Runaway

By Brian K. Perry

Jay Williams, a juvenile delinquent arrives at yet another group home in Olive Hill, Kentucky quickly becoming an outcast. A recurring nightmare plays on his disturbed mind and within three days he runs away to the forest behind the home. A winged creature carries him to a hooded figure. Local law enforcement, the FBI and a blind prayer warrior must join forces to locate the missing teenager. The runaway finds out that he is not only in a war against flesh and blood but also against rulers of darkness and wicked spirits in the heavenly realms.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257570775

Book preview

978-0-557-72329-4

Chapter 1

His feet pounded the October ground almost as hard as his heart pounded in his chest. Foreboding darkness washed over him like an icy black wave. It was impossible to see where he was going, but something inside him told him to keep running. Was it possible he was being followed? Running and groping, he stumbled over rocks, through thick underbrush, and into a cold stream. When he splashed to the other side, he found a rock and sat down.

Every breath was a struggle. Was it the sprinting through the woods he wasn’t used to or some unknown presence that made it impossible to breathe? He could just imagine a chilling face inches from his, but the darkness was so thick he might as well have had his eyes closed. Somewhere in the darkness there was a bloodcurdling scream, a scream close enough to get him on his feet again. Just as he stood up, something brushed up against his sweat soaked back.

Wake up, Mr. Williams! came a scream from down the hallway. You aren’t supposed to be sleeping!

Shut up, old man! returned Jay. There it was again. Ever since he’d arrived at this place, he’d had the same dream every time he fell asleep.

Jay Williams lay staring at a discolored, dreary wall next to his bed, a wall that had started out white but faded after years of neglect and not enough time in the day to be repainted. From what his roommates had said that was the story with this place. The Carter County Home for Boys had opened in July of 1955 as the premier orphanage in northern Kentucky. Since then it had transformed into a home for at-risk youth, at least that’s what society liked to call them. It was set off of a back county road, nearly fifteen miles from I-64. The home was a one-level ranch house with six bedrooms, each room being furnished with three beds and three dressers. Between every two rooms there was a bathroom, three in all; a full bathroom short of the state’s requirements. When state officials visited they were shown a staff bathroom and told the residents also used it, but they were never allowed. The house also had a large kitchen with adjoining food pantry, and a good size living room with a fireplace. It was quite the cozy setting, or that’s the load they tried to sell to the boys coming in.

It usually didn’t take long for the new residents to see through the initial façade. The place was much more threatening underneath: three suicides in the span of two years and two runaways in the last six months. The feds had also investigated the facility a number of times for the misappropriation of grant money. In the short time Jay had been at the home, he’d only interacted with two staff members. They worked shifts in which staff stayed on site for four days and four nights at a time. The two staff members were responsible for anything that happened while they were on duty. From what Jay had seen, he was not impressed.

Jay had been arrested two years ago at the age of thirteen for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had run away with a sixteen-year-old friend from school and, together the two of them crossed the state line from Ohio into Kentucky. Shortly after crossing the border, his friend pulled into an Exxon station. While Jay sat in the car his friend went inside, pulled a gun and tried to rob the gas station. There just so happened to be an off-duty police officer getting an Ale 8 from the cooler. He quickly overpowered the armed thief, and then held the two boys until backup arrived. After searching the car the police found ten pounds of Marijuana in the trunk. Both boys were charged with possession of a controlled substance with the intent to sell. As a result, Jay was required to stay in facilities in Kentucky until he turned eighteen. After being convicted, he’d gone from one facility to another; in every one he got into more trouble than the last. But that’s the way the system works most of the time; place a teenage boy in a facility with others of likeminded deviant behavior, stir, and the outcome is often worse than the original problem. Even though he was almost eighteen, Jay knew the judge would have the final say as to whether he was emancipated or had to do a full year in an adult correctional facility. That had been a part of his plea bargain, that the judge would make a decision based on his behavior in the system.

