THE ICE KING

Chapter 6

Stockwell and Rickert

         Down in the village, Justin, Gus, Jack, and Jacques indeed found the town awake and active. Shops were open and people milled about on the sidewalks. Strange, small, boxy looking cars drove the streets. Justin was careful to hold onto Gus' hand as they made their way down the cobbled streets.

         The spectacle of a man and boy with ravens on their shoulders drew a lot of stares and started a lot of whispering. Plus the fact that they were strangers. People in Spitzburghen knew everyone else so strangers were good cause to rubberneck. However, Justin studiously ignored them and instructed Gus to do the same.

         "Where is the inn?" he asked Jack carefully.

         Through carefully placed caws and movements of his head, Jack directed them to the end of a twisty street and they found themselves at an inn called The Three Behr's Inn.

         And it really was run by three Behrs! The family was made up of Mr. Harry Behr, Mrs. Behr, and their son, Harry Jr. Behr. Mr. Behr looked and sounded like a bear with a deep gravelly voice and a huge, muscled chest and arms. He had thick, short, brown hair and thick, wide muttonchops that led into a moustache. Mrs. Behr was a buxom woman with a long, thick, brown braid and a pretty if not a bit careworn face. Harry Jr. looked almost the same as his Dad except that he was 18 and without the facial hair.

         However, before they could check in, Justin found he could not rent a room with American money. He was directed to a small money exchange shop where he carefully and surreptitiously peeled $200 from the money roll he had packed at the very bottom of his pack.

         He received only 50 florens in return but he soon discovered that the spending rate here was very different. When he returned to the inn, he found that 5 florens was enough to rent a room for a week. The ravens of course were not allowed in so he directed them to fly around outside and wait for his call. In due course, he was directed to a comfortable room with two single beds, a dresser, and a chair. There was a small bathroom. There was an old world window that opened outwards with real wooden shutters.

         "I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Goldie?" Mr. Behr said in a deep and growly voice. He had picked that nickname for Justin because of his golden blond hair and because he had paid him with 5 golden florens.

         "Everything seems very - OWW!" Justin had sat down on the bed. It was hard as a prison bunk. (Uh...Not that I would know...)

         He tested the other one. It was the same. "Mr. Behr! I cannot subject my son to this! These beds are much too hard!"

         "All right! All right! Don't twist yer hair in a knot, Goldie! I'll fix you up!" said Mr. Behr.

         He took them up to the next story and down a long hall to an identical room except the two beds both sagged in the middle.

         "Wheeeee!!! These beds aren`t hard at all, Papa!" yelled Gus, jumping into one of the beds and was nearly swallowed up in the sagginess of the middle. "Wheeeee! Oh! Oh!!! Papa help!! Help!!! I can't get out!"

         Justin just gave Mr. Behr a pointed look as he went over and with a great heave, pulled his son out of the bed who was pulled out of the sag with a distinct POP!...like a cork from a bottle.

         "Let me guess," Mr. Behr said in a deep, weary, and strangely snuffle-y voice, "Too soft."

         "You got it Bub!" Justin said.

         Mr. Behr scrunched up his face and thought very hard. It seemed to take a lot of effort and took a lot of time.

         "Well, sir," he said finally, "These were the only two rooms available except...well except for a room in the turret. Not many people like it because of the stairs and you'll need to use the pot bellied stove for heat but if you really can't stay here..." he faded out.

         "Fine! Let's take a look!" said Justin irritably.

         And so, at the top of another flight of stairs, back at the first end of the hall, they came to strange, wooden medieval door with a rounded top and an iron ring for a handle. Mr. Behr opened it with a large, silver key. There was a winding set of stair that seemed to wind around and around and up and up until Justin despaired that they would ever find an end to them.

         And suddenly, they were there. One minute they were winding, winding, climbing, and the next they were stumbling into the room itself.

         The room was perfectly round. The beds were to the right of the stairs, one on either side of a window. There was another window directly opposite to the first. There was a large, old fashioned wardrobe instead of a dresser. It was opposite to the beds. On a small brick hearth was the black, pot bellied stove Mr. Behr had spoke of. A pipe ran out the back of it, up the wall, and out the ceiling. There was a small extension into the round room and inside was a very small bathroom with just a toilet and a sink. The room was musty and stuffy as if it had not been used in a long time but it was clean. And the beds...

