The Crucifixion and Resurrection of Malachi the Queer

by Damian Jay Clay

I can remember the sign. “There’s a sign pointing to Ilfracombe and Minehead. I think we must be in Exmoor on the A39.”

  “I’m looking it up on the net now. Guys, did they hurt you?”

  That was all it took and I started crying again. “Yes.”

  "I’ve got it. It’s going to take me at least four hours to get there.”

  “Can you bring me some pain killers?” I try to stop crying but it’s no good. “I’m hurt.”

  “Sure. How much charge does your phone have?”

  “It’s almost full,” says Noah.

  “Keep it on. I’ll phone you when I’m close. Can Jacob hear me?”

  “I love you,” says Jacob through his sobs.

  “I love you. I’ll be with you there soon. Stay together and don’t be seen.”

  Then he’s gone.

  I didn’t know it was Jacob’s birthday. Did that add to the impetus he needed to make him act? I’m not sure. I say nothing. I want to wish him a happy birthday but I know it's not appropriate. He is doing his best to hold it together, like the rest of us. I realise that the wrong words could damage someone at a time like this.

  We eat our weight in chocolate and crisps over the next hour. Then Jacob falls asleep over the wheel. I reach into the front and hold Noah’s hand for a while. We are both silent. When he falls asleep I lay on my front as best I can but I am still in pain. I keep getting up and looking around hoping that no one spots us.

  The phone rings again. I answer as Noah and Jacob wake up.

  “Guys, I think I’m right by you. I can see the sign I think.”

  We get out of the car. It is dawn and the first light is creeping into the mauve sky.

  I can now see the full effect of the whipping I took. I am black and blue all over my body and I touch my face and feel where the strap made contact has swollen. I dare not go too close to my eye. I wrap the blanket around me and we walk to the road. There is an old Volvo estate. It pulls up right by us.

  A young black man gets out of the car. He is over six feet tall, toned and athletic in a jeans and colourful printed t-shirt. Jacob runs into his arms.

  He clings onto Jacob but looks at my eye and I can see he is angry. “What the... Did they do that to you?” Then he looks down at my legs and his jaw drops open. I know there is fresh blood running down me, I don’t need to look – I feel the sticky wetness dripping down my body.

  “Let’s get in the car,” says Jacob.

  Warren hands me a plastic tray of pills. “They’re weapons grade so they'll be effective. Take two of them. I got them after I had dry socket.” He reaches into the car, pulls out a bottle of water and hands it to me.

  I take two of them. “I need a wash.”

  “Get in,” says Warren. “I need to get you all away from here.”

  We get in the car and Warren drives away.

  Noah lets me lie down on him in the back and he touches my face. My body starts to feel warm and my head feels swimmy. We get to the motorway and it feels like we’ve escaped. Then I can’t feel the pain any more and I fall asleep face down on top of Noah’s lap.

  I wake up and we’re still on the road. My head is fuzzy from the pain killers and I sit up. It still stings but not as much as it did before. I adjust the blanket to cover myself.

  Noah takes hold of my hand. “How are you feeling?”

  “Yeah, great.” I smile at him. “We made it. We’re away from there.”

  Noah picks up a paper bag from beside him and hands it to me. “We stopped for food. You better eat.”

  Jacob passes me back a drink with a straw in it. The ice cold Coke is so revitalising. It is a taste of freedom and life. I suck it down in seconds and could drink two more.

  I eat the cold burger and some of the fries. It all tastes so good. After I’ve finished it feels different. Noah is smiling at me and I can tell he means it. It’s not forced like when I got out of the punishment shed.

  “So what are we going to do?” asks Jacob.

  “Honestly,” says Warren, “I think I need to get you all to a hospital.”

  “No,” I say. “The police will turn up and we’ll be taken back.”

  Warren looks at me through the rear view mirror. “Honey, you’re a state and the way you’ve been treated they’re going to look after you.”

