Copyright © by Sahypo
Detective Walsh had been busy the last few weeks as well. He had an informant transferred into the same facility where Tiffany Billings' last boyfriend, Larry, was presently incarcerated on a six year stretch. He had been busted after a long investigation into a meth and heroin distribution enterprise in this part of the state, and could have been sentenced to the mandatory maximum, facing 20 years before he would be eligible for parole consideration. The judge had given Larry a sentencing stipulation that would add the other time to his sentence if he was found to have held back anything during his elocution to the charges as part of the plea deal for a reduced sentence.
Walsh's informant had given the signal that he had information, and Walsh arranged for the man to have a "appointment" with an "ulcer specialist" which of course, meant that his informant would have to be transported off prison premises. Of course, this was a ruse to insure that no one inside had any idea that Walsh's informant was indeed an informant.
An unmarked Ford E-350 passenger van pulled into the school district administration parking lot, where Walsh had arranged to meet the man, and the detective got in the van. The informant was shackled to the bench seat's riser by his ankle, and the driver got out of the van and walked over to Walsh's car and lit a cigarette, while the prisoner and the detective talked in the van.
The man told Walsh that Tiffany had been addicted to heroin, and was using out of the stash Larry had been loaned by the meth gang to deal "on the side." When the supplier became suspicious of Tiffany, the drug gang threatened to kill him, and he promised the thugs that he would handle Tiffany. He split up the stash, and made sure Tiffany had pure, uncut horse…She overdosed and died, and Larry told the informant he buried her off the edge of a low water crossing down at the river, because no one came through way back, in those days, and the dirt was easier to dig in the river bank. No one had come down the road that night, and two hours later, the deed was done. Larry pulled up the rods and reels he had set out to make it appear he was night fishing, and left. Five years later, the state had paved that road and put in the bridge little Brandon had peed on the fateful morning Tiffany was discovered. The informant said that it taken several weeks for Larry to begin to brag about killing Tiffany to his new cell mate. What he didn't know was that Tiffany's remains had been found, and the detectives had timelines on everyone known to have been in contact with Tiffany before she died. Walsh asked the informant if the inmate had named the supplier…It turned out that the supplier was a known criminal, and was doing time in the same conspiracy case, that had nailed Larry. Walsh could use one creep against the other now.
Now it was time for Walsh and the District Attorney to apply some pressure of their own. Walsh assured the informant that they still had a deal, and got out of the van and nodded at the driver. He got in his car and left, and the van headed back to the penitentiary.
Walsh called the District Attorneys Office and spoke to a deputy DA he often teamed up with to "crack nuts." John Atteboro listened to Ron Walsh's pitch, and they made plans to travel to the lockup to interview the inmate, after Atteboro went over Larry's files from his prosecution.
Isaac and Timmy drove past the middle school where Timmy would attend the eighth grade, and Isaac hoped the diversion would help keep Timmy's mind off the news they had received; he needn't have worried. Timmy was doing all right. He had accepted that life had changed forever the evening he found his clothes and a note on the front porch. And that he could never lose someone that had never really ever been his. Isaac drove around the back of the school campus to a large hangar-like structure with a row of roll-up doors down the rear side. One of the doors was open, and Isaac parked the VW and got out, followed by Timmy.
Isaac walked into the shop and soon found his former teacher, apparently taking tool inventories, and servicing equipment over the summer break, to prepare for resumption of classes in the fall.
"Isaac!" the man said, excited to see the graduate. "Mr. Weaver! I'd like you to meet my new little brother, Timmy!" as Isaac shook hands with the teacher, who turned his attention to Timmy. "Hello, Timmy!" he said, shaking the boy's hand. "Hello, Sir." Timmy said. Weaver was a slight, balding man, with dark hair on the sides of his head, and intent brown eyes. He was one of the school's favorite faculty members, and had joined the district when the Chevrolet store in town had closed, putting the chief mechanic out of work. He had become department head three years after taking the teaching job, and would spend the rest of his career mentoring his beloved students. In return, they adored him, and often boys who had no one else to talk to would spend time baring their souls to Mr. Weaver under an open hood, over an engine. He would always come up with advice, and never failed to help a kid, no matter what the problem was. Isaac had been one of his favorite students, and he was glad Isaac stopped by so he could find out what he was up to.
"What's going on with you, these days, Isaac?" he asked.
"I just finished my first year at Technical College…I'm in the Aviation Maintenance program over there."
"Yes! Russ Connors heads that up, right?"
"Yes, Sir, that's right." Isaac said.
"We've known each other a long time, we are on a court appointed children's advocacy panel together. That's an awesome technical education program, Isaac. Do you like it so far?"
"It's great, Mr. Weaver. I love every minute of it." Isaac said.
"I'm glad you found your calling!" Weaver said, proud that Isaac had chosen to further his education. Then his brow knit, and he looked like he was confused by something.
"What's this about a new brother? I thought you were an only child, Isaac…"
"Long story, Mr. Weaver. About six months ago, I became Timmy's legal guardian, but it's just simpler to say he's my little brother."
