultimate reward.

He laid against the boy's back, spooning him, careful not to crush him under his weight. He was shocked by the difference in size between them, the boy looking so puny and fragile under him. His cock settled neatly into the proffered cleft; getting acquainted with it and soon leaving traces of precum on the boy's delicate white skin while Miles resumed kissing Sven's face and mouth.

"I know what you want," said Sven, "you can do it, I'm ready."

So the boy was knowledgeable and agreeing to the task, which bolstered Miles. It was now up to him to make sure that they carried it through to the end, to a mutual satisfaction.

"I'll need to prepare you before that. The first time is kind of a delicate thing; it has to be done right. It can be painful otherwise."

He raised himself and turned the boy around, his rod at full mast and leaking, still in contact with the boy where it left a shimmering trail on his skin.

"Would you suck me first? I really need to cum now."

They were face to face, Miles trying to decipher the boy's state of mind in the depths of his blue-gray eyes. Without a direct answer, Sven, scooting down, took hold of the man's member, studied it and brought his ruby lips closer, the tip of his tongue coursing over them as if preparing for the unknown. Miles picked up the boy and turned him around to be able to access his beautiful rump and other assets during the imminent blowjob.

"Better that way so I can play with you while you perform. Are you ready? Use your lips and tongue, be careful with your teeth, and try to take in as much of it as you can. I'll tell you when I'm about to cum. It's up to you whether you keep going or not, okay?"

Sven nodded in agreement and bent even closer, finally sticking out his tongue for a taste. He avoided the thick liquid that oozed from the slit at the top at first, but then scooped some up and brought it back to his mouth where he savored it like an exotic delicacy. Getting bolder, he started licking the shaft and glans like he would an ice-cream cone.

He soon opened his mouth and put his lips around the glans. Then, like he had seen it done in the movies, he bobbed his head up and down, trying to go as far as he could along the shaft. Miles moaned in pleasure while Sven pulled away from time to time to get some air, or to send Miles a glance to see if he was doing it right. Miles, his hands and mouth toying with the sweet rump and thighs, knew he would not last long.

"Go on, I'm almost there, you're doing it very well," and he was, indeed.

Miles was pushing his cock up the boy's open mouth to heighten the marvelous sensations that coursed through it. He would have loved to put his hand on the boy's head and try to deep throat him, but curbed himself. There would be other occasions later on and he did not want to risk hurting or scaring the boy in any way. Whatever was achieved next, so far, this had been his best experience ever.

A minute later, he felt his juices rising and signaled to the boy. Sven, concentrated on his task, did not react right away. Miles slapped his rump to get his attention and repeated he was about to cum. The boy hesitated; then finally pulled off the slick shaft and pumped it with his hands as though he was churning butter. It exploded at the same moment, sending five copious spurts of cum that landed all over the boy's face and chest.

Miles couldn't resist picking up his phone and taking a picture, several in fact. It appeared some had entered the boy's mouth. Sven was frozen in place, not knowing how to react. Miles picked up his shirt to wipe him clean, and using his own mouth and tongue for the boy's pretty face. He finished with a French kiss and pulled the boy on top of him in a tender embrace.

"You did great Sven. Was it okay for you?"

"I was a bit surprised at the end. Otherwise it was okay, yes."

"We still got one thing I really want to do." Miles placed a hand on each of the boy's mounds, and then sent a finger in to explore the crack and stimulate the tight hole there. "Are you still willing to try it?"

"Yes, I'm not afraid. You can do it; I want you to do it."

"It might hurt a bit at first."

"I trust you. I want it."

"Let me get you ready then and we'll do it in the most pleasurable way for both of us. I'll work your hole while sucking you, and you'll suck me at the same time. It's called a "sixty-nine," ever heard of it?"

"Yeah."

"Let's get into position then."

Miles pulled a tube of KY out of the pocket of his discarded pants, and then they shifted around until, despite the size difference, they were both comfortable and ready to take care of each other.