Jay knew he certainly wasn’t the best of kids, but that didn’t mean he deserved to be treated as less than a human being. He’d been in several good facilities, although he acted the same in each one. At least in all the other places there had been one staff member he could talk to. That didn’t seem to be the case with the Carter County Home for Boys.

The primary staff, Tom Thomlinson, had five years seniority over his helper Bill Willis. To look at the two of them you would expect Bill to be the boss. Bill was 6’3, weighed 220 pounds and, from what Jay could see, that was all muscle. A former Marine Corp Drill Instructor, he looked the part even when he was dressed casually. He wore a crew cut and had a tattoo on his left upper arm with a picture of a skull and crossbones that read, Kill ‘em all and let God sort ‘em out! But the boss, Tom, looked vastly different. He was 5’5 and weighed 150 pounds; his frame was small, but sturdy for a fifty three year old. He was bald and had a short well trimmed moustache. Judging from his physical appearance, Jay thought he could probably take Tom in a fight, but he also knew Tom didn’t get the nickname Hitler for nothing.

On Friday, two days earlier, Jay was dropped off at the home at 8:00 p.m. by his caseworker Mia Sanchez. She was a very attractive Latino woman with long flowing black hair that seemed to float over her collar like a cloud. She had the most captivating brown eyes Jay had ever looked into. Mia was truly a beautiful woman, but Jay knew she wasn’t a good fit for the job. But then again, Jay had never had what he would consider a good caseworker. In the past two years, he had had four, and now Mia made five. She was just the latest in a long list of caseworkers that never visited him in any of his facilities. They rarely returned his calls and were never available when he needed to talk to them. History told him she wouldn’t be any different. At the Carter County Home for Boys, his first interaction with the staff had been a standoff of sorts. Mia dropped Jay off, signed the necessary paperwork and was gone without saying goodbye.

Boy, you need a haircut! barked Tom from the office desk.

I know my rights; I want to talk to my caseworker, Jay said.

Sorry boy, she’s already gone. You’re our’s now!

Just shut up and show me where I’m sleeping, grandpa.

Watch your tongue, Mr. Williams. You’re treading on thin ice, and you haven’t been here ten minutes.

Jay knew that he was too tired for a battle tonight, so he surrendered this one.

Yes, sir!

He had been in the system long enough to know what to say to get a staff member off his back.

You’re in the room at the end of the hall on the right.

Jay picked up his two trash bags full of clothes that had just been searched and headed down the hall. He turned into the last room on the right and saw his two roommates playing cards. One of them, a tall, lanky country boy, put his cards down and walked over to Jay, extending his clammy hand.

Hi! I’m Travis Sharp from Perry County. You know Hazard, like the Dukes of Hazard. Travis said with a slow, thick accent.

Jay looked at Travis, forced a smile and headed for the empty bunk bed, which happened to be on top.

The other boy, who looked to be six inches shorter than Travis, was a black kid with cornrows. He got up and walked toward Jay.

"Ignore Travis, he’s always trippin’.

Jay nodded his head as if saying thanks, What’s your name?

Matt, Matt Smith. Offering his fist.

Pounding his fist he said, I’m Jay.

I know. I heard your chat with Mr. Thomlinson in the office.

That guy is already on my last nerve, and I just got here.

You better get used to it, Dogg. We call him Hitler around here, and he stays on our cases. The man never does anything cool; the other staff members don’t even like him.

Hitler, huh? That sounds like a good fit for the little, old man, Jay said chuckling.

I’ll let you unpack. Use the dresser next to your bed, sheets are in the top drawer.

Thanks.

After unpacking and settling his drawers, Jay went into the bathroom, stood in front of a dirty mirror and ran his fingers through his unkempt, shoulder length brown hair. The young man staring back at him looked older than his fifteen years. He gazed into his own hazel eyes and wondered if his life would ever be normal again; if he would ever get back home to his little sister and his mom. His dad had ditched them when he was five and his sister, Anna, was a newborn. The man was a textbook definition of a deadbeat dad.