"Ah, okay, that does roll off the tongue easier." Mr. Weaver agreed. "What brings you boys by today, Isaac?"
"Mr. Weaver, I have to change out an A/C compressor on The Bent-ley" which made Timmy giggle, "and I would like to reclaim the refrigerant if I could use the machine, and young Master Timmy here is interested in Auto Shop classes next year, and has a car to bring for a project."
"Oh, he does?" Weaver said, looking at the boy, "What do you have, Timmy?"
"My dad's '72 Gran Prix…He left it to me…" Timmy said. Mr. Weaver now began to understand the situation between Isaac and Timmy a little more.
"Oof! That's a lot of car…Pretty, too!" Weaver said. "Go ahead and knock yourself out, Isaac. I'll unlock the door, bring her in." Isaac turned to go out and get the VW, and Weaver crossed the shop and unlocked another roll-up door, as Timmy began to look at the various pieces of equipment in the shop. He was going to like learning to use all this stuff, he was thinking.
Soon, his attention was taken by the activity in the bay Isaac had pulled into. Isaac parked, shut the engine off and got out of the VW, and opened the hood. Mr. Weaver rolled the refrigerant machine over to the car, saying "Bentley, huh?" to which Isaac replied "Shhh! She has delusions of grandeur!" which made Mr. Weaver laugh. Timmy wandered over to see what they were doing.
Isaac handed two hoses to Timmy, one red, and one blue. He traced some tubes in the car and found the service ports for the air conditioning system and told Timmy to hook the red hose up to one, and the blue hose to another port. Isaac explained to Timmy that the refrigerant flowed in a loop in the car, and the compressor was the pump that kept it moving. The hot, compressed fluid traveled to a radiator like device in the front of the car, where it gave off heat and cooled. The Freon then expanded through a valve, and flowed through another radiator device inside the car, where it got cold, and picked up heat from the inside of the car before it went back to the compressor to repeat the cycle. The red hose connected to the high side, or part of the system after the compressor. The blue hose connected to the low pressure part of the system, or the low side. Timmy understood the circuit analogy, and how that worked.
Mr. Weaver then said that heat only flowed from hot things to cold things, and never the other way…it was a law of thermodynamics, and the reason that air conditioning worked is because the Freon was hotter than the outside air on the high side of the system and colder than the air inside the car on the low side. So the heat flowed into the system on the inside of the car, and out to the atmosphere on the outside. Timmy knew this from science class, and now could see how that worked and became useful in real life.
Isaac turned valves that connected the pressures in the car with gauges on the machine, and both gauges indicated the same pressure, since the car was not running. He turned the machine on, and the gauges started to fall, as the machine pumped the Freon out of the VW, and into a tank inside its guts. When the system was empty and the pressures read zero, Isaac turned the machine off, and got the tools and the junkyard compressor out of the back of the car, and he and Timmy pulled off the deceased unit. They used an air hose and flushed the system out to make sure the old compressor had not shelled out chunks into the system when it failed. When Isaac was satisfied they system was clean enough, he poured refrigerant oil in the compressor, and several ounces into the discharge hose. They would add two more ounces with the machine, as well, until the system had the specified amount of oil added.
Once the system was again closed with the replacement compressor installed, Isaac set the machine up to pull a complete vacuum on the system and set the timer for 30 minutes. This would cause any water or air to boil, and be sucked out of the system. He gave Timmy a wrench and had him turn the compressor shaft ten turns by hand to distribute the oil.
The three of them talked about school, cars and Timmy's interests as they waited for the VW to have any contaminants sucked out of the air conditioning system. Timmy told them that he wanted to paint the big Pontiac a different color; Isaac had an idea why he would want to do that, but kept his own counsel. Mr. Weaver told Timmy that they had a full paint and body program, which piqued Timmy's interest.
When the timer went off, Isaac turned the machine off, and they waited five minutes, to see if the pressures would change from a hard vacuum to something less, indicating a leak. There was no such movement of the gauge needles, so Isaac programmed a charge weight into the machine, and opened a small valve on a graduated bottle that held oil. When the last two ounces of oil were sucked into the system, it was time to charge, and the machine pumped the precise weight of gas into the system, that Isaac had selected.
He asked Timmy to start the car, and used the connector for the compressor clutch to cycle the compressor on for a few seconds, off for fifteen and on again. He did five cycles of this, to urge the oil to distribute itself in the system, before connecting the clutch and letting the car cool down.
Timmy squealed in delight and gave Isaac the thumbs up as he felt the cold air come from the VW's vents again…he had missed the comfort.
Detective Walsh and John Atteboro visited Larry in the lockup…Of course, he was not very cooperative at first, figuring the cops didn't have anything on him. That same affect began to dissolve when Walsh told Larry his supplier had offered to roll on him and testify that Larry had promised to make sure Tiffany never skimmed any more product.
Deputy District Attorney Atteboro then dropped another turd into Larry's punchbowl. "Larry, we know you killed Tiffany Billings, and we have enough evidence to prove that, including your DNA." Atteboro was bluffing, but Larry wasn't smart enough to know that he should have lawyered up already.