Miles felt the boy's lips take hold of his half-erect cock but he was focused on his own undertaking. After gobbling the kid's own slender and rigid stick, he tested and explored its feasibility. The boy's puckered hole was closed tight and clearly had never been penetrated. He started by playing with it, coating it with some saliva to make it slick, and tried to push a finger in. Concentrated on his task, he had soon forgotten the boy's cocklet, letting it slip from his mouth to focus on expanding and getting access to the boy's chute.

He had never had to do such a thing, had never thought it would happen one day. He normally would have been repelled by the simple idea of licking and using his tongue to pry apart an entry that was only meant for a cock. All the boys he had had intercourse with had needed no preparations, or at least he had never thought of providing one. Anthony had been an easy fuck and had done it all by himself. With Sven, once again, it was different. Was it love that had transformed into something quite exciting and natural, an act that only moments before, he would have considered foul and repulsive? His genuine concern for the boy? A concern that was absent from those priced encounters?

He was making progress, his tongue probing farther as he felt the anal muscle relax somewhat. Miles also felt the boy's prick nabbing at his chest, as rigid as before. Sven was obviously enjoying his ministrations; it was time for more direct action. Miles pulled out his tongue and replaced it with his finger, which entered easily. He tried to add a second, but this time there was some resistance and the anus contracted, attempting to push them back out.

Miles opened the KY and coated his fingers generously. He presented them again to the stubborn entrance and pushed forward in a circular motion, wanting to trick the muscle into letting them in. At the same time, he was kissing and caressing with his lips and tongue the boy's inner thighs, perineum, and sack. Soon he had three fingers in, hard at work to stretch the chasm wider. Getting there, he thought.

He resumed his work on the boy's young stick. He wanted to bring him to orgasm one more time before getting himself inside the boy's hole. He felt his own rod at full mast and hard as a rock, ready to plunge into the boy's love tunnel, where for the moment, his fingers were pumping fast and steadily in rhythm with his mouth, which was working the slender cocklet. He was also searching for the nub that was the child's sensitive prostate, trying to elicit as much pleasure as possible.

He was soon successful, feeling the boy shaking all over with the strength of his climax, his anus dilating and contracting around his well-embedded fingers. Now was the moment-of-truth, when he would know if the boy would give him that ultimate gift.

Keeping his three fingers well in place, he moved the boy's light frame to lay on his back, and then positioned himself in front of him, between his legs. He reached for a pillow with his free hand, and then a second one. Both went under the boy's rump. The boy was in total abandonment, in a dreamy state after the peak he had just achieved and allowing the man to manipulate him like a doll.

"Still with me Sven? I'll go slowly, tell me if it hurts too much and I'll pull out."

He sure hoped he would not have to do that! The boy, eyes half closed, nodded, bracing himself for what was to come. Miles was ecstatic. After much preparation, he would finally be able to line up and enter the very tight orifice he had coveted the whole night. Boy and man were facing each other. He felt some last minute apprehension in the child, but nothing could stop him now. Seizing both of the child's legs with one hand, he raised them up and pushed them back all the way to his head.

He brought forward his rigid sex, coated in lube, oblivious of the disproportion with its target even when it was stretched by the three fingers that were pushing even more lube in its intended sheath.

Then it went very fast. As he pulled his fingers out, he was shoving the aligned rod in to take their place. He entered the boy in one go, there was a plop sound, then he was stopped by the spasm of the hole trying to force him out, followed by Sven's hands that, out of reflex, were pushing him away. Pain was all over the boy's face and a single teardrop fell down his right cheek. Miles was just at the entrance, not much more than the glans had passed the sphincter clamp. The sensation was exquisite.

"Do you want me to stop? I can take it out!"

