An unexpected side trip

By votdat 
3 parts
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Part 1

This all starts out with me flying a small plane. A friend asked me to ferry a private twin engine aircraft to Hawaii from Australia. It had auxiliary fuel tanks in place of the rear seats. Survival supplies and myself. I was on the long leg from US Samoa to Hawaii, with a carefully planned fuel and rest stop in between on very small island in a very large ocean. I could have done it nonstop. But I would have very little fuel in reserve when I landed. Plus flying for 14+ hours straight is stupid. Lindbergh I’m not. Overall, things had been going well.

I was few hours out of my fueling and rest break and quite a few more hours southwest of Hawaii. Comfortably running a several hours ahead of a large, not yet tropical, storm system that was supposed to track “mostly” south of me. Annoyingly, the prevailing winds had carried me about 100 miles off of my planed course. I still had more than enough fuel to safely get to my destination. I had GPS navigation and high enough altitude to have radio but no radar contact with air traffic control. Plus, a satellite phone and handheld comm radio for paranoia purposes. I could only imagine Amelia Earhart and others like her with the technology they had doing a similar flight.

The little internal monologue voice in the back of my head. That one a majority of us have. Some of us don’t have it. That one that asks if you locked the door to your home when you are 2 miles away, said: “That’s a cheerful example. Your route hadn’t been too far from hers until you blew off course.”

“Shaddup!” I said to the cockpit.

Always desperate for something to look at, I was amazed at the number of uncharted shallow atolls, coral reefs and tiny islands that could suddenly appear out of “nowhere” in some areas of the Pacific. This area being no exception.

All was great until one engine started running rough and getting rougher. “Wonderful. Now what?” I played with several things and concluded I might have some spark plug fouling. I started looking closer at some of those tiny places with binoculars. As time passed the engine got worse. Finally, I was pleasantly surprised to find a very small half green island with what appeared to be an honest to gosh short airstrip taking up about one third of it. I turned the plane to get a closer look. The runway was marked closed but appeared to be intact from my altitude. There appeared to be a hangar at the end and at least one other small multi story building nearby. I thought: “This is almost too good to be true.” The little voice said: “Probably is.” I growled: “So, do you have any better ideas?” Silence. “Thought so.”

I called the aircraft owner on the sat phone. It went instantly to message. Not surprising. This friend never answers his phone and can take days to check messages. I got the beep: “Hey! This is Tyler! Your friend with your airplane. Thought I should let you know. I’m a few hours out of Hawaii. Got one engine running rough. Getting ready to land on a small uncharted island in the middle of nowhere. If I get down in one piece, get the engine fixed, survive the oncoming storm and successfully take off. I’ll see you in 2-3 days. If I don’t, send search and rescue. Oh yeah, almost forgot. The coordinates are: [removed by me]. Catch you later maybe. Bye!” and cut the connection. Teach him to never answer. I then turned the phone off for the landing because I didn’t need the possible distraction.


I contacted Air Traffic Control. I also ended up also communicating with a couple commercial airliners that were barely in range who heard my plight. Told them about the engine problems. That I would be dropping out of radio contact. Gave them the GPS coordinates of where I was trying to land. I offered to give them a 30 second ELT burst at the top of the hour if they wanted to know if I landed safely. They said sure. Finally, asked that if they did not hear from me after that in 24-48 hours to send out search and rescue. They wished me well, gave me an updated weather report, said they’d contact customs in HI for me. Then, I started my decent. I was able to keep in contact with the airliners slightly longer than I could with ATC. At least people knew where I was. Unlike Amelia and Fred.

The landing was “sporting” due to debris on the runway. So, it wasn’t my most stellar landing by a long shot. More luck than skill. But I got the plane down in one piece and taxied it to the hanger. I was very happy I didn’t see any witnesses.

I shut down the plane and crawled out. A short distance away was a four-story office style building. It had small windows and heavy concrete construction to survive tropical storms. Like the hangar, it was constructed a few feet higher than the surrounding ground to help protect it from any storm surge. The hanger itself had concrete wall construction and a metal roof. It looked pretty intact.

I sent out the ELT burst. Then, I walked over to the human door and found it unlocked. I went in and tried to turn on the lights and open the hanger doors. “No power,” I said to the building. “Not surprised.” I was able to open the doors manually. Went back to the plane. Started the good engine, got the plane rolling, got it just outside the door, shut it down and coasted it into the hangar. Got back out of the plane. Then took a closer look inside of the hanger in better light.

As I looked around I was surprised by several things. I said to the building, “Wow! It almost looks like they just walked away from this place. If those toolboxes have anything in them fixing this engine will be a heck of a lot easier.” After a long pause, I voiced what little voice was whispering to me: “Unfortunately, this entire situation is starting to look like nearly every variant of a deserted island adventure / horror story I’ve ever heard of. Complete with idiot plots.” I paused a couple beats. “Thank you brain! You can shut up now!”

I walked over to one of the larger toolboxes, opened a few well stocked drawers, and found the tools I needed to start the process. I froze as the lizard part of my brain whispered that someone might be staring at the back of my head. I said in a loud voice, “Hi! Is there anyone out there?”

I stayed frozen for a moment longer when I heard a male voice: “Hello. Can I help you, sir?”

Both I and the little voice thought: “All right! Cue ominous music,” as I turned towards the voice. In the far corner of the hanger, stood a young man in one-piece grey coveralls. The arms and legs were obviously several inches short on him. I could see what looked like a company logo on the chest I couldn’t identify from that distance. He was wearing well-worn work boots with no laces. It looked like his feet barely fit in them.

There was no window or entrance over there I could see. I thought: “I’ll bet a week’s pay he wasn’t standing there before.” He started walking towards me. “Uh, yeah,” I said. “My car broke down and I was wondering if I could use your telephone?” He looked slightly puzzled. I smiled. “Never mind. Bad joke. I was having engine problems. I think fouled spark plugs. This was the only obvious place I could find to land around here. If it is the plugs, I’m hoping to pull them, clean them up, go on my way and stop intruding on you and yours.”

As he got closer I could see that he was probably in his early 20’s. Shoulder length brown hair. Average looking, light skinned, maybe Eastern European with some Middle Eastern mix. Around 6’ 6”-ish (198 cm). No idea of weight under those coveralls. But I could tell he had broad shoulders and a deep chest. He said: “I heard you flying around up there. Your engines sounded pretty rough. Glad you were able to find a place to land. What were you doing in a plane like that this far out?”