"If you make us take you to trial, I will seek and get the death penalty, since you murdered her in connection with the operation of an on-going criminal enterprise." He stared hard into Larry's eye's - that was a tactic that he never got tired of using, because it worked most of the time. "Unless you give me a statement right now that you did this murder, and I will promise you no more than 20 years maximum, Larry." Walsh bit his tongue and watched his friend work the prisoner; nothing Atteboro said was binding unless it was written down and signed, but Larry didn't know that.
"You tell us exactly what happened, and things stay just like they are, you get to stay here and do your time…On the other hand, if you get the needle, you will be on the Polunsky unit at Huntsville until its your turn, and death row time is done in solitary, Larry. 23 hours a day locked up in a 6x8 foot cell."
Larry was in a box now….if they had DNA, he knew he would be convicted….Fuck! He thought…what choice did he have?
"I'll take it….I'll tell you what you want to know about…that night" He said, his head down as he spoke. The detective and prosecutor breathed a silent sigh of relief….they had anticipated a real knock down drag out fight, and may still have some prick defense attorney fuck this up before it was over, but they had him for now.
Surprisingly, Larry waived his right to an attorney and decided to give a twenty minute statement once the prison videographer-stenographer set up video and court reporting equipment, and when he was finished, he was read his rights by Detective Walsh and led back to his cell. Atteboro filed charges on Larry that evening and arraignment was set for later that evening. Larry was seen by the public defender later that day, and told her that he wished to waive trial, plead guilty and take Atteboro's deal. The court appointed lawyer was not some gullible liberal idealist out to save every miscreant she ran across. She had an enormous caseload, and wasn't interested in tilting at windmills for defendants who didn't want to wage long legal battles. She reserved her energy for those clients who truly were being screwed and steamrolled by the system. She had no problem stepping out of the case, since she had talked to Larry enough to know that he wasn't incompetent and could make the decision to waive trial. Besides that, if the case went to trial and the DA sought the death penalty, she would be removed anyway. Pro Bono capital defense was farmed out to private criminal defense firms who would work for county scale reimbursement. It was better than trying to recover a three quarter million dollar fee from a deadbeat that would never earn more than six dollars an hour between stretches in jail.
In this county court system, inmates were not bused to court downtown for arraignments…They used a video conference system that allowed the defendant and judge to see each other. It saved a lot of money, was safer for staff, recorded the proceedings and also allowed the families of the defendants, and victims of criminals to witness the proceedings with no chance of violence or of smuggling contraband to inmates.
Larry stood in front of a small screen, and faced the judge "Does the defendant understand the nature of the charges against him? The judge asked.
"Yes, your honor." Larry assured him.
The public defender then spoke, "Your honor, my client has decided to accept the Peoples' offer made in exchange for a guilty plea on the charge listed in the information."
"Does the defense find the terms of the plea agreement acceptable?"
"We do, your honor." said the public defender.
"And for the people, Mr. Atteboro?"
"We do, your honor." Atteboro said.
"And the defendant understands that he is waiving his right to trial, and will receive sentence immediately after any victim impact statements are heard?"
"Yes, your honor" Larry repeated
"As to the charge, Capital Murder committed in conjunction with the operation of an ongoing criminal enterprise, how does the defendant plead?"
"Guilty, your honor." Larry stated.
"Sentence shall be passed three weeks from today, at Ten O'Clock…" the judge ordered, and the video link went dead.
Detective Walsh and Atteboro drove back to the city and Walsh stopped on his way home to pay Isaac and Timmy a visit, after they had gotten back from the school auto shop. He was invited inside for tea, which sounded great in this heat.
"You look like you have news!" Isaac said,
"Oh, I do, I do." Walsh said "And, I hope this will be good news."
Isaac said, "Timmy could use as much as he can get…Jack passed away this morning.."
"Timmy, I'm very sorry for your loss. I hope this isn't going to load things up too much more, but I came to tell you that we got the guy who killed your mother. He confessed to it, waived his right to trial, and will be sentenced in three weeks…if you would like to let the judge know how his crime affected you, you have the right to address the court, so the judge can take that into consideration."
"How did you find him, and get him to confess?" Timmy said. Walsh carefully chose his words, as he felt no pleasure in telling Timmy his mother was also a junkie, as well as a stripper. He was sure the boy had figured out on his own that his mother was just about at rock bottom when she died.
"This man was in prison doing time on another charge already, Timmy. We put an informant in his cell with him, and the man talked…too much. We were able to develop other people who would testify that he had done it, and we told him we had DNA evidence in the case…we just didn't tell him it wasn't his DNA." Timmy raised an eyebrow, and Walsh winked at him and smiled. "Anyway, the DA told him if he took the deal, there would be no death penalty…I'm sorry, sometimes we have to deal to get the guy, and it usually pisses families of victims off when we do."
"Why did he kill her?" Timmy asked, and sensed Walsh's hesitation "Please…I want to know why he did it. Look, I know she wasn't Mother Theresa, and you can tell me the truth…Please…"
Detective Walsh looked into Timmy's hazel brown eyes and his resolve melted. Timmy reminded him of his own boys, who could wrap their tough cop father around their fingers.