Jay’s mom, Sherry, told him when he was younger that his dad had gone back into active duty in the military and been captured behind enemy lines on some kind of black ops. When Jay turned eleven he realized his mom had been trying to protect him; his father had skipped town with a seventeen-year-old girl. Shortly after that, he and his mom started having knockdown, drag out fights.

Some arguments were about her taste in men; one boyfriend even tried to molest Anna when she was six. Jay walked in and stabbed the man with a pocketknife; the boyfriend never came around again after that. Of course Sherry didn’t believe her boyfriend would try to hurt her daughter, since she had known the guy her whole life. The other source of their arguments was Jay’s little habit. It started when he found out the truth about his father. A friend gave him a joint one Saturday night, and Jay liked being able to forget about his screwed up life for a little while. Weed became a daily habit and often several times a day. When he got locked up it was a little harder to get, but it was still possible. Enough of the past! Jay thought.

He took a quick shower, which was abruptly cut short when Hitler turned the hot water off from the office. Jay dried off, got in some shorts, and climbed into bed after uttering a few choice words down the hallway just loud enough for Hitler to hear.

Saturday morning Jay woke up at 5:00 a.m. to Hitler screaming that it was time to hit the basketball court. His roommates quickly let Jay know that it wasn’t for a morning game. Hit the basketball court, meant they needed to put on their shoes and army green sweat suits and go directly to the court.

Exercise was a part of the morning ritual, but this morning the group was on the court for another reason. Some of the residents at the ranch had allegedly snuck out of the house and went to a party the night before, met up with a girl and stolen her cell phone, purse containing a few packs of cigarettes and a little cash. The mother of the girl had called the home at 4:30 a.m. and filled the staff in on what her daughter had told her. That was the primary reason for the cozy gathering at 5:00 a.m.; but also, as Jay was about to find out, they wanted to break in the new kid. Mr. Thomlinson, a.k.a. Hitler, and Mr. Willis stood like two G.I. Joe action figures in the crisp autumn air for this predawn group meeting. They were ready to dish out punishment on a house full of misfits.

The meeting started with a rundown of the accusations, which in a house full of unruly boys was just as good as a conviction. Then the boys who snuck out were given a token three minutes to come forward. Any boys who had knowledge of the party outing were charged to come forward as well. If not, they were told there would be a group consequence. Three minutes came and went. Hitler stepped up and barked the order for everyone to fall in and run the one mile around the house, office, barn, and parking lot two times before bothering to stop. Jay stepped toward Hitler and tried to plead his case.

Sir, I just came here last night. Why do I have to do this?

You are a part of this group now, Williams, growled Hitler. RUN!

Jay fell in with the rest of the boys for the first mile. He then stopped on the court next to Mr. Willis. Once again he pleaded his case.

Mr. Willis, sir, I didn’t know about any of this, how is it fair that I have to run with the others?

Boy, did you hit your head? Mr. Thomlinson said for you to run; you better RUN!

Jay sat down in the middle of the basketball court and refused to get up.

You people are psychos! I want to call my caseworker! She’ll have me out of here before the day is over. Of course Jay knew that wasn’t the case but it sounded like the right thing to say.

Hitler ran toward Jay and stopped just short of knocking him over. He grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up onto his feet. Jay shifted his weight and fell back onto the blacktop. His head bounced before he caught himself. Hitler picked up Jay again and manhandled him to the front of the court where the other boys were stopping from their second laps.

Well boys, it looks like Williams here doesn’t want to be a part of your group. Do you want to carry him around this house–complete his chores, cook his food, serve his meals, do his laundry, and give him your free time?

NO SIR! The exhausted boys replied in unison.

What are we going to do then?

Let us handle him, sir! A large boy in the back said.

OK, fair enough. Mr. Willis and I are going back up to the house to finish our breakfast. When we get back I expect to see Williams acting as an active part of your group.