         Ahhhh...they were just right. Soft but not saggy with a down comforter and a soft pillow. After two days of winter camping, waking up too early, and an hour at Grand Central Crazy, Justin could have easily lay the rest of the way down and took a nap.

         Instead, he told Mr. Behr, "This is perfect and charming. Where can we get some wood?"

         "The woodpile is out back." Mr. Behr gave him 2 florens and the big silver key. "Here's some of your money back. Now...don't fuss," he growled good naturedly, reading Justin correctly who had opened his mouth to fuss. "I feel bad about putting you up, way up here. There's no bath. Besides..." he added, "You'll need it if you ever need help with wood. You'll have to bribe Harry Jr. However, don't give him any more than a half a floren at a time. Hmmmm....in fact..." Mr. Behr took back the coins and gave him four smaller golden coins instead. There...now you don't have to make change."

         "Thank you very much, Mr. Behr."

         "Don't mention it, Goldie. Remember, the door downstairs is the door to your room. Be sure to lock up if you want it secure whether you are in...or out," he finished ominously with a growl and at last left them alone.

         "Well Gus! What shall we do..."

         "Papa! Papa! Lookit! Lookit! Lookit where we are!" Gus had thrown open the window and a refreshing, cold wind blew through the room and blew away that musty, unused smell. Justin went over to look.

         Oh my! The whole of Spitzburghen was laid out before them. The turret jutted out high from the back of The Three Behr's inn like a broken thumb. Justin and Gus could see all the town and the mayor's house and The Palace beyond everything else, high on its hill. There was one more house, almost as big as the mayor's house with and even taller tower than theirs that jutted out from the back like an even bigger broken thumb. The streets were all laid out below them in their maze-like quality but thanks to them being over them, Justin could now map them easily.

         "Jack! Jacques! We are here! Come to us!" called Justin. He called them one more and then saw them circling and flapping toward them. He held out an arm. They alighted and he drew them into room and shut the window quickly.

         "Nice place! Nice place! High up and out of the way!" croaked Jack, "We will be able to talk here uninterrupted! Good choice, human!"

         "Uhhh, thanks!" said Justin, deciding not to get bogged down in the details of how he got here. "Now, you must tell me! I'm dying of curiosity! Where is Jason Kemp!?"

         "Oh, that's a very simple matter," said Jack, "We were just over there comforting him!"

         "Comforting? Is anything wrong?"

         "He's unharmed but very scared and disheartened."

         "But why?"

         "Well, that's what you tend to be when you are held prisoner."

         "Oh no! Where? Who's holding him prisoner, Jack?" asked Gus, most distressed.

         "Come to the window, little one and I'll show you," said Jack. He hopped over to the windowsill.

         Gus and Justin followed him and Justin opened the window again.

         "Do you see that big house? The one with the tall tower, even taller than ours?" He pointed with one shiny, black wing. At Justin's assent, Jack continued, "That is Stockwell's house. The door to the tower is four stories up. The door Jason tells us is "hermetically" sealed, whatever that means. The way to the door is riddled with traps. Anyone who was not threatened off or bribed to go away by Stockwell was caught in one of these terrible traps and met with their doom. You'll never get in that way."

         "So what? What does this have to do with Jason?" asked Justin.

         "Human, do you still not yet understand? He is there. In a room, much like this one, at the top of Stockwell's tower!"

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Fifteen minutes later...

         Jason Kemp lay on his bed and held his pillow very tightly. A host of emotions filled him; hate and rage at his captors, worry for his mother. Loathing for his father, if and when he thought of him at all. But mostly fear. Fear was now is constant companion. Fear for the bleak future, fear of being hit, (although he hadn't yet, but Rickert had come close a few times.) fear of their insanity, fear of the rape that was yet to come.