"She stole heroin from him that he was supposed to be selling for a supplier; the supplier found out and told him he had to take care of the problem. He gave her uncut stuff and she OD'd on it," Walsh said. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."
"No…I needed to know." Timmy said, "Thanks for telling me the truth. What's this guy's name?"
"Larry Wayne Maynard" Walsh replied, and Timmy shook his head. He'd never heard the name.
"When do I have to be ready?" Timmy asked
"The day of his sentencing, which is the 27th." Walsh said. "I can come by and pick you guys up, and save you the parking hassles." Walsh offered. Downtown was an alligator pit to navigate and park, with horrendous rates, and multiple block walks…it was the chief complaint of jury pool members and the main reason people tried to be excused from jury duty. Walsh had the inside lock on parking, of course, being a cop.
"Thanks, I'll call and let you know if Timmy wants to address the court," Isaac said.
"Done!" Walsh smiled at Timmy and caressed his cheek. "If I can be of assistance, let me know, boys. I gotta run. Isaac, you take care of my awesome friend here."
"Count on that!" Isaac promised, as Walsh shook their hands.
"Thanks again, Mr. Walsh." Timmy said.
"It's Ron, if you want, …bye, guys!"
With that, he was gone.
Timmy and Isaac were both quiet and subdued the rest of the day, and Isaac made sure to keep Timmy close physically, with little hugs and squeezes. He could see that Timmy was deep in thought, and didn't appear to be agitated or upset, just busy thinking.
"Here's a penny" Isaac said, holding out an imaginary penny for Timmy. Timmy took the imaginary penny, and put it in his imaginary pocket, since he had taken off the shorts he had jumped into when Detective Walsh stopped by.
"I'm just thinking of what I want to say, Isaac….there's so much there, and I want to make sure when I go, it's going to make sense."
"Timmy, why don't you go write everything down on your laptop. Make a paragraph for each topic you want to address, and keep going over each one until it's the best you can make it, then put them together….that way you don't have to take on the whole thing at one time…If you want, I can proofread it and help you edit, okay?"
"That's a great idea…I gotta do something, my thoughts are racing." Timmy said.
"I know." Isaac said, hugging his naked friend. "And when you get stuck, we can get you packed. You're going to see Scott tomorrow, remember?"
"What day is this, again?" Timmy asked,
"Thursday. You go tomorrow and come back Sunday."
"Oh yeah." Timmy said. "I'll write some, then pack in a little while. I won't take much with me anyway. Will you get me when its time to eat?"
"Nope." Isaac teased, then immediately felt bad…he had forgotten that going hungry had been reality for Timmy on more than a few occasions. "Sorry, Timmy…I shouldn't joke about that."
"It's okay Isaac…I'm getting past most of that stuff now. I remember it all, but its like it wasn't real somehow."
"Different time, different place, Timmy. There has been so much change in your life lately…it kind of shocks me to watch it." Isaac said.
"You're part of that, too. You're a huge part….okay, maybe not huge…" Timmy said, as he began giggling, breaking the tension.
Isaac rushed Timmy, and tackled him onto the couch, and began tickling the naked boy, sending Timmy into hysterics. Timmy spluttered and screeched and yelled, as Isaac's fingers found all of Timmy's terrible tickle spots, and Isaac said " I might be small but I'm deadly!"
Timmy cried for mercy.
Isaac was relentless in his torture of Timmy. "Small things come in hot packages." he said.
"That's not how that goes!" Timmy protested.
"It does for my purposes!" Isaac countered.
"Okay, okay, I give…you're monstrously huge!…now don't kill me anymore. I gotta catch my breath!" Timmy said, as Isaac gave him a kiss on the eyelids and let him up. "Gross! You tried to lick my eyeball!" Timmy greatly exaggerated, "Eyeball licker!" he teased, as he dashed into his room to get on the laptop. Isaac grinned and turned on the TV to see if anything was on.
An hour later, Isaac heard the sounds of urination, and got up and walked down the hall and stood in the bathroom doorway, as Timmy finished relieving himself.
"Having any luck with the writing?" Isaac asked. Timmy flushed and said
"Yeah, I got a bunch of stuff down." Timmy replied "I'm getting hungry too." as he washed his hands.
"How does hamburgers sound?" Isaac asked. Timmy nodded and said, "Sounds great."
Isaac turned and went to the kitchen to prepare his famous recipe. Timmy thought Isaac's burgers were better than just about any other…but then again, he was biased….
Timmy decided to take a break and pack clothes for his stay over with Scott. It took less than five minutes, and Timmy dropped the sports bag by the front door, and went to see what Isaac was doing in the kitchen.
During the meal, Timmy asked Isaac when they would go shooting. He remembered the revolver in Jack's drawer, and had been thinking about Isaac's invitation to teach him.
"Want a lesson now?" Isaac asked and Timmy nodded. "Okay, when we get done eating, we'll get started, big guy."
