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   story codes: (Mb bb snuff anal oral ped) style: contemporary

   THE DUNGEON MASTER by Rafe Morgan (Copyright 2012)

   BOOK I: THE CAGE (Jacob)

   Chapter 5

   In the morning, just after seven, I slipped out from under the covers,
careful not to disturb the sleeping boy, and padded down the hallway into
the kitchen.  Using the blender I made three breakfast shakes, drank one
myself, put another in the refrigerator, then carried the third to my
bedroom.  There I knelt beside the bed to watch Jacob's sleeping face until
the boy's eyelids flickered and he opened them to look at me.

   "Breakfast," I said holding out the shake.

   He sat up, his sculpted and tanned young body a dazzling sight in the
sunshine that filled the room.  Perching naked on the bed, his legs drawn
up tailor fashion, he drank the shake while I admired him.

   "I think this makes you look so cool." I reached to touch the shiny scar
at the top of his left arm and Jacob turned his head.  Then he rubbed the
other shiny scar on his opposite hip and slid a palm over his smooth chest
and stomach.

   "I'm gonna' get more."

   "Bet you will," I said, nodding.  "Scars are the badges of honor for a
warrior."

   Taking the empty glass from him, I put it down and then had the boy
stand in front of me.

   "You'll have to fight naked today.  It's what the other kid's handlers
want.  Will that bother you?"

   "With people watching?"

   "Cameras."

   He made a face, because he was still self-conscious about this, but we
had talked about it enough in practice so that he finally nodded.  "Okay."

   "Hold still.  I'll get you made up.  This is a big audience today.  We
gotta' start payin' attention to the details."

   Using a small tube of cheap red lipstick I glossed the boy's lips, which
he found amusing, and then he squirmed when I brushed red color onto his
tiny nipples.

   "Joe!"

   "This is what you gotta' do," I assured him.  "It's because of the
lights.  Hold still..."

   More giggling followed when I put a touch of red on the tip of his
penis. I patted his butt and then, taking an eyebrow pencil, darkened the
sun-bleached hairs over his eyes.  "Now the oil," I told him.  "You know
how that goes."

   "Uh-huh."

   I stood him on a towel, and then smeared the coconut oil over his body
and Jacob's penis, which had been swaying for a while in partial erection,
stirred into full quivering rigidity.

   "Nice," I told him, slicking the shaft with oil and the boy arched a
little, showing himself off and then laughed when I smeared oil up into his
butt crack.

   When I was done I backed off a few steps while Jacob posed for me, his
hard little sculpted body glistening in its coating of oil and I held up my
fingers in a pretended frame.  "Oh yeah!  The latest hot young thing!  No
wonder your tape is in the top five.  You'll be number one after this
fight!"

   The boy bunched his long hair back and held it while I tied it with a
leather strap.  Then I picked up the towel and put it on the edge of the
bed for him.  "Sit down and rest.  I'm gonna' make sure the other kid is
up, then you'll go over first."

   Jacob bit his lip.  "I don't like the waiting."

   "Yeah, I know.  It's bad.  Try to stay loose.  Remember, once you're in
the cage you're on camera all the time.  Make yourself look good.  I'll
hurry so you don't have to wait too long.  When you make it to arenas with
people, you won't have to wait around like this."

   Leaving the boy I walked to the kitchen, grabbed the extra breakfast
shake from the fridge, and then went downstairs to unlock Orlando's door.
The room was dark as I went in and the boy was asleep, curled under a
sheet. I opened his bathroom door wide so the light would shine on him and
then knelt by the bed.  After a moment his eyes opened and he started when
he saw me, and then looked around sleepily.

   Using Spanish I told him, "I made some breakfast for you if you want
it."

   He stirred, rubbed his eyes and then sat up.  Like Jacob he was a
breathtaking sight with his light brown skin glowing gold in the slanting
light.  He tasted the shake and made a face at it.  "What this stuff,
Homes?"

   "It's a breakfast shake.  Don't drink it if it's no good.  You can have
whatever you want."

   Orlando took one more sip, shook his head and then handed the drink back
to me.  "Later, Homes.  You got Taco Bell or somethin'?"

   "We can go there after."

   "When we do the movie?"

   "They're setting up now.  I'm takin' the other kid over as soon as he's
made up.  He's pretty jumpy.  I think he knows somethin's up.  I had to
coke him pretty good to get him settled."

   This got Orlando's attention.  "You got blow?"

   "Sure.  Just the powder, nothin' else."

   "Get me some, Homes!"

   "When I come make you up," I told him, nodding.  "First I gotta' get the
other kid over there." Straightening, I gestured at the bathroom.  "Brush
your teeth, shower and do all that other stuff so you're ready for makeup
when I get back.  I won't be long."

   With a quick pat on his shoulder I picked up the glass of breakfast
shake, took Jacob's over mantle from the wardrobe and then went out,
locking the door behind me.

   The four weapons I kept honed to razor sharpness for Jacob's matches
were ready in their cases and I loaded them into the van before going back
upstairs.  Jacob was waiting on the bed, staring straight ahead when I came
in and he got up turning to me solemnly.

   "Time to go," I said, handing him the over mantle.  "Bring that towel
with you."

   Clad only in his bead necklace and gold ankle chain Jacob followed me to
the van, his bare feet slapping on the concrete when we reached the garage.
I helped him into the passenger seat, draping the towel over his lap, and
then handed him the over mantle.  When I climbed up behind the wheel on the
driver's side I saw him glance at me but he was silent as I pushed the
button that opened the garage door, started the engine, and then backed the
van out onto the driveway.

   Once we were clear of the neighborhood I reached over to pat Jacob's
thigh through the towel.  "It's okay to be nervous."

   He nodded, glanced over at me, and then a few seconds later asked,
"Joe?"