         He still was unsure how he had come to be in this situation. He had meant to leave that day, three weeks ago. After making the monumentally huge mistake of coming out to his parents, his life had gone completely down the tubes. His father had never given his anything but dirty looks. When he did open his mouth it was to yell at him. His birthdays went "forgotten". His artistic and scholastic achievements went unrecognized. After his second A was met with stony silence, Jason had given his father a private but squinty eyed look and nod to convey, "I gotcha," and then stopped coming to them with the reports. Any learning done after that was done for his benefit and not for his parents. And he had learned as fast and as much as possible to get through the process, as if it were a chore that needed to be done and done quickly. And now that it was done, he was out the door, ready to make his way in the world and out of the oppression. He just naturally assumed he was disinherited.

         So there he was, walking through town, literally 4 blocks away from quitting the town forever when that asshole Stockwell had called to him from the sheriff's office calling good morning, where are you off to, so early? Thinking at the time, he was nothing more than a sheriff, Jason had told him: He was leaving. Stockwell had acted all shocked and concerned and ushered him inside, inviting him to talk about it before he had such a "rash mistake." The creep had been obsequious at first and asked him veiled questions to get him to reveal that he had left no note and nobody knew where he was. It was then that Stockwell had gotten up and approached him, all concern and sympathy and patted his shoulder understandingly.

         And that's when he'd grabbed him! Around the neck. Jason had struggled. He couldn't breathe! And then there was a rag...a sweet smell. Gas! Chloroform! It must have been! And then there was nothing, a skip in time. And then he was here, in this tower and they had never let him out again.

         Jason hugged his pillow and fought back bitter tears. His one comfort were the birds who came to visit him every day and today even they had deserted him earlier than usual.

         And so he was feeling especially low and received a special high lift when one of the ravens flew back in through the window.

         "Hello, my little friend! Come to give me another visit?"

         The raven made no reply except a loud "AWWW!" and dropped the piece of paper it had been holding in his beak.

         Mystified, Jason picked it up and unrolled it.

         It read:

Dear Jason,

My name is Justin Taylor. I'm 21 years old. I have been hired by your mother to find and rescue you. Please know, that many people have tried to find you but all have failed. However, with the help of these birds who you have befriended as well, I hope to succeed where they have failed.

I know the men who have taken you captive. I have dealt with them before. I am told there is no way to reach you from below. Is there anyway to rescue you from above? Can I get the birds to bring you anything?

If nothing else, be comforted in the knowledge that you are no longer alone.

Justin

         My God! It was an answer to prayer! Jason looked around hurriedly for something to write with. There was nothing conventional. His captors provided his with no books, no papers, no papers or pen, so there was no chance of him throwing down distress notes.  At last he rummaged in the fireplace and found a very sooty piece of charred wood. Carefully, he scrawled three words in return underneath the message. Quickly he folded it up and gave it to Jack, who was waiting. He did everything quickly these days. You never knew when he might come.

         "Quick now. Take this back where you got it. You understand, don't you boy?"

         As if it did, the raven gave a quick caw in its throat so as not to drop the note. Then he flew out of the window and away.

         Jason looked disconsolately out the window at his town for a few minutes but he did not yell. Terrible tortures involving rats and snakes and coffins and water torture had been promised for his own self, not to mention they had promised to walk into his house in full daylight in uniform and kill his mother if it ever was revealed someone was trying to rescue him because of him shouting for help.

         Sadly, he closed the window and turned around. His heart leapt into his throat.

          A crazy, grinning face was staring through the window of his prison door.

         It was Rickert.

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         Jack flew into Justin's window with his note folded in his beak. Justin took the note from Jack eagerly.

         "How was he?" he asked.

         "Frightened and lonely. Same as always. Your note seemed to give him a lift though," answered Jack.

         "Did he give a reply?"

         "He did."

         With trembling fingers, Justin opened the note.

         "What's it say Papa!? What's it say!?" Gus asked excitedly. He was dancing on his toes with excitement. Justin smiled and showed him and read to him.

         Scrawled in messy dark writing were the words:   ROPE  CLIMB  DOWN.