They finished eating, and Timmy helped Isaac clear the table, and Isaac went to his room and returned with two handguns, the old Colt revolver, and a small Beretta .22 caliber pistol that Pat had given to Isaac on his 15th birthday. He had the Tupperware with the old bullets in it, and a small box of .22 shells too. Isaac put the weapons and ammo on the table, and sat down next to Timmy.
"First, Timmy there are three safety rules and two general rules…" Timmy looked intently at Isaac as the older boy spoke.
"One, you never point the weapon in an unsafe direction, like at people or animals or anything you don't intend to shoot. A gun can only hit what its aimed at." Timmy nodded that he understood.
"Two, you never shoot at anything unless you know exactly what it is…If you're not sure who or what is out there, hold your fire." Timmy nodded again.
"Third, never, ever put your finger on the trigger until it's time to shoot. Guns never just go off by themselves. Any body that made a weapon like that would have been sued out of existence the first time that happened. Somebody always has to do something to make a weapon discharge." Timmy said "Got it, boss!"
"Any questions about the three rules?" Timmy shook his head, "Pretty simple." he said.
"What are the two other rules?"
"Yes, it really is that simple. The first is that there is no such thing as an unloaded gun unless you just unloaded it, or watched someone unload a gun. We never assume or think a weapon is empty, Timmy, we make sure. Everybody that accidently shot themselves or someone else did it with a gun they thought was empty. We're going to make sure we never have an accident like that, okay? The final rule goes along with the first. You never hand a loaded gun to someone unless you tell them its loaded; it's good manners to hand someone an open weapon so they can see that it isn't loaded.
"Okay" Timmy replied. Isaac smiled and continued.
He picked up the old Colt, and showed Timmy that his finger was outside the trigger guard, resting on the frame of the weapon. He then unlatched the cylinder and pushed it open to show Timmy the empty chambers in the cylinder. "Some revolvers open like that, and others like Old West style single actions, have a little gate that you open on the side."
Isaac put one round of the old ammunition into the cylinder, and closed it. "You can see if there are rounds in the cylinder, but you can't be sure all of them are live or spent without opening the gun and checking. There could be two live rounds and four shot ones." He opened the Colt, and pushed the extractor to kick the bullet out into his hand.
He handed the gun to Timmy and said. "Practice opening the cylinder. Oh, and never flip the gun closed like they do in the movies…that's a good way to spring the frame out of shape." Isacc watched Timmy for a few moments, then said "Quiz time!" and placed the weapon on the table.
"Okay, you're out at someone's house, and there are younger kids around, and they find a revolver. You're the oldest, and you have to do something. What do you do, Timmy?"
Timmy picked the handgun up again "I pick it up, keeping my finger off the trigger" he said, opening the cylinder latch "I open it and…" he pushed the extractor, "I take the bullets out," he said, putting the gun back on the table.
"Good job, Timmy. The little brats are saved." Isaac joked and Timmy laughed. Isaac picked up the Beretta. "This is a semi-auto pistol. The bullets go in a clip, and you change clips rather than load a cylinder." Isaac explained, slipping the clip in and out of the gun. "Now watch this very closely, because you are going to see the mistake that kills people." Isaac loaded the clip with seven rounds of the .22 caliber ammunition, and put the clip in the gun. He racked the slide back. "How many rounds are in the gun, Timmy?"
"Go to the head of the class." Isaac dropped the magazine out of the weapon and handed it to Timmy, and put the Beretta on the table. "Is my pistol empty, Timmy?"
"No." Timmy replied.
"Are you sure?" Isaac asked "How many rounds are in the clip?"
"Six now." Timmy said.
"So where is the missing bullet?"
"It's in the barrel now." Timmy said.
"Awesome…You can see what happens if someone thinks they unloaded the weapon because the clip is out, and misses the one in the chamber." Timmy nodded.
"So what we do is…" Isaac said putting the clip back into the little weapon, "always make sure that the barrel is clear if the gun has a clip magazine." Isaac said, showing Timmy how he should remove the clip first, and then rack the slide back to eject the round in the barrel. The small cartridge arced through the air, and Timmy caught it, and stood it on the table like a tiny missile.
"Timmy, show me how you clear the weapon" Isaac said, and watched Timmy demonstrate the lessons Isaac had taught him.
"I think you got it, big guy." Isaac put the weapons away and returned to the kitchen to find that Timmy had gone back to his writing. They decided to turn in for night, and Timmy decided to sleep with Isaac tonight. He often did when he had a lot of things on his mind, although he didn't have nightmares anymore.
They rose in the morning and had their customary morning shower together, and scrubbed each others backs with the loofah, and got dressed. Timmy put his SpeedStick on, and brushed his teeth, then packed those items in his athletic bag. They stopped at IHOP for their breakfast platters and drove out to the Wiedemer farm. Scott and a beautiful blond boy with blues eyes were waiting for them to arrive, and met them at the car. The boy was about the same size as Timmy, or three inches shorter than Scott, and maybe 10 pounds heavier than Timmy. He was wearing a pull over shirt, and shorts, and had no socks in his shoes. His skin was a buttery tan, with no blemishes anywhere. He could have been an Abercrombie & Fitch model.
