Soon the road narrowed. Fields with reddish clods and sprigs of winter wheat rolled by. Traffic thinned. They were nearing MacArthur.
Matt felt Colton’s hand on his thigh. A cold shock ran up his spine, as if a rat was hunched on his leg, poised to snack on his cock. He fought the urge to knock Colton’s hand away.
“Is there any light in that storm shelter?” Colton asked, referencing the place where William’s “fairy letters” were supposedly stored.
“There’s an old kerosene lamp.”
“Good. Once we retrieve those letters, you can suck me off.”
Matt protested. “I told you I’m not queer. You aren’t queer either.”
“I’m not queer,” Colton said. “Any port in a storm, remember?”
“And my mouth is the port?”
Colton leered at Matt. “For starters.”
6:36 p.m. Ground Zero, the old farmhouse drive. Matt thrashed through thigh-high dead weeds, swinging the bolt cutters like a scythe, looking for the hatch to a non-existent storm shelter.
Colton stood about ten feet away, arms crossed, ready to steal William’s little box of “fairy letters,” almost certainly imagining Matt’s mouth on his cock—science fiction though, because Matt would not ever suck Colton’s dick.
The sky was a dull orange. The sun would set at 6:44 p.m.,about the same time that Colton’s political hopes and dreams faded to black, never to see the light of day again.
Matt was just killing time, waiting for the GM to show up.
There was the sound of tires crunching the drive’s gravel. Headlights backlit Colton, temporarily blinded Matt.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” Colton spun around. He scrambled to a nearby scrub oak, crouching behind it.
The Jeep and Jetta pulled in behind Colton’s Audi, blocking it in.
Headlights arced, overlapped, and formed a small amphitheater of yellow light. Car doors opened, closed.
Five figures emerged from the blood-orange gloom and stepped into the stage light. They stopped in front of Colton’s Audi, standing side by side, as though waiting for the curtain to rise.
They wore children’s Halloween masks. There were a Pirate, Clown, Lion, Princess, and the Devil.
The tallest figure—Evan in his Pirate mask—called out in a sing-song voice: “COL-TON LANG-LEY! COME OUT, COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE!”
“Shit! How do they know my name?” Colton whispered.
Matt shrugged.
All five of the masked figures called Colton’s name. “COME OUT, COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE.”
“I DON’T H-HAVE ANY MONEY ON ME,” Colton yelled back, his voice cracking. “YOU CAN TAKE THE AUDI. I’LL TOSS YOU THE K-KEYS.”
Pirate spoke. “WE DON’T WANT YOUR MONEY OR YOUR CAR, COLTON. NOW, STEP FORWARD AND BE A MAN FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE.”
Colton froze.
Matt prodded Colton’s back with the tip of the bolt cutters. “You heard the Pirate. Walk towards the light. It’s showtime.”
Colton’s face crumpled with the realization that the threat was both behind him in the person of Matt and before him in the row of masked figures. He stumbled towards the arc of light.
Colton stopped a few feet in front of the masked figures. Gnats swirled in the foggy light. “W-who are you?” he asked. “What do you w-want?”
Another figure emerged, maskless, from the shadows and stood facing Colton for only the second time in the three years they had shared the campus at MCU: William. Skinny, big-headed, effeminate William assessed his former lover in the headlights.