At that moment, Miles did not know if he could really pull out; this instant was the culmination of all that had come before. He wanted to possess that lovely boy, fully, and without restraint. He wondered if he had awakened that deep lust that had accompanied many of his previous sex experiences, something that could have been disastrous this time. The child was at his mercy, each of Miles' hands pinning an ankle, holding them in place beside his blond head, his huge body and weight forbidding any move that would free Sven from his resolve. Fortunately, he would never need the answer to that question.

"I think… I can take it… but slowly…don't push too hard…please."

"That's my boy; I'll try the best I can."

It took over twenty minutes for the man to bottom out, inch by inch, forging ahead relentlessly, applying a constant pressure. He had never been so hard, nor felt better. He closely watched the boy's face for any indication of pain or discomfort, and there was, too frequently. He tried to let him adjust to each thrust, trying to keep control over his own inner lust as best as he could. He knew he should have stopped despite the boy's denial, but he could not. He knew it was selfish but the boy had agreed to it and did not complain. All the while, his hands were everywhere on the boy's body, trying to elicit a response from the now flaccid cocklet, and spreading the child's cheeks for better access.

Finally, after a few more minutes, he started a slow forward and backward motion that he progressively amplified. He was never able to fuck the boy as hard as he would have liked, but even so, it was the best, most satisfying fuck he had ever experienced. Perhaps exactly because he had to be considerate to the boy and adapt to his needs, but probably more so because of the tight virgin sphincter muscle that worked like a vice and transformed each push into the boy's love canal into a marvelous experience.

The boy's face was now more relaxed but his cock stayed flaccid, unresponsive despite his lover's efforts. It was clear he did not like it but he was still thrusting back whenever he could, despite the pain.

Miles took his pleasure for a good thirty minutes more, trying new positions until he was confident the hole was well stretched, and would not close if he pulled out. First, he turned Sven over and moved in from behind. The boy hissed slightly as he passed the gaping hole but then seemed more at ease in that position, his little prick rubbing on the pillows under it. Miles thought he was gaining ground and dug in deeper. He then raised the boy onto all fours and continued giving long, slow strokes, kissing the kid's back and neck, nibbling at an ear, and sending one hand to play with the tiny nipples while the other went for one more fruitless attempt to awaken the young cocklet.

He then laid the boy on his left side and spooned him from behind while he was still embedded and thrusting. Holding it just above the knee, he raised the boy's right leg to get a good view of his own shaft going in and out of the pleasure hole, adjusting the position and angle of the leg to provoke more or less friction. Once again, he felt his juices rising; he was getting close.

With a wet sound, he exited from the hole that still clung around his sex as if it did not want to let it go, and then brought the boy back to their initial position, face to face. He wanted to look into the boy's eyes when he came. He accelerated the rhythm of his thrusts, within reason, but soon saw some pain showing on Sven's lovable face. The boy was emitting grunts and moans with each shove, clearly experiencing half pain and half pleasure.

"Hold on I'm almost there," he said, slowing down to make it last longer and hating himself for it.

It was too late to delay any more. He plunged one last time into the boy's innards, trying to reach farther than ever before, and exploded, sending a myriad of rare sensations throughout every fiber of his being. His sperm generously coated the wonderful sheath that had welcomed him. He fell over the boy, exhausted but exalted, kissing him madly for bringing him so much joy and pleasure.

The boy had been in some pain often, uncomfortable at best, but there had been some pleasure too, a strange combination. Yet he had found his main gratification was in satisfying the man he loved and wanted.

After the sex, they stayed in each other's arms for a long time with bouts of kisses and caresses, without a word. Then, Miles pleasured the boy one last time with his hand and mouth, trying to repay him for having given himself so fully and without reserve, despite the cost.

Miles then checked the boy's hole to make sure that no harm had been done before sending the boy to the toilets to wash out the sperm and avoid any later leakage, which could bring unwanted questions. He was learning.

He dressed while waiting for his return. When the boy came back, he looked tired but wore a smile of contentment.