   "Yeah?"

   "Like...  like..." The boy stared down at himself, stroking a hand
across his stomach.  "Like, if I get dead, don't let me...  Don't let me
like poop all over...  Like in front of everybody..."

   "I won't.  You know I won't."

   Reaching over to reassure him, I placed my hand on his thigh and Jacob
covered it with his own, holding onto me tightly.  "An' like...  Like,
don't leave me alone..."

   "I won't.  I swear.  No one will touch you but me, and I'll stay with
you all the time."

   He nodded and then sat, looking straight ahead, keeping a grip on my
hand.

   It was a weekday so there were cars in the front parking lot at the
Industrial Park, but the warehouses in back were deserted as usual.  I
parked right by the door so Jacob could go in unseen and he scurried out
with just his over mantle, leaving the towel on the seat.

   Inside, morning sunlight streamed in through the high bare windows
making the wire cage glisten like an icy web.

   "Wait," I told the boy and walked around adjusting the video cameras. 
Then I came back and helped him put on the over mantle.  "Once you're in
front of those cameras," I warned, "You're being seen all over the world.
So look good."

   I gave his butt a very light pat.  "I'm gonna' go open the cage door. 
Wait here.  When I signal walk straight into the cage and do the posing
like I showed you.  Then start your Thai Chi.  Go real slow.  Just stay
nice and loose.  I'll get the other kid right over here."

   Jacob nodded, exchanging a solemn look with me, and I walked over to
unlock the cage door for him.  When I beckoned he followed my instructions
perfectly, walking slowly into the cage and then striking a dramatic pose
to show himself off for the cameras as I locked him in.  I watched as he
shifted smoothly into two more poses, sunlight flashing off his oiled skin,
and then once he started the Thai Chi I backed away.

   With the boy secured I brought the weapons in from the van, then did a
quick check outside for any stray pedestrians before driving away to get
Orlando.

   At the house all was silent when I came into the basement.  I got the
makeup supplies and vials of cocaine from upstairs and then unlocked
Orlando's room.  The boy was sitting on the bed with a towel wrapped around
him watching MTV.  He got up as I came in and stood in front of me smelling
of soap and the lime scented shampoo I had bought for Jacob.

   "What we doin', Homes?"

   "This first."

   Orlando took the vial I handed to him and eagerly snorted the contents,
closing his eyes for a moment and quivering as it hit him.  "Yeah... 
Yeah!" He opened his eyes.  "This good shit, Homes!"

   "The best," I assured him.  "Check this out --" I got down on one knee
beside him.  "You've got a fantastic body, Orlando.  I know the camera's
gonna' like it.  This other kid is gonna' be nude for the kill scene and we
want you to do it nude, too.  But it's up to you.  Will you do it?"

   "Shit, Homes," the boy said, tossing his head, "Whatever you want, I do
it."

   "Good." I removed the towel from him.  The boy was rigidly hard, his
long stiff penis jutting up in a curve.  I rubbed it a little and he posed
for me, licking his tongue over his lips.

   "Makeup," I told him, getting the lip-gloss.

   Like Jacob he found it amusing to be made up, but the drug had him so
wired he barely noticed the way I put color on his nipples and penis tip.
The application of coconut oil made his smooth supple body glisten like
burnished gold, highlighting the beautiful swells of symmetric muscle.

   "We goin' now?" He asked as I lead him, naked, to the van.

   "Yeah, this is it.  Here, put this over your lap." I helped him into the
passenger seat and then covered his middle with the towel.  The boy bounced
on the cushion, humming and snapping his fingers.  Then as I got in behind
the wheel, he turned to me in alarm.  "I gonna' need my blade, Homes."

   "That little one you got is too small to show on camera," I said,
locking the doors and then starting the engine.  "Don't worry.  We got a
big one for you that'll be perfect.  You'll see.  It's sharp as hell, too.
When you stick it in the other kid it'll go right through him."

   Orlando frowned for a moment, and then reached for the radio buttons
while I backed the van out of the garage.  A moment later the speakers were
blasting with hip-hop.

   On the drive over I worried that the loud music would attract attention,
but the morning rush had finished and no one gave us a second look.  When
we pulled up at the warehouse Orlando wanted to get out right away but I
put a hand on him to keep him in the seat for a moment.  "The cameras are
all set," I warned.  "Don't touch or move any of them!  We send the crew
away so they can't be witnesses, okay?  They won't be there to fix stuff if
we mess up so be careful."

   Orlando nodded but he was fidgeting on the seat, barely listening. 
"Let's do it, Homes," he told me, snapping his fingers.  He slid out of the
van, exposing himself but there was no one to see and I got the warehouse
door open quickly.  Inside, the boy stared at the glistening wire cage and
Jacob in his over mantle.  Then he laughed.

   "That the kid, Homes?"

   "Yeah.  Keep your voice down.  Don't scare him."

   But Orlando paid no attention.  He strutted toward the cage, holding his
penis, his pelvis thrust out, and shouted in Spanish, "Yo!  Maricon!  Puta!
You like this?  You want it!  I gonna' put this up your maricon ass, puta.
Then eat your heart." He spat on the floor, grabbing the wire cage and
rattling it.  "How you want it, puta?  Eh?  I gonna' cut you.  You gonna'
die now."

   As I had instructed him, Jacob ignored all this and continued with his
stretching, moving slowly from one classic pose to another.

   "What this shit, Homes?" Orlando jeered, switching to English.  "That
gotta' be some faggot shit." He thrust his pelvis out again and held his
penis.  "Here what you want, Homes.  I gonna' come give it to you!"

