Chapter 1

You could hardly tell the bus was white. Some faded paint showed on the roof and the area above both rows of windows, but the rest was covered in several layers of reddish-brown dirt and mud. Even several of the windows were opaque, and the windshield clearly displayed the length of the wipers. But that's not what caused the bus to maneuver awkwardly through the suburban streets. The usual driver would have driven it with ease, but the pastor leaned over the large steering wheel and used both feet to constantly switch from the accelerator to the brake causing the chatting children to lean forward and then slam back into their seats. One 14 year old girl in particular giggled uncontrollably every time the bus slowed and then lurched forward.

The pastor learned to tolerate her laughter, but when the noise reached a level he thought inappropriate he would come to a complete stop and look over his shoulder, glaring at the culprits. The children silenced immediately, and then the bus lurched forward, followed by the giggle.

"That's my house," Bobby Presley shouted and then quickly slapped his hand over his mouth.

The pastor struggled to turn the steering wheel to the right, inching the huge vehicle towards the curb, and then he used all his strength to spin it to the left. He mumbled something about the driver being in the hospital as he brought the bus to a stop over two feet from the curb. The bus suddenly got very quiet as everyone looked out the windows to see where they were. With a whoosh, the double doors folded open.

"Come on, we don't have all day," the pastor said as he slid out of the cushy seat torn with age.

Bobby stood, but fell back into his seat when the bus began moving. The preacher jumped into the driver's seat and quickly set the parking brake. He looked over his shoulder with a scowl when he heard the giggles, and they quickly died down. Motioning for Bobby to follow him, he climbed down the three steps.

When Bobby jumped to the street he saw the pastor standing with the luggage door open. The boy looked at the annoyed expression and not a word needed to be said. He quickly ducked into the opening and shuffled some bags around until he found his. Pulling it out, he looked at the pastor and lifted his bag waist high and then let his arm fall to his side. It was as dirty as the bus.

"Are your parents home?" the pastor asked.

"I don't know, but I got a key."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"You mean, yes."

"Yes, Pastor."

"Check. Make sure."

Digging deeply into the pocket of his dirty blue jeans, Bobby withdrew his hand and dangled the keys.

"Good. Tell your parents what happened. If they want to talk to me have them call me. And tell them why we had to end the outing so soon. Don't tell them Mr. Wyatt is in the hospital. I'll handle that. After all, I'm driving the bus as good as he does, right?"

Bobby nodded, but couldn't prevent the smile spreading over his face.

"Okay, I have to get the other children home. Make sure you tell them about the fire and that no one got hurt. Well, except Mr. Wyatt. No, I'll tell them about him. Just have them call me, okay?"

"Sure thing, Pastor. See ya."

Bobby spun around and half walked half skipped to his front door. Dropping his keys, he stooped to pick them up and glanced under his arm. The pastor looked annoyed, his hands on his hips. Bobby quickly inserted the key and turned it. He opened the door, turned and waved. The pastor nodded and climbed into the bus. Bobby watched it pull away, hoping it didn't sideswipe one of the parked cars. Then he went into the house.

He heard a man's voice coming from the living room and was excited that his parents were home so he could tell them about his experience. It's not every day you are in a forest fire. He fought the urge to run like he normally would have. He was going to make a grand entrance. He knew they'd be surprised and most surely make a comment about how dirty he was, but then he was going to explain his ordeal. He was going to be the center of attention.

"Oh yeah, you're the best. Keep doing it ... keep doing it!"

Bobby stopped when he heard the man talking. He was now close enough to make out the words. It wasn't so much what the man said, but how he said it. He was almost shouting, and he sounded breathless like he had just been running. Bobby's pace slowed considerably, almost walking on tiptoes, and then he cautiously entered the living room. He gasped loudly and his bag made a thump when it fell to the floor. His mother looked at him, her face filled with confusion. And then her eyes widened with recognition. Her mouth would have formed a surprised "o" if it wasn't already shaped like that. She was naked, on her knees, with a strange man's cock in her mouth. And the man was also naked.

"Oh my god!" she screamed after pulling back and then scrunched into as small a figure as she could, her arms trying to cover her nudity.

"Sally, don't stop!" the man shouted. "I'm almost there."

She looked up at the man with a pained expression, and then her eyes locked on Bobby. She was white and trembling, her mouth opening and closing.

"Stop fooling around and suck my cock."

He grabbed her hair and yanked her to her knees. Her hands found his forearms and pulled, but he held on tight. He dragged her head up and leaned forward so that his cock bumped into her face.

"Open your mouth. C'mon, suck my cock! You can't leave me hanging."

Bobby saw his mother being abused and ran to her rescue. He lowered his shoulder and slammed into the man's back like a defensive football player knocking someone out of bounds. The man fell forward, flattening Bobby's mother under him. Bobby sailed over the man's back and landed on his side. He rolled three times and then scrambled to his hands and knees ready to charge.

"Bobby, no!" his mother shouted.

That froze him. Baffled, he stared at his mother. Then his eyes lowered to her nude body. Sally followed his gaze and shrieked, again scrunching into a ball.

The stunned man got to his knees and was ready to lunge at Bobby when Sally cried out, "No! Stop! Don't hurt him. He's my son."

"Mom, what's going on?" Bobby asked.

"Bobby ... oh god, this can't be happening. What are you doing here? Oh god, oh god."

"Where's Dad?"

Sally was trembling, her mind in turmoil. Her whole body was ready to shut down.