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         Jason's heart pressed painfully against his chest as Rickert came into his tower room still grinning like a goblin. Jason was not fooled though. The evil troll was completely insane and his moods were on a hair trigger and swung as freely as a metronome.

         "What were you doing?" he snarled, still smiling.

         "Just getting some air."

         "I saw something black! Something that moved!" Rickert snarled, pouncing at the window. Jason moved smoothly out of the way.

         "Oh that! That was just a crow. I shooed it away," Jason said casually and truthfully.

         However, that didn't stop Rickert from poking his head out the window and searching the windowsill as if he expected to find Jason storing the crown jewels out there. Jason just stood there, bored, calmly waiting, checking his fingernails.

         Finally, Rickert was satisfied. He slammed and locked the window. He pointed and barked, "Chair!"

         Jason sighed in a rather bored way but complied nevertheless. He walked over and sat in the designated straight-backed chair. This was the viewing chair. Stockwell was taking no chances this time and had forbid Rickert from touching Jason until after the election. But that didn't mean Rickert couldn't look.

         Jason sat with his hands folded in his lap and stared straight ahead as he had been taught. He had been taught what this chair was for the first day he had been brought in here. Angry and defiant, he had refused to sit in it, refused to acknowledge them in any way. Unfortunately, as it is with all bullies, ignoring them never worked. They grabbed him, and forced him into it and while one held him down, the other tied him to it, painfully tight. They kept him tied to the chair for three days straight. They came twice a day to relieve him, still tied, and fed and watered him three times a day. They spoon fed him some disgusting mush, baby talking him and poured water down his gullet until he choked, nearly drowning him. At the end of the three days they came in, untied him without a word and left. Jason had toppled and fell, completely numb, completely stiff, still in the sitting position only on his side for what seemed like hours before he finally unstiffened and straightened out. After that, he obeyed and sat in the chair. He knew they'd do it again without a second thought. Now, as always, he tried to pretend he was alone in the room as he sat. No such luck.

         Rickert sat on the bed facing Jason and drank in the sight of the beautiful boy. He was even more beautiful, no, handsome than the last Jason Kemp. And where the last Jason was just a tramp, a worthless piece of garbage worthy of the dumpster he'd stashed him in; this Jason had class, refinement and riches. Someday, he'd practically rule this little town as a crown Prince and Rickert knew he'd be the one to rule along with him.

         Jason had baby blue eyes, blond hair that was getting bit shaggy, a pert nose, and soft, well formed lips. He had dimples when he smiled. He had a slight frame that disguised the strong, toned muscles of a gymnast. He was wearing the same v-necked blue sweater, white t shirt and jeans as he had been when he left. Scratch that. Tried to leave. His skin was smooth and slightly golden in complexion. Over the time of his captivity, his blue eyes had lost their luster, the luster of hope, happiness and security. They were listless and sad and yearning and it turned Rickert on like nobody's business. He knew he would be the one to put the luster back in his eyes and he couldn't wait.

         Jason picked a spot over the asshole's shoulder and fixated his gaze on it. He stared and felt his face slacken as he appeared to enter a fixated state of trance. It was the only way he could think of now to defy his captors, this passive aggressive form of denial of their very existence.

         Rickert watched him for a bit, as once gazes at a beautiful work of art. Then he took a box out of his pocket.

         "I brought you something," he said.

         Jason didn't respond.

         "LOOK AT IT!!!" Rickert yelled.

         Jason sighed slowly, hugely and smoothly but very slllloooooooowwwwwwwly swiveled his head sideways to look at the box. His eyes were full of disdain for him and it.

         "Another gift," he declared with said disdain.

         "Just a token of my esteem," said Rickert. He opened the box. It was a thin, chain linked golden bracelet. He held it out. "Take it."

         Jason shook his head slowly, sadly.

         "No." he said.

         Rickert's face fell a little. "But I got it just for you. It's almost as beautiful as you. A beauty..." He took it out of the box and placed it around Jason's wrist. "...for a beauty."

         Jason picked it off again and held it between thumb and forefinger as if he were holding a rat by the tail. He dropped it back into the box. "Perhaps you didn't hear me," he said, " I said no. No. And no again. And you really have to stop with the gifts. I have accepted none of them and will continue to do so. I do not love you and I never will."

