Ben Jordaan sat on the edge of his bare bunk in the cell. He had his head in his hands and his mind was far away from the stark reality of his present whereabouts. In his mind's eye he and Bennie were on the grass in front of the HQ, and the sweet legless boy had his head on his lap. He remembered looking down Bennie's tight young body, and wondered how he had gotten to the place where the hollow at the base of Bennie's sexy, strong neck could cause the bottom to drop out of his stomach. He remembered looking down the V of the troep's torso and finding his eyes led downwards until he was looking at the enticing bulge in the army browns where Bennie's thighs met. He recalled wondering what had happened to him literally in one day, to make him want to bury his face in the crease and take his boy lover to heaven with him.
Bennie's green eyes had looked up at him through his black lashes, and the irises had been large with love. He remembered the rush of emotion as he had found his mouth declaring the adoration his heart had not even known it harbored for the boy: his Gay-Boy.
He felt the shadow twin of that emotion begin to well up in him, the fullness of that love now swallowed up by the emptiness of its loss, and bleakness and desolation pranced around in front of his mind's eye, cackling cruelly to underline his wretchedness. He felt himself begin to lose his grip on the hope that he would see Bennie again, hold him in his arms and be the comfort and protection for his gay-boy that he was obviously born to be.
His fruitless thoughts were interrupted by a commotion that made its way down the passage.
"What now?" he thought, getting up to stand behind the bars and trying to see to the right of him, where Vosloo was stowed in similar fashion. He heard the clanging of keys against the bars and a curt "Kom!" (come), instructing the disgraced officer to step out of the cell. Ben stepped back as the entourage moved in his direction, Vosloo being shoved ahead of the several burly MPs that had retrieved him. They stopped at his cell door and an MP opened his as well.
"Step out, troep!"
Jordaan stepped through the bars and took his place alongside the other detainee. They looked at each other and Jordaan nodded a greeting.
"Lieutenant," he said, meeting the stony stare of the officer, who pointedly ignored the acknowledgement.
Jordaan ran his eyes up and down the hunky body of the still basically naked man, who had been handed a pair of boxers after being dragged screaming out of his quarters the previous day. Vosloo lifted his chin and turned his face in the direction that they were facing.
The Officer's state of undress was short-lived. One of the MPs threw a brown overall (which were normally worn by the troep's in basics) at the man who caught it out of reflex but then looked at it with disdain and shoved it back at the man.
"It's that or nothing," the burly policeman barked, shoving the demeaning garment back at Vosloo, who hesitated before taking it back.
"Move," the MP said, and prodded each of the two men to start walking. They complied and the unlikely comrades were ushered unceremoniously to wherever they were being taken to.
They were steered to a doorway outside (it was a tedious process due to Ben's crutches) where an army van was waiting to transport them. The two docilely climbed onto the back of the *Samel *(an old Bedford truck), accompanied by an MP who glowered at them as Ben laboriously climbed up by first putting his crutches up on the bed of the truck and then scrambling awkwardly after. They took their seats on the wooden benches, which would normally be occupied by a host of brown-clad troeps.
Ben looked silently at Vosloo as they traveled. For a while the officer tried to ignore him but then eventually slowly and sarcastically turned to look at Jordaan.
"Wat fokken kyk jy, troep?" (What the fuck you looking at, troep?)
Jordaan didn't say anything, silently contemplating the side of Vosloo's face as he returned to looking the other way. When Jordaan spoke it was quiet but the danger was just under the surface, like a shark circling in the shallows of a peaceful lagoon.
"What did you want with Pretorius, Lieutenant?"
Vosloo pointedly ignored him, the tightening muscle in his jaw the only sign that had heard Jordaan's question.
There was another period of silence, and the awkwardness of Jordaan's stare at the side of Vosloo's face was reaching epic proportions. A deep crimson blush began to rise from the collar of the shabby brown overalls, where they met his golden skin.