I told the story of what I was up to. I added how air traffic control knew where I was and were sending out search and rescue if they didn’t hear from me in a day or two. He nodded. I held out my hand and said: “I’m Tyler.”

He took my hand, shook it and said: “I’m Cory. Pleased to meet you, sir.”

I explained to him what I planned to do. Cory then offered to hand me tools and play gopher. I accepted.

I pulled the first plug, inspected it and said, “Yep, lead fouling. Better remember to use that tank of fuel last when I leave. I should probably pull the plugs on both engines and clean them up. Just in case.” I showed him what the plug looked like and what you needed do to clean them.

Over the next couple hours we talked as we cleaned and replaced plugs. I probably could have done it in half the time, but the conversation and some Murphy issues slowed me down. The other engine was showing signs of fouling. But not as bad. We talked about a range of things. Cory said he lived as a caretaker here. We talked about fishing. He does a lot of it here to kill time. I occasionally fish just to torture the worms, drink, and socialize with my friends. Most of his questions were about what had been happening in the world over the last few years. It seems his means of contact with the outside world broke down a couple years ago and they keep forgetting to send him a replacement. While I never served, I could also tell from the yes sirs, no sirs and general stance that he probably had some military background.

It was mid to late afternoon and overcast when I got the cowlings back on the aircraft. I turned towards Cory, shook his hand again and thanked him profusely for his help and hospitality. Then mentioned that I should probably go ahead and get out of his hair. Before the weather got worse. Cory looked out of the hanger and replied: “Tyler, It looks like the leading edge of the squall is practically here. It’s late afternoon. You will be flying at night with no sleep and at least one tank of suspect gas. There are extra rooms here if you want to crash for the night and you can leave in daylight after the main squall passes.”

I was about to say: “No, that’s okay,” until I saw a momentary flash of hope, or maybe desperation, in his eyes. I realized: “This kid’s been alone out here for a while with no outside contact other than me. Providing a few hours of social interaction and relief is the least I can do for him.” The little voice said: “Spending the night in the castle during the storm, eh?” I audibly sighed at the voice and looked at Cory. “You make several good points I can’t argue with. I also have a case of get-there-itis. Let me grab my backpack, food and other stuff. I don’t want to impose on your supply. Heck! Dinner’s on me. I have enough food both of us for 2 to 3 days.” I asked him to help me spin the plane around to where it faced the doors. We then closed the hangar doors, exited the hangar and walked to the building.

The building was dry and sealed. It had that smell of must and general lack of recent occupation. He showed me a room with a dresser and a couple bunks on the third floor where I dropped my stuff off. We had a good meal of somewhat fresh sandwiches, fresh fruit and canned stuff as the wind picked up and the rain started outside. Followed up by a beer each. He seemed to enjoy it all immensely. We played cards by solar-powered lantern. Finally, I stood up, said I had a long day and should probably call it a night. Cory said he should do the same.

I went to my room. Laid a large garbage bag from my backpack over the musty mattress, my sleeping bag and pillow over that. Stripped down to my underwear and tee shirt. Closed the door, locked it, and stuck a chair under the doorknob. Just in case. Not that I thought it would do any good if my annoying little voice was actually right about anything. But at least it would give me warning. I think I fell asleep pretty quickly.


I bolted straight up out of bed to a loud scream through the closed door that drowned out the storm outside. Followed by fainter, anguished, incomprehensible words. I glanced at my watch. I had probably only been asleep for 2-3 hours. I grabbed my “resisting arrest special” flashlight, slipped on my shoes, ignored the little voice, opened the door and cautiously followed the sounds of the sobbing down the pitch black hallway.

I stopped outside the completely dark room. Not shining my light into it. “Cory. Are you okay?”

No reply. Waited a few seconds and repeated myself. He sniffed and said: “Sorry. Bad dream.”

I replied: “Do you want to talk about it?” No reply. “Light,” I said as I shined my light, aimed very low into the room. For a moment I was struck speechless.

Cory was nude. Sitting on the edge of his bunk. Facing away from the door. His light skin glowed with a sheen of sweat and a light coating of body hair. His elbows were on his knees and his head in his hands. I could see a thickly muscled back. Wide lats that tapered to a narrow waist I’d guess was around half the diameter of his chest. His traps nearly hid his neck from the rear. I am lousy at estimating sizes but I’d say his upper arms were around the mid 20 some inches (51 cm) around un-flexed. His forearms were at least in the high teens. All with practically no visible body fat. Everything was proportional and well defined. Even with some loose skin here and there.

Now I am a 50 ish, closeted bi, who for very good reasons plays straight. I like looking at fit men and women of practically every body type, of any age. Whether I am attracted long term to someone or not is affected by several things. If there isn’t much in the ‘head’ or in the ‘heart’ behind any looks or nice body they have, it’s all just eye candy. Narcissists need not apply. I also believe it’s creepy to be going out with anyone considerably less than half your age. Finally, I had never before been initially attracted to, or really got into the very heavily muscled bodybuilder type, much less young ones. Until this instant that is.

I finally caught up with myself. “Are you sure? Sometimes it helps if you can talk these things out. I’ve been told I make a pretty decent bartender or priest.” Pause. “Might not have another opportunity for a while.”

After a few moments he lifted one hand in a come in gesture, then said: “You will probably come to regret that offer, sir.”

“Well, I guess I’ll be the judge of that”. I sat down on the other side of the bunk behind him at a 90degree angle to his back. I put my closest hand on top of his shoulder with my forearm lying down his back. I felt his traps and back relax some. Then I waited for about half a minute.

Then in a bright sing song voice: “So, in the beginning….” I felt him twitch as he stifled a chuckle. That was a good sign.

Cory started speaking. “Around 30 years ago the [name removed] company built this place so they would have a private place no one knew about to do biomedical research”.

I replied: “Something like that usually isn’t good.” The little voice was screaming “I told you so! Good to meet you, Dr Moreau!” My mind snapped back. “Shaddup! It’s not that bad yet.”

Cory Nodded and continued: “In short. About 22 years ago I was” (finger air quotes) “‘born here’. The company was contracted to produce a super-soldier prototype. I was supposed to be it. When I was 15 the project was canceled because the experiment was considered an expensive failure that exceeded its cost-to-benefit ratio.”