  I don’t think it’s that uncomplicated. “But our parents gave their consent. Lee told us. We ran away. Jacob stole a car and Noah knocked out Lee with a rock and stamped on his head. I think we'll be in trouble.”

  “But your parents are going to be worried sick.”

  “I’m not going back to my Parents,” says Noah.

  “Me neither,” says Jacob. “I’m officially sixteen and moved out. If you’ll have me?”

  “Of course,” says Warren. “You’re going to be fine. I don’t know what to do about these two.”

  “I know someone I think can help. Give me the phone. I don’t know if I’ll manage to talk so you might have to do it for me. He promised if I ever needed his help he’d give it.” I dial the number on speaker-phone and hand it to back Warren.

  “Hello, Sam Hawnett…”

  “You’re kidding,” says Warren. “The Sam Hawnett? You know Sam Hawnett?”

  “Yes, who is this? What do you want?”

  “Doctor Hawnett, I just want to say I’m your biggest fan.”

  “Who are you? How did you get this number? If you don’t tell me right away I’m hanging up.”

  “No, don’t hang up. I’m here with Malachi. What’s your last name?”

  “Russell.”

  “I’m here with Malachi Russell. He’s in trouble…”

  Chapter Fifteen

  We park the car in Earls Court on a street full of grand town houses, it’s clean and beautiful. Most of the houses look freshly painted with bright flowers growing in pots on the window ledges. Along the street are plane trees which break through the pavements. Even the street lights are striking and Victorian in design. I never thought the centre of London could look this nice. I can imagine a place like this would be the most heart warming location to spend a Christmas – so Dickensian. We walk along till we find the right house, then climb up the steps.

  I’m still in the blanket which I have huddled around me, The few people on the street who pass us stop and stare in horror but say nothing. They don’t even ask if I’m okay but collect themselves and hurry on.

  All the houses we pass have multiple bells beside each door but the one we stop at has only one, which says Hawnett. Warren rings the bell and in a few seconds Sam greets us.

  It looks like he's just got up and had a shower because his hair is still wet. He looks me up and down. "What the hell's happened to you?" He waits for a second for me to answer and then seems to think better of it. "Come on, let's get you inside."

  We follow him into a huge sitting room with the highest ceilings I’ve ever seen. It’s minimalistic in design, nothing but furniture: sofas, a coffee table and a white grand piano in the far corner. The only decoration is a single large oil paining on the wall of a woman in blue velvet laying back and eating a peach.

  Sam’s wife, Catherine, is standing in front of the coffee table which is laden with what my parents would call nibbles – though they’re all breakfast type things. It makes me want to laugh.

  “Oh my god,” she says. “What’s happened to you?”

  Right at the door to the lounge the pain starts coming back pouring out from under my skin. I throw off the bloody blanket which is burning against the welts all over my body. I’m sick right there. I fall to my knees and puke on their expensive white carpet.

  “What's happened to you!” Sam kneels down beside me and touches the side of my head as my stomach evacuates its contents.

  Catherine empties one bowl of nibbles into another and puts the bowl in front of me but by then it’s all over. Fresh blood is dripping down me and onto their nice carpet.

  I cry. “It hurts.”

  Warren pu
lls the tablet tray out of his pocket and pushes two out. He hands them to me.

  “What exactly are those?” Catherine asks.

  “Meptid,” says Warren. “I had some left over.”

  “His back is cut to ribbons,” says Sam. “Let him have something.”

  “And you’ve already given him some?” Catherine’s voice is raised.

  “Of course, look what they’ve done to him.” Warren picks up a bottle of orange juice from the table and hands it to me. I get to my knees and take the pills before Catherine has a chance to argue. I know she’s a doctor so I’d end up listening to her but the pain is too much to bear. Sam looks at his hand where he touched my head and there is blood on it.

  Catherine leaves the room and comes back with a clean white sheet for me and I wrap it around myself. She also brings some cleaning products and starts to clean the mess I’ve made.

  “Sam,” she says, “we need to get these boys to hospital at once.”

