The next day, the day after Charles had tried to jump off the roof at Echo Lake, Andy found himself sitting at the terminal of the train station in his hometown of St. Joseph. A simple black duffle bag was at his feet with a few changes of clothes, his toothbrush, and his mother's Bible.

"If you're going to piss away all the money we spent on trying to set you straight," his mother had said just a few hours after he had arrived home from the camp, "you can live out the rest of your childhood at your grandmother's."

Andy's mother had promised him that his grandmother would finally be the one to whip his ass into shape, that the revelation of his homosexuality would spawn an Armageddon within their family where Andy would be the main receiver of the hostility. Andy knew the second his mother and father packed his things and drove him to the train station, he would get the beating of a lifetime from that scrappy old hag.

Andy looked at the ticket in his hand and then at the clock on the wall. His train to Canton would depart at one o'clock, in less than half an hour. He sighed and stuffed his ticket back in his duffle bag. He looked around at the happy families reuniting and waiting for their trains, families that would never dump their children at a train station without so much as a tear or goodbye for their faggot, failure of a son.

"Find my family," Luke had said.

The words rang in Andy's ears. He shuddered to think what the rest of his friends' fates were—hard labor in the sun, confinement in the isolation cabin, or, God forbid, shock therapy in the basement of the—

"Lily and Holden Snyder . . ."

Andy closed his eyes at the though of Luke's voice. His desperation. His helplessness. Andy was the only on one the outside, the only one with a chance to help everyone, to be some kind of hero and maybe even save the day—

"The one-thirty train from St. Joseph to Chicago has been bumped to one-fifteen," the announcer over the station intercom called out. "All passengers please line up at the gate for boarding."

Andy looked at the train schedule displayed in digital lights above the ticket counter. St. Joe's to Chicago was only about two and a half hours, two and a half hours away from Ian, the man he loved and whom he had been away from for far too long. His heart ached at the possibility of seeing his boyfriend again.

"They live in Oakdale . . ."

The sound of Luke's voice again caused Andy to close his eyes and swallow hard. So much fear. So much hope. Without Luke, Andy could never have called Ian to let him know he hadn't forgotten about him. Without Luke, Andy would have had nothing to wait for after the summer.

Andy stood and walked to the ticket counter. The woman on the other side of the glass smiled up at him. Andy dug in his duffle bag and pulled out his pre-ordered ticket.

"I'd like to reimburse my ticket for another location," he said, sliding his ticket under the glass.

"Where would you like to go?" the woman asked.

"Oakdale," Andy said.

0000000

Miles away, just as Andy was boarding the train to Oakdale, Luke found himself wanting to snap off the hand that guided him to the detention center, the hand of Ricky that held him tightly and vengefully as if Luke had been a constant source of annoyance his entire life.

"You're lucky Mr. Krieger is doing this for you," Ricky said as they came to the building. "If it were me, I'd ship all you trouble-makers to the middle of the lake on a rowboat and watch you fend for yourselves."

"Ever the humanitarian," Luke muttered as they entered the building and walked down the hall. They came to a door at the end if the hall marked 'detainees' in white letters.

Before entering, Ricky turned Luke by his shoulder to face him. He pointed at the boy's face. "Just so you know, Krieger's only doing this to calm everyone down after Charles' little stunt. You might think he gives a rat's ass about you, but don't think you're off the hook." He opened the door to the room. "Any of you."

Luke was ushered inside a room much like the sick ward, with tiled floors and inspirational posters tacked to the white walls. The windows were also painted white, and a plain card table was set up in the middle of the room with a bookshelf in between the windows on the far end. Three sets of doors lined the north and south wall, portals to separate sleeping quarters with only a bed and a toilet in the windowless room.

Luke looked at the card table and saw Paul sitting with a counselor, reading from the Bible with a notepad nearby. He brightened when he saw Luke and sat up in his chair.

"Snyder!" he called.

Luke smiled when he saw his old friend, feeling as though he hadn't seen him, or anyone other than a camp counselor, for a hundred years. Luke entered the room with Ricky.

"Your room is the second door on the left," Ricky said, pointing to Luke's new sleeping quarters. He made Luke look at him by pulling on his arm. "You're in here the whole day except for meals. All kids sent here sit at a separate table in the mess hall. There's no talking, no touching, and no moving unless Adam here tells you different." Ricky motioned towards the older gentleman with white, thinning hair and deep wrinkles who sat with Paul at the table. "If you break any of the rules," Ricky continued, "you're going straight to the isolation cabin."

"Sir, yes sir," Luke said sarcastically.

Ricky gave him a look like he wanted to break his teeth in, but the man only huffed a sigh through his nose and turned on his heels. "Adam," he called to his co-worker, "tell Snyder how it works." Ricky opened the door of the room and left, locking it behind him.

Luke turned to the older gentleman at the head of the table. The man rolled his eyes at his new charge, as though Luke were just another burden to be bothered by, and continued reading the copy of Faith magazine sitting in his lap.

"Take a seat," Adam said, not bothering to look up from his reading.

Luke glanced at Paul and gave him a weak smile. Paul looked him up and down and his face turned into a grimace. "You look like hell, Snyder," he said.

"Cool it," Adam snapped, looking at Paul to shut him up.

Luke took a seat and placed his hands on the tabletop. He stared at Adam, waiting for the man to give him instructions. "So . . . what am I—?"

Adam pointed to the other Bible on the table without removing his eyes from the article he was reading. He seemed determined to do as little work as possible even though he was in charge of making sure the boys did as they were told.

"Take a pen and paper," Adam said, "copy the passages of the Bible starting with Genesis."

Luke did a double take at the old man. "Are you serious?" he asked. "How many?"

Adam looked at him for the first time since he arrived. "All of them," he said. He looked at Paul. "Give him some of your paper."