SIR, YES SIR! Again the boys sounded in unison.

All fifteen of the other boys crowded around Jay and started the beat down. When they walked away Jay lay on the blacktop of the basketball court barely aware of his surroundings.

Mr. Thomlinson and Mr. Willis returned from the house thirty minutes later to find Jay sitting up against one of the rusted goal posts. The other boys were lined up in the expected formation. Mr. Willis took Jay to the house to get him cleaned up. They couldn’t have him all bloody if a state worker decided to do a surprise visit.

Get a shower kid, said Mr. Willis. Then we need to talk.

Jay limped to his room wishing he had done what was expected of him in his last placement. The hot shower stung in his open wounds as the water diluted blood streamed down his body and swirled around the drain.

Jay got out of the shower and devised a plan. It would take a couple nights of observation, but he had to get out of this place. He would just have to tow the line until then.

Playing a part in state’s custody was easy enough until things got really stressful. The most difficult part of his plan would be putting all of the garbage that had happened since he arrived to the side and acting like he liked it here. He certainly didn’t want to, but if it saved him from another beating, so be it. Tonight would be the night he thought. He warmed back up to Matt enough to get some much-needed information. Jay knew Matt wasn’t really his friend; after all, he had participated in the group beating. But Jay could certainly play Matt enough to get what he needed; he had become fairly proficient at that over these last two years of being locked up.

Mr. Willis’ idea of talking had in fact been a warning that Jay had better do exactly as he was told or the next time the consequences would be far worse. That warning worked itself into Jay’s plan perfectly.

Jay learned as much as he could about the suicides and the recent runaways from talking to Matt and listening to some of the other boys. He also learned from Matt that the runaways had apparently been successful because they weren’t brought back to the facility. In the state, a kid has to be gone at least ten days before they’re removed from their current facility. After that if they were found they would be placed in a temporary setting until another facility or home could be found.

Jay had become quite the observer over the last two years; he always knew who had cigarettes, weed, lighters, or other contraband on the property, and he knew how to get close enough to share the joints with them. From his observation since Friday night, Jay learned the staff did their last bed checks at around 11:30 p.m. Then they would go into their rooms and lock their doors. After that it was extremely quiet in and around the home, except for the maddening chirp of the fire alarms in the hallway all night long.

So far Sunday had been mostly uneventful, breakfast at 7:00 a.m. followed by chores. Fortunately Jay was able to go back to bed for a two-hour nap during free time. But any sleep he had gotten at the Carter County Home was always interrupted by the dream. Today, however, even the dream was interrupted by Hitler yelling at him to wake up. Lunch had come and he ate a little more than usual, not knowing when his next meal would be. He helped clean the kitchen and headed for his room. When he walked in his room, Tommy, a kid from the next room over, was digging through his dresser drawers. Jay pushed Tommy into the closet and punched him as hard as he could in his lower back.

Hitler heard the commotion and came running. Seeing Tommy doubled over in the closet, Hitler grabbed Jay by the left arm, swung him into the hallway and swept his feet out from underneath him with a fluid like motion. Hitler, still holding onto Jay’s arm, dropped him onto the hallway floor and landed on top of his back with a loud crack. Jay’s other arm lay trapped underneath him.

Jay screamed, Get off of me you…! Involuntary tears streamed down his face from the excruciating pain. Hitler lay there for a full thirty minutes before allowing Jay to get up.

When Hitler finally got up, it was apparent Jay’s bone had come through the skin at the elbow and a large puddle of blood stained the carpet. Jay ran for his room, and Hitler stepped into the office.

An injury like that has to be reported Tom! Bill screamed.

Let’s not get carried away now Bill. You put the boy in the van and take him to the emergency room for treatment; I’ll send the other boys to bed, clean up the blood, and write out the incident report.

OK Tom.

