Scooter and Malachi
by Nicholas Hall
Chapter 4
"I found him, whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go."
(Song of Solomon)
Love knows no barriers
"Say, what?" I gasped!
"Yep, according to the young intern at the hospital assigned to me, the cop at the door told him the city prosecutor was going to charge me with solicitation and prostitution."
"Why?"
"Because they were claiming they found money in my pants, no identification on me, and one of the doctors in the emergency room, when I entered, said it looked as if I'd either been raped or had anal intercourse with numerous sexual partners in the last twenty-four hours by the looks of my butt-hole. My blood tests indicated I had ingested various drugs including Viagra and something they called 'poppers'! The officers who found me and the EMT's in the ambulance confirmed I was bloody and beaten, so they assumed one or more of the johns got rough and beat me up."
"Where were you?"
"In a hospital in Atlanta! I had no idea why I was in Atlanta, but I was."
I sputtered my disgust and disbelief, still angered when I heard him say he was going to be charged with prostitution. From behind me, I heard a snort of revulsion from either Mr. Taylor or Cayden as well.
"Of course you had anal intercourse," I snarled, "you were raped by a bunch of thugs who bought you for no other reason to have sex! Couldn't they understand that? Didn't you tell them who you were?"
"The cops didn't get a chance to talk to me for well over a week, thanks to my doctor, claiming I was in no condition to answer their questions. I gave him my name once I was able to make sense of what I was saying, because of the drugs the rapists filled me with and the stuff the anesthetist used during my surgeries. When the doctor gave them permission to interview me, two detectives came into my room, along with a social service worker who claimed to be with child protection. "
"When asked by them who I was, I told them, who my mother was, and where I lived. They wrote it all down, but one of them added he hoped I could prove it. I told him to call the Judge, but he didn't right away. One of them kept pressing me on how many men I'd had sex with, how much I charged, which I denied, and finally, who was my pimp and how many were in his stable! I again explained my innocence and he shouted I was just trying to cover up the fact I sold myself on the street and one of the men I was servicing got rough. With that, I demanded an attorney and one walked in the door."
"Who was he and why did he show up then?"
"I can answer that question," Mr. Taylor said rising from his chair and stepping next to Malachi and me.
"Social media! I hadn't heard a word from or about Susan for almost twenty years when she left home. Dad caught her in her bedroom, flat on her back, with an eleven year old neighbor boy pumping her full with his newly acquired and discovered boy juice!"
"She reacted in her usual crazy, irrational way, threatening him with a butcher knife, or burning the house down. She didn't of course, instead, took off that night for parts unknown. My parents made some effort to find her, but didn't pursue it very vigorously. The household was much calmer after that."
"Susan made no effort to contact any members of the family after that, but did get into the social media scene, communicating with others who shared her type of craziness, bigotry, and hate. One of her 'friends' she regularly communicated with on the west coast also shared with someone in Wisconsin, who worked undercover for a government agency keeping track of such groups. Shortly after Malachi went missing, Susan chattered about it on her social network, speculating, pardon my language Scooter, he was probably fucking half of the men and boys in Georgia, and ranted and raved about homosexuals, blacks, and minorities in general. She is a real piece of work! A couple of days later, she posted he was charged with prostitution and in a hospital because of rough sex, claiming 'it served him right' and if anyone wanted 'her damned nigger boy,' she'd let them have him for no charge! Fortunately for us, the undercover agent, claiming to be a former classmate of mine, notified me anonymously, of course, through Cayden's office."
"I had no idea she had a son and I had another nephew!"
David Taylor immediately hired a lawyer, through a local lawyer who knew of a law school classmate who practiced law in Atlanta, to represent Malachi and see if Mr. Taylor could get custody of him. David and Cayden decided against flying to Atlanta and chose to drive, deciding, if Malachi was able, to bring him home in Mr. Taylor's relatively new pickup. It had a wide back seat and four doors so they thought he'd ride fine.
They drove straight through to Atlanta, secured a room at the "Peachtree," and headed for the hospital located just off of Interstate 75. Their call to Mr. Bickford, Malachi's attorney, made earlier in the morning, confirmed he'd be waiting for them at the hospital. According to what he told them, surprisingly, most of the paper work was done concerning the custody agreement. There'd been no problems once he'd established himself as representing Malachi. In the three days he'd been on the job, he assured them, things were going quite well.