   Gesturing for Orlando to stay where he was I grabbed the weapons from
their cases, brought them to the door of the cage and then unfastened the
padlock.  Jacob came over without being told, removed his over mantle and
stood nude before me.  Bathed in the sunlight pouring down from the windows
his muscular little body gleamed in its coating of oil, his tan giving him
the same golden look as Orlando.  I handed him a vial of cocaine powder and
he snorted it, eyes widening at the hit, and then taking the weapons I gave
him he retreated to the far corner.

   Orlando strutted over the moment I beckoned and I waved the boy into the
cage.  Taking the sword from me he put a thumb to the edge and then waved
it, testing the balance.

   "This good, Homes," he said, nodding.  But he frowned when I tried to
hand him the javelin.  "This just gonna' be in my way."

   "Better take it.  If you can finish him with it, it makes a good scene.
Try to put it all the way through him."

   Looking doubtful Orlando took the metal spear from me and I shut the
door.  As I re-fastened the padlock Orlando gave me a suddenly nervous
glance.  "What we do now?"

   Using Spanish, and looking at him very intently I said, "Fight, and show
your courage." Then, backing away I added in English, "Only one of you
leaves this cage alive."

   The Hispanic boy stared for a moment and turned to look at Jacob who was
crouched in guard position watching from his corner.  When Orlando took a
step toward him Jacob advanced as well, then each boy circled warily to his
left while eying the other.

   It was a slow start to the match and I waited for Orlando to move in
with the arrogant confidence he had been showing, but he did not.  Instead
he was studying Jacob's movements, as if either experience or some instinct
was warning him that this white boy was not going to be the easy victim he
had been expecting.

   As the boys continued to circle, cat like, around the cage, Orlando shot
two sharp suspicious glances my way and it occurred to me that if he
succeeded in killing Jacob I would almost certainly have to kill him in
turn or else find myself next on his list.

   In these situations Jacob had been taught to feint, drawing his opponent
into reactions that would reveal skill level or a potential weakness.  He
did so now with a beautifully controlled move, a sudden twisting sweep of
his blade that stopped just short of leaving him unguarded.  Orlando's
instinctive defensive reaction pulled his sword out of position and for an
instant the silky tapered sweep of his belly was left open.  Jacob's left
arm jerked forward thrusting his javelin and I sucked in my breath
expecting the match to end right there, but Orlando's counter was just
quick enough to avoid impalement.  He twisted away and the needle sharp
javelin tore across skin instead of penetrating.  Then he slashed downward
with his sword in a move that Jacob blocked, but not before an edge grazed
his right forearm.

   Both boys had drawn blood, but now Orlando was off balance.  Jacob made
another feint, this time with his javelin, forcing the other boy to either
step back or attempt a clumsy block.  As it turned out Orlando could do
neither and Jacob pressed with a double attack.  His sword flickered
jabbing into the Hispanic kid's left chest and then, as Orlando tried
desperately to twist away Jacob drove the glistening point of his spear
into the other boy's right groin.

   This second stroke could easily have killed Orlando, but by some miracle
the needle tip missed artery, vein and tendon, burying itself near the base
of the Hispanic boy's penis.  It caught for an instant, metal haft plunged
into flesh, and I could almost hear the point grinding on cartilage.

   Orlando jerked back, the force of his adrenaline-fueled reflex yanking
the weapon free as well as pulling the wooden shaft out of Jacob's hand. 
The javelin clattered onto the concrete, blood along with urine gushing
from the penetrating wound.  The boy's bladder had been punctured but the
emerging blood was dark showing that the arterial saddle in the pelvis had
not been hit.  The strike was mortal but not disabling, and it had cost
Jacob his weapon.

   But his sword was still sunk in Orlando's left chest and now the
Hispanic boy did instinctively what he must do if he was to keep fighting.
Shielded from pain by the drug he stepped into Jacob's thrust, taking the
blade in deep, and then delivered an uppercut with his own sword that
slashed across Jacob's ribs.

   For a moment I was sure Jacob would be completely disarmed because his
sword stuck in bone and did not slide free when he pulled back.  Orlando
stabbed at him, trying to get a thrust in under a rib but Jacob twisted
away, barely evading, and the sword tip slid off opening another cut. 
Stripped of his javelin the boy's left side was wide open to a killing
stroke if Orlando had used his spear, but the Hispanic boy was either
unable to jab with the weapon or else so unused to it he did not take the
advantage.

   Aware of his danger, Jacob tugged frantically at his sword, taking
another slash before he finally wrested it free and backed away.  He tried
to retrieve his javelin but Orlando kicked it aside sending it clattering
into the base of a cage wall, and then the boys circled again stalking each
other, their taut naked bodies glistening with oil, blood and sweat.

   Both were bloody and Jacob was losing most of it.  The tanned skin of
his chest, side and right arm was sheeted in crimson from the sword cuts he
had received.  Orlando's right leg was streaked from the blood streaming
from the torn skin over his belly, the dark red flow glistening wetly on
his light brown skin.  More blood trickled from the rip in his groin and
the slit in his chest.  Both deep wounds were mortal and the first sign of
death's slow approach was a streak of bright red that appeared, trickling
from the corner of his mouth.  But he was still not disabled and now he had
the advantage in weapons.  His eyes tracked Jacob fiercely, seeking the
best opening.

   In the flood of clear light slanting from the high windows onto the cage
both young boys were incredibly beautiful, the play of muscle beneath skin
a display of living sculpture in the stark illumination.  Despite the
mutilations, Orlando's lithe golden body retained its lovely elegance of
line, its prettiness and his delicacy of features subtly brought out by the
touches of makeup.  The strutting pose of arrogance was gone now and he was
wide-eyed in concentration.  Looking at him I was even more convinced that
he was, at the most, barely thirteen.

   Opposite him Jacob's wiry little body was equally lovely, a picture of
athletic grace.  The classic symmetry of his form had been altered very
slightly by the recent growth in his legs, giving him a hint of the coltish
look of budding adolescence that made him seem even younger and more
vulnerable.  I watched the blood flow down from the slashes on his chest
and wondered how soon the loss would weaken him.

