Chapter 3 - Ryan.

At least the fact that I’m going completely ape shit crazy is kinda almost distracting me from the fact that I’m currently being hunted by three guys who want to sell me to someone or something in Singapore. That’s good, right? Cause if you’re going to start hearing voices it might as well be entertaining.

*I'm coming to get you, Ryan. Stay where you are and keep hidden. I can be there in about ten minutes. Just hold on, okay!* The voice in my head announces and in spite of the fact that I KNOW it’s impossible and I’m just imagining all this, I still feel reassured.

At least I’m reassured up until I again hear sounds coming from a few blocks down the alley. I can hear something large and metal being moved around - probably another dumpster. From the sound alone I can’t tell exactly what’s going on or how far away they are, and I’m too freaking scared to look and see. There’s shouting too, which doesn’t bode well for me, I don’t think. If it's those fucking goons still looking for me, then they’re getting far too close for comfort.

*Hurry!* I scream out to the imaginary friend in my head since I’ve got no other options for rescue. *I think I hear them. They’re getting closer.*

*We’re on our way, Ryan. Just keep talking so I know you’re okay. Tell me about the men looking for you.*

*Talking? Yeah, right! Whatever the fuck this shit is, it sure isn't 'talking'.*

*You know what I mean,* the voice sounds exasperated by me but in a teasing way that feels friendly. *Besides, it sounds better than telling you to keep THINKING at me.*

*This is so fucking insane! You know that, right? If I actually had enough money to buy drugs, I'd be thinking this is one really bad trip right about now. Of course, if I had enough money to buy drugs - or anything else for that matter - then I wouldn't be in this shithole right now and I probably wouldn't have had a complete psychotic break in the first place.* I think I hear the voice in my head laughing at this point - which, remarkably enough, doesn't freak me out any more than I already am.

*We're almost there, Ryan. We just turned north off of Burnside onto Second Avenue. Can you help me? Where do we go now?* The voice announces and I feel hopeful in spite of the fact that my rational mind knows it's all bunk. *Ryan, please, tell me how to find you.*

*I don't KNOW how to find me! I don't even fucking know where I am. How the hell am I supposed to tell you where to find me if I don't know myself? Can't you just use your magic mental powers and teleport me outta here or something?* In my frustration I'm practically screaming back at the voice - albeit silently as this entire whacked out conversation is taking place all in my mind.

Again I get the feeling that the voice is amused by my thoughts - it's like I can sense his laughter even though I can't hear it. *Okay, okay. Just calm down. When you scream at me like that it feels like my brain is about to explode out my ears. I can hear you just fine without you yelling, alright . . . Now, let's think about this and figure out how I'm going to locate you without driving up and down the streets hollering your name and tipping off these guys who are looking for you.* I gotta at least give my imaginary friend points for not giving up.

While the voice is thinking, I'm jolted back to the reality of my situation by the sound of a large vehicle engine approaching as it drives slowly down the cross street at the end of the block. I don't dare look out from my hiding spot to make sure, but it certainly sounds like a big SUV engine. When a beam of bright light sweeps over the close, lingering on my corner and the dumpster I'm huddling behind for several moments, I'm sure it's them. I don't even breath until the spotlight or flashlight or whatever it is moves on and I hear the car driving away.

*T-t-they're here* I whisper the thought to my voice friend, afraid even loud thoughts will give me away. *The car . . . I heard the car. The light . . . They're looking for me.*

*Shit! Just . . . Just don't panic.* The voice tries to be comforting but I'm still fucking shaking back here in my stinking hidey hole. *I'm close, Ryan. I know I'm close. It's like I can almost feel you nearby. I just can't pinpoint where . . . Maybe, could you try and send me a picture? You know, a mental image of where you are so I can see it? That might help.*

The only image that pops into my mind is the solid dark blue slab of metal - the back wall of the dumpster box - pressed tightly against my right shoulder and the hard brick wall on my left with the wooden slats from the pallet covering the small gap between the two in front of me.

*Wow! That's amazing! I can totally see it.* The voice sounds excited and I feel slightly encouraged. *But, I need more. A bigger picture. Not just where you're hiding but the whole alley. Can you show me that?*

I take a deep breath and hold it. Then, focusing all my energy on listening to the sounds around me - hearing with my ears and not with my brain like I've been doing for the past however many minutes - I carefully examine what I can hear in the alley around me. The only noise is that obscene twitchy shuffling still going on somewhere inside the dumpster where the local vermin are enjoying their supper in total disregard of my precarious situation. Other than that, it's completely silent.