He was waiting for them, along with his legal secretary whose arms were full of legal-sized folders, a social worker, a young doctor, and two police officers, one uniformed and one in plainclothes.
"We're waiting for Malachi's mother and Judge Lawson," Mr. Bickford explained. "Susan Taylor Lawson has agreed to relinquish custody and all parental rights to Malachi to you, Mr. Taylor and your husband, Mr. Allison. Once she signs the papers my secretary will notarize them and I'll see all of necessary filings and notifications are taken care of. The district attorney has agreed to drop all charges against Malachi, provided he leave the city with you as soon as he is able to. Hopefully, the doctors think in a couple of days he should be in a condition to be transported back to Wisconsin."
Sight unseen, since they were still in the hall, David Taylor and Cayden Allison agreed to the terms and gained custody of Malachi.
"How could I not?" he explained to me, reaching over to touch his nephew's forehead. "I knew my sister and couldn't see leaving anyone in that hell of living with her. If I'd known about him years before, I would've taken him then! We stepped into the room and we were introduced to my nephew."
"All I could do was cry!" Malachi admitted. "I didn't know I had an uncle or family of any sort. He smiled at me, leaned over, kissed my forehead telling me he loved me, and he and Uncle Cayden were here to take me home! Not since my daddy left had anyone told me they loved me."
I looked down at him, head nestled in my lap, my free hand finding one of his, clasped it firmly, smiled, and thought to myself, "Your uncles are not the only ones who love you now." In a week of knowing him, I knew I'd fallen in love with Malachi.
"We didn't have time to visit before Susan and her husband arrived," Mr. Taylor said. "Once they did, it didn't take long for the papers to be signed and notarized. She couldn't rid herself fast enough of Malachi, admitting she never wanted him to begin with. As she started toward the door to leave, she turned to Cayden and me, and snarled, 'you're more than welcome to take the little whore; perhaps he'll make you a cozy three-some!' It would've made little sense to respond to her, so I didn't."
"Hah!" snorted Malachi raising his head from my lap, "Not me! As the two of those creeps were about to step out of the room, I called out to Judge Lawson. He turned, I smiled my best smile, and asked him if he knew his two sons had been fucking his wife since the day after they got back to Georgia. His face turned bright red, he growled something under his breath toward her, grabbed her arm, and escorted her out the door! Hope he beat the shit out of her and the two assholes when he got home."
Malachi settled his head back in my lap, turned his face slightly bringing his face into contact with my crotch front and my now burgeoning hard cock concealed tightly in my underwear and jeans. He sort of rubbed his cheek against it, smiled lasciviously with an "I know what's in there" look, and licked his lips. I damn near shot a load then and there!"
Prior to leaving Malachi and his uncles to become better acquainted, Mr. Bickford informed them, following Malachi's instruction, he'd been to the Judge's house and packed all of Malachi's belonging, basically clothing, into the large nylon luggage bag and brought it to the hospital, putting in the closet in the hospital room. At Malachi's insistence, he also packed the bag Malachi's dance clothing was in. He also obtained Malachi's billfold, birth certificate, social security card, and other papers such as report cards, work permits, and other identifying information and placed them in the luggage bag. All necessary papers would be filed with him and indicated if they should have any problems or questions, to please give him a call.
The hospital made arrangements, at Dave Taylor's request, for doctors at U.W-Madison Hospital to take over Malachi's case and treatment because of some unusual aspects of his case the hospital doctors were concerned with.
On the way back to Rockport, they made several stops each day in order for Malachi to rest, change his dressings, if needed, or to clean him up.
"Riding in the back seat of the truck," Malachi confessed, "with my legs on the seat, my back proper up by pillows, one arm in a sling, the other hand bandaged, and my ribs sore, not to mention my asshole, was somewhat uncomfortable. I could only sit on my butt, even though there was a pillow under it, for so long. It felt like someone tore my asshole out and shoved it back in sideways!"
"Good thing they didn't!" I responded impishly.