My little voice said: “Yet!” I accidently vocalized my mental answer of: “Sssssssh—” then quickly continued with: “That sucks. They may not have gotten the results they wanted but I can’t see how anyone could see you as a failure. You are who you are. No more, no less. It isn’t your fault you wound up who where and what you are.”

I stood up, walked around the bed. Sat down beside him and stretched to put my arm over his shoulder. Then I had to work once again to keep my mouth from dropping open. Mr. lousy estimates was guessing his chest had to be about 65 inches (165 cm) plus. With deeply rounded striated pecs. A deeply ridged 8 pack. Maybe 36 inch (92cm) plus thighs? Hard to tell as they were flattened out on the mattress. I could easily tell his uncut penis was obviously nowhere near excited. But it was still close to 6 inches (15 cm) or more long and maybe 8-10 inches (20-25 cm) in circumference. I couldn’t see his testicles due to his thighs and cock.

Cory looked at me: “I assume you can see why I they considered me a failure sir?”

I sighed: “I still don’t see you as a failure, but I can possibly see some reasons why the specs were off.”

Cory snorted and looked at me: “A special ops type soldier is supposed to be fast, strong, agile. Check! But, they must also be capable of blending in. Staying and looking unremarkable, unnoticed and not drawing attention. Being smart. But, not smart enough to ask too many questions. You’re not going to find much of any of that last stuff here, sir,” he added, as he patted his chest. He looked away to the wall.

I couldn’t disagree with his assessment of being noticeable. They blew that big time. In more ways than one. While I wanted to ask what they thought might have gone wrong. I’d save that question for later. I figured instead to ask the critical question of the new day. “So. Where is everyone else and why are you still here?”

He sat silent for over a minute. I patiently waited. “When I was 15, a corporate plane landed. Normally we got a company jet or cargo plane about every 3 to 5 months, give or take. This was an unannounced special trip. Everyone on the island was called in for a mandatory meeting.” Long pause. “No one on the island at that meeting left it alive.”

The sudden realization and sadness I felt had to be evident on my face for what this 15-year-old kid had apparently gone through. “Why weren’t you in there?”

He shrugged. “I know at least a few of the people here figured the project was coming to an end. Some of them told me not to attend. I think they were probably wanting to break the news to me in their own way. I’m figuring they weren’t expecting the employee severance method they used.” He paused again and sniffed as a couple more tears fell.

“I found out seven months later at least one person was more aware than the others. I think it had to be one or more of the Samoan and Pilipino maintenance guys. I found an official certified birth certificate, Social Security card wallet, and passport for me. They were issued around 9 months before it all happened. They were hidden in an envelope, buried in the maintenance files of the physical plant behind this building. “

“I have no idea how anyone managed to arrange those. Or, even succeeded in, or even thought it was a good idea, to smuggle them onto the island. Much less any sane plan there may have been to get me out of here undetected.” Long pause as he smiled wistfully at the memories. “They were great to me. They taught me everything I needed to know about mechanics, electronics, everything, to fix anything on the island and more. They even ordered me several sets of my own coveralls. I was wearing one of the remaining ones today. I think they got in a little trouble for that. They didn’t care though.”

I thought: “Ohhhhh! I can easily see all that happening. Yes indeed!”

He continued: “I’m also glad the kitchen also regularly ordered way too much canned food for the cafeteria. It has come in handy over the years.”

At that point I finally made a few connections in my mind. “Dammit! I’m usually better than this! I’m getting way too slow in my dotage.”

Cory continued: “I was outside, between here and the lab building, when I heard the gunfire inside this building. So, I took out two of the off-island security people before they could react, grabbed their weapons and barricaded myself in the lab building on the opposite end of the island. I managed to sneak out of it and hide before they blasted it down to the foundation. You probably saw the remains of it when you landed?”

I sheepishly shook my head. “I didn’t notice it. I was too busy watching the runway.”

He nodded. “Makes sense. They spent over a week or so here cleaning out all the research connected to me and the personal effects of the people who lived here. They left everything else. They also kept looking for me the whole time.”

“Even though there was a lot of my DNA in that lab building to find, they obviously couldn’t find any bits of me. They wanted solid proof I was no longer alive. I was almost discovered a couple times before they gave up and left. They still would randomly come back about 1 or 2 times a year and search. That finally stopped about 5 years ago. I assume I was successful in not leaving evidence I was alive. I’ve never assumed they’ve stopped looking though, and still try to minimize my footprint here.”

Cory stood up. I joined him, turned and gave him a large long hug. He reciprocated. My 5’10” (178 cm) tall frame put the top of my head at the tip his chin and my crotch near the tip of his cock. As the hug was ending, much to my annoyance, my cock started reacting in my shorts. I shifted my hips slightly back from him so I’d break contact, hoping he didn’t notice. He had started to break the hug but he loosened it instead and put his hands behind my lower back. I put my hands on his forearms. He gave me a grateful smile. “I’m honored you like something about a freak like me.”

I thought: “Sigh. He noticed. Who knows how this is going to end up.” I shrugged, smiled and told less than the full truth: “You are a smart, articulate young man with a good personality who doesn’t seem full of himself. Other than being young enough to be my kid, what’s not to like?”

He gave me a big smile. “Thank you. I like you too. You are kind, open, willing to listen and you certainly aren’t too bad looking either.”

I thought: “Not too bad looking? You have been alone for too long!” I have a pretty run of the mill face. Hair half black and grey. I run about 250 pounds (113kg). People usually put me around 30 pounds (13 kg) lighter if I’m dressed. I still have a decent amount of muscle mass at my age. I don’t have a pot belly but have always ran on the chunky side. So I seldom go shirtless. Even alone. Barely with my Doctor. It is one of my few vanities. I simply have a more or less even layer of fat that leaves less of a hint of what muscle definition I have each passing year.

My cock, however, didn’t want to listen to me and stop. It kept right on growing. There at least, I’m on the high end of average with a length just short of 7 inches (18 cm) measured from the top. With an about average circumference just short of 5 inches (13 cm) and cut. I said: “So, Cory. Are you straight, gay or bi?”

He shrugged and we locked eyes. As he started speaking I felt his cock starting to throb against mine. “Bi. I guess. I like everyone equally. Don’t really know though. Since I’m still a virgin. Probably always will be.”

Something in my face made him raise his eyebrows. “Of course I am!” He looks down at his cock. “There is no way I’ll probably ever have anything resembling normal sex with a normal human being with this silly thing.” Then looks me in the eye. “Besides, even if I could safely physically do it, who was I going to have sex with on this island? Plus, that’s one of the last things I wanted on camera! Having them occasionally catching me jacking off was bad enough! They kept wanting to collect samples.”