"It seems like you didn't care for that last part," said Miles, "I hope you'll get used to it over time. That is, if you don't mind doing it again. For me, that was the best. I think that you might get to like it too, quite soon."

It was not very honest to present it that way to the boy. He knew it, but the only thing he thought of at the moment was to do it again and as soon as possible.

"It was okay, the pain wasn't that bad except at the beginning. I wanted to do it and I'll do it again anytime. You decide when."

Sven had cuddled up in the man's embrace, as a cat would do. He wasn't really telling the truth though, at this moment, his emotions were mixed but he certainly didn't seem to want to jeopardize Miles' love.

"I could hear you purr," said Miles, "I think I should get you to bed now."

Letting his hands roam over the boy's naked skin, which was in stark contrast with his own clothed body. He felt regret to have to part from the boy, a sentiment of loss and foreboding. Would they be able to meet like that again? Nothing was sure anymore.

"We could sleep here; you could bring me back to my house in the morning before the school wakes up," suggested Sven hopefully, the pain and discomfort already forgotten.

Miles almost accepted; he recalled how sweet having Logan sleeping in his bed had been a few days back, but that was impossible. They had to be reasonable. Also, he didn't know if he could resist the temptation and transform that moment of peace into a repeat performance, wanting to enjoy the boy's butt once again.

He had kept some control but had accepted the boy's pain, and he knew that pain had brought him more pleasure. He wasn't too proud of that, even though he knew well that it had been the boy's gift to him. There was still a beast lurking inside him, ready to come out in such circumstances. Perhaps he needed to accept it, if he wanted to master it.

"I'd love to do that, but we can't, not tonight. I could be called, and your absence could be noticed. We've taken enough chances as it is; we'll meet again soon and often."

Miles knew that if he was right, it was because, unfortunately, terrible things had occurred, and in a short while, they would be able to spend as much time together as they wished. That is, if they both survived.

"Then I hope that time will come very soon," said Sven.

"Come on, get dressed, I'll take you back to your house."

You don't know what you're really wishing for, Sven, added Miles silently as he gently pushed the boy out of the bed. Reluctantly, the boy dressed and they left the place after straightening the bed.

As he left Puma House a few minutes later, Miles was feeling a terrible emptiness but was also full of hope and optimism.

***

Sam Lewis was on duty when the lights went out between two-thirty and three in the morning. Greg had been paired with him since Carl had thought it would be better to have two prefects on guard each night. Most of the infected were asleep except those behind the folding screens at the back, who could be heard moaning and wheezing, some fighting against their restraints. Sam did not like those sounds. Why don't they die, he wondered. Everyone knew it was what would happen anyway.

Greg had gone to fetch them some cigarettes and had taken the gun with him. He seemed to want to keep it to himself the whole night, which did not bother Sam that much. There should not be any use for it this night as Abrams was sleeping on a cot nearby, close to the kids' quarter. He had asked to be awakened every two hours to check on the "patients." Cahill, once again, was nowhere to be seen.

Greg had been in a bad mood all night. It seemed that getting Cole Anderson into the club had been more arduous than planned. It meant complications, and one virgin ass he would not enjoy as much as he expected. He was horny as hell; he had just had time for a blowjob from Milo before dinner, and then had to join him for his duty at the gymnasium. Sam hoped it was really cigarettes he had gone to fetch and not a boy. It would mean Sam would be left alone for quite some time.

Sam had difficulty keeping his eyes open; cigarettes would really help him stay awake. What was Greg doing? He had to wake Abrams at four, and it might raise questions if he was alone when he did. He hated being here. He was seated as far away from the occupied beds as possible; he had always been afraid of diseases, but it had been impossible to refuse to take part in the watch. He could close his eyes and think of being somewhere else. Greg would be here any minute now. He was asleep in a few seconds.