"Why?"
"Well, if that would have happened you'd be shitting on your hip the rest of your life, wouldn't you?"
He didn't think it was near as funny as I did.
Malachi snorted as he continued; "we spent two days in Madison where the doctors checked me out, did more blood tests, and asked a ton of questions. It was late afternoon when we arrived here. Uncle Cayden and Uncle Dave carried me, in my wheel chair up the steps, onto the porch, and into the living room. You know what, Scooter?"
"What?"
"Percy spotted me, whistled, and squawked, 'Oh, oh; somebody got fucked!'".
Malachi had to admit, as we all laughed, it was funny!
"Filthy, perverted bird!" he exclaimed.
In the midst of the giggles, I had to get serious, so I asked Malachi why he had to go back to Madison for a just a checkup.
"It's a little more than that," Malachi offered. "Hopefully, I'll get some of these casts off, if I'm healing properly. The doctors there, on my first visit, put me on some mega-vitamins they claim will speed the healing process. If the casts come off, I can get around better on my own, hopefully, without a wheel chair."
Adding reflectively, "Maybe I can get rid of these diapers if my butt hole is healing right! Haven't been able to eat anything but soft "low residue" foods since I was raped. The docs gave me some exercises to retrain the muscles after they're healed."
Malachi hesitated, swallowed hard, fear showing in his eyes.
"Plus, they want to do some more blood tests for STD's; you know, HIV!"
I nodded, now understanding why he insisted I wear gloves when I changed him and why the gloves, diapers, and wipes had to be disposed in a special container.
The doctors tested him in Atlanta and nothing showed up in the blood tests, but that was not unusual. It often can take some time before the virus appears after unprotected sex with an infected partner. Oral sex and kissing with the exchange of body fluids may also transfer the virus, although not as often as one would suspect. The doctors figured with as many men raping Malachi as he reported, all without the use of condoms, at least one had to be infected or they were all clean. Malachi tried to explain to the doctors and detectives the men specifically hunted down virgin boys and it was the main reason for him being beaten; anger over suspecting they all were infected, after he lied to them about exchanging blow jobs.
Of course, this caused an increased round of speculation, wondering if Malachi hadn't lied to his captors and really had been a willing sexual partner in the past with infection as a result.
"You know," he said sadly, "I don't think any of them, except for the young doctor, really believed me. I guess the cops and the docs have had their hands full down there with sex trafficking."
"I agree with Malachi," reasoned Cayden, interjecting his opinion into our discussion. "The men who raped Malachi specifically wanted a virgin boy, straight or gay, for sex, knowing he would be free of any STD's, hence the lack of condoms. They had the money to spend whatever it took to buy one and Malachi was not the first young man they purchased. From what Malachi was able to learn from sound and feel, these men had a well-equipped place specifically purposed for their sexual pleasures. They are well acquainted with each other and don't fear giving each other any diseases by sharing their victims since if one had something, they all would get it. These men also have an available market to dispose of their victims to pimps or others to recoup their costs. This group of men are well established and active. It'd be interesting to see the reaction when all of them are informed they have to be tested!"
"Malachi's taunt and his subsequent beating," Mr. Taylor added, "is a strong indication of their fear and loss of a disease-free boy to sell on the market."
The doctors in Madison, however, when Malachi told them the same story he gave the doctors in Atlanta, had quite a different reaction and wanted to do some more tests on him.
"They want to see if there's something in my genes which keeps me from getting infected," Malachi said.
Smiling at him, I leaned closer, saying softly, "From what I saw in your jeans earlier, it'd make Clydesdale blush!"
His face turned red, Mr. Taylor and Cayden tried to muffle a laugh, and I decided I didn't speak softly enough. At least Percy was covered up for the night and didn't make his usual ribald comment.
"The doctors also want to test me," Dave Taylor added, "to see if I carry the gene as well or determine if it comes from Malachi's father only! If I carry it as well, it increases Malachi's chances of having a natural immunity to the disease as well as helping determine if I'm resistant as well. Even though Cayden and I are in a monogamous relationship and have no reason to be concerned, it'd be beneficial for us and for research. Evidently, in 1994, a man was discovered to resistant to HIV. This lead to the discovery of the protein CCR5 on the surface of white blood cells. This protein allows the HIV virus to infect the cells."