"Timmy, this is my friend Eric, from my school." Scott said. The boys exchanged greetings and Scott continued, "Eric, this is Isaac, Timmy's big bro." Isaac and Eric said hellos and soon Don came out and greeted the two visitors again. He and Isaac went up on the porch to talk and drink some tea, while Sammy came out of the house and went to join the boys.
Timmy ran up on the porch to say goodbye to Isaac and gave him a big hug. "Bye, Isaac. See you Sunday."
"Take Care, big guy. You got your phone on you?" Timmy nodded. "Is it charged?"
"Yes, I charged it last night. It should be good until you get back." Timmy said.
"Okay, have fun this weekend." and with that they broke the hug.
Eric and Scott watched Timmy and Isaac's exchange, while Sammy did some last minute adjustments to the load in the truck. He then went up on the porch to tell his father that they had everything and were ready to take off for the pond. His father nodded and said, "Try not to drown anyone out there."
"Not even just one of them?" Sammy asked, trying to sound hurt and disappointed.
"Get out of here, you dork! Call me if you need anything, son." Don said, as Isaac and Sammy chuckled.
"I will, dad, no worries."
"Timmy, you got your gear in the truck?" Sammy asked
"OK, got to go, Love you, Isaac, bye!" Timmy said as he scrambled off the porch and ran out to get his bag out of the VW. Sammy was right behind him and the three younger boys climbed into the bed of the pickup with the camping gear. Sammy got in the drivers seat and soon they were well on their way.
Don and Isaac stared into the distant cloud of dust and Isaac thanked his host again for giving Timmy the opportunity to come on this outing.
"Thank Scotty…All he could talk about was Timmy coming out the last three weeks. I just hope he doesn't forget about Eric."
"He seems like a really nice kid" Isaac said.
"Oh, yeah, he's great…it's hard to get two words out of the boy, he's terribly shy, but we just love him to death. His mother has serious mental health issues, and he's being raised by his grandmother. He loves being out here with Scott and Sammy, hates to go home again."
"The thing is, Eric is so intelligent he doesn't relate to other kids very well, and so he has basically only Scotty and Sammy to call friends. He wants to fit in, but just doesn't, and my boys kind of adopted Eric."
"He is lucky to have boys as good as yours are to call friends, Don." Isaac said. He then gave Don a little rundown on what had been happening lately for them, including Jack's passing, his mother's killer being charged, and that Timmy would be addressing the court during the sentencing.
"Isaac, when is that?" Don asked.
"The 27th, at County court." Isaac said.
"Do you think Timmy would like having Scotty and Sammy there to support him?"
"Oh, Don, I think that would mean the world to Timmy if you all came to be with him. I don't know what to say…thanks."
"Let's not say anything about this to him, then?" Don suggested. Isaac flipped his phone open and checked to make sure he had the Wiedemer's number in his phone, and closed it.
"I will call you with the courtroom number and judge when I get it." Isaac said. Don nodded and the plan was set.
Sammy drove past the pond and the spot they had parked the first time Timmy had been there. The boys had prepared a smooth golf course flat patch of field big enough to pitch a tent and have plenty of room for a fire pit, which was stocked with cut wood and kindling to start a fire. There was a mowed path to a small grove of trees where Scott and Sammy had set up a field latrine with a post hole digger on one of the smaller tractors. It beat the shit out of digging a shit hole by hand, they had joked. In the waist high crops that surrounded them on all sides, and at the distance the pond was from the highway, the boys had total privacy.
They pitched the tent, carried the monstrous 84 quart cooler over to the camp site, along with chairs, Tiki torches, lanterns and a small picnic table, which was the last item unloaded. The boys had tipped the table into the pickup truck upside down, and reversed the process to unload it. Sammy and Scotty both had headlamps on elastic headbands, so they could have light and use both hands. They brought two flashlights for the other boys.
They had gotten four air mattresses at Wal Mart and brought sheets to sleep under. It was warm and the air would be comfortable after dark and in the early morning. The big tent could easily sleep eight people in cots, and would serve to keep the bugs out. Once camp was set up, Sammy went to the truck and got a small Weber kettle grille out of the bed, and a half empty bag of charcoal. "Scott, can you get the firestarter?" he asked.
Scott went to the truck and brought back a bag full of junk mail, credit card and refinance come-ons that clogged mailboxes by the millions across the country. Truth be known, this blizzard of junk messages heavily subsidized the Postal Service and kept the price of postage from rising faster. He also had a metal canister about two feet high and 6 inches in diameter with a handle on the side.
Sammy wadded up some of the paper and put it in the canister, and laid charcoal briquets on top of it. Timmy watched this intently, as he had always seen Jack and other drunks spraying lighter fluid on the grille, often after the fire was lit with spectacular results. He knew a lot of people with missing eyebrows.
Scott lit a wooden match and held in a hole in the side of the canister, and soon smoke began to issue from the device. After another five minutes Sammy poured the red hot charcoal onto the briquettes in the Weber, and the boys decided to hit the pond while the coals formed.