I realized he had a point. Anyone on this island who wasn’t his ‘family’ was ‘studying him’. Plus. I’ll bet ‘fraternizing with the experiment’ would have probably been career ending. At the minimum. We stayed in contact. He stopped talking and I stayed silent. But we kept staring into one another’s eyes.

His ‘silly thing’ though was becoming quite evident to me. In the minute we stood there I had to spread my legs slightly to make room as it grew. By the time it was threatening to lift me off of the ground it was probably around 19 to 21 inches (48-53 cm) long measured from the top and about 14” (35 cm) in circumference. His testicles were each about the size of a racquetball.

I stepped back and looked down at the mass below me. “How do you even have enough blood to inflate it?”

He shrugged and replied, “I do, but I can occasionally get woozy if I’m not careful.”

“I can believe that,” I said as I used both of my hands to shuck my shorts and step out of them. Then, I put one hand on the middle of his cock to push it down to fully straddle it. It didn’t move. I blinked and paused for a moment. Then, I applied a respectable amount of force to lower it. I put both hands around his waist to help pull myself the rest of the way on and next to him. That took a lot more than I expected to move his cock. Just what all is Cory capable of? I started to wonder. Some of the possible answers scared me. But fortunately for me, not enough to kill the mood.

I stretched my head up and started kissing his chin. He lowered his head and we started kissing properly. Then I started moving my hips in and out, while again using a surprising amount of force to squeeze his cock between my legs. He reached for my T shirt. I released my grip on his waist and raised my arms as he pulled it off. He started to lightly rub my back and buttocks. My cock rode on top of Cory’s. The tip buried itself in his pubic hair tickling it as the head bounced off of his lower abs with each stroke.

As we continued kissing I started moving my tongue towards his open mouth. Tickling his teeth. He raised his eyebrows and started to tentatively reciprocate. We started doing a delicate dance with each other at the edges of our mouths. We continued to explore each other’s bodies with our hands.

I started moving my hips faster. We stopped kissing and he let out a low moan. I sped up my motion. I could tell he was close to climax. A few seconds later the rubbing on my back stopped. The pressure on my back started getting harder. Suddenly, much harder. He pushed my chest against his and nearly all of the air out of my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. My rib cage felt tighter than it ever had before in my life. I instinctively made a gasping whimper of pain with the last bit of my air being pushed out. Just before it felt like my ribs were starting to shift. I started pounding the sides of his waist. He instantly released the pressure and dropped his arms. I took a quick gasp of air, coughed, inhaled and then looked up into Cory’s face.

He was staring at me. Wide eyed. A look of shocked horror frozen on his face. He whispered: “If you hadn’t stopped me… so close…I almost…. Oh god I’m so sorry!”

I gave him a comforting smile: “I’m okay, Cory. We are still both learning. It’s okay.” His face remained frozen. I put both hands gently on both sides of his head, stood on tiptoes and gently kissed him on the nose. I repeated “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

His cock was deflating out from under me as he kept repeating “I’m so sorry” and I kept repeating “It’s okay.” We stood there and I gently hugged him for several minutes. Meanwhile my little voice is yelling. Calling me all sorts of things. Questioning my carelessness, intelligence, sanity, and parentage. I couldn’t argue with any of it.

We finally stepped slightly apart. I think Cory wanted to break contact, but I kept hold of his forearms. After a moment. He raised his arms and lightly gripped my forearms. “Feeling better now?”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe I lost control like that,” he said in an anguished voice.

I gave him a small smile. “Well. You wouldn’t be the first human to lose control in the throes of passion. Nor the last. To maintain control during sex can take time and practice. From what you have told me, this is the first time you’ve done anything with anyone. Right?” Cory nodded. “So yes, a mistake was made. By both of us. Repeat. Both… of… us. You, made a mistake. On the sole fault of lack of experience. My mistake was bigger than yours. I should have fully realized the possibility of this happening, considering what you have told me. I should not have gotten myself into the physical position of possibly getting trapped without an escape route. This was much more my fault than yours. You don’t need to apologize for what happened to me. I need to apologize to you for putting you in that situation. I’m sorry.”

He looked doubtful but did relax slightly when he finally realized I really wasn’t upset with him. “Do you want to keep going?” I gently asked.

He quietly replied: “Can we try something else? Something that might be safer for you?”

“Sure!” I cheerfully replied, hoping to get his mind away from where I figured it probably was.

He sat down on the bed, looked at me and said: “I’m going to lift you up. Okay?” I nodded. He put his hands on both sides of my hips and lifted me above his head like I wasn’t there. “Put your legs over my shoulders.” I complied. He sat me down on his shoulders with my cock in his face. My butt partially resting on his pectorals. Then moved his hands to the small of my back. I had a fairly stable seat.

After about 10 seconds, he took a deep inhale through his nose. “Wow! You smell good!”

“Thank you,” I answered. Interesting! That is something I’ve heard from a couple ladies I’ve been physically “close” to who were into me. But this was the first time I’ve ever heard it from a man. I’ve heard all sorts of things about pheromones in the animal kingdom and such. But I never put too much stock into it with humans. Since our noses supposedly have such a limited range. Who knows though? Maybe Cory’s range is wider? I reached below me and started playing with his nipples. They were erect almost instantly.

He opened his mouth and started playing with my cock with his tongue. Occasionally putting his lips round it and moving his head in and out to stroke it. Along with pulling some light suction. I was hard in about 3.6 seconds. Sadly for me, I blew my load into his mouth in probably less than two minutes. I’m proud to say I usually last much longer than that!

As my cock started to shrink I looked down: “You are great at that! Thank you!”

Cory gave me a mischievous smile. “Well, that is the one thing I do have practice at.”

I pursed my lips and did a bobbing ‘Okay, makes sense to me’ head nod. I glanced down behind me and saw he was fully hard again.

“Do you want to try again where we left off?” He looked doubtful. I persisted because I didn’t want him to internalize the scare he had any more than what he already had: “We were enjoying it. Plus we know what to do differently this time. Right?”

He thought for a few moments, then nodded. I swung my leg off his shoulder and got off of him, standing beside him on the mattress as he stood up. I stepped down onto the floor and into, something wet. It appeared to be about a 10” (25 cm) diameter pool of what looked to be precum from our previous attempt. “Egad!” I thought. “Even his prostate is in hyperdrive.”

