Chapter 1

I'm Jack Ryan, Jr. No, I'm not named after the Tom Clancy hero. My Dad was Jack Ryan long before Tom Clancy got his first book published.

I'm 17, the oldest kid in the family, but I'm kind of undersized for my Junior year of high school. People who see me for the first time often take me for a very bright 15 year old. I'm skinny, myopic, about 5' 7" and 140 pounds. My eyes won't tolerate contacts, just like my Dad, so I have always worn glasses. Naturally I've gotten picked on a lot over the years.

When I came home after one of my grade school beatings, my Dad went over to talk to the bully's dad and wound up beating the crap out of that man. But when he came home, he said "I can't fight all your battles."

He said, "Most of the fights you'll be in aren't formal fights; you're not going into a ring with gloves on and a referee, Most of the time it's a bigger, meaner bully picking on you to show how tough he is at your expense. You have to make those bastards pay for trying that. What they want is someone who won't or can't fight back."

So he signed me up for self-defense courses and started me on a weight-training regimen. While I may be skinny, I'm not weak any more. That helped. He also taught me a few things about down and dirty fighting that he'd picked up in the Navy. That was even better.

He said the day might come when I would have to seriously defend myself as well as those I loved.

I thought, right! What are the odds on that?

So, over the years I became a pretty decent fighter, in a fair fight or a nasty one. I stopped being picked on as much. I think I became known as a guy who you didn't take on without being ready to take some punishment. I didn't win that many fights, but I won my share against bigger guys. And it got to be known that I'd hurt you pretty bad while you were beating me up. And I fight dirty if my opponent is much bigger than me. I had them thinking: where's the fun in this?

Remember, I don't start these fights. Ever.

It kept me safer, but it didn't do a thing for my social life. I was still small, still pretty shy with girls, and couldn't get dates, much. There were a couple of female outcasts, like me, that I did date off and on through Freshman and Sophomore years of high school, but they were both virgins and terrified of sex. All I ever got was few kisses and a couple of squeezes of what felt like a very nice boob.

Now for the tricky part of my story: my sisters, Jen and Clare. They were twins; golden girls, blessed by whomever with charm and beauty and everything else it took to be high school queens. And cheerleaders, of course, at 16 years old. I was their older brother in years, but they were my tormentors-in-chief from the time they became teens. My mother and Dad doted on them, of course, as did everyone else in the free world.

Mom and Dad sort of knew how they treated me, but didn't do much to stop them. Of course they never did the really nasty stuff in front of the parents.

Mom said they didn't really mean to be mean. That was her refusing to see anything bad in her darlings. My Dad had an idea of what was going on, but said he wasn't able to do much with them, since their mother shielded them from any meaningful discipline. As long as they kept it down and away from home, they had impunity. The one time they did screw up and got caught embarrassing me in front of their friends, they were grounded for a month, and that wreaked hell with their busy social lives. It was the one thing they feared. So they stayed within limits. But those limits left a lot of room for them to make my life grim.

They couldn't deny that I was their older brother, but at school they made me seem to be a real dork, to emphasize how our kinship was some kind of cosmic screw-up. They badmouthed me in hundreds of ways that came back on me socially. They said I got good grades because I was such a social retard that I had nothing to do but be a greasy grind and study on date nights. They even hinted that I was a needle-dick.

So that was the picture of our lives as my Junior year limped toward the Summer.

It wasn't always like that. When we were younger, I was Jen and Clare's beloved most favorite big brother, and they tagged along with me. They imitated everything I did. It was kind of annoying always having them hanging around me. I got a lot of ribbing about it from my friends, but I was secretly flattered by their hero worship.

One April, when I had just turned 12 and they were still 10, I was in the house getting a drink. I heard screaming. I ran outside, still holding the heavy pewter pitcher, and saw the twins backed up against the fence. A Doberman that belonged to a man down the street had gotten out of its yard and had jumped our low fence. It was a pretty nasty beast, always rushing at its fence to lunge at us when we would walk by. I think it was crazy mean.

Well, it was stalking the girls. I yelled "MOM" at the top of my lungs and ran toward the dog. Our Mom was down in the basement doing laundry, but I hoped she could hear me. Dad was off somewhere, shopping.

I had no idea of what I was going to do, but I was not going to let it hurt my sisters; I knew that.

It reacted to me yelling and running toward it by turning to face me as a new threat. It growled and lowered its head. Its ears were flattened back along its skull and its jaws looked two feet across, filled with wicked teeth. When I got near it, I was thinking I would hit it with the pitcher. Then I thought about all the ice-cold lemonade inside it and swung it to throw the liquid at the beast. I got it right in the face, and it backed up snarling at the shock of the cold liquid. It was like dumping a bucket of ice water on it.