Sammy and Scott took their shirts and shorts off, which is all they were wearing, and waded into the water. Eric and Timmy stood facing each other and Timmy lowered his shorts and briefs, as Eric watched Timmy's thick penis pop into view. His eyes took in everything, and when Timmy looked up at him, he averted his gaze, afraid that Timmy might be offended.
"Eric, you can look, I don't mind."
"Really, I didn't want to be rude or make you think…." Eric said.
"You're not being rude, and what were you afraid I would think?" Timmy asked gently.
"Well, er, that you might think I'm gay, or stuff." Eric said.
"It's no big deal if you are, Eric…at least not to us here." Timmy said.
"Yeah I know Scott and Sammy are cool with it, but I wasn't sure you would be."
"I'm cool with it too, Eric." Timmy assured him.
Eric removed his shorts and briefs, exposing an exquisite, hairless four inch long circumcised erection, with a roll of loose skin behind the glans. It was ramrod straight, and had a perfectly shaped round tip. Eric's body was completely smooth, hairless and had no tan lines. The main thing that Timmy did recognize immediately was that Eric had one testicle in his hairless scrotum.
Timmy's mouth dropped open and Eric could tell what Timmy was staring at and said, "Oh yeah, I was born with that, hope you don't think its weird."
Timmy found his voice and answered, "Goes for me too, Eric," holding his penis up so Eric could see that he was the same "It's my right one." Eric was just as shocked to know Timmy was monorchid as Timmy was discovering Eric's secret.
"OMG, how cool is this?" Eric said. "I've wanted to meet someone like us for …well, forever, and here we are!"
"Scott told me a friend of his had one nut the last time I was here. He probably thought we should meet." Timmy said. Both boys were caught up in the moment, as the both realized how easy it would have been to pass through life without ever knowing the other shared his secret.
Eric was the first to speak again, after closely inspecting Timmy's lone egg.
"I know about hypospadias, too. I read up on that. I read a lot." Eric said. "I think there is a boy at school like you too."
"I'd love to meet him, Eric." Timmy said. "Let's get wet, its too hot!"
Timmy and Eric waded into the pond to join Scott and Sammy, who were floating around and relaxing in the mid-day heat.
"Glad you two could join us here at Club Mud." Scott joked.
"I was just getting to know Eric better." Timmy said.
Eric nodded and Scott said, "You two have a bit in common, don't you?" with his ever-present grin, as he reached between both boys legs and gripped their scrotums gently, rolling their solitary testicles in his fingers.
Timmy said "Yup!" and grinned, while Eric turned scarlet, and both boys let Scott have his way with them. Soon, Sammy came drifting past, and came up behind Eric, and stroked the blond boy's young meat and felt Eric stiffen in his hand. After several minutes working on Eric, Sammy switched off and took Timmy's thick member in his hand and began to stroke the boy, flicking his fingertip under Timmy's sensitive glans and slit. Scotty had taken Sammy's place stroking Eric's hard hairless penis, sliding the loose skin up and down over Eric's shaft and glans. Eric, for his part had Scott's long six and a half inch penis in hand and was giving him an excellent slow and sensuous hand job. Timmy had found Sammy's immense eight inch cock, and was enjoying every inch of the huge organ. Sammy had the largest penis Timmy or Eric had ever seen, and both younger boys wanted to see more of it, and closer over the weekend.
After a few more minutes of play, Sammy waded ashore, saying he needed to start the food on the grill. There were hot dogs, buns, chips and iced tea, and soon four naked boys were sitting under the shade of the grove waiting for the hot dogs to cook. After they ate, they talked a bit and Timmy caught them up on the events of the last three weeks, telling them Jack had passed, his mother's killer had been found, and he would be reading a statement in court, and about the car and auto shop.
Eric gave Timmy a little background on his life as well. He also had an absent mother, who had gotten pregnant with Eric by a serviceman who left her soon after Eric was born. She was severly bi-polar and unable to care for herself. Eric's grandmother had been awarded custody of Eric, and power of attorney to act in her daughter's behalf. Eric's mother was stable on medication, but had episodes when she decided to stop her meds, and while she had a relationship with her boy, she was the first to admit that she was incapable of caring for him. She deferred to her mother, and had been living in a group home since Eric was four.
Eric's grandmother provided a kind and loving home, but not one that was ideal for the socialization that Eric needed. Eric was a nerdy, extremely cerebral boy who could make others uncomfortable at times. They simply didn't know how to take him at times, when he would say something completely over his peer's heads. He also struggled with his budding sexuality. His body had just begun the very first stages of puberty, when his testicle had begun to enlarge. He had always known he was different, and once asked his grandmother what she knew about his birth condition. She knew very little about it, never having sons, and Eric's mother had never talked to her about Eric's testicle either….the doctors said it would descend on its own, probably. He listened intently as Timmy told the boys about his ultrasound, and the surgery he would have sometime after he got back home.