Cory stood and I slipped myself back on top of his cock and clamped back on. I put my hands on the side of his upper waist and started moving my body in and out. Cory kept his hands off of me. After a couple minutes I guided his hand to the left side of my waist for support as I kept my right hand on his waist. I stretched up my head and started kissing Cory on his lips. As we kissed, I reached back with my left hand and slipped my index finger between the glans and foreskin. Using his slow steady stream of precum as a lubricant I slowly circled my finger inside the foreskin and around his head, occasionally stopping to gently massage the frenulum. Cory reached down with his other hand and used a finger to gently stroke my surprising to me, already hard cock.

After about 10 minutes of experimentation, I sped up my hip movement. Less than a minute later he dropped his arms to his sides. Balled his fists and stood up on tiptoes as veins popped and every visible strand of muscle in his body tensed. Then Cory let out a gasp and a look of bliss crossed his face. I felt a surge and a bounce between my legs as he came. I felt what I figure were at least a dozen squirts. It sounded like the first two or three shots may have hit the wall, about 2 to 3 feet (60-90cm) behind me. I was facing the wrong way to see. Nothing would surprise me at this point.

Even though he had quit shooting, he was still quite hard several minutes later when we quit kissing and hugging. I slipped myself off of him. “So, when does it go down?”

Cory shrugged. “If I stop thinking about it, it will shrink. Otherwise it could stay hard for quite a while.”

“Next question: For quite a while? Out of blatant curiosity. How long before you can climax again?”

He thought for a moment. “Well, it can take as long as a half hour.”

I had to stop and process that one. “As long as a half hour?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed.

“Alrighty then!” I quipped.

Cory unfocused his eyes for a moment. Then said: “Helicopter.”

Part 2

. . Caution: This chapter contains graphic violence toward individuals. If you want to avoid this content, skip to Part 3.


I looked confused and started listening. About 15 seconds later I could hear it too through the storm. “Who the heck would desperate or insane enough be out here in the middle of nowhere in this storm?” I asked as the only logical answer came to me before I finished speaking. “Crap! It’s them! Has to be!”

Cory looked at me with suspicion. “You told them we were here.”

“Whoa!” I thought. “Wrong thought path there. We don’t have time for this.”

I looked at Cory and said in a calm firm voice: “I didn’t tell them you were here. They are obviously monitoring this island. You yourself even think so. That is the reason you never go outside unless it is overcast. I’ll bet you don’t even go out at night because you think they have satellite capability.”

He gave me a surprised: “How do you know that?” look. I ignored it and continued. “Even though they haven’t visited the island for years actively looking for you. You are still prepared for a visit from them.” Our thoughts were interrupted by clap of thunder that exploded nearly on top of us. Followed a few seconds later by the sounds of increasing engine power. Then a series of distant obvious crashing noises.

I started putting on my tee shirt and shorts. “It is obvious they have resources nearby. Most helicopters don’t have long legs. 200 to 350 nautical miles (370-650 km). So, either another island. Not likely. Or more likely, a ship with a helipad on it. I have no idea why it took their chopper so long to get here after me. Maybe the ship was out of position for some reason. The storm slowed them down. Who knows? They obviously monitor the aircraft and shipping frequencies for anyone who may notice this little out of the way paradise. From what you say, they probably make sure anyone who knows about this place never has a chance to talk about it. They probably heard my broadcasts to ATC, knew I had probably successfully landed and were coming for me. Not you. Again, they probably think you are long gone. Now it sounds like they may have crashed. I just don’t know what took them so long.” He stood there looking at me, with a look of uncertainty and confusion.

I turned to leave the room. “I don’t know about you but, if there are any survivors, I need to do what I can to keep them away from that airplane. Or we are all screwed!” I jogged to my room. Finished dressing and quickly and carefully went down the stairs to the first floor. I got to the front door of the building and cautiously looked out of the window. The rain was falling hard, almost sideways in fact.

Out towards the middle of the runway to my right, behind the palm trees, I could dimly see a small fire burning. I looked to the left towards the hanger. The light from the fire was pretty faint at that range but I could see what might be one person slowly moving towards the hangar. A close lightning flash gave me a better picture. It was a person in body armor, trying to do a tactical move with a pronounced limp. They had a rifle of some sort and a helmet with I think may have been night vision gear.

Unfortunately, the person was about 25 to 30 feet (7-10 m) from the hangar. I did the only thing I could. I opened the door, stepped into the frame and yelled at the top of my lungs: “Hey! Hi! I’m over here! Boy am I glad to see you! Are you okay?” The person stopped. I started to spin and drop as they pivoted, raised the rifle to their shoulder, and fired a burst towards the doorway.

I heard the buzzing sound of bullets hitting the metal door and frame. I also heard and felt flying concrete chips above my head. I felt something burning along the length of my upper right arm as I slammed into the tile floor and slid a short distance. I twisted myself around. I could barely see the top of the head of the person in the next lightning flash. He started slowly moving towards the building as I swept my foot to slam the door shut. “Okay,” I muttered quietly to myself. “The plane’s hopefully safe for now. Now what Dr. Einstein?”

As I finished that thought I heard: “Tyler!”—a hoarse whisper in the pitch blackness of the foyer. “You idiot! Are you okay?”

I felt my right arm. I felt a hole in the shirt but didn’t feel anything sticky. “Yeah. Think I got a friction burn from a bullet though.”

Cory growled: “You’re right. You aren’t bleeding. That was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever seen. What the hell were you thinking?”

My thoughts skid sidways for a moment. “Wait, he can see me? Oh yeah. Nevermind.” I grinned at where I figured his face was and whispered, “It was exactly the thing the average poor shub stuck here might have done if they didn’t know better. Unlike them, I knew enough to react in time. Barely. He’s quick. Maybe the plane is safe for now. Could there be more than one of them?”

As I got up on my hands and knees I felt Cory slip past me along the wall, peek out the window, and lock the door. “I don’t think so. SOP should have at least two people approach the building. Covering each other. Maybe if only two people thought they had two targets, they might split. No, I think he’s the only one moving right now.”

“Good!” I replied. “Now what do we do with him?”

I heard a touch of humor in Cory’s whisper. “Well, as you said, he doesn’t know I exist. So you get to play the bait and I get to play the trap.”

I replied in a droll whisper, “Charming! You’ve probably been waiting for the last 55 seconds to say that! Okay. He obviously has body armor, automatic weapons and what looks like night vision. Who knows what else? Any ideas?”