Ke was still awake. He, too, hated this place, hated the smells, hated the noises, hated the chains, and hated the handcuffs. Mr. Dunn had said that tomorrow, if he was fine, he could go back to his House and friends, whom he missed and envied very much. One more day – it was an eternity, even with Abram's kindness. And now, there was cry baby Tommy Seal's presence to endure and that other kid he didn't know, Art something, a fifteen-year-old who looked really sick.

He wanted out. He had no more chocolate bars to relieve his fears, and he wanted out now. Would Dunn be true to his word? There was also Cahill to consider. He didn't like how she looked at him or how she treated him and all the others around him. He needed to pee but didn't dare call out. Abrams was asleep and the prefect didn't seem interested in his needs. He was afraid of Greg Sutton like everybody else, but also fascinated and wanting to emulate him, even if he knew he would never be like him.

He was the first one to give the alert when all the lights went out. He had always been slightly afraid of the dark, but that night he felt close to a panic. He pulled on his chains to get closer to Abrams who he knew was resting on a cot to his right.

Soon more people awoke asking what was going on. Abrams quickly snapped out of his slumber and turned on the flashlight that he had for such an event. A few of the patients had taken out their phones and were using them to get some light.

"Calm down people," Abrams said. "I'll go start the generators. I'll be back in less than ten minutes."

"Don't worry sir," he addressed Daniels, who was now awake as well, "I'll take care of it and check with Dunn to make sure that everything is fine. We expected this and we're prepared."

Sam was pulled from his dreams suddenly and was somewhat confused when he saw Abrams leave through the door in a near sprint.

All was in place now for the gymnasium to become a slaughterhouse.

***

Rufus Aims woke up in a rage, his body and mind on fire. Only one thought coursed through his addled brain, his one obsession. He needed to kill something to appease his suffering. He knew where to go.

He looked around and found a sturdy piece of wood with nails sticking out of the end in a pile of rubble nearby. He weighed it and decided that it would fit his purpose perfectly. He then left his hideout.

His thoughts were cloudy but focused on only one thing: to kill. He moved silently in the darkness. There was no light. Even outside, through the windows he passed, only darkness reigned. He could hear…feel, agitation and anxiety, people shouting. He smiled. That's good; he said to himself, they'll be easier to kill.

Rufus Aims was confused, his brain a jumble of thoughts. All that was left of him was aimed towards one goal: kill them all. He entered the gymnasium just after Abrams had left. A couple of battery-powered lights above the emergency exits dimly lit what was mostly darkness across the gymnasium.

There were smaller lights from cell phones piercing the prevailing obscurity. They had the effect of magnets to him, and he went to them, lifting the spiked club and ready to strike. His first victim did not see him coming and died instantly when hit in the head without a murmur. Rufus, a smile on his face, kept hitting until it became a bloody pulp and sprayed everything with a red splatter. Then he went to the next bed a few paces away.

The woman on the bed he noticed was Maria Hoult, who was having difficulty breathing between coughs. She was using her phone's screen to shed some light, trying to understand what was going on, and what those squishing sounds coming from Ben Harrison's bed were. She had time to catch a glimpse of Rufus and his bloody weapon, and then tried to shout out. Out of breath, her screams came out as nothing more than a squeak.

"No please!" she managed before he planted the club's nails into her face. She too died instantly. The club was embedded in her skull and for a moment, Rufus could not retrieve it. He pulled at it desperately, looking around the near darkness in vain for a substitute. His rage intensified and just when he was about to let go of it and use his hands, he freed it from her mangled head.

Not far away, behind a folding screen, someone was crying, another coughing, children's sounds, sweet to his ears. He wanted to destroy those first, the ones responsible for his pain and misery, for everything. He had a crooked smiled as the use of his weapon was finally returned to him. The few patients close by were starting to understand something was amiss and were shouting for help.

Sam had not moved. Frozen in place, weaponless, he didn't know what to do. In desperation, he looked out the window, hoping for the return of Greg or Abrams.

