Few people knew about Forrester's meltdown, and Jonathan couldn't see where any good came of spreading gossip. It was enough for him that Forrester wouldn't be back in the classroom.

Alvin was very quiet and obviously fearful. Jonathan said, "The cops are going to get this guy, Alvin. Twice creates a pattern. They know a lot more now than they did. They might even already know who it is."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe what those crime scene guys can do. They had a police dog out there too."

Alvin stared at the top of his desk as though expecting the wood grain to reveal the killer's identity. "I hope you're right."

The other classes were just like that one. English was especially wrenching. By chance today's reading assignment had been A. E. Housman's "To an Athlete Dying Young." There wasn't a dry eye in the room.

After lunch there was a school assembly, where the principal and the guidance counselor tried to comfort and reassure the scared students, then they were all sent home early.

Alvin went home with Jonathan. He could see that the smaller boy was terrified. "What's wrong, Alvin? Do you think you know who did this?"

"No, but I know why! Robbie and Ben were both gay--just like me!"

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes! I'm absolutely one hundred percent positive, OK? I had sex with both of them. The police have to know this, but I'm afraid to tell them."

"It's OK, Alvin. I'll tell them I heard a rumor, and you said I had to call them when I told you about it. This is important, though, do you know of anybody else who might be a target?"

"The football players are saying you're gay cause you hang out with me so much and cause you wouldn't hook up with Nancy when you had the chance."

"OK, first, people start rumors like that for a lot of dumb reasons. I'm not gay, but I couldn't give less of a damn that you are. You're my friend, and if a few assholes on the football team have a problem with that, too bad. I guess Nancy and Lydia must be gay too--I mean, they hang out with you all the time too, don't they?"

Alvin laughed.

"Second, why I didn't sleep with Nancy is none of anybody's goddamned business."

"I'm just saying, the rumor's out there, and if the killer heard it--"

"Right, well, I'll be careful," Jonathan said. He found out about an anonymous tip line and called Alvin's information in. Then he distracted Alvin with a game of Ghost Recon until it was time for the younger boy to go home.

Jonathan took Alvin's fears seriously enough that he carried a knife and walked Alvin home. As soon as Alvin's dad left, Alvin ran home and locked the door. Jonathan stayed on the well-lit sidewalk and headed home. The kids were inside, but the parents were out in force, and he received several admonitions to get home and lock his door. He found Granny sitting on her porch waiting for him, with her purse with her sidearm in it on the porch swing right beside her.

She had a case. "General Hammond sent this."

Jonathan looked inside. It was a ceramic combat knife. "This won't set off the school's metal detectors," he said. "Thank the general for me."

"We're all worried about you. You're out here without backup, and...."

"Granny, I'm probably the least helpless kid in this school. Don't worry."

"Damn it, Jonathan, I can't help worrying!" She said. "Having you here has been like--having a son of my own here again. I can't stand the thought of anything happening to you. Not because you're Jack O'Neill's brother. You, Jonathan, you."

"Christ. Granny, nothing is going to happen to me. The cops are gonna get this whack job and that'll be the end of it. You've got enough to worry about up at the mountain. I'm careful. I'm not sticking my neck out and I'm watching out for Alvin, too. Trust me not to do anything stupid."

She smiled. But there was still fear in her eyes and there was just nothing he could say to that. No matter how smart and careful you were, there were no guarantees against the one with your name on it coming over the hill.

Jonathan gave her a hug. "Now, Granny, you go on inside and lock up so I can. This has been a hell of a day and I'm worn out."

She nodded. "Call me in a few minutes to say good night, will you?"

"Sure."

Jonathan had got just paranoid enough to clear his apartment before he relaxed. He locked the door and called Granny, then fixed himself a sandwich.

He heard a car in the alley and looked out the kitchen window to see a patrol car go by.

He watched the news. There was the police chief on the courthouse steps, urging the citizens to remain calm and report any suspicious behavior. Teenage boys were urged to remain in groups in safe, well monitored areas, to be especially alert for possible threats, and to be off the streets before dark. He assured his viewers that several leads were being followed up.

Jonathan turned the TV off, packed his book bag for the next day, and turned in.

The next morning, instead of his usual run, he stayed in the garage and worked out with the rope and then practiced a few kickboxing moves he'd picked up lately, now that he didn't have a trick knee to get in the way.

He finished off with a kata that he was learning for the martial arts club's exhibition. He could hold his own against all comers--in fact, he had shown the coach a few things. But when it came to the precise, regimented moves of the kata, he was as much a student as anyone else.

He was surprised when his watch went off to let him know it was time to get ready for school.