Hoping that I'm not giving myself away, I cautiously stand up so that I can peek over the top of the dumpster. My ears were correct - the alley is deserted. I scan the area quickly, trying to mentally record the image and at the same time projecting it out for my friendly voice to pick up if he can. Not that I actually believe any of this shit yet, but it can't hurt, can it?

*Excellent! This is so cool. I can see it exactly. It's like I'm looking through your eyes. What a trip!* The voice sounds a bit juvenile - so enthusiastic over some parlor trick he's just learned - I can't help doubting that THIS dweeb is the one who's gonna help me?

But before I can make a snarky demeaning comment that will hopefully redirect the voice's focus back onto matters that matter, I'm thrown by the sight of my old nemesis, the big black SUV, prowling slowly down the street about two blocks further down the alley. They've still got that big spotlight and Passenger Guy is using it to look into the shadows and crannies as they drive by. Shit! Why don't they just give up already? How long are they going to waste on looking for me. There's gotta be some other street kid that 'Singapore' would be just as happy with as he would be with me?

*Shit! Is that them? That black Chevy SUV?* I must have still been projecting because it sounds like the voice saw my mental image of the guys searching for me. *YES! I see them! The car just pulled out right in front of where we're parked. I know exactly where you are now! Hold on another minute. We're just around the corner.*

Within seconds I see a sleek silver limo turning the corner and pulling up in front of the chain link fence stretched across the alley entrance. The door starts to open before the vehicle has even stopped. Next thing I know, the most beautiful boy I've ever seen jumps out of the open door and starts running towards me.

The street light on the corner is shining down on his blond hair and the moisture in the air acts like thousands of tiny prisms creating a halo effect around his face. He's smiling at me - this huge assed grin showing all his brilliant white teeth - his cheeks crinkling up with evident joy at the mere sight of me. Between that smile and his sparkling big blue eyes, it feels like a ray of sunshine has just lit up the entire area at my end of the alley.

"Ryan! Come on! Let's get the fuck out of here before they come back!" The vision calls to me and waves at me to join him but I just stand there and stare like a complete retard.

*It's okay, Ryan. It's me. I'm going to take you where you'll be safe.* I hear the words spoken aloud at the same time I 'hear' them in my mind.

"Y-Y-You're . . . You're real?" I hear myself stuttering and barely recognize my own voice, amazed as I am at seeing the owner of THE voice alive and in the flesh.

He nods and smiles even more - as if that were even possible - holding his hand out to me as he takes a few steps closer. "Yeah. At least I think I'm real. You, on the other hand, are my own personal fantasy come to life, which means you're the one who can't be real, not me."

"Jes! Get your friend and let's go! This is not a neighborhood I want to be hanging out in all night long," Both the vision and myself are startled by the harsh Latino-accented voice coming through the open window of the limo and interrupting our little moment.

"Hector's right. We stand out down here like a sore thumb with this big silver boat. If we don't get caught by your bad guys first, we'll probably get mugged. Come on and let's get the fuck out of here!"

The vision moves swiftly towards my hidey hole and deftly shoves the wooden pallet aside. He holds out his hand to me. I grab it and let him tow me out from behind the dumpster. I feel like I have no volition of my own at all. I just follow him as he leads me back to the waiting limo, holds the door for me as I slide inside and then climbs in after me.

The light inside the car compared to the almost complete dark of the alley is ridiculously bright and causes me to blink repeatedly. The blond vision sitting next to me reaches up and flips off the overhead light. His other hand is still clasped around my own. It feels so warm. The whole car is warm. And clean. It even has that new car, clean smell. Which, as soon as I notice it, makes me conscious of just how badly I myself smell. I try to scoot away from the blond but he just squeezes my hand a little tighter and refuses to let me move.

The tinted glass panel between the rear cabin and the driver's seat slides about halfway down. "Am I taking you two back to the house?" the same Latino voice I heard before asks.

"Good question, Hector," the nearby blond replies, turning to me as he speaks. "I guess I assumed I'd take you back to my house, Ryan, but if there's someplace else you'd rather go, we could drop you off wherever you want."

"I . . . T-T-There's no place . . ." I've finally warmed up enough to feel how cold I am and my teeth are now chattering so much I can barely talk.

"Shit! You're freezing cold and wet through. You're probably also in shock," the blond states, pointing out what I think is obvious. "Better go straight to the house after all, Hector. We'll figure out what to do later after Ryan's feeling better."

"Of course, Mr. Jes. I also took the liberty of calling ahead to Ms. Martha. She's getting something ready for you boys to eat as we speak," the driver politely informs the blond and then the privacy panel rolls back up into place.