"What happened yesterday, Vosloo? Did you hurt Bennie? Is that why you are here?" The threat in Jordaan's voice was clear. Vosloo was tempted to respond to the insubordination of using only his surname, but when he turned to look at the other man his retort died in his throat and the blush drained back to where it came from.
Jordaan's voice could easily be heard over the drone of the engine, although he didn't shout.
"If you touched him, I want you to know that I will find you under whichever rock you're hiding and I will crush you like the cockroach you are..." Vosloo looked into the steely, blonde-lashed eyes of the ruddy farm boy and knew he was most likely living on borrowed time.
Another snide retort went the way of the first as Jordaan stood up on his crutches and hobbled up to Vosloo in the rocking bed of the truck and stood over him. He easily steadied himself by holding onto a strut of the truck's canopy. Vosloo stood up and wished he hadn't. He came barely up to Jordaan's shoulder and from his perspective the width of the giant's chest looked like the nose cone of a Jumbo Jet. The truck drove over a speed bump and able-bodied as he was, he was forced to put out his hand to grab hold of Jordaan or be thrown to the floor. The huge, beef-fed pecs under the uniform contracted as Jordaan steadied himself. He put his other hand out and took hold of Vosloo's shoulder, and the smaller, by no means scrawny man flinched as the blonde hand squeezed a little. The lieutenant knew that he was going to have a bruise. He could also see that Jordaan hadn't even exerted himself and dread began to take root in his gut like the pungent roots of a khaki bush (a strong smelling weed). It was inevitable that the reason for his incarceration would come out and he knew he was a dead man. Jordaan had nothing else to lose, he knew that, and although he wasn't technically a coward, a clammy sweat broke out on Vosloo's brow.
Jordaan pressed down on the smaller man's shoulder and he had no choice but to sit, his hazel eyes level with the abundant lump of Jordaan's basket in his browns.
The rest of the drive was silent, dusty and bumpy. It wasn't long before they stopped in front of the psych ward of the military hospital where Vosloo had previously been a therapist, and Jordaan a patient. The MP opened the back of the truck and beckoned Jordaan to hand him his crutches as the amputee slid off the truck on his melon-shaped bottom. The burly MP held out his hand to steady him but Ben ignored him. Vosloo followed by hopping off under his own steam.
The procession followed the lead of the MP and pretty soon they were inside a large, gloomy, secure ward where several men sat on the sides of their beds and looked at the newcomers with a serious lack of interest. Jordaan could see that some of them were clearly drugged. One or two of the others were huddled on their cots; one was even curled in a fetal position with his face crammed against the wall. A pall of desperation hung in the atmosphere, a spider's web of hopelessness and distraction that festooned the ether.
"Find a bed," the MP commanded and turned around. The last sound the two heard was the door being locked and the heavy footfalls of the MP disappearing down the passage. They looked at each other and suddenly felt a fraternal bond of insecurity bind them reluctantly to one another. Unlikely bedmates, they picked two adjacent cots and sat down on them, not having any baggage to stow.
And nothing to do but wait to see what fate would befall them.
Parvus Excrementum was cornered. After his experience with the group of enraged men not so long ago, he was aware that things could always turn ugly at the least provocation. He was calmly taking a piss and absently playing with the foreskin of his impressive dick, no small feat, balanced as he was on his crutches, when he was disturbed by a sizeable contingent of his bungalow co-inhabitants entering the large room. His growing erection died a premature death and any ideas he may have had of satisfying his growing horniness, perished as well.
He was relieved to see that they didn't have any obvious murderous intentions as Wessels, ever the ringleader, managed a half smile.
"Relax, Parvus, we're here to give you a chance to save your reputation. Put that thing away," he said, nodding at the prick that was just discharging the last dribbles of pale urine.
"We need some info," said the soft voice of the progressively less reticent Coert, who was closely followed by the tall, skinny Jan, lately his devoted shadow.
Parvus shook the last drops from his schlong, and then stowed it in his browns and turned to face the group, his back against the white ceramic tiles between two urinals. He crossed his arms across his chest defensively and looked uncertainly at the group.