   With a cat like lunge Orlando suddenly attacked, pressing his advantage
in weapons and Jacob parried, sidestepping desperately to avoid getting
trapped in a corner.  He had been trained in the technique of fighting one
weapon against two, but this was his first real test and I watched closely
to see how he would do.

   Orlando feinted back then closed again, attacking Jacob's guard, looking
for an opening.  It was there if he would only use it because Jacob was
over-focused on his sword hand, the mistake he so often made in practice,
and the smooth ridged sheet of his hard little stomach was open to a thrust
from Orlando's javelin.  But the curly haired Hispanic boy was not drilled
in the coordinated use of two weapons.  He saw the opportunity too late and
by the time he did jab Jacob had recognized his danger and danced aside. 
The javelin tip grazed past harmlessly and now Orlando went off balance,
open to the flickering slash of Jacob's blade that cut across his right
breast.

   Stung, Orlando flinched back and Jacob slashed him, drawing the razor
keen edge of his sword over the other boy's right forearm.  Blood flowed,
dripping from Orlando's wrist, but his fingers still gripped his sword.

   With a sharp little cry Orlando rushed in again forcing Jacob to retreat
back against the cage wall as he struggled to fend off the other boy's
attack.  Somehow he managed to slice Orlando's right shoulder, but the
Hispanic boy pressed in knowing he had the advantage, determined to use it.
He made another clumsy thrust with his javelin and with his back to the
wire mesh Jacob could not entirely avoid it.  The needlepoint ripped across
the top of his right thigh just below the groin crease but did not
penetrate and Orlando's stroke sent the javelin tip into the steel mesh
where it jammed, stuck in the wire.  He jerked it back, but the momentary
distraction opened his left side and Jacob stabbed at him, the tip of his
blade glancing over the ribs and nearly tearing into the armpit.

   With another cry Orlando twisted away giving Jacob a chance to escape
and once more the boy's circled each other.  But Orlando was coughing now,
a bright red stream running from his mouth and I could see he was tiring.
He still had his weapons advantage but Jacob was the better-conditioned
athlete and had an ever-increasing edge in speed and strength as the time
of the match lengthened.

   Orlando attacked again, feinting left and right, using his knife
fighting skills and I could not fault the boy's courage or determination.
His eyes flashed as he scored a hit, nicking Jacob in the right upper
abdomen and forcing the white boy into a block that uncovered his
vulnerable left side.  But again Orlando failed to deliver a killing
follow-up stroke with his javelin and the boys separated once more.

   Now both of their upper bodies were sheeted in blood from sword cuts and
there were blood droplets all over the concrete floor.  Orlando's breaths
were coming in panting gasps and when he coughed it sent a spray of red
droplets into the air.  He spat and then lunged once more, feinting with
his blade, but this time he was noticeably slower.  Jacob countered with a
thrusting attack of his own which Orlando should have knocked aside using
his javelin but instead he tried to avoid and his right leg nearly buckled.
It was the first real sign that he was weakening and instantly Jacob lunged
in stabbing his sword into the muscular sheath of Orlando's unguarded left
stomach.  The Hispanic boy's eyes widened in shock as the blade penetrated
him and he dropped his javelin so he could use his left hand to grab
Jacob's sword.  The javelin clattered to the floor as he leaned forward
taking the blade deep to hold it within himself while he tried desperately
to land a killing stroke of his own.

   With his only weapon buried in his opponent Jacob had no means of
blocking.  He twisted away desperately barely avoiding being skewered and
with a violent yank pulled his sword free.  Orlando staggered back, almost
going to his knees, then gathered himself and straightened up.  With a
scream of battle rage he lifted his sword above his head, his taut young
body glistening in its coating of blood, and in that moment he was the
embodiment of defiant courage.  The sight sent a chill shivering down my
spine.  But Jacob was focused only on the kill and was already maneuvering
for position.  With another scream the Hispanic boy rushed to meet him and
their swords clanged against each other.

   In those last few seconds they were equals again, their young bodies and
skills perfectly matched.  But the Hispanic boy was burning every remaining
precious reserve with this final desperate effort.  He tried again to feint
under Jacob's blade and failed.  Then, risking everything, he pressed in
close attempting to beat down my young warrior's guard by sheer force.

   This had no chance of success.  Jacob blocked and Orlando, staggering
off balance, was stabbed in the lower belly.  This time Jacob pulled the
sword free quickly, mindful of not having it trapped again, and with a
slashing upward sweep cut Orlando's right forearm to the bone, slicing
through all the muscles and tendons.

   The curly-haired boy's sword clattered to the floor as he was no longer
able to grip it.  Disarmed, he backed away looking around wildly for a
means of escape, but there was nowhere to go and Jacob was advancing on
him, his face a grim mask.

   It was then, as he looked into Jacob's eyes, that Orlando finally
realized he was about to die and the knowledge sent him into a blind panic.
Staggering from his wounds he turned and made a run for the door in a vain
attempt to get away, but nothing could save him now.  Jacob crouched to
pick up Orlando's dropped javelin and then, straightening and taking a
quick step, he hurled it into the Hispanic boy's exposed back.

   Jacob was not a big boy, but he had been practicing daily for nearly
half a year throwing javelins into the straw target, and his weight trained
strength allowed him to deliver the weapon with terrific force.  The
needled tip hit Orlando just below the right shoulder blade, passed through
the chest wall, then buried itself deep in the lung, nearly transfixing it.

   Thrown forward into the door by the blow Orlando clawed at it
frantically, found it would not open, then tried to turn but the spear
shaft sticking from his back hit the fence.  He fell back struggling and
the javelin, caught in the wire, was driven deeper by his writhing until
the sharp steel tip emerged below the right nipple at the front of his
chest.