***

Ke had heard the strange squishy noises on the other side of the screen and was trying to understand what was happening. He tried hopelessly to push away his fear of the dark. What had been a way to feel more secure was now the instrument that fueled his fears. Through it, he could only discern shadows and lights, and hear the muffled shouts. Crybaby Tommy Seal was crying loudly in the bed next to him, and the sick Puma boy was taken by a coughing fit.

Not a good idea, he thought out of instinct, not knowing how right he was. Alarmed at first by the blackout, he had been reassured by Abrams' voice and announcement, but then, the nature of the events had clearly changed. He felt something was very wrong and quite menacing. Someone, something was out there doing terrible things, he was sure of it.

"Tommy shut up," he ordered in a whisper to the crying boy. "The lights will come back on soon. We mustn't make any noise."

His warning was to no avail. Footsteps came towards them. There was nothing he could do. It was too late. He pulled at his shackles, tried to free his foot but failing. He was panicking.

Then he heard headmaster Daniels' voice.

"Aims, don't go in there. They are just kids. Come to me, there's more of us here."

Out of instinct, Ke and two of the other boys beside him left their beds to hide under them, just as one of the folding screens fell and revealed an imposing silhouette. Tommy seemed to cry louder, if that was possible. Art's coughing stopped, replaced by a strong wheezing and gasps. Both were paralyzed by fear and in clear sight of their attacker, despite the darkness.

***

Rufus ignored the shouts coming from behind him. Along the way, he had struck three or four times at different people but did not stop to finish his work, oblivious to the wails of pain left in his wake. His resolve had somewhat faltered for a brief moment; too much stimuli at the same time for his confused mind, but it did not last. That crying was insufferable and had to stop.

The source of that unbearable noise was now right there in front of him. He struck, but missed the boy's head, instead hitting the shoulder. The crying child emitted a shrill sound of pain from under the covers where he was hiding. How stupid of him, thought Rufus, welcoming the sight of the redness that started to seep through the bed sheet. Let's play some more. He then began to strike randomly at the small shape under the sheets, delighting in the diminishing screams the boy uttered and the feeling of the club meeting flesh and bone in his hands.

"Please somebody, do something!" he heard from behind, recognizing Daniels' desperate voice in a flash of lucidity.

He kept hitting the now bloodied shape in front of him, and too soon, the boy became silent. Then Rufus' attention moved on to his next target, the wheezing boy now huddled up on the ground, trying desperately to pull himself free from the manacle and chain that held him. The terrified boy was trying to get as far away from the menace as possible. Rufus was upon him in three steps and then paused suddenly, taking pleasure in prolonging the boy's terror. He felt no need to rush. He started swinging again, aiming for the fleshy parts first and trying to make it last longer. Soon, blood was everywhere, spraying and pouring from many gashes, and running across the floor. The wheezing had stopped.

Once satisfied, he turned, ready to move on and find more victims. Instead, he slipped on the blood and fell forward, to come face to face with Ke, who was still hiding under his bed.

Luckily, in the near darkness, the boy could not see his grimace of pleasure at discovering a new young victim. Ke, after a moment of panic and paralyzed by fear, finally tried to escape, but before he could make a move, Rufus's hand had seized his ankle in a vice-like grip and started pulling him from under the bed.

***

Miles was awakened by a strong knock on his door. He immediately knew that something was wrong. The lights had all gone off and his phone was ringing. It was Abrams, calling to let Miles know that he was taking care of the generators. Miles answered that he was going to visit each house and assure himself that there was no panic or problem. He put on pants and shoes, and went to the door. Omar Seku was there with a flashlight; all personnel on watch had been provided one for such a case. Doors were opening in the corridor, and it seemed like a sixth sense had awakened the whole house, and those still asleep would not be for long with all the ruckus being made.

"Stay in your rooms," ordered Miles. "Omar, wake up the prefects and check the other floors. I don't want anyone out of their rooms. The generators will be on shortly." He picked up a shirt, grabbed his gun, and then went out of his teacher's cubicle.