"Somewhere along the evolutionary cycle, a mutation of CCR5 occurred, producing CCR5-delta-32, appeared which apparently protects people who have the mutation in their genes from HIV. According to a 2005 report, one percent of people descended from Northern Europe have this mutation and are virtually immune to AID's. Those individuals who inherit the mutant gene from both parents are most resistant or immune if current studies are valid."
"Of course," he explained by way of placing a caveat on all of this, "all of this needs continual research and validation, so that's why the testing on Malachi and me. We won't be certain he's free of the virus, although I'm almost certain he wasn't infected to begin with, until after his six month tests! If what we believe is correct in regards to his possible infection, then the tests will continue to show him negative!"
The discussion concerning gene testing and doctors caused me to remember they had to leave early in the morning for Madison! I quickly glanced at my watch, realized it was approaching the dinner hour, and I had to leave.
"Malachi, I have to go home and you have an early wake-up in the morning and a long drive!" and shifted my butt around, signaling him I was going to stand up.
He didn't move his head!
"Will you go with me, please?" he pleaded, his voice small, sounding like a small boy fearing the worst would happen should he be alone.
"Your uncles will be with you!" I answered just as softly.
"I know, but they're not the same; they're my uncles, but you're my best friend."
I wanted to shout "YES!" but I knew I'd have to ask my folks. I'd only hope they understand how much he needed me and how much I needed him. It was as if I found him and didn't want to let him go! He wanted my support; someone he could share those things with he wouldn't ordinarily share with others, even relatives.
"I have to ask my folks," I responded. "I'll call you back after dinner."
His eyes expressed his disappointment, but I also saw understanding there as well. We both understood, as teenagers living at home, there were limits on what we could do without permission. Loving parents, guardians, older siblings set those limits because they love us and now we both knew it.
Quickly parking my truck, I raced up the steps at home and into the dining area where everyone was just sitting down to dinner. Pausing in my haste to find my place, I offered my apologies for being late.
"Mom, Dad; I'm sorry for being late. I should've called, but Malachi was telling me how he was hurt and I really didn't want to leave until he finished."
My brothers' eyes shifted from me to Dad and back to me. I was starting to think I was in trouble until Seth managed a quick, almost unnoticed wink; a sign we often used to indicate or convey a message to each other.
Dad coughed, and like in a tennis match, my brothers' eyes shifted back to Dad!
"Yes," he said without expressing any anger, but still making his point, "you should've called, but Mr. Taylor did inform us you'd be late and the reason. Now, wash up, please, and join us for dinner. Your mother has prepared a delicious pork roast and the way the Minx and Boomer are eyeing it, it won't last long!"
It didn't take me long to wash up, sit down, and join in the meal. The roast was delicious and there was plenty to go around! Mom would use any leftovers for a vegetable/pork stir fry and rice, or noodles, for another meal, probably the next day, and I loved it, but not enough to prefer it over spending time with Malachi the rest of this weekend.
The warm peach cobbler with a dollop of whipped cream adorning the top provided the perfect opportunity for me to ask if I could accompany Malachi and his uncles to Madison.
Clearing my throat, trying to be casual, not over eager, my voice slightly timorous, I enquired, "Malachi asked if I'd go with him to his doctor's appointment in Madison. We'd leave in the morning, a little before four and be home Sunday night sometime. I said I'd call him back and let him know."
My brothers, eyes previously on me, forks held precariously full of cobbler on the journey to mouth's salivating in anticipation, hesitated in stuffing the morsels in their mouths, and swiveled their eyes dramatically toward Dad, waiting for his answer!
"Do you want to go?" and the eyes snapped back in my direction.
I nodded; "I really do, Dad. Malachi needs me!"
Eyes flipped back; the ball was in his court.
"Okay, just remember you have school on Monday morning."
The journey from fork to mouth for the cobbler was completed!
Me, I just grinned my thanks.
After dinner dishes were cleared and everything cleaned up, I gave Malachi a call on his cellphone. He was just as excited as I was!