"I'm sorry I don't have a dry jacket or a blanket or anything for you in the car," my blond vision says to me after watching me shiver in silence for a minute or two more. "I just ran out of the house without thinking, you know. But we should be home any minute now and Martha will have some dry clothes for you and you can take a hot shower and then eat and I'm sure you'll feel much better," the optimistic little sprite enthuses as I sit and shiver pathetically.

His warm hand never leaves mine the entire ride and his eyes constantly rove over my body again and again as if to make sure I am still there and still solid. Meanwhile I feel like I'm floating. It's surreal sitting here in such warmth and luxury after being out on the cold damp streets for so long. And especially after the little adventure I just escaped from with Cornpop's help. Oh, and let's not forget the whole mind reading thing - that doesn't help make things feel any more real for me. But I'm not going to bother trying to think through all that shit right now. All I can do at the moment is float along in the warmth of the car while my mind drifts peacefully along.

I'm really not paying attention to time while I float along, so I couldn't tell you how long it takes before we're pulling up to the front door of some ostentatiously large mansion. I can't see all of it because of the darkness and the rain, but what I can see is more than enough. As the driver comes around to the right rear door and opens it for me and the blond, I find myself giggling uncontrollably at the absurdity of this entire night. Actually, I'm not just giggling, I'm laughing so hard I almost can't stand up on my own. The blond is clearly worried - he reaches out with his free hand as if to feel my forehead for a fever. That makes me snort even louder and I fall back against the side of the car, chortling away like a madman.

"Ryan? Ryan, what is it? Are you alright?" My blond vision keeps asking but I can't stop laughing long enough to answer.

By this time I'm laughing so hard that tears are streaming down my face. Although the laughing is starting to sound more like crying as time goes by. Pretty soon even I'm not sure what the hell is happening and whether I'm laughing or bawling my eyes out.

"Martha?" I hear the little blond's worried voice close by me.

"Shhhhh. Calm yourself, Child. You're gonna be just fine. Shhhhh." These few words said by a velvety smooth voice finally cut through my mania. I can feel big strong arms wrapping around me and holding me together while my tears and the shaking gradually subside. One big hand pats my cheek and I let my head relax against a billowing buxom chest while that firm kind hand gently strokes my hair. "That's my good boy. Your friend's going to be just fine, Jes. He's just had himself a bit of a scare is all. Let's take him inside and give him a few minutes alone to clean up and get himself together. He'll be better in no time."

Everyone around me seems to take this declaration as gospel so who am I to argue. Without further fuss I'm swept into the house and chivvied up a flight of stairs. When we come to a halt, I see I'm in the fanciest bathroom I've ever imagined. The floors and walls are covered with huge brown marble tile. The same color tile, in smaller squares, continues into the large walk-in, glass-walled shower enclosure that looks like it could handle three or four grown men at one time. All the fixtures are brushed stainless steel. The shower head itself is one of those monster sized devices that looks like it'll rain down gallons of water on you at any one time. Even the friggin toilet looks fancy - it's some new-fangled design that has a higher back, no obvious piping below the stool and, instead of a handle, there are two chrome buttons on the top. Seriously, these people must spend a LOT of time in their bathroom to care this much about how it looks.

I guess I'm standing here looking lost or something, because the perky little blond guy seems like he's afraid to leave. "Do you need anything else, Ryan?"

I really don't have any clue how to answer that. I'm so fucking tired I really can't think straight. Actually putting together a string of words into a sentence in order to answer the kid really feels like an insurmountable task right now.

"Jesden, come away and leave the poor boy alone for a bit," Martha's authoritative yet kindly voice orders, to my everlasting gratitude. "Ryan, sweetie, you get in that shower now and get warmed up. When you're done, just toss those wet clothes into the hamper here and put on these dry things," she puts a stack of folded clothes on the counter next to the sink. "I'll have some nice hot soup waiting for you when you're ready. Jes, honey, you can come help me in the kitchen."

The big matron hustles the reluctant blond out of the bathroom. I can hear them arguing over something as they walk back down the hall. I'm just so grateful to be alone for a few minutes that I could kiss Martha. Finally, without the little blond vision watching my every move, I feel like I can breath again. I can even function like an almost normal human.

And normal humans get to take wonderfully long hot showers, don't they? The idea of a shower in and of itself is almost orgasmic after all this time. I don't think I've ever looked forward to ANYTHING as much as I'm looking forward to peeling off these stinking, wet, dirty clothes and walking into that big inviting shower. If I wasn't so fucking cold still, I'd probably be hard just contemplating the idea of a shower.

'Yep! It's just as good as I thought it would be,' I'm thinking to myself two minutes later as the gloriously hot water begins to rain down on me from that gargantuan-sized shower head. 'Shit, this shower is nicer than most of the places I’ve lived in the last ten years. Maybe they'll let me live here, in the shower . . .'