"What do you want to know?" he asked uncertainly.
"Let's not talk here," Wessels said and turned in his chair and led the way out of the bathrooms towards the bungalow. On the way there, there were some trees with a few benches under them and the crew made themselves comfortable under them.
"You know you screwed up, right?" Peter Lewis asked, when they had all settled down. "Did you hear that Vosloo tried to rape Pretorius, and that he has also been dragged off to DB?"
Parvus' face clearly showed that nobody had shared that info with him. Not strange really, as nobody spoke to him unless they needed to.
"You know that Vosloo ordered him to come and do his washing at 14h00 yesterday. Well, everything went pear shaped when the asshole tried to force him to have sex with him. Lucky Wessels knew more or less what was going to go down, `cos Vosloo ordered him to bring some food around on a trolley so that he could romance Bennie into having sex with him," he concluded. Wessels carried on.
"The messed up fucker was waltzing around his room starkers all afternoon flashing his package at Bennie, hoping that because he's gay, Bennie would be only too happy to jump into the sack with him."
"The fucker doesn't know our Gay Boy, it seems!" Coert exclaimed. "He's no pushover, especially not for the guy that screwed with Ben Jordaan!"
"Shit," Parvus said. "And that was all my fault. Without me Vosloo would never have known anything that helped him to put Jordaan away. I'm such a stupid asshole. But I just wanted Vosloo to like me...I'm sorry guys! I really fucked up big-time. What can I do to fix it?"
Wessels shook his head.
"We don't know if it can be fixed, but we have to try. By now they probably have Jordaan wired to a generator by his balls and showing him pictures of naked men. You won't believe what I read they do to queers."
"Hey watch your mouth, asshole," Jan said and his hand found its way onto Coert's shoulder.
"You know what I mean, man. By now I think we're all a little queer, what with all that we've done in the last week!" The whole crew sniggered and some guys were a bit red in the face.
"Yeah, nice dick you packing there little man," Kobie shot at Parvus and the latter just looked abashed.
"Focus guys," Wessels ordered. "Parvus, what's your real name?"
The question caught the little man off guard. Confusion slid across his features, but he sensed that this was a one-time opportunity to join the squad for real, so he took the plunge.
"My name is Roderick, Rod for short."
"Now that's nominative determinism," Peter snorted. When the guys looked at him with confusion on their faces, he explained: "When your name and your profession or something about you coincide." Still there was a blank look all around. "Fuck, guys, the big dick belongs to a guy called Rod. Roderick. Rod the Dick!"
A guffaw disturbed the hot afternoon air and the tension was broken. Exclamations of `schweet, Rod the Dick' and other variations again carried on until Wessels once more called the meeting to order.
"We need damage control. We need to see what can be done to fix the situation, or if anything at all can be done. Explain to us what happened between you and Vosloo so that we can get a picture of a way forward."
Unexpectedly Parvus went bright red and dipped his head. It was immediately clear to everybody that something out of the ordinary was going on. There was a long silence, as he seemed to struggle to find the words to share what was on his mind. He looked up and his eyes were bright with tears.
"Shit, how do I say this?" he stammered.
*"*WHAT?" Wessels demanded.
There was another long silence as the small man searched for the words to tell the group his version of events. Eventually he scraped together the courage.
"You know that Dolf...Lieutenant Vosloo... is my physio as well, right? During my first therapy session, he... well, he touched me."
"What the fuck...Par... Rod, what are you saying?" Wessels demanded again. "That fucking perverted shit, that...that..." Wessels was incoherent with rage, and if he wasn't confined to a wheelchair he would have been pacing up and down. There were loud murmurs from some of the other guys as well and the former Parvus just sat looking at his hands in his lap.
"Calm down, Wessels," the quiet Coert said, with the now ubiquitous Jan's hand on his shoulder. "Give the man a chance to explain."