   He tried to scream as Jacob came in on him but only a gargling mixed
with bloody foam came out of his mouth.  At the last second, by a
convulsive effort, he got the javelin shaft free but there was still
nowhere to go and then Jacob was on him.

   With an upward thrust my boy warrior drove his blade in under Orlando's
breastbone, sinking it nearly to the hand guard.  The stroke was perfectly
delivered, just as I had taught him.  The Hispanic boy's eyes and mouth
both opened wide as he gave a loud grunt, "Unngghh..." Then his gaze fixed
and he slid down the wire fence into a sitting position, body propped up by
the steel mesh, dead before he even reached the floor.

   Jacob stood over his defeated opponent, taking deep breaths.  Then, in
an eerie echo of Orlando's previous gesture of defiance, he threw back his
head, raised his fist and gave a scream of victory.  It was a moment of
pure savagery and seeing him like that, his slender little body caught in
tension and covered in blood, I felt a thrill like nothing I had ever
experienced.

   The boy turned to watch as I unlocked the cage door and entered with the
digital camera.  "Remember, you're still on video," I told him.  "Don't
show any weakness." But this was the last thing on his mind.  He stood in
front of me eyes glittering with fierce pride.

   "I killed him, Joe."

   "Yeah, you did." I touched his cheek.  "I'm so proud of you.  I want to
hug and kiss you and do everything else, but not here with all these people
watching.  Okay?  Later..."

   His eyes flashed and he nodded, then accepted another vial of cocaine
from me pulling his head back to snort it.  Closing his eyes as the drug
hit he shuddered for a moment and then handed the vial back.

   "He thought he could beat me, but I beat him!"

   There was no question that Orlando was dead.  I smelled the foulness as
I approached him and there was a small dark puddle of feces under his
buttocks.  Jacob showed no sign that he even noticed and took position over
the dead boy for the victory photos.  The drug had brought his penis into
rampant erection and he arched to thrust it out proudly, striking poses to
show off his body.

   Now that he had won I was increasingly concerned at the amount of blood
still flowing from the multiple sword cuts he had taken, so I hustled him
out of the cage once the pictures were taken and then ripped my shirt into
makeshift bandages.

   "What about him?" Jacob said pointing toward Orlando's dead body as I
walked him toward the outside door.

   Despite my bandaging attempts the boy was still bleeding freely and I
was forced to place one of the plastic tarps from the stack in the
warehouse on the passenger seat for Jacob to sit on during the ride home.
Halfway there he began to slump either in reaction or from loss of blood
and his head was lolling by the time we pulled into the garage.

   Carrying him in the plastic sheet, I rushed the boy up to the kitchen
where I laid him out on the counter, turning it into a crude operating
table.  There with cloth, gauze and bandage I finally got the bleeding
stopped.

   Jacob had survived the match, but at least two of the sword cuts - the
long one across his chest and the slash at the top of his right thigh -
were deep enough to have sliced into muscle and only time would let me know
how serious the injuries might be.  Working slowly and meticulously while
Jacob drifted in semi consciousness I cleaned all the wounds with
germicidal soap and then smeared them with antibiotic ointment.

   "Jacob?"

   The boy's eyelids fluttered and he gazed up at me.  "I'm thirsty, Joe."

   "I bet you are.  You've lost a lot of blood."

   Getting a cup I filled it with Gatorade and then put a straw in it so he
could take sips.  "Not too much," I warned.  "Just little swallows.  We
don't want it coming back on us."

   He looked up at me.  "I beat him, Joe.  I killed him."

   "Yeah." Taking his hand I leaned over to give him a kiss.  "I am so
very, very proud of you.  You're the bravest kid I've ever known, Jacob. 
You're my boy warrior..."

   I could tell from the way he looked at me how happy this made him.  He
closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them.  "Am I gonna' die,
Joe?"

   Bending to kiss him again I answered, "Not this time.  I've got the
bleeding stopped.  Would it be so bad if you did?  Do you wanna' live
forever?"

   He shook his head.  "I wouldn't care.  Not if I knew you're like proud
of me."

   "I'm always proud of you, Jacob."

   His eyes darted to mine.  "You wouldn't be if I like got scared."

   "Everyone gets scared, Jacob," I said, stroking his hand.  "I know you
get scared.  But you always fight bravely anyway."

   "Uh-huh."

   He closed his eyes again for a while and then asked for another sip of
the liquid.  "Joe?"

   "Yeah?"

   "That kid...  He like tried to run away..."

   "Yeah.  He tried to run away."

   The boy's eyes flicked to mine.  "You'd be mad if I ever tried to run
away, wouldn't you."

   Stroking him, I leaned down to give him another kiss.  "I could never be
mad at you, Jacob.  I love you too much.  But I'd be disappointed."

   He shook his head.  "I'd never do that."

   "Listen," I told him.  "I'm gonna' put you on your bed and I want you to
promise not to move while I go do something."

   "Where you going?" He looked up anxiously.

   "I gotta' go take care of the other kid."

   "Don't they want him?"

   "No.  I gotta' do it.  Now listen, while I'm gone you are not to move,
you understand?  I don't want those cuts opening up again."

   But he was not listening.  "Joe, is he there all by himself?"

   I knew what he meant and nodded.  "Yeah.  He's all by himself.  That's
why I gotta' go get him."

   Jacob grabbed my hand and looked up pleadingly.  "If I get killed, don't
leave me alone, Joe.  Please?"

   "I won't, Jacob." Tenderly I stroked his cheek.  "No one will touch you
but me, and I'll stay with you.  Now - promise you won't try moving around
while I'm gone."

   He still had hold of my left hand and now he tugged at it.  "What if I
gotta' like pee?"