I got between the dog and the girls, who I could hear crying behind me. It shook itself to throw off the wet and came at me, jaws open. I hit it on the snout with the heavy pitcher, as hard as I could swing. That hurt it and it backed off. Then it came at me again, and I hit it again, but it managed to get a chomp on my left hand that was flailing free as I used the pitcher with my right.

Damn, that hurt. At least it didn't hang on. But I had deep teeth marks and was starting to bleed.

Then the dog yelped and jumped up in the air. I looked up and there was the next-door neighbor with a BB gun, taking aim and shooting another pellet at the beast. It yelped and ran and jumped our fence and went running back to its own yard. The man who owned the dog was just arriving when the dog ran past him, so he turned back and got it inside.

Then he came over to apologize and offer help.

Turned out it wasn't his dog; he was just keeping it for a few months for his brother.

He put the dog in a boarding kennel. He paid for my doctor treatments. And yes, I had to take the new rabies shots. They say they weren't as bad as the original ones, but they weren't any picnic, either. I hurt like hell for days after each one.

Back then, the twins were so grateful and proud of their big brother. They kept saying I had saved their lives. My Dad said he was proud of me. My Mom talked me up to all her friends. I said the neighbor had really driven the dog off with the air rifle.

Dad said, "Yes, from safely behind a high fence. You were the one who went into the yard and took on the Doberman all by yourself to help your sisters. I hope they never forget what a great big brother you are."

But it didn't work out like that.

After they got into their teens, they grew up fast and became really pretty popular young women, and became part of the Cool Crowd, and I was just their runty nerdy embarrassing older brother. They felt they had to put me down to be part of the crowd.

Then came the weekend that changed everything.

On that late April weekend, Mom and Dad had a chance to get away with some neighbors for a romantic river cruise. They had few qualms about leaving us alone. I was considered to be a solid responsible 17 year-old. My sisters knew that if they went too wild or broke common-sense rules they would get into serious trouble, and be grounded. They knew they could still get away with the verbal abuse, as long as they did not break my rules. Which were mostly about curfew and drinking and stuff, pretty much what Mom and Dad had already laid down.

They went out Friday night. I told them to be careful of where they went and who they were with. They laughed at me and said, "Are you going to sit up and wait for us? Or will you just sit home looking for some tweezers so you can find your little dick and jerk off?

"See you later, needle-dick!"

For them, that was close to affectionate discourse. They drove out in the car they shared.

They had no dates that I knew of. Neither did I, of course, but that was normal. I'd called Amy Hansen, but she told me she was dating steady now, so that was the end of that. She was the owner of the boob I'd gotten to squeeze. I guess someone else was getting to squeeze it now. And if they were steady, maybe getting more than a boob- squeeze. So much for her desire to keep her virginity, I supposed.

I finished up a written report I had due in a week, and watched some TV. Then I got tired and went to bed, masturbating myself to sleep, as usual. Hey, I was a horny teenager! And no, I didn't need tweezers. I was 5 and 15/16th inches. Approximately. Maybe slightly under average, but far from a needle-dick.

I faintly heard the noise of the twins coming because I heard the door slam shut and I looked at the clock. About a half-hour after curfew, but I was in no mood to be a hardass. But then I thought I should at least tell them I heard them. Maybe put a little scare into them.

I was about to open my door to call out, when I heard a crash as the freaking door was broken down! I heard the twins scream and ran out. I saw three big guys coming in. I ran to my bedside phone, but there was no dial tone, so I used my cell phone to call 911.

I said it was an emergency and gave my name and the address "Home invasion, assault on underage girls. Weapons!" I yelled, and put the phone down. I thought that might bring a quick response. I ran into my Mom and Dad's bedroom and looked for his shotgun in his closet, but he'd hidden the damned thing someplace "to be sure it was safe." So I grabbed Dad's prized Louisville slugger. He'd hit a winning homer in the Pleistocene state championship game with it. It wasn't one of those light little aluminum bat s they use now, it was solid ash.

I started down the stairs and almost ran unto a surprised man. Well, I think he was surprised to see me swinging that big old Hillerich & Bradsby at him. I got him beside the ear with all my strength, although he got an arm up to block it some. Anyway, he fell over and took the railing down with him. I ran downstairs. The two other guys had Jan and Clare pinned down on the couch and were trying to rip their dresses off. The closest guy had his big hard cock out, getting ready for action.