Despite his instructions, boys were still wandering around the corridor, using their phones as flashlights. Walt was trying to have them go back to their rooms but with little effect. Matthew and Johnny were there too, poised on their doorsill. Like most of the others, they were more excited than worried.

"Go back to sleep. It's just a power failure, lights will be back shortly."

It was useless. The incident was too great a disruption of the School's normal life to expect them or the others to obey.

"Phones are out too," someone said.

"No, I just had Abrams on mine," answered Miles.

"Mine's not working, see?" It was a blond kid, his freckled face illuminated by his phone screen. He held it up to show Miles.

Miles checked, and indeed, there was no network available. He looked at his own phone to see that it too had lost its signal.

"Damn," he swore. "Get back to your rooms. All of you, back to your rooms!"

Getting the generators working was the priority but it would not bring back the network. He had not expected something like this so soon. He had been right to get Sven back to his house earlier.

"Walt, try to find a radio and see what's going on."

"Yes, sir," said the boy, "I think Roberts has one with batteries."

"Good, I'll go check the other houses with Abrams."

As Miles left Bear house, he heard the shots. Lights came back a few moments later, as he was running to the gymnasium nearby.

***

Rufus Aims was still holding Ke by his ankle as he raised himself and picked up the weapon he had lost in his fall. He was caught between two cravings: make the boy's suffering last as long as possible, or doing it fast so that he could finish killing all the others.

The boy was kicking, crying, shouting, and pulling on the chains that held him to try to break the grip of the man. He did not have a chance of succeeding, and in the surrounding shadows made by the few light sources that gave a stereoscopic effect to the scene, he saw his executioner raise the club, ready to strike. He felt his bladder let go.

The shots rang out in the vast space that was the gymnasium, causing his ears to ring.

The first two missed their target, the third hit the arm holding the club, which clattered to the ground. The next two struck the man in the chest and Rufus finally fell backwards, releasing his grip on the boy's ankle. Greg stepped forward and fired the last rounds in his magazine, all of them finding their marks in the man's head. Greg was not really a fan of "The Walking Dead," but he thought it was better to be sure than sorry.

The lights came back on a moment later. Greg, standing over Aims' lifeless body, was still holding the gun, feeling the raw power it bestowed. He contemplated the still figure lying on the ground, the disfigured face with the eyes still open, and blood slowly oozing out of the multiple gunshot wounds and into a growing puddle that now flowed past both of his feet.

He raised his gaze to see that he was the center of attention to all those present. The two other surviving boys came out from under their beds, while Ke, still on the ground, fixed his eyes onto Greg, tears fresh on his cheeks. Greg saw admiration in those eyes and more, something different, that he had never seen before. Gratefulness, and yes, shock, too. He bent over and helped the boy get back up, and then sat him on his bed with a strange kindness that was out of character for him.

That's when Dunn arrived and took charge of the mess.

***

Despite the shining sun, it was a sad and difficult morning for everyone. All of the actors of that fateful night felt guilty. Miles was responsible for the security, and whatever measures had been taken, they had not been effective. He had known Aims was a potential menace and felt that he should have done more to find him before it happened. Abrams had left the gymnasium, leaving the prefect to deal with a difficult situation, and had not noticed Greg's absence. Sam Lewis had been terrified and totally useless. Daniels, despite his courageous efforts, had been unable to avoid the killing of two of the children he was responsible for.

Greg … Greg felt, and appeared to many, like the hero of the piece. He felt no guilt at all for his absence, and no one knew he had left the place for cigarettes except Sam and perhaps Abrams. None of them spoke about it to anyone. He got the guy after all, didn't he? He certainly hoped that his new status would serve his and Carl's interests. He had killed for the first time. It didn't seem like such a big deal, notably with a gun. It had not been fun, nor had it been terrible or scary. He was sure it would feel so much better with his own method, which would be more interesting and intimate. That plastic bag he always kept with him now was a great tool. That would be the real test…

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