   "Then pee on the bed, but you are not to try getting up.  Got it?"

   This amused him and he gave me a little smile.  "Okay."

   Carrying the boy downstairs I laid him gently on the side of the
waterbed, and then arranged a fresh sheet, slid him onto it and covered him
with another one.

   "I might get them all bloody," Jacob protested and I caressed his bare
shoulder.

   "You think I give a damn about a stupid sheet?  You're the most valuable
thing in the world to me, Jacob.  We can buy a million sheets if we need
to. Now stay here and don't move.  I'll be back soon.  You want the TV on?"

   "Uh-uh."

   Patting the boy once more I went upstairs to get myself another T-shirt,
and then headed for the garage and the van.

   Over at the warehouse it had only been a few hours but already the flies
had gotten in, attracted by the smell.  They swarmed around Orlando's body,
crawling over the dead boy's open eyes and the blood that was splashed
across the floor of the cage.  None were affected in the least by my
efforts to shoo them away and I was forced to work with them buzzing around
me.

   "Sorry, kid," I muttered, leaning him forward.  "I didn't mean to leave
you alone like this."

   Orlando had tried to rob and perhaps even kill me, but there had been
more I liked than disliked about him, and I did not feel good about having
left him to the flies.

   The sword Jacob had driven up into his chest was wedged tight and there
was no way to get it out with the body in a sitting position.  Leaving it
in place I lifted the dead boy out of the little puddle of filth that was
under his butt and carried him out of the cage to where I could lay him
down on clean concrete.  The flies came with me and batting them away I
worked as fast as I could to roll the boy up in a plastic tarp where they
could no longer get at him.

   The two javelins and single sword that remained in the cage I rolled up
in another piece of plastic, and then I carried everything out to the van.
Before leaving I did a preliminary clean up with mop and bucket, getting
all the feces and most of the blood.  Then, mindful that Jacob should not
be left alone too long, I drove home.

   In the garage I thought for a moment of how Orlando had climbed, naked
and confident, into the van that morning.  Then, getting his plastic
wrapped body from the back, I carried it into the basement, placing it on
the floor by the weight bench.

   Jacob had his head turned watching for me as I came into his room.

   "Did you get him, Joe?"

   "Yeah.  He's here.  Everything's all right, Jacob.  Did you stay still?"

   "Uh-huh.  Joe?"

   "Yup?"

   He licked his lips, and then said meekly, "It's starting to like hurt a
lot."

   With a pang, I realized that I had forgotten to give him anything for
pain.

   "I'll get you something right now."

   From the medicine cabinet in the bathroom upstairs I got a bottle of
prescription pain tablets left over from a broken leg I had experienced
several years before and, bringing them down to Jacob I shook two out onto
my palm.

   "I can tell you from experience that these things help, but the pain is
still there," I explained to him, putting the tablets into his mouth and
then holding a cup of water for him to swallow.  "You're in for a couple of
rough nights.  But I'll be with you all the time."

   Jacob settled his head back on the bed and stared up at me curiously. 
"How did you get hurt, Joe?"

   "Motorcycle racing." I grinned at the boy.  "Busted my leg.  Kind of
like you riding that bike down the big hill."

   He smiled back and we shared a moment of complete understanding.

   "We'll give the pills a few minutes to work," I said, heading back to
the door.  "Then I got something I wanna' show you.  Don't go anywhere..."

   This made him giggle, which I considered an encouraging sign.  Upstairs
in the kitchen I got a bucket from under the sink, filled it with warm
soapy water, and then took it along with a sponge back down to the
basement. It took me a little time to unwrap Orlando's body because there
were things leaking from it I did not want to spill.  Once the dead boy was
lying sprawled on his back I was able to work the sword out and it pulled
free of his chest with a sucking sound.  I rolled the body onto its side,
and then using my sponge, gently cleaned the fecal matter off the buttocks
and thighs.  When I spread Orlando's butt cheeks to clean around the gaping
anus I could see the small ridge of scarring I had felt there the night
before.

   After I was done I stretched Orlando out on his back again, and then
took bucket and sponge upstairs where I washed them out, along with my
hands, using strong detergent and hot water.  Not wanting to take any
chances with Jacob's open cuts I also ran bleach over my hands and arms,
waving them in the air until they dried, and only then did I return to the
basement.

   Standing over the dead boy, looking down at him, I was struck by how
beautiful he still was despite the mutilations.  Examining the graceful
slender body I counted at least twelve wounds, six of them deep punctures
any of which could have killed him.  Relaxed in death, the boy's lovely
features looked very young and I realized I was seeing what had been hidden
behind all the arrogance and strutting bravado.  It was the young boy I had
held in my arms while he confided secrets to me and I took a moment to
mourn his passing before going to get Jacob.

   "What is it, Joe?" The boy had heard the sounds of me working and had
his head turned watching for me.

   "I got the other kid laid out and I wanna' show you some stuff."

   He nodded in understanding, and then shifted as if about to sit up.

   "Don't you dare move!" I growled holding his shoulder down.  "If you
open up one of those damn cuts, I'll..." With a little gesture I frowned in
mock severity.  "I'm not sure what I'll do.  Send you to bed without supper
or something.  Come on..."

   Jacob smiled at me and allowed himself to be lifted.  I carried him out
into the workout area and sat on the weight bench cuddling the boy, holding
him where we could both look at Orlando's body.

   Jacob stared down at his dead opponent, and then pointed to the side of
his own stomach and the ragged tear in the skin made by Orlando's javelin
tip.  "He almost got me on that one, Joe."

   "Yeah.  For sure.  Careful..." I eased his hand away tenderly.  "Don't
touch it.  Don't touch any of your cuts.  Let me do that.  You get an
infection in one of these things and you could still die."