I gave him some action. I swung sideways at his cock but missed and hit him in the gut. I was swinging backhanded and had less aim and less force that way. He did go "OOOF" and doubled over. I went to wind up and hit him on the head as he doubled over, but the other guy came around him and jumped at me. I got one shot on him before he pushed me back against the wall. I dropped the bat then; it was useless if I couldn't get clear to swing it. I brought up my knee and got him good. Then I got a couple of shots to his throat, but he partially blocked them. His cock was also hanging out free and I drove my knee up to smash it, probably for the second time.

It hurt him like hell, but he was pretty tough, because he managed to swing and hit me in the ribs as he staggered back. I moved forward and hit him in both ears with my cupped hands and he screamed and fell away from me.

I figured he'd be out of it for a few seconds, so I headed for the other guy in the room. I couldn't see my bat so I ran at him and tried to bowl him over. He was too big and strong for that, but I did drive him back a little. I didn't see the girls, and thought, thank God, maybe they've gotten out. Then I felt sharp stabbing pains in my back, several times, all over, and I dropped to my knees. It was the guy from the stairs, and he had a knife.

I fought to not pass out. They crowded around me, all three, kicking and punching at me. I felt my nose break and some searing pain in my jaw. I got kicked between my eyes and fell to the floor.

I squirmed around, trying to avoid their kicks, and got one leg up and kicked one of them in the balls. He reeled away. That left two. I rolled over against one of them, grabbed his legs and tried to topple him. The guy behind me didn't do anything, no kicks or anything.

I swung up and tried to land a punch on the guy's balls. I missed them, but I hit something and I heard him scream.

I heard someone yelling "Police!"

He dropped with his knees on my ribcage. A hot pain ripped though my chest.

As I blacked out, I hoped that the girls hadn't gotten hurt.

I came to in the dark. It didn't feel like my bed and the room was full of low-pitched noises, chirps and beeps and gurgles. I croaked something and heard my Mom's voice say, "He's awake! Doctor! Then I heard a commotion and someone was poking around me. There were little touches on my arms and body, and one of them made me scream.

"Jan, he has broken ribs!" Clare hissed. "Oh I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Jacky, I'm so sorry!" Jan said.

The little touches were gone, and my body went back to an all-over body-sized pain. Why was everything so dark?

There was an unfamiliar voice. "I'm Doctor Standish, Jack. Tell me where it hurts."

I thought about that. "Almost everywhere," I said. "My feet don't hurt. I don't think my lower left leg hurts. That's about it. Why is it so dark?" Nobody would answer that.

"I'll give you something for the pain, now." He moved away, I could sense. I waited for something else to happen. There was a rustle of clothing near my head and a woman said, "That should kick in a few seconds."

I thanked her... a nurse I guessed.

"Doctor Standish, am I blind? I can't see anything." Before he answered, I heard sobbing. That got me even more scared. What were they crying about? Was I blind?

"No, Jack, you're not blind... You have some damage to your face around your orbit... that's your eye socket. We've bandaged you up there to make sure you didn't accidentally poke at it. Your vision should be fine.

"You have a possible fracture or fractures around the orbit. Your nose was broken, and we've reset that. Your jaw was dislocated, but we put that right while you were unconscious.

"You have a broken arm and badly broken ribs. We're worried that one of those might be in danger of puncturing your lung. We'll want to take a look at that very carefully.

"You also have multiple knife wounds on your back, buttocks, and thighs. None so deep as to be life threatening, but they caused you to lose a lot of blood."

"Mom? What about Jan and Clare. Are they ok? Did those bastards hurt them or..."

"No, they're not harmed... in any way. They're right here. Please watch your language," she added automatically

I heard them then, little worried cries, almost like little kitten mewings. I felt their small gentle hands on me through the coverings, very careful now, barely touching.

"Jacky?" It was Jan's voice. "Jacky, we're so sorry. It was all our fault, and we've told Mom and Dad that.

Clara said, "They would have raped and beaten us and then ransacked the house. They bragged about all that when they started tearing at our clothes."

There was a pause. Then, "You saved us, Jacky. You saved our virginity, our lives,... and you almost lost yours doing it. I don't know what to say. We're so ashamed, Jacky.

"I can't bear to think of the way we've always treated you. All the nasty things we've said about you to our friends. Trying to be cool and insult the nerdy uncool brother. And you did this for us.

'I don't understand why you risked your life for us, as mean as we've been to you. Why did you do that?"

The meds the nurse had put in finally began to hit me hard, and I started to fade away.

"Because,... because,... I told Mom and Dad I'd take care of you while they're away.

"And... because you're my baby sisters,... and because,..."

I was almost under, but had to finish. It was important to say this, something I hadn't said or even thought in a long time.

"Because I love you both, no matter what..."

The next day was a Monday. Apparently I was out for two days, and that first wake-up was Sunday night.

Another doctor was on duty, and when he came in he said he was going to remove the bandages and examine my orbits.