Rentboy

lungs and throats had become paralyzed. The very
    thought of people, not just soldiers, but women and children suffering such a fate made his pain fade
    into nothingness. He managed to say, “Fuck off.” All his years of martial arts training kicked in. He
    focused his mind on a single thought that made the pain bearable. Fox.

    * * * *
    Fox was drenched. The soaking he had got before he was picked up by the trucker for Jesus had

    more or less dried by the time he was dropped off at the ring road into Mitton. Trying to remember
    the roads Eddie had driven along when they visited, Fox had wandered all over the place before
    finally finding the village green. From there he found his way easily to Cowbell Lane.
    The sight that greeted him there made him sick to his stomach. Two black cars were parked in
    the dark courtyard. The lights in the downstairs rooms were on. Where the hell was Eddie?
    Then he spotted a small car that looked like a rental by the barn. Eddie was in the house, and
    God only knew who else was in there and what they were doing to him. In the darkness he walked
    around the house looking for an open window, but there wasn’t one. He was out of his depth, having
    no idea how to break into a house undetected. Stealing Eddie’s computer was the only criminal act he
    had ever committed in his life, and he hadn’t wanted to do that.
    At the kitchen window he listened. The pounding rain lessened for a few moments, allowing him
    to hear voices inside. Heavily accented English indicated Mr. Maputwa talking, but Fox could not
    make out the words. Then, in shock, he heard his father’s voice. Pressing his ear to the window, he
    heard the words, “Let him regain consciousness, and tell him what you will do next if he doesn’t
    cooperate. He already knows what you’re capable of.”
    Regain consciousness? He had to mean Eddie. Holy shit, what had they done to him? Baillie
    was supposed to be in Uganda; it must have been a lie.
    Beside the window a spade leaned up against the wall. Fox grabbed it. What the hell was he
    supposed to do with it? Those men had guns like his father. A gun he could use if he had one; he knew
    how to shoot straight. He’d have to disarm one of the men. No. His only hope was to try to talk to his
    father. But he’d never listened to him before. Why now?
    Without warning the kitchen door opened. Fox plastered himself against the wall. The man who
    exited looked briefly left and right, then turned to go back in. On instinct Fox slammed the spade over
    the man’s head. The thud of the spade and the man’s brief cry were both swept away in the storm. His
    heart pounding with fear, Fox felt over the body for his gun. As soon as it was in his hand he knew it
    was a GLOCK 26, his father’s weapon of choice.
    Inside he heard someone moan, and a voice said, “He’s waking up.”
    Driven by fear, not thinking or seeing, Fox opened the door and walked in. Maputwa stood
    looking directly into his eyes. The mad, drug-crazed stare he had seen before filled him with terror.
    The man was not in the slightest bit afraid of him, and a second later Fox knew why. By the time he
    felt someone behind him, an arm took a stranglehold on his throat. A hand gripped his wrist and
    effectively disarmed him before he had time to speak. “Sir!” he screamed, appealing to his father, but
    he could not see him.
    “What are you doing there, you fucking moron?”
    Fox looked frantically around for his father, unable to grasp were the man’s voice was coming
    from, but his gaze fell on Eddie. His face was bruised and turning grayish purple. Through swollen
    slits of eyes Eddie looked back at him. His face was bad enough, but it was his leg that made Fox’s
    stomach lurch. His left trouser leg was soaked with blood, and, sickeningly, the tibia bone was
    broken and sticking out through the flesh and out of the hole in his corduroys. The grayness of his face
    could be due to blood loss. “Eddie!” It came out as a wail.
    With one finger Maputwa pointed at a chair, and in seconds Fox was secured to it with plastic
    handcuffs just as Eddie was but about five feet away from him. All Fox wanted to do was take care of
    him, get him to a hospital and nurse him back to health. Not being able to save him or even get close
    to him made him feel ill and raging angry. That was when he saw that one of the men held a crowbar.
    A glance back at Eddie’s leg and he knew how the injury had happened.
    Maputwa snatched