With a loud huff Wessels calmed down. "Carry on little man. Don't mind me, I'm only personally going to rip that asshole's balls off with my bare hands. Yeah, yeah, I'm ok," he added when Tobie motioned him to be quiet.
"It wasn't only his fault," Rod said quietly, shame evident in his tone. "At first it was an accident. He was massaging my buns, cos I carry a lot of tension there."
A loud snort escaped Tobie before he could stop himself, and he shrugged when the guys collectively gave him a dirty look.
"I don't blame you for thinking so badly of me. I only ever fantasized about a guy touching me, but when it happened like that, I couldn't stop myself. I made sure he knew that I liked the feeling."
"How did you do that?" Coert asked in his gentle voice. "Share the details. We need a clear picture here so we can know the way forward." Everybody nodded and Rod continued.
"Well, I kind of stuck my ass in the air so he had to touch my asshole. I couldn't help myself. It was like his hand was a magnet... Anyway, he massaged closer to my hole every time and eventually he was rubbing my asshole and even sliding his finger a little way in."
Clearly this group had been around images of gay erotic action too long because some of them were starting to get hot under the collar again.
Wessels looked around and quickly put a stop to it.
"Hey guys, there's a time and place for everything, but this isn't it. Let's focus on the business at hand, and I don't mean that business, Tobie," he concluded, nodding at the prominent lump that the guy in question was starting to rub quite purposefully.
"What happened then," he asked when he was satisfied that the guys were paying attention to the correct subject.
"He asked if I wanted him to fuck me, and although I had never had something in there I knew that I wanted him to. So I said yes."
Coert asked the obvious question.
"And did he?"
"Not at first. He said that he wanted me to do something for him first... He said he wanted me to be his eyes and ears, and then he would `fuck me good'. That's why I spied on you guys. Every time I gave him some juicy info he rewarded me by screwing me... I'm sorry guys. At first I was just curious, but after he did it the first time I was hooked. At first I just got him general info, but then he started asking for specific stuff."
"Let me guess: he wanted to know about Gay Boy, am I right?" Kobus asked.
"Yes. He couldn't get enough info about him. He wanted to know everything, down to what underwear he was wearing and if he had a crap that day. I didn't care as long as he would nail me. It became like a drug to me and Pretorius was like a drug to him. If I didn't have any new info, I learned to make it up or he would get mad and I started to get scared he would hurt me."
There was a long reflective silence as the crew absorbed the information. Then Jan popped the obvious question.
"What happened when you told him about Jordaan and Bennie? What did he do then?"
"I thought he was going to have a heart attack. That was when he ordered me to report Jordaan and so I did. I went to the chaplain and told him that Jordaan was seducing guys in the bungalow and that I feared that he would rape me, me being the smallest guy in the squad. You know the rest."
"Shit, Parvus, you've gotta put this right," Kobie urged.
"But how?" the newly renamed Roderick asked.
"Simple," Coert volunteered. "You have to go to the Chaplain and tell him you have a guilty conscience and that you lied about Jordaan `cos Vosloo was raping you and you feared for your life."
Jan added, "It's not far from the truth, is it?" When Rod hesitated, he reiterated, "Well, is it?"
"Not really. In the beginning it was amazing, but lately, as he seemed to get more and more obsessed with Pretorius, he started getting quite rough with me."
Suddenly a familiar voice piped up from the sidelines:
"What was that about Pretorius? Who's taking my name in vain?"
"Bennie Pretorius, jy kom asof jy gestuur is," (Bennie Pretorius, you've come as if you were sent.) "We may have a solution to the Ben Jordaan problem. Guys,let the Gay-Boy and his ex sit down and we'll update you. Life is about to get interesting for Lieutenant Adolphus Vosloo. The fucker is soooo screwed. You have no idea what he's been doing."
Grant floored everybody by saying, "Let me guess; he's been screwing your stool pigeon?"
"Fuck, you're good. How did you guess?" Kobie asked, the awe in his voice clearly reflected in the faces of the other men present.