Cory, still with a touch of humor, whispered, “I have one. Probably not the best one. But it’s the one we have time for.”

Once you enter the building through the front door, you walk into an 8 to 10 ft (2.5-3 m) wide, about 14’ (4.5 m) deep foyer with chairs along one side. On the far wall, was an elevator door. The hallway ran to the left and right. There was a mechanical room door and a stairwell door to the right of the elevator. To the left of the elevator was a set of restrooms. I crawled along the floor around the corner to the right, leaving an obvious damp trail in the dust. I left no tracks towards the stairs or mechanical room. I stood and went down the hall past several doors. I partially opened a couple random ones on the way. Then stepped around the corner where the hall turned to the left and stopped. There I held a fire extinguisher in the ready position with my resisting arrest special in the other hand.

Less than a minute later, I heard the sound of the front door being unlocked and opened. After a few moments I heard him open what I guessing was the first closed door down the hall. While I thought he was starting to check the second or third room, I let out a loud, to me, unmuffled hiccup. I started to cautiously, for me anyway, backing down the hallway in retreat and gave a second muffled hiccup.

I could hear him quickly limping down the hallway towards the corner. As he approached it I heard a short series of sounds. Too short to be called a scuffle. Then the sound of something hitting the floor. Cory called out from around the corner. “All clear, Tyler!” I started moving forward and approached the corner, turned on my flashlight, aimed it low and looked around it towards the entrance.

I saw Cory kneeling over a man lying face up. The rifle was lying several feet behind him. Cory had just removed the man’s night vision goggles and helmet. He looked to be about late 40’s in age. Crew cut black hair. Between 5’ 8” to 6’ 0” (148—183 cm). Hard to tell under the body armor, but I’d guess a pretty solid build. “So, is he alive or dead?”

Cory replied without expression as he stood up, “He’s alive. But he shouldn’t be.”

“Oh?” was all I could think to say at that moment.

“Tyler, I would like to introduce Major [redacted], former chief of island security and one of my former trainers.”

After I lowered my eyebrows out of my hairline I replied: “So not pleased to meet you this morning, Major.” To Cory I added, “Nice call you made on him getting overconfident about chasing me. Walked right past those open doors. Well done!”

Cory gave a tight smile, “You did pretty well yourself playing the inexperienced prey. I suspect you are really better at this stuff than what you claim. I did note you grabbed a fire extinguisher to blind him and your flashlight to club him with if he actually made it around the corner or spotted me.”

I changed the subject. “I will leave you to catch up with the Major. I need to check on the hanger and the crash site to confirm no one else is moving around out there.”

Cory reached down and handed me the night vision goggles and pointed towards the rifle. “Take these, just in case. You know how the goggles work?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think they can be much different than the civilian ones,” I said as I took them from him.

The rain hadn’t slowed down any as I reached the hangar. I stood to the side of the human door. I turned on my flashlight, quickly swung the door open, held out my arm and shined the flashlight through the doorway at chest level. No reaction. I turned off the flashlight, aimed the rifle from my waist and quickly stepped through the door and moved to the side. “Real professional and trained like,” I thought. My little voice laughed in reply.

I closed the door and scanned the building with the goggles. Then, I turned on my flashlight and looked around the hangar. It appeared exactly the same as I left it. No other people inside. Then looked at the floor. No wet footprints anywhere. Other than mine. I breathed a sigh of relief and exited the hangar and started carefully walking towards the crash site about half way down and just off the edge of the runway. The lightning flashes were really messing with the vision gear. At least for me.

As I approached I could see what little fire there was had gone out. Apparently there wasn’t much fuel left aboard. It appeared to be a 4-5 passenger model. The fuselage was lying on its left side. There was a camera pod on the bottom between the skids. I could see the end of the tail boom lying a short distance away. Looking up I could see where they somehow managed to successfully clip a couple of the handful of palm trees on the island that were actually close to the runway.

This was making less and less sense. This chopper has a range of about 250 nautical miles (465 km). Maybe 350 (650 km) tops if it has reserve tanks. With a speed of 90 to 100 knots (166-185 kph). Probably a lot less in this weather. Their ship had to be way out of position. It still has to be. By rights, they should have shown up before we finished pulling all of the plugs out of the engines. Why the hurry since I had already been here this long? Particularly in this storm. I certainly wasn’t going anywhere. Why risk flying on a night any bird or most sane humans won’t?

I got to the cockpit and looked inside. I could see two fully kitted up males strapped in the back seats. They appeared quite dead. In the front left seat I could see a fully kitted up pilot strapped into his seat. Lying against the ground, surrounded by broken Plexiglas and metal. He was obviously dead. All of them were wearing night vision gear. The right front seat was empty. That had to be where the major was sitting. I had no idea if he was the pilot type, but instinct told me he was just riding there. Maybe the pilot was blinded by the lightning? The chopper was hit by lightning? He clipped the trees and overreacted? The weather exceeded the capacity of the chopper? Or the pilot? All the above? Who knows?

I crawled up onto the fuselage, and fully opened the rear door. Thankfully it wasn’t sprung. I spotted the ELT (Emergency location transponder) and noticed it had been locked off so it wouldn’t activate. On a whim, I loosened the lock and activated it. Wiped off any prints I may have left in the rain, mostly closed the door and walked back to the hangar. To this day I don’t know if doing that was a good idea, but it seemed like a good ‘giving a middle finger at the company’ idea at the time.

Inside the hangar, I opened the aircraft door, flipped the master switch and listened for the ELT. I could hear the signal ok. Then I realized that ATC might think the signal was mine. “Idiot!” I muttered. So I decided to break some rules and turned on the aircraft’s ELT for about 5-10 minutes. That way they should have seen two separate signals and ID’s for a time on the satellite. Meanwhile, I flipped the radio through a few of the common frequencies just in case, and heard nothing but static. I switched to the emergency frequency and broadcast in the blind that a helicopter just crashed on the island and that there were no survivors. I did this because, I of course know nothing about the history of this place and have nothing to hide at all. I shut everything down and went back to the building.

Inside the building, I found Cory and the Major in Cory’s room. The Major was lying on his stomach. He had been stripped bare. His arms were securely tied behind his back with strips of bedsheets by his wrists and elbows, forearm to forearm. His legs were tied by his ankles and knees. A blindfold was around his head. One knee looked pretty swollen. I could see where he had a nice collection of bruises on his torso. Looking at where they were, they were probably from the crash, not Cory. Cory was nude. He hadn’t put on any clothing since we were interrupted by the helicopter. Considering the way the coveralls fitted. I suspected this was his normal condition.