  “No!” I shout. “I’m not going in. The police will come and get us.”

  Sam puts a hand up. “Just let me get my breath. I can’t even think. Malachi, you have to let us take you to hospital.”

  I shake my head.

  I stand up and walk over to one of the three leather sofas arranged in a C-shape around a fireplace and sit down but I don’t rest my back. Noah sits next to me and collapses back. Warren and Jacob sit on the sofa next to ours. We wait while Sam and Catherine clean up the mess I made.

  A few minutes later they sit opposite me.

  “You better tell us what happened,” says Sam, “because I’m about three seconds away from calling the police.”

  I know Noah is awake but he is motionless. I look at Jacob and he looks at me. I shake my head. I know I’m safe now. I know this because I know Sam. Yes, I’ve only met him once but I've read all his books and seen every debate he’s ever had on YouTube. I can't talk. When I try to move my lips they refuse. I want to sleep now. I smell the piss and shit and blood on me and I know I have to go to hospital but part of me wonders if I deserved this – part of me is ashamed of everything that happened to me in the camp. Part of me can’t bring myself to talk about it or say anything about what they did to us. Even though I know I’ll get nothing but sympathy. Part of me wants it all to be over now and never to be spoken about again. I’m not certain about anything any more. I know that I’m in the best place and safe here and yet I’m not certain about anything. The pain is so intense that part of me wants to be dead. The thought of telling anyone about what happened makes me want to be dead. I've never felt like this before – I didn't even feel like this in the camp. The only noise in the room is breathing and the ticking of a clock from somewhere.

  Noah knows, Jacob knows and I know. There is a bond between us which keeps us going. I know it. I felt it when everything was happening. They are still here, right next to me, but now that protection has gone. I can’t feel it any more. We're in new territory where nothing terrible will happen to us yet all the bad that's within us has become the new enemy.

  Jacob tells them about the beatings and the electrocutions. I hear him and I don’t hear him. He tells them about the accident with the axe and the beating I got. Their faces are a carnival of disgust.

  “Did anything else happen to you?” asks Catherine.

  “What do you mean?” Jacob sounds defensive.

  “Did anyone touch you or make you do things you didn’t want?” Catherine speaks in hushed tones as though we were still at the camp so no one can overhear.

  I feel Noah sitting up next to me. “No, nothing else happened.”

  “Nothing happened.” It’s a relief. I don’t have to say. What does it matter now – it’s all over and we’re safe. What did happen? Even I’m not sure.

  He was the strongest of us all, Jacob. Whatever doubts I had about us getting away from that place were quelled by his presence and his love for Noah and me.

  “No,” he says, “nothing else happened to me.” And I catch his eye and I know something did. Something he kept from us. I want to be in blackness away from anything, away from anybody and away from my own thoughts. Death must be better than this. He clutches his stomach where they hit him. Warren lifts up his shirt and his stomach and chest are mauve.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” asks Warren. “Did they do anything else.”

  And I know that they did. Even though Jacob denies it.

  Warren puts his arm around Jacob.

  Jacob pushes him away and curls up with his hands over his face.

  That's it, they destroyed Jacob. They destroyed us all.

  I clutch at my side. Blood is seeping through the sheet. It’s like there is now no connection from my mind to my words. I seem to say, “And you can’t tell the police or take us to the hospital because we’ll be sent right back. Our parents gave them permission.”

  Catherine leaves the room crying. I thought doctors were trained to handle anything.

  I want to be dead. It has to be better. I look at Noah and Jacob and I want to be dead. I think about how I could do it. I don’t want to tell anyone anything. I don’t want to go through painful things in hospital. How I could get away from the pain in my body and my mind being torn apart. The last part of my own mind is disappearing.

  And I’m tired. I’m too tired.

  I stand up and walk over to the sofa opposite. The sheet is scarcely covering me but I don’t care. I kneel in front of Sam and I know what I have to do. “I’ll do whatever you say. Just stop the pain.” I collapse on his lap. He hugs my head and I can hear him start to cry.