The afternoon wore on, and the boys decided to relieve some of their horniness; Timmy and Eric sat back to back on the big Igloo cooler, while Scott and Sammy stood facing their guests, who were sucking the brothers cocks. Timmy had taken Scott's long organ in his mouth and was working his friends circumcised six and a half inches, while Eric was in heaven, trying to take as much of Sammy's larger eight inches as he could. Scott and Sammy looked at each other, and some silent signal passed between the brothers and they withdrew their rigid members and switched places. When the Wiedemers had spent their seed, they took their places on the cooler, and pleasured Eric and Timmy. Sammy had been wanting to take Timmy's unusual member in his mouth since he first laid eyes on it, and now he savored his opportunity, probing every feature of Timmy's ample cock and ball with his fingers and his tongue.
Scott was enjoying Eric's rock hard erection, and drum tight penile skin…Eric's glans was almost perfectly spherical, and grayish pink. Like most tightly circumcised males, Eric required some form of lubrication to masturbate, or engage in sexual activity. Scott was always gentle with Eric, and would sometimes fellate the blond boy with olive oil in his mouth. Scott came up with this little treat for Eric when their relationship as friends had deepened and the brothers had introduced Eric to oral sex about six months ago. Scott had befriended Eric some three years ago, when he noticed Eric had no friends and always sat alone. Eric loved spending time with Scott and Sammy, because with them, his lack of social skills didn't matter. The brothers found his quirkiness charming, and they called it "being Eric". In time, Eric came to consider this a term of endearment, rather than a derogatory epithet.
When Eric's sexual consciousness began to awaken, Scott and Sammy were the only ones Eric could talk to, and express his feelings with. The boys assured Eric that what he was experiencing was the same for them, and that he was not unusual. Eric felt better after confessing that he had no interest in females, and found himself aroused by males lately. He had signed up for a PE class the previous semester so he could have an opportunity to view other boys in the showers and dressing areas, and that he often masturbated thinking about those boys.
Scott then told him that he always masturbated thinking about other boys, and that he had masturbated thinking of Eric. He was shocked that Scott had come out to him, and he said so.
Scott had replied "If I lied to you about it and you found out, it would destroy our friendship because there would be no trust. If I lost you by telling you the truth, that would be your decision…my conscience would be clear because I was honest with you and you made a choice based on the truth."
Eric was surprised to learn that Scott had fantasized about him, and protested that no one would find him attractive in real life. Scott had pressed him as to why he felt that way, and Eric told Scott about his birth condition. Scott had asked why he felt that his single testicle would make him unattractive, and Eric revealed a long-standing fear that he would be rejected by a partner because of it. Scott asked Eric if he had ever considered that a mate would find this interesting or "hot". Eric only saw the negative, of course, and Scott slowly convinced him that he was "overworking the problem".
Eric said Scott and Sammy were his only real friends, and that if he walked away from the brothers over Scotty's revelation, then he wouldn't be a real friend to them. If anything, Eric was loyal to those he was close to. The three boys freindship had entered a sexual dimension at this point.
Scott and Sammy had crashed on air mattresses for an afternoon snooze, their nude bodies on display in the shade, so Timmy decided to get back in the water and relax in a cold spot some more. Eric followed, as he wanted some time to chat with Timmy alone.
Eric swam over to Timmy, as Timmy turned around to see who it was.
"Hey, Eric!" Timmy said.
"Hi, Timmy. I hope I'm not intruding, but I wanted to talk to you about something." Eric said.
"Sure." Timmy replied.
"Umm…did your doctor say they want to remove the testicle that didn't come down?" Eric inquired.
"It's not actually my testicle. They said it was an object too small to be my other nut, and it doesn't look like one…The doc wants it out so it can be identified and can't cause problems later."
"You mean cancer, don't you?" Eric asked.
"Yeah, that's what we read on the internet and what the doctor said."
"That's what I'm kinda worried about…I don't know if mine's still inside…I been reading on this too." Eric confided. The boys were very close now, speaking softly inches apart. "You should get it checked, too, Eric." Timmy suggested. "You need to know for sure."
"Yeah." The blond boy answered.
"Can I feel yours?" Timmy asked, and Eric responded "Of course, please do!" and smiled. Timmy found Eric's scrotum, and at the same instance felt Eric's hand between his legs. "Which side is it?" Timmy asked, and Eric replied "The left". Timmy chuckled and said, "Mine is on the right…between us, we have a pair!" Both boys laughed at that, and kept up the caresses on each other's scrotums. Soon both monorchid boys were erect and their hands had expanded territory to include each other's penis. Eric marveled at Timmy's girthy organ, as he studied Timmy by Braille.
"Wow, this is such a wide cock, Timmy. Most I see at school are not nearly this thick." Eric said.
"Thanks…You check out cocks looking for others, too, then I gather." Timmy asked
"Yup, Sure do, Timmy!"
"Are you smooth naturally or do you shave, Eric?" Timmy asked, as he worked Eric's shaft with his fingers.
"I don't have hair yet, Timmy" he said.
"Can you cum yet?" Timmy asked.
"Been having dry cums like the last three months" Eric replied. Timmy nodded and the boys continued their activity until they both climaxed in the warm water, and paddled around a bit before returning to camp.
If you have enjoyed this story please let the author know by emailing him at firstname.lastname@example.org