Paul ripped a sheet of paper from the yellow notepad by his arm and handed it to Luke. Adam fished in his back pocket as his eyes scanned his magazine and threw a ballpoint pen at Luke. "Any questions?"

"Yeah," Luke said. "Is there a point to any of this?"

Adam sighed at set his magazine down on the table. "All I'm supposed to do," he said to Luke, "is make sure you guys keep busy. You could be twiddling your thumbs in here all day for I care." He picked up his magazine again and flipped the page. "This is the only job around here where I can have some peace."

Luke raised his eyebrows and looked at his paper. He glanced up at Paul and his friend smiled at him.

"He's really quite charming once you get to know him," Paul whispered.

0000000

Krieger stared out at the campers of Echo Lake as they looked up at him on the pulpit. The faces of so many lost young men, sheep under a misguided shepherd. He cleared his throat in the microphone and made sure to spot Pastor John in the audience near the back.

"Based on recent events," Krieger said into the microphone, "there need to be a few changes made around here." He looked at the Pastor again and the young man lowered his head. "It seems there has been a lot of room for insubordination around here—theft, disregard for authority . . ." he paused, inwardly gagging at the idea of two of his campers being intimate, "and lewdness."

The crowd remained silent. Eli watched from the back row as the boss himself lectured the room about a return to positive moral values. He wondered where Luke was, why Paul or Ryan or even Noah wasn't here to listen to the man's speech.

"I've always been an advocate for change," Krieger went on. "I believe that we, as a community, can push past these horrible happenings and make ourselves better for it." He looked around the audience again, praying his message was getting through effectively. "The way we do that is through hard work, encouragement, and a lot of self-reflection."

A low murmur traveled about the room as the boys began whispering amongst themselves. Krieger held up his hand to silence them.

"Effective immediately," he went on, "in addition to mass and Bible study, every camper at this facility will be commissioned to do a labor-intensive task orientated around the camp."

There was silence. Krieger pulled on his shirt collar and wiped his sweating brow. "This means work, people—hard, excessive work. You'll be given positions after the meeting. Every camper will have a site they'll be working at, and every site will have a counselor oversee production."

Another silence hushed over the audience. A boy near the front row sheepishly raised his hand. "What kind of work will we be doing?" he asked.

Krieger smiled. This was what he had hoped for, this is what he had always envisioned for the camp. He pictured the grinning, grateful faces of the boys who would learn the value in hard work, who would come to understand God's will and, eventually, respect him for it.

0000000

"I was sure you'd fire me," Pastor John said as he walked with Krieger to the main lodge from the mess hall that night after dinner.

Krieger smiled and patted the Pastor's arm. "John, you know I'd never let someone as valuable as you slip away," he said. "And besides, things may have been rough for a while, but now that I'm here with a firm hand, we'll get this place running like it used to be again."

Pastor John grinned slightly. His boss' enthusiasm was hard to ignore. Ever since the man came, the Pastor felt as though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders, that he could now focus on more important things without having to worry about overseeing an entire camp of potentially troublesome boys.

"Where have you placed Charles?" Krieger asked.

"We took Ryan out of solitary and put Charles in his place," Pastor John said.

"Good," Krieger said, nodding. He stopped and turned to his employee. "I understand Ryan has been in mourning for someone back home—"

"His boyfriend, sir," the Pastor said. "He got killed by—"

"Spare me the details," Krieger said, holding up his hand. "I'm not looking for a sob story. Just make sure Ryan is well taken care of, regardless of his past demeanors. We don't want what happened to Charles happening to him."

Pastor John nodded swiftly. He wondered if he should have consulted Krieger before putting Ryan back in the sick ward with Nurse Joyce. "What about Noah?" he asked.

Krieger entered the main lodge and stopped in the lobby. He turned to Pastor John. "That's something I'm leaving to you, John. I'm putting my utmost faith in you that you'll correct Noah's horrible choice by any means necessary." Krieger looked at the man seriously. "I want to send a message to future children coming to this camp—that we can help them no matter how far down the path of sin they travel." He smiled and patted the Pastor's shoulder again. "I'm counting on you to make it right, John."

The Pastor shook his head. "I won't let you down," he said, "I promise."

Krieger nodded and walked with his employee down the back hall of the lodge. "Good. Did he sign the papers yet?"

"Not yet," Pastor John said. "But he's getting close." He followed his supervisor up a flight of stairs leading to the next floor. "I think we should move Chase up here until Noah signs," the Pastor said, walking down the hall of the second floor a step behind Krieger. "You know . . . so he doesn't change his mind?"

Krieger stopped in front of a polished oak door leading to another room. He grinned and shook his head at the Pastor. "See, this is why I couldn't let you go, John," Krieger said. He opened the door to the room. "You really know how to appeal to the kids."

The two men looked in at the small room as Chase sat in a chair in the corner. He was strapped down with a strange-looking machine sitting next to him, wires sticking out of it that were attached in various places along his arms, legs, and head. A counselor sat on the other end of the room next to a television. When an image came on the screen, the machine beeped and Chase cried out in pain. Another image came on and the machine beeped again.

"Ahh!" Chase cried, wincing as the wires sent a shock of pain through his body

Beep! went the machine. Chase's body tensed and he clenched his jaw as tiny lightning bolts of pain nipped at his skin.

"Stop!" Chase cried. His body twitched and his face scrunched up.

Beep!

Chase squirmed in his seat as if he could get away from the shooting, electrical pain. He gripped the armrests of the chair and let out an agonizing cry. "Please! I'll do anything, just make it stop!"

Krieger closed the door as Chase continued to sob. He turned to the Pastor again and smiled. "This is going to be a glorious new beginning, John."

To be continued