  Catherine returns with a medical bag. She pulls out a stethoscope and kneels in front of Jacob.

  “Let me check you out,” she says. “I’m a doctor.”

  "Sam's a doctor." I say.

  "But not the kind that can help anyone." Sam rubs the back of my neck.

  I remember saying that when we met at Easter. If I didn't hurt so much I'd find it funny.

  “You better check out the other two as well,” says Warren.

  Catherine decides to take us one at a time into the bathroom, for privacy. When it’s my turn she takes me to the bathroom and asks me to drop the sheet. I stand there naked as she examines the wounds on my body. The boy in the hospital gown is looking in her pockets. She listens to my heart and all around my chest. She doesn’t go near my eye. “I want to check you down below.”

  “No.” I keep looking down.

  I’m so tired and the drugs are kicking in again. The pain is diminishing. I look up at her. “Can I die now? I want to sleep and die.”

  Tears flow down Catherine’s beautiful face and they sparkle like rain on a window. I reach up and touch one. It slides onto my fingernail. My head falls and I want to sleep.

  “You can sleep soon,” she says. “But you’re not allowed to die. Do you understand?”

  I nod. She leads me back into the sitting room.

  After we have all been examined, Warren, Sam and Catherine leave us on the sofas and go to the side of the room to talk about us. I can hear them so I don’t think their intention is to hide anything.

  “We have to get all three of them to the hospital,” Catherine says. “Jacob and Malachi may both have broken ribs and could have internal injuries. Malachi is covered head to toe in welts and has wounds that need immediate treatment. All three of them have unspeakable burns. Let’s not even get to the emotional support these three are going to need and we have to start post exposure prophylaxis at once. They’ve been ... there are things they’re not telling us.”

  “They may need some kind of legal protection.” says Sam. I can hear the tears in his voice. “I’ll call up Thom at once. I’m not letting those boys be returned to those families. Who would let this happen to their own children? I’ve always said that religion is child abuse, well here you are.”

  “You need to keep calm.” Catherine grabs his shoulder and gives him a stern look.

  “How dare they!�
� He shouts and Noah starts.

  Catherine kisses him. “Calm, Darling, calm. We must call the police. There are still children at that camp who need our help. I can keep it quiet at the hospital while they’re being treated.”

  “I’ll phone Thom now and have him meet me at the police station and I’ll make a report. Warren, they’ll need what information you can give them, you’d better come with me.”

  Warren nods. “Look, tell me I’m not going mad but I think there’s a good chance the families will cover this up? I know Jacob’s mum at least and she won’t go against anything religious.”

  “No, you’re right. This has to come out.” Sam walks back over to us. “Right, you three are going to the hospital with Catherine, now – no complaints. No one will know you’re there. The police will have to go through Catherine to speak to you and we’ll make sure you have control. Boys, they’re never going to send you back to that place. We're looking after you now. When they see what’s been done they will head there and arrest them all. Do you trust me, Malachi?”

  I nod. I do trust him.

  “I have one thing to ask you. I want to let the world know what’s happened. Can I write your story?”

  All of us agree.

  “I’ll need a picture of the three of you. Don’t worry I’ll blur out your faces.”

  We stand up in front of the fireplace and I make sure my sheet is covering everything. Sam takes one of the three of us together as we were as we had come in – as we were at that moment. Then Catherine takes us away in her Range Rover.

  She drives right up the ambulance ramp of the hospital. An orderly is there to meet us. Once we’re all out of the car, Catherine throws him her keys and tells him to park it in her spot.

  We don’t have to wait at the front like I’ve had to do in the past when visiting accident and emergency. We’re taken right into the back and given beds next to one another. All of us are given hospital gowns to put on – Catherine has to help me with mine.

  The A&E is noisy with the bleeps of machines and the busy staff cycling around. Some of them look at us as they walk past and soon I can hear us being discussed – Those poor children...