Cory was standing nearby. “I tied him the way I did so I would reduce the chances of leaving marks. I think I gave him a concussion when I knocked him out. If he didn’t already had one. I’m not sure.”

“Is he conscious?” I asked.

“I believe he’s awake. Just faking being out of it. I just didn’t want to talk with him until you were back.”

I nodded. Cory walked over and rolled the Major onto his back and removed the blindfold. He opened his eyes, looked at Cory and said with a smile. “Adam! I always suspected you were still alive! I just couldn’t convince anyone else of it!”

I gave Cory side glance. He looked at the Major. “Adam is the name I was given. I no longer use it.”

I nodded and sarcastically added, “Figures! I’ll bet they even tortured it into an acronym too.”

The major looked my way. “Mr Tyler [redacted] ! You are one lucky individual. Sad to say your luck has finally run out.”

I didn’t bother to reply. Cory knelt by the Major’s head and looked into his eyes. “I have a question.” A hint of a smile stayed on the Major’s face but he said nothing. Cory continued: “Why kill everyone? Why try to kill me?

The major laughed out loud. “Adam! I can’t believe you honestly don’t know the answer to that! It is as obvious as the nose on your face!” He shook his head and turned his gaze towards me. “But you might not know. So, I will answer it. In case it hasn’t given you any details.” He continued to speak.

“The company built this outpost for classified experiments. One of the company’s clients wanted a super soldier prototype. They finally, after several unsuccessful tries, successfully built Adam here. Even though there were some minor questions about how the project was progressing. Everything looked good overall. It could bench press the same weight I could at age 11.”

Cory interrupted, “I did mine for reps.”

The major’s eyes narrowed for an instant. Then he smiled and continued, “Until it hit puberty. Then everything went to hell. After that, almost nothing was within specs. The client eventually canceled the contract.”

He went on, “The company decided to keep the project going. At least until its hormones stabilized in a few years. They wanted to test its capabilities, limits and learn what they could about it. So, if the opportunity to try again ever came up, they might avoid making the same mistakes again.

“If everything had been in specs, we would have delivered the product to the client after hormone stabilization. It would have never seen this place, or anyone on it ever again. Then one of two things would have happened.

“One. We wouldn’t have gotten a production contract and shut down. Or, two: We would have gotten a production contract. We would have used the knowledge from any mistakes made on the prototype to build new and improved models for delivery. Eventually, like all things, it would have all come to an end.

“Everyone here would have wrapped up their work here and either started a new project. Or, may have left here to work on other projects. The rest who weren’t reassigned likely would have been tragically lost at sea in an aircraft or ship disaster.” He must have saw something in my eyes.

“Oh, come on! What else would you expect? Surely, you would know how many international laws and conventions, much less all the so called moral laws we flaunted here? Can you imagine the worry the client and company had of the sheer number of potential sources of eventual leaks? Not only did the client, and by extension the company not want the world ever asking questions. They didn’t even want the world to know the questions even existed!

“As far as letting it go?” He tilted his head towards Cory. “The nexus of all the questions. Look at it! Imagine the list! Who are you? Where were you born? Who were your parents? Where did you go to school? How did you get so big? How come no one in your hometown remembers you? Even something as innocent as someone standing at a urinal, glancing over and wondering where that mutated dick came from could be dangerous. They’d never stand for it. Nor ever take the risk.”

Cory continued to stare at the Major in silence. I waited expectantly for him to continue.

He obliged. “The company ultimately decided to shut down the project early. Before hormone stabilization. Because the situation on the island was starting to get out of control. Before the cancelation, there were a couple personnel who were showing signs of going native and getting personally involved with the project. But it was deemed minor and controllable. After the project cancelation, more personnel were showing signs of getting emotionally involved with it. The situation was getting worse over time.

“The decision was made to cut their losses. Collect the information. Liquidate the assets and mothball the island in case it might prove useful in the future. They certainly weren’t expecting the amount of property damage it took to do it.” He looked at Cory. “It seems even leveling a multimillion-dollar lab didn’t even do the job. I’d love to know how you pulled that off.”

Cory looked at the Major and asked in a neutral voice: “Mothballing the island meant still keeping it hidden. Did anyone ever find it besides Tyler?”

The major thought for a moment. “From construction to today: 2 aircraft and 3 boats. Including one small pesky Chinese, ahem, ‘fishing boat’.” He smiled with pride. “As far as we can tell, they never did figure out what happened to it. Or where it actually disappeared. The Pacific is big and anything but peaceful.” His grin became even wider.

“Sadly for you two, neither of you will be leaving this island alive either. Even if you do make it off the island, you won’t make it to Hawaii. If by some miracle you do make landfall…”

I interrupted his gloat. “No! Sadly for you and your masters, I have no intention of dying yet. When I finally do, it won’t be by the hands of your masters. Or, if it is, it won’t be for anything about this.”

The Major gave me his most confident smile. “I beg to differ. I know what is waiting for you. The two of you are fucked.”

I smiled back. “I don’t think so. It is your masters who will have to work at not being fucked by the time this is over.”

“No, major,” Cory said in a cold, emotionless voice. “Right now you are the one who is going to get fucked. For destroying everything and everyone I have ever known in my life.”

I could see Cory starting to rhythmically tighten his lower abdominal muscles a couple times a second.

“Co…. Adam!” I said in a warning voice.

I got a determined ‘don’t mess with me’ look. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to him that can’t reasonably be explained by the crash. Back off!” I raised both my hands chest high and literally backed off a step.

As Cory’s cock started to grow, the smile faded from the Major’s face. For the first time he started to struggle against his bonds. He knew he wouldn’t leave this room alive. He just didn’t know by what means until now. I’m not sure Cory did either until that point.

When he was fully erect, he bent over, flipped the major onto this stomach, and grabbed the major by the hips. Then straightened up like the major wasn’t there and held him straight out at almost arm’s length. Cory looked at me. “Cut his legs loose.” I looked doubtful. “Cut them loose, please, sir.”

I grabbed the major’s knife, unsheathed it and cut the ties, quickly jumping back at the major tried to strike at me and missed.