Like most mornings when the weather was good, Granny brought coffee and Danish out on the patio. He closed up the garage and joined her.

As he cooled down from his workout, the morning air felt decidedly chilly. He wrapped his hands around his coffee cup.

Granny asked, "Are you still going fishing this weekend?"

"I think so. I was thinking about taking Alvin with me. His old man will be happy to get rid of him, and God knows Alvin will feel a hell of a lot safer fifty miles from here, if that nut job is still on the loose."

"Is Alvin up for a fifty mile bike ride?"

"I think so. He may be short, but he's a lot tougher than he looks."

Granny nodded. She would feel better with the two of them out of the line of fire as well.

"Great coffee, Granny." He checked his watch and realized he was going to have to rush to get to the bus stop on time. He made quick work of a shower, dressed in whatever jeans and tee-shirt were on top of the pile, and buckled the knife sheath around his ankle with his sock pulled up over it.

If he got caught with it, he'd get kicked out of school. On the other hand, if the psycho caught him without it, he'd be in way worse trouble than getting expelled. Rules were made to be broken.

He was in such a hurry that he got to the bus stop ahead of everyone else. It was a perfect morning, with the sun just beginning to burn off the morning mist.

A car stopped in the alley and someone got out. Instantly alert, he turned, fight or flight reflexes in high gear. Instead he was hit by a dart and the next thing he knew, the sidewalk was rushing up at him.

Jonathan was first aware of a pounding headache. Consciousness came back slowly and he realized that he was naked and hanging from a tree limb by his bound wrists. His ankles were tied together as well. It felt like his shoulders were coming out of their sockets, something else vying with his headache for attention.

His clothes were lying a few feet away, in a pile with his knife and cell phone on top. It might as well be on the moon. He could smell charcoal smoke, and located a hibachi grill sitting on a rock.

Jonathan wished with all his heart that he had taken Alvin and Granny's fears more seriously. He was victim number three. Just when he had decided that this new life wasn't so bad after all, he was going to die here.

Survival sense took over--that little voice that told him, "You're not dead yet."

Footsteps whispered over a carpet of fallen pine needles, and a twig snapped.

Something sizzled and pain radiated from his back. Jonathan bucked and bit off a scream, cursing instead. Pain stick? No, surely not. Cattle prod. Not that it made a whole hell of a lot of difference from his point of view. The bottom line was the same. Survive.

Just before he would have fallen back into unconsciousness, the pain ended briefly and his captor walked around into view.

"Forrester. I should have figured you out a long time before now. I knew from the minute I first saw you that you were a few bricks short of a load!"

Forrester picked up Jonathan's knife and tested the edge. "Designed to go through a metal detector. Where did you steal it?"

"It was a gift from the same people who're gonna blow your brains out. Let me go and start driving. You could be halfway to Mexico before I hike out of here."

He laughed. "I suppose you're going to tell me that your parents are CIA agents?"

"Yeah, I guess that's why I live in Colorado Springs instead of Langley," Jonathan shot back.

Forrester was wondering, but not enough to distract him from his obsession. He drove the knife into Jonathan's leg and twisted the blade. That time Jonathan couldn't stop himself from screaming, but he managed to ride it out and hold onto consciousness. Then Forrester picked up something from the grill with a pair of pliers, and all bets were off. He cauterized the wound with a red-hot welding rod. It was way too long before darkness finally closed over Jonathan.

He wasn't out long enough, either.

"Are you back with me again? Good."

"Wouldn't want to miss anything."

As much as he had cursed having too many of Jack's memories of this kind of crap, Jonathan knew how to survive it. Everything hurt so much worse than he remembered, but that didn't matter, he just had to recalibrate Fraiser's one-to-ten scale to his limits now. It wouldn't take as much to put him up in that nine and ten range that nobody could stand for long. On the other hand, it wouldn't take as much to knock him out.

OK, they don't kill you until you give them what they want. Will to live was on your side as long as you wanted to live more than you wanted the pain to stop. Jonathan didn't want to die. Not when he had finally realized he had a whole life in front of him and it could be a damned good one.

So what the hell did Forrester want?

Forrester had exchanged the welding rod for a fresh one. He trailed it almost gently across Jonathan's ribs. Jonathan found a point to focus his gaze, a patch of sunlight on the trunk of a pine tree. He concentrated on breathing through the pain.

"Hey...Forrester...what rings your bell, anyhow? What is it with Ben...the Diaz kid...and me?"

"You homosexuals are unnatural, freaks of nature. As long as you are allowed to continue, you'll drag all of society down with you." The welding rod traced an abstract pattern.

"Unnatural? What do you call some pervert who gets his kicks raping and murdering kids?"