   Jacob lifted his eyes to mine and I touched my finger to his nose.  "I'm
not gonna' let that happen though, so don't worry." He smiled and I went
on, "We're gonna' fix you up good as new.  You're the Hot Young Thing! 
Hotter than ever now!  I bet the tape of this fight is number one all over
the world!  This kid thought he was good - you showed everyone you were
better!  We'll get a ton of offers now."

   Grinning down at the boy I asked, "How does it feel to be up on top,
Jacob?  How did it feel to beat this kid?"

   The boy's eyes glowed as he stared up at me and he said in a soft voice,
"it's like so awesome, Joe.  It's like totally, totally..." He shook his
head.  "It's almost like flyin' or somethin'.  Like, it's..."

   "Better than ridin' your bike fast down the hill, huh?"

   This made him smile.  "Oh, yeah!  It's like so way better than that. 
It's like..."

   "Like nothing you've ever done before - like there's nothing you can't
do, like you own the world!"

   "Yeah.  Like that, Joe.  Except like even more...  Like totally, totally
awesome."

   "Better than sex?"

   Jacob nodded solemnly.  "Yeah.  Like better even than that."

   We were both silent for a moment while I caressed the boy's cheek.

   "See the kid's right arm?" I said, finally.  "Check this out..."

   Jacob looked down and, careful not to touch anything, I leaned forward
pointing at the deep slash on the inside of the forearm above the wrist. 
"You remember doing that one?"

   "Uh-huh."

   "You took out his grip.  Perfect edge work.  If that ever happens to
you, what have I told you?"

   The boy nodded.  "Switch to the other hand, reverse guard."

   "Good.  If you can make a choice, which weapon do you pick?"

   This was a more difficult question and Jacob frowned in concentration.
"Ummm...  at the beginning, the sword.  But at the end keep the javelin,
'cause it can like finish an' like has a longer reach." He looked up at me
and then added, "But it always depends on like what's happening in the
match an' like what I think the opponent will do.  I'm like always supposed
to follow my instinct."

   "Very, very good, Jacob." I stroked him and the boy's eyes glowed with
pride.

   "Now check out his left hand.  I got it turned up so you can see..."

   Jacob peered down and I leaned forward to point out the deep slices that
ran across Orlando's fingers and the base of his thumb.  "You didn't do
these.  Know what they're from?"

   He shook his head.  "Uh-uh."

   "Check this out.  Remember the stab you made into his stomach?  This
one?"

   Jacob nodded when I pointed to the big sword slit in the dead boy's left
abdomen.  "Yeah.  He like swiped at me way too far and I got inside his
guard."

   "That's the one." I turned to look at him.  "He was dead the moment your
blade went in, Jacob.  He knew it.  Now, think about what he did." The
boy's eyes were locked on me as I pantomimed the action.  "He didn't back
away.  He stepped into it and took the blade deep.  Then he held it with
his hand - like this -" I mimicked the grasping of a sword blade.  "He had
to drop his javelin to do it, remember?  That's how he sliced up his hand.
He was holding your sword around the edges, trying to trap it.  Then he
came right at you."

   "Uh-huh!" Jacob was nodding excitedly.  "He almost got me, too, Joe.  I
couldn't get my sword out to like block."

   "Right." I nodded as well.  "He took it in deep so it stuck on bone,
plus he was holding it.  He disarmed you, Jacob.  For those few seconds you
had no weapon and he had you close in where he could use any attack he
wanted.  He almost took the match away from you right there."

   The boy was staring at me and I reached out to touch his cheek. 
"Remember that, Jacob.  That took courage.  When the kid felt your blade go
in, he knew he would never make it out of that cage alive.  But he didn't
punk out.  He took it in and went for a kill - damn near succeeded, too. 
For a moment I thought he had you."

   "Yeah," Jacob nodded.

   "It's like I told you," I went on.  "If you ever take a weapon in the
body, and you know you're dead - don't back off it!  You're dead anyway, so
what does it matter!  Step into it!  Take it deep and strike your opponent!
That's what this kid did!  Do you want to be less than him?  Kill your
opponent and be victorious!  If you win, what does it matter if you die? 
You've taken the other kid with you!"

   Jacob's eyes were glowing and he nodded fiercely.  "Yes, Joe!"

   I stroked his head while we looked at each other, and then I added
softly, "If I ever have to finish you, Jacob...  I want you to be like this
kid.  Welcome the blade.  Thrust yourself on it and pull it in, like this
kid did.  Make me proud of you."

   He nodded again.  "I swear it."

   We were both silent for a while and I kept stroking the boy, then I
looked down again at Orlando's mutilated body.  "I can't believe his
handlers wouldn't take him.  He showed so much courage!  What more did they
want from the kid?"

   Jacob turned his head to stare down at the dead boy along with me. 
"You'd want me, wouldn't you Joe?"

   "Oh yeah!" I rubbed my palm over the smooth rounded muscle of the boy's
shoulder.  "I wouldn't let anyone else touch you but me!  You're my little
warrior.  I'd stay with you.  I'd never leave you alone!"

   Jacob looked back up at me and what I saw in his eyes sent a lump to my
throat.  I bent over to kiss him and the boy tried to put his arm around
me.

   "Don't you dare go moving around," I told him, placing a restraining
hand on his wrist.  "We'll have time for all that stuff later."

   There was a noise from somewhere in Orlando's body and we both turned
our heads to look.

   "What's that, Joe?"

   "Probably gas.  Dead bodies do all sorts of things when they settle. 
It's not his fault.  Remember that.  He can't help it."

   Jacob nodded.  "He's like all tore up."

   "Yeah.  Once you got your blade into him, he knew he was dead.  Then I
don't think he cared anymore.  He just kept taking hits trying to get at
you.  This one here..." I pointed to the stab wound in Orlando's lower
belly.  "I'm pretty sure you got the big artery with that one.  A few
minutes more and he would have bled to death if you hadn't finished him
first."