Mr. Willis retrieved Jay from his room and drove him an hour away to the closest hospital. Four hours later the two were headed back to the home. The bone had been reset and the skin stitched where the bone had broken through. He now had a blue cast in place over his throbbing arm. Mr. Willis took Jay through the Burger Palace drivethru for a late dinner and got him what he wanted: a double cheeseburger, large fries and a large cola.

Jay and Mr. Willis arrived back at the home shortly after 9:00 p.m. Hitler had all the other residents in bed and the lights out when they walked into the office. Mr. Willis gave Jay his pain meds and sent him to bed. Jay glared at Hitler as he walked by, but Hitler just sat there rereading over his completed incident report.

Jay hadn’t really swallowed the pain pill; he cheeked it. He still had to get out of the Carter County Home for Boys and broken arm or not, tonight was the night. He wrapped the pain pill in a piece of paper to save for later that night when he was safely away from the home. He struggled to climb to the top bunk with a broken arm, but somehow managed.

Now he only had to play opossum for awhile, as the locals liked to say. Jay was too wired to sleep, even though it would feel like heaven after the afternoon he’d had. He lay motionless on his back for the next two hours; eyes closed trying to decide what to do when he left. He could go back home to Cincinnati, Ohio to see Anna and his mom. But then again his mom never called him, never visited and was seldom home when he called.

Chapter 2

Shortly after 11:00 p.m., Jay heard Hitler and Mr. Willis in a heated debate down the hall in the office. From the sounds of it, they were going at it over the restraint and falsified incident report written by Hitler. Hitler insisted that Mr. Willis would sign off on his version of what happened, which Mr. Willis adamantly refused to do.

Don’t be a fool Bill; both our jobs are on the line!

Tom, you know if that kid reports what really happened you’re looking at more than losing your job!

"Who are they really going to believe, a juvenile delinquent or two direct care workers? That’s why you need to back me up on my version of events."

Forget it Tom. Find someone else to lie for you!

If I go down Bill, mark my words, I’ll take you down with me.

Have it your way Tom! Bill slammed the office door, stomped down the hall and then slammed his bedroom door behind him.

In the office Tom made a nearly perfect forgery of Bill Willis’ signature on the incident report, tracing it from another document Bill had signed. Stashing it away, he turned off the lights and headed out of the office to do the last of the room checks.

As Jay heard Hitler moving through the rooms down the hall, he lay motionless, almost breathless. When Hitler did his bed checks, he always came from one room through the bathroom to the second bedroom, checking for contraband in the bathrooms as he went. When Hitler finally got into the bathroom adjacent to Jay’s room, it was all Jay could do to remember to breathe. He had to concentrate and remember to breathe deeply like he knew he did when he was asleep. Hitler went through his room quickly, shut the door and crossed the hall to the last set of rooms. Jay continued to lie still, trying not to breathe as he waited for the sound of Hitler’s apartment door slamming down the hall, the way it did every night. Three long minutes later he heard the sound of the slamming door. It was nearly 11:30 p.m. now, and Jay decided he had better wait a few more minutes for good measure. Whether it was to get his nerve up or go over his escape plan one more time, he wasn’t sure.

He was only vaguely familiar with the surrounding area; aside from the front of the facility and around the old barn, everything else would be unknown territory. The formulated plan only went that far.

There’s no time like the present! Jay thought.

Jay rose slowly in his bed and stealthily climbed down from the top bunk. He went to his closet and moved the dirty clothes off the top of the garbage bag he’d packed and hidden earlier in the day. He quietly closed the closet and went into the bathroom where he locked the door behind him.

He felt stiff and rigid like a zombie trying to do anything physical right now, considering the injuries of the last couple of days. But this was the time; no matter how much his body hurt he had to make the most of his plan or he might be in for much worse.

Jay reached for the bathroom window with his good arm and struggled to pull it up. There was no screen in the window; only the frame remained – probably a result of one of the other runaways, but the CCHB was too cheap to fix something as simple as that. He sat on the bathroom sink with his back to