The hot metal dipped lower, searing marks into the sensitive flesh of his belly. He was helpless in the grip of unbearable pain. Once again he just rode it out.

Blood ran down his arms. Wonderful. He'd ripped the skin off his wrists in his reflexive struggle to free himself. Trying to spare his wrists for a while, he locked his hands on the ropes. As soon as his weight came off his wrists, he detected some slack that hadn't been there. A little more and he'd be loose.

Now that he had a goal in mind, everything else went to the bottom of the priority list. Whenever the pain hit him, whatever was done to him, he let himself struggle against it, only making sure that he kept working at the loops of rope around his wrists.

It all gave way at once, as his bonds loosened and blood-slick wrists slid right through. He dropped straight to the ground with a bone-jarring impact. After that, everything seemed to happen at once. He punched Forrester in the throat, grabbed the knife and slammed it home between the older man's ribs.

"You had it all wrong, I'm not gay. Usually. But for just this minute? I'm queer as a three dollar bill." Jonathan pulled the knife straight out and blood went everywhere. He let the knife and Forrester's corpse fall to the ground and crawled a few feet away before he collapsed.

No more dead boys. No more mothers screaming over their sons' bodies. It was over. That was enough.

Jonathan must have untied his ankles, gotten dressed, found Forrester's keys, got his Trans Am in gear and driven until a maze of park roads gave way to a two-lane country highway. He never remembered any of that, but that was where a county sheriff found him, and soon after that he was on his way to County General with a much-appreciated shot of morphine circulating in his veins. He heard one paramedic tell another something about "all superficial except the leg wound," and he knew he wasn't going to die of that. He let himself drift off for a while.

When he opened his eyes again, he focussed his eyes with some difficulty on a CSPD officer. She called the nurse, who made sure he was counting the right number of fingers, and then in turn called the doctor.

Granny and General Hammond came in with the doctor, who pronounced him fit to talk to the police.

At Hammond's nod, Jonathan carefully hitched himself up in the bed and told what happened.

The detective seemed satisfied. Everything he said jibed with what had been found at the crime scene.

"He is dead, isn't he? You found his body?"

The detective hastened to reassure him, "Yes, he's dead, he'll never bother you again. Or anybody else."

"OK, does that mean I can go home now?"

Granny said, "Sort of. You can camp out on my sofa until the doctor releases you to climb stairs."

Jonathan decided to hold off whining about that until he actually tried putting some weight on his injured leg. There was something to be said for a couple days of Granny's cooking.

The next day, Jack called just to check on him. They weren't on the phone long, but there wasn't the overwhelming need to run in opposite directions that they'd felt earlier. Now that they both had separate lives, it wasn't disorienting when their circles overlapped.

A while later, Alvin, Lydia and Nancy came over. Jonathan teased Nancy, "Won't your boyfriend get jealous?"

"Well, there's the thing. I wasn't as...ready...as I thought I was. He lied and told everybody we did, so I broke up with him. I need my friends more than I need boyfriends right now."

Granny brought in lemonade and a plate of brownies.

Alvin snagged a brownie and said, "Hey, you were on CNN. They want to interview you."

"Oh, hell, no."

Alvin laughed. "The hospital and the school wouldn't give out your address. Maybe somebody famous will do something embarrassing and draw attention before they find out where you live."

"Granny, I'm goin' on that fishing trip after all!"

"Hell, no, you're not!"

Everyone cracked up laughing.

"Besides, if they show up, I'll just tell 'em you're not home and I don't know where you went. They wouldn't think to look for you in your landlady's house."

That made sense.

Alvin said, "You probably saved my life, Jonathan. He would have come after me next."

"Aw, we don't know that."

"There was nobody else I could lead him to."

"Alvin, this was not your fault. Forrester was a nut job."

Lydia said, "When we found your book bag at the bus stop, Alvin came out to Principal Morgan. The cops were already looking for you. They just didn't know where to look."

"Hey, Alvin. That was real. I hope I didn't cause a lot of trouble for you."

"No, Morgan's cool. Just like the Air Force, y'know, he didn't ask and he won't tell."

"Yeah."

Jonathan's pain pill kicked in and he started getting sleepy.

Nancy said, "We'll go and let you rest. See you tomorrow, if you're feeling up to it."

The screen door banged behind them. Jonathan let himself drift. He was vaguely aware when Granny tucked a blanket around him. Mostly, he just felt warm and safe and nothing hurt, and it was OK to worry about everything else tomorrow.

Granny sat there for a moment, then went in the kitchen to keep her promise to call General Hammond. She could truthfully tell him that everything was going to be all right.

end