         "But why? We're both gay. Maybe the only two gay men in this town..."

         "I was on my way OUT of this town," Jason reminded him grimly.

         "And now you can stay, Rickert continued in that eerie, whispery voice that his voice eventually always took on, "Stay and be with me. Stay and love me...like I love you...my beauty." He reached out with one finger to stroke that beautiful, porcelain cheek....

         Jason slapped his hand away before it could touch him. "And you are a Beast!! You're insane! You're keeping me prisoner! And you're too old! There is NO WAY any of that is going to happen!" Jason was on his feet before he realized it, yelling at the top of his voice, screaming his pent up rage and fear. Maybe a few days ago, he wouldn't have dared but Justin's note had given him hope. "I hate you! I HATE YOU! And if I stay in this tower for the rest of my life, I will NEVER love you! Just because we're two gay guys is not a reason to hook up! If I ever make love with a guy, it will be because I've fallen in love with him. Why do you think I was leaving this godforsaken town! I knew that would never happen here!"

         "I thought you were leaving because of your father," said Rickert.

         "That too! Wait...how'd you know that?"

         "You told Stockwell."

         "Oh." Jason seethed and began to go over everything he had told that son of a ...wait a minute.

         "I didn't tell him I was gay though. How did he know to snatch me? How did you guys know?!"

         Rickert just sat there and said nothing.

         "Somebody must have told you! WHO WAS IT!! Who told you!?"

         "That's enough. Sit back down."

         "WHO TOLD YOU!?"

         "SIT DOWN!"

         Jason whirled on the chair and kicked it so hard that it flew across the room and bounced off the wall.

         "NEVER! Never again! I am never sitting in that stupid chair ever again and I refuse to be on display for your sick desires EVER again! GET OUT! Take your gifts, and your crazy, and just get out, you horrible, monstrous BEAST!!"

         Next moment, he was on the floor where Rickert had knocked him down. Jason rolled with the punch and therefore managed to avoid the kick to his ribs. Then he was crab crawling backwards and hitting the curved wall of his tower room, and Rickert was towering over him in full blown rage-out.

         "YOU WANT A BEAST!? I'LL SHOW YOU A BEAST!!" roared Rickert, pulling a fist back.

         "Rickert! That's enough!" Stockwell's voice cut across the scene like a razor blade across a wire. Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

         "This visit is over. And as for you..." Stockwell stood the chair back up. "Sit down."

         So much for relief. Jason looked up and opened his mouth to protest. Then his heart fell.

         Stockwell's gun was pointed at his chest. It was game over.

         Wait. Maybe there was one more move. Jason slowly stood, then stumbled against the window and righted himself.

         "Hurry up, hurry up!" grated Stockwell, waving his gun.

         Slowly Jason turned and looked at his jailer with all the loathing he could muster. He slowly moved across the room.

         He sat.

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         Downstairs, Rickert continued to rage.

         "That little bastard! The ingrate! After all we've done for him! Why can't he realize we're meant to be together!?"

         Stockwell wisely refrained from pointing out that they had actually not really done a whole lot, if anything for the boy. The man was mad as a hatter but because of their past exploits he was stuck with him as partner in crime. For now. Damn Brian Kinney. Damn Justin Taylor. Damn the rest of those perverts from Liberty Avenue. Thanks to them he was stuck with one as his keeper. But he was so close. So close. All he had to do was keep Rickert contained for a few more days and he could win his election and then...and then he could drop the both of them in a lake. But until then he needed to remain squeaky clean.

         "Rickert! Calm down!"

         "I can't! ARRRRGHHH! I'm all worked up! What am I gonna do!?"

         Stockwell sighed. There was a ripping sound as he unzipped his pants. "Oh, Rickert!" he called.

         Rickert turned, his angry expression turning to a hungry one. He dropped to his knees.

         Stockwell closed his eyes and for good measure covered them with both hands.

         Desperately, he conjured up his own favorite fantasy: Lindsay Lohan. Well, you know...from...before.

TBC