Fight Sequence Rainbow Arc of Fire: Autumn Saga

I had fun writing Autumn Saga, even if the book had a mixed reception. The Kindle edition has a few changes and even a significant chapter deletion meant to mitigate some of the more "preachy" aspects that a couple of readers found annoying. This is the first chapter where Paul and Greg act together to deal with a palpable, physical threat:

Chapter Thirty

That evening, Paul and Greg are getting dressed to go to the Park to catch a possible gay basher.

"OK," Paul immediately asks, staring into the closet, "what should we wear?"

"Why are you asking me?" Greg laughs, a bit indignantly. "Do you think I used to cruise the Park at night and am therefore knowledgeable about the various fashion statements made by lonely and sex-starved men?"

"That's not what I meant," Paul smiles, nudging his lover. "You're over-reacting. I just figured that since you've lived by the Park for more than three years, you've occasionally seen guys coming and going late at night."

"I'm not in the habit of noticing who's wearing what when they enter or exit the Park, Paul," Greg flatly states. "Most of the men I see are either walking dogs or are jogging. Nobody seems to be dressed peculiarly, if that's what you mean. And they may simply be walking their dogs or jogging rather than looking for sex."

"That's all I wanted to know," Paul explains, giving his partner a hug. "I wasn't implying anything about your behavior or theirs. I was just hoping for the two of us to look inconspicuous."

"I know," Greg admits, squeezing Paul's hand. "It's just that this whole topic of sex in the Park bothers me. On the one hand, I understand some of the motivations of guys who are lonely and looking for relief, even in public places late at night. But I'm also sensitive to the opinion that public sex is just plain sleazy. That if you do pick up someone, you ought to take him home and not do it in a public park or bathroom, even if it is late at night, it’s dark, and no one is likely to catch you in the act."

"I understand," Paul soothes. "I'm sure that the first car that was parked in some lover's lane somewhere was occupied by a straight couple, making babies in the back seat. Gays are certainly not the only ones who engage in sex outside of a darkened bedroom with the shades drawn."

"True," Greg agrees. "Anyway, I'm sure Levis and T-shirts will probably be acceptable attire for strolling through the Park late at night."

"And a light jacket," Paul adds, reaching into the closet. "It's been much cooler lately."

A little while later, the two are walking across the width of Cheesman Park, trying to act like potential victims instead of two hunks who could beat any possible attacker to a pulp.

"Are you picking up anything?" Paul asks Greg regarding his telepathy.

"Not a thing!" Greg explains. "Well, a couple of people we know are about, but I don't sense any predatory mental activity. By the way, what time is it?"

Consulting his glowing watch, Paul announces, "It's just after midnight. The 'witching hour!'"

"That may be," Greg smiles, "but there aren't even any witches out right now."

"Why don't we take that path over by those trees behind the Pavilion?" Paul suggests. "It's always rather darker over there."

As they continue to walk, Greg observes, "You can just see our new condo through the trees."

"You're right," Paul nods. "The Park looks so beautiful in this full moon. I think.…"

The sentence is left incomplete as a massive, furry shape smashes through the low brush by the Botanic Gardens and leaps at Paul, pulling him down with a terrible snarling and vicious tearing sound.

"Paul!" Greg shouts, trying to make mental contact with the creature, assuming that some rabid dog is on a rampage. It is only then, as he reads no thoughts at all, that he sees now that the creature appears to be more in the shape of a large, furry man than a dog since, whatever it is, it is garbed in torn clothing, seemingly burst from within.

Greg grabs at the creature's wide shoulders to pull him off of Paul while Paul struggles to get out from under the manbeast.

From out of nowhere, a sudden blast of wind catches the creature unexpectedly and hurls him aside, rolling him across the path and into the bushes. A terrible thrashing begins and then seems to disappear, first along the fence, then over the wide gate, and finally into the grounds of the Botanic Gardens itself.

Concerned, Greg reaches down to help up his lover, "Paul, are you all right?"

"Yeah," Paul nods, springing up off the ground and checking himself for wounds.

"I don't see any cuts or any bleeding," Greg exclaims, surprised and relieved. "What the hell was that anyway?"

"I don't know," Paul responds. "It scared the hell out of me because it moved so fast. And I couldn't believe the strength of that thing. If I hadn't conjured up that wind, I'm not sure the two of us could have gotten him off me. By all rights, I ought to be severely torn up, but I feel only a couple of bruises where I hit the ground. I need to sit down for a minute."

"Here's a concrete bench," Greg offers as he helps Paul to it, even though the younger man seems only unnerved rather than injured.

Catching his breath, Paul asks, "Did you try to read that creature's thoughts?"

"I did," Greg confesses, "and I got absolutely nothing. It wasn't even like when Colonel Traxall shut down his mind to me when he knew that I was trying to read his thoughts last summer."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Greg slowly explains, warily shaking his head and looking through the fence into the moon-bathed grounds of the Gardens, "I got no thought processes at all; as if that creature, whatever it is, has no mind to read!"

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