Before bed, I carefully packed a backpack with a change of clothes and a book to read just in case.
"Don't forget extra underwear and socks," Seth, sitting cross-legged on his bed, reminded me as we visited. He knew I was excited and well-taken with Malachi.
"You really got it bad, Scooter!" he laughed. "Known the guy for one week and here you're madly in love with him; totally whipped. He's not going to toss you over for some person of the female variety is he?"
I was positive felt the same for me as I did for him, only for the life of me, I couldn't understand why. As far as I was concerned, we were complete opposites; he was taller, more handsome, better built, and had a killer smile! He seemed to think I was special enough to go with him to Madison though; perhaps it was because I wiped his butt and changed his diaper, although I doubted it.
I snickered to myself, bringing Seth to ask what was so funny so I just replied, "No, he won't."
I finished my packing, walked out to the living room, gave Mom and Dad a goodnight kiss, wandered across the hall to the "dormitory" and gave each of my brothers a goodnight kiss as well, and returned to my room.
"I'm going to have to get up early, Seth," I announced, intending to give him a kiss as well before I trundled off into bed.
He would have none of it; he still had some questions; raised by curiosity and a touch of protection for his older brother.
"How did Malachi get hurt?
"Seth, I think that's something he'll have to tell you."
"When will I get to meet him?"
"How about next week? I'll see if he's feeling up to it okay? You'll get a chance to meet Percy too."
"Who's Percy?"
"The most audacious, bodacious, vulgar, filthy-mouthed Parrot you'll ever see in your life!"
"Man, he sounds like a fun bird," he muttered somewhat sarcastically.
"Good night, Seth!"
"Good night, Scooter- I love you!"
Riding in the back seat of Mr. Taylor's truck, Malachi's head resting on my lap, both of us tired, yet it didn't keep us from visiting as the miles rolled by. Malachi wanted to know as much about me and my family as I was willing to divulge. His questions were pretty much the normal; where were you born? How many brothers do you have? Why did you move up here? Did the kids at school accept you? Do your mom and dad come from large families?
I answered them as best I could, but when he came to asking about Grandpa Parker, it was more difficult! I missed him so; he was the one person I could really bare my soul to. He'd listen non-judgmentally, understanding, and help me find my way. Up until now, he'd been my best friend. Oh, Mom and Dad understood me, supported me, and loved me, but it just wasn't the same.
Malachi, in turn, talked about the relationship with his own father, until he left, and the art teacher who befriended him during a summer tour. It was obvious he missed his father a great deal from the way he talked of the good times they had together on summer stock tour and all of the great people he'd met.
"You know," he confided, "not one of them, in all of the times I traveled with Dad, made any attempt or suggestion I have sex with them?"
He motioned me to lean over closer, asking, "Have you ever had sex with another boy?"
I shook my head no!
"Me neither; that's why what happened hurt me more than just my body! I wanted to save myself for someone special- a gift to my beloved and those assholes stole it from me."
"Malachi," I whispered softly back, gently swiping a hair from his face, "do you think someone who really loves you cares?"
Malachi fell silent, pondering what he heard Scooter say. Perhaps, he was thinking, maybe, just maybe, Scooter was right; if he really loved him and Malachi hoped he did, then Scooter really wouldn't care! But, could he ever enter into a sexual relationship without reminding himself of the terrible twenty-four hour plus nightmare of constant, relentless rape, the beating occurring afterwards, being left in an alley to die, and finally the final rejection by his mother emphasizing the physical pain and loss of hope and dignity he experienced? There was much to think about and more even to talk about – with somebody.
I noticed his silence and could almost visualize the thoughts going through his mind as he processed and pondered my remarks. I didn't know what else I could say, I had no experience in rape, other than what I'd seen on television or read, nor was I a rape or crisis counselor, but Mr. Taylor was a guidance counselor. Perhaps he could help Malachi if Malachi would let him.
The highway noise, tires with a soft "swooshing, swooshing" on the pavement, passing cars or thundering trucks, the low, constant hum of the engine, lulled Malachi to sleep, his head resting comfortably on my lap, my arms securing him to me, resting securely in his sweet baby's arms, knowing, wanting I wanted it no other way!
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