   "I almost got him in the nuts, too," Jacob said, pointing to the groin
wound.

   "Yeah.  He was lucky there.  You went right through his bladder but
missed the artery.  Geez!  It was like the kid didn't even feel it, too! 
That was when he pulled the javelin away from you!  Then he disarms you by
holding your sword in his gut!  What a fighter!  You did a beautiful job
there of avoiding and getting free.  I was so proud of you!"

   Jacob was quiet for a moment, and then turned to look at me.  "Joe, how
come he like ran away?"

   I sighed and shook my head.  "I guess in the end you were just too much
for the kid.  Remember, he knew he was dead anyway, and he had tried
everything - even two weapons to your one - and he couldn't get you.  When
you disarmed him by cutting his grip I guess he just couldn't think of
anything else to do.  He panicked."

   I brushed my fingertips over the boy's face tenderly.  "Fear is a brutal
enemy, Jacob.  It takes tremendous courage to overcome it.  That's what
makes you so special.  You've got it and not many other kids do.  Talent
you can always find, and skill you can teach.  But true courage is rare."

   Looking back down at Orlando I pointed to the gaping sword wound under
his breastbone.  "Here's where you finished him.  Geez!  You did that
perfect!  It was like some kind of artistry!  Did you plan it?"

   Jacob shook his head.  "Uh-uh.  It was like..." He looked away for a
moment, eyes unfocused.  "Like the sword just wanted to go there.  Like it
was guiding my hand."

   "I've never seen it done so well."

   "It was like so awesome, Joe..." Jacob stared into space, reliving it.
"It was like...  I could feel it going in...  like so easy, like just
sliding...  like it wanted to.  An' like up so far.  An' then when it
stopped...  like when it hit...  it was like I felt it - all up my arm and
like all through me!  It was like...  like..."

   "Like when you do coke..."

   "Uh-huh." Jacob nodded slowly.  "Or like...  like when you do me and I
go and go and go...  It's like so totally awesome, Joe..."

   "Makes you want more, doesn't it."

   "Yeah."

   "Even if you get killed?"

   The boy's eyes slid away from mine and he stared off into space again.
"Yeah."

   I stroked him gently for a while, then stood up cradling him in my arms.
"I better get this kid into the freezer.  It'll take a few minutes, then
I'll come in and read to you or something.  These next few days are gonna'
be tough, but then you'll be fine, you'll see!" I grinned at him.  "You're
more than just my little warrior now.  You're the hottest thing in the
novice class.  We gotta' get you back in the action."

   Jacob smiled back, looking very content and I carried him back to bed,
laying him on the sheet gently.  "No moving around," I told him sternly and
the boy's eyes followed me as I left the room.

   After re-rolling Orlando's slender little body into the plastic tarp I
took the bundle to the freezer where there was trouble getting it to fit
because the dead boy's limbs were beginning to stiffen and the knees did
not want to pull up.  Once the carcass was tucked away I scrubbed then
bleached my hands again before returning to Jacob's side.

   "Okay, what story do you want?"

   His eyes flashed.  "Do like the Trojan War over again, Joe."

   "You got it.  And this time, I'll tell you a part you haven't heard
before..."

   "What?" Jacob looked up.

   "It's how Achilles' son learns how to fight when he's just a little
shepherd boy."

   "Achilles had a son?"

   "Sure he did.  Almost as famous as his father..."

   "Start with that, Joe," the boy told me eagerly, so I launched into the
tale, improvising freely.

   Over the next few days Jacob's wounds scabbed over and most began to
heal, but the slash across his chest and the even deeper cut at the top of
his right thigh gave him a lot of pain and were very slow to close.  I left
them open to the air as much as possible, used a lot of antibiotic washes
and ointments and then every day at noon had him lie in the sun on the
patio deck if the temperature was not too cool.  The boy had more than just
the two bad nights I had predicted and I had to invent a lot more stories.

   For the first week nursing him was a full-time job.  Any movement risked
opening the deep cuts so he could not use the toilet and needed my help
with all his body functions.  Jacob submitted to this with surprising
meekness and for a time became very dependent, like a small child, often
wanting to hold my hand and anxious to have me always in sight.  It was
only when he was napping that I could get away to do the necessary work
with mop and bucket to finish sanitizing the cage.

   Orlando's body remained in the freezer for over two weeks before Jacob
was well enough to be left alone during the necessary task of burial.  I
picked an overcast, midweek day, loaded the dead boy into the van the night
before so he would have time to thaw out, and then left early to spend the
morning with pick and shovel at the featureless, deserted site I had
preselected.

   Halfway down I hit the edge of a boulder and the finished grave lacked
sufficient space at the bottom for Orlando to be stretched out.  Instead I
placed his body on its side with the knees pulled up and in that position
the dead boy looked very young and small.  I stroked his curly head vowing
not to remember the little switchblade wielding street punk, but to think
of him always as the proud, courageous boy whose blood covered body
glistened in the light as he stood, sword raised high above his head,
screaming his battle cry.

   Reverently I covered his body with ferns from a nearby thicket and then
shoveled the dirt back in to refill his grave.

   On the drive home I thought about what to do with Orlando's money, all
of which had turned up when I went through his clothes.  The five thousand
was clearly Jacob's - to the victor goes the spoils.  But the five hundred
dollars represented something very personal between Orlando and myself.  It
was not something I wanted Jacob to have or even see and while I considered
the issue with the van's engine noise in my ears, it occurred to me that
the Hispanic boy's fierce spirit would want the five hundred dollars used
to find opponents who might possibly avenge him.

   Back at the house I took Orlando's five $100 bills and put them into a
special place in my wallet, and from then on they were always with me.
   ------------------ End of Chapter Five ------------------