The major kicked at Cory’s legs with his unbound legs. He twisted around trying to break his grip on him with no luck. Cory extended his arms and put the head of his cock between the majors’ glutes. The major put his feet against Cory’s thighs and strained to push away like he was doing a squat. Cory didn’t seem to notice the resistance as he very slowly pulled the major onto his cock. The major let out a long loud scream of pain. Stopping only to take a breath, then screaming again. After about 15 seconds Cory’s head was inside. Then he started pushing in a little further.

I’m not quite sure when the major’s rectum or colon perforated, but the screaming mostly stopped. The major’s face was a mixture of pain and fear. I could see a long bulge slowly sliding up the inside of the majors’ abdomen. It stopped right below the sternum when Cory bottomed out. “Please cut his arms loose too if you could?” I did so and quickly stepped back again.

Cory then quickly moved his grip to the sides of the major’s chest and pulled himself about two-thirds out then bottomed again. He maintained his look of grim determination as he repeated this cycle about once a second or so. The major gave an involuntary exhale each time Cory shoved on his diaphragm.

After about two to three minutes I could see that the major was starting to lose consciousness from internal blood loss and the beating his internal organs were getting. Finally, I heard a quick series of loud pops and a faint gasp of pain from the major as Cory flexed his forearms and hands. Collapsing the major’s ribcage like an empty beer can.

Cory released his grip on the major. He arced downward and slowly slid off of Cory’s quickly shrinking cock onto the floor. “At least it was faster than what good old Vlad È epeÈ used to do back in the day,” I thought.

Cory looked at me, still expressionless. “If you will excuse me sir. I need to put the major back into the helicopter.”

“Go ahead.” I replied. “I have some things I can do in the meantime.” I left the room as Cory started to wipe himself off with a bedsheet.

Part 3

I used the opportunity alone to quickly explore the rest of the building. I found the large room where it looked like the “final meeting” was held. Found the food larder. Next, in and near the physical plant I located Cory’s likely initial and his later constructed hiding place. There, I also figured out how he was probably getting from building to building unseen. I spotted it all pretty easily. But, it helped a lot that I knew for a fact he was on the island.

I got lucky and found some powdered graphite in the maintenance shop. I was afraid I may have needed to take time I didn’t have to chop up a couple pencils. Finally some clear tape and white paper. Next, I made a fast stop in Cory’s empty room. Made a check of the usual ‘safe spots’ where people like hide to things. I found what I was looking for there. Then I went to work.

When I was done, I checked my watch and did some quick time zone calculations. Then I walked out to a covered area by the physical plant and made a couple phone calls. “Harry. It’s Tyler”. Pause. “Doing pretty well. Yes, that is rain you are hearing.” We spent a fast minute catching up on things. “Need to ask a favor of you.” Pause. “No. Well, maybe that’s the only reason I called.” Pause. Laugh. “I have a set of thumb and index fingerprints to send you.” Pause. “I know I can ask other people. But this one might be interesting.” Pause. “Well, probably not nearly as interesting as the last favor I asked. Not sure yet.” Pause. “I’m just saying to use caution with this one. I’m not really expecting you to find any official records. Best I know, this person’s never been in trouble. Or, worked for the government. But there is an extremely remote possibility of your search hitting a tripwire.” Pause. “I can… try to explain in more detail next time we meet. But I am probably more interested in finding out if there actually is a tripwire and who put it there. More so than any record you may or may not find.” Pause. “I’ll send you a high resolution photo of the prints.” Made a little more small talk and ended with me giving thanks. I hung up, sent the photo file of the prints, and called the next number.

“Hi Julie. Hope I didn’t wake you up.” Pause. “Good! Well, I’m flying another friend’s airplane to Hawaii for him.” Pause. “Not quite a vacation but it’s been fun.” Pause. “I’ll tell you the story the next time we meet.” Some of it, anyway, I thought. Then, had some small talk and gossip. “I need to call in one of my markers. If you can help, great! If not, no harm no foul.” Pause. “On the trip back I picked up a hitchhiker.” Pause. “Yeah. I know. I probably always will be a sucker. He’s a nice young kid who picked up the wanderlust when he was younger and stupider.” Pause laugh. “Yeah. We’ve never knew anyone who did something stupid when they were young. He left the US. Wandered the Pacific Rim for a while. Then he got onto Samoa. Maybe without letting Samoan customs know.” Pause. “Uh huh. Not sure. That’s where I picked him up.” Pause. “I need you to get a hold of some of your low friends in high places. If possible, I’d like to arrange at a minimum, an electronic trail with US customs of him entering US Samoa sometime before [date redacted]. It will make it easier when we land in Hawaii. As a bonus, if it’s possible, please have them do the same with the Samoan customs office records, that’d be even better.” Pause. “In less than 24 hours. Actually, much less.” Pause. “Yeah, I know it’s asking a lot. I know it will cost me a lot either way. Maybe you can get me a family and friends discount?” Pause. Laugh. “Yeah right! Agreed! If we can do this great. If not, oh well. I will just have to get creative.” Pause. “The name is: [redacted]. DoB: [redacted]. Born in [redacted]. Parents’ names [redacted]. Passport number: [redacted]. SSN [redacted].” Pause. “Correct! I should be back on the mainland in a couple weeks or so. See you all then.” Pause. “Please let me know ASAP what you get. One way or the other.” Pause. “Thank you again! Bye.”

I went back up to Cory’s room. He was sitting on his bed staring at the wall. “I assume the major is back in the chopper?” Cory nodded. “Good! Now while we could both really use some sleep, we both have a lot of work to do so we can both get off this island as quick as we can.” Cory gave me a quizzical look. “Yes, I said ‘we’. We are both leaving and you have no choice in the matter.” Cory started to open his mouth to protest. I held up my hand to stop him.

“I have already heard your reasons for wanting to stay here. Over half of them were also echoed by the Major. Hear me out. Listen to my reasoning. Then, if you have an objection, state it then. Okay?” Cory silently nodded. I took a deep breath.

“First. I only have normal human physiology to go on but, I assume that you haven’t normally wandered around with close to zero percent body fat in the past. Correct?” Cory nodded. “At first, I had trouble believing the next one myself, but evidence is evidence. Looking at the loose skin here and there, I also assume you’ve lost a decent amount of the muscle mass you’ve had in the past?” Cory again nodded.

“While you were taking care of the major, I did some exploring. One of the things I found was the food larder.” Cory quickly turned his head towards me and stared. “You have my ultimate complements on your camouflage job in there. You did a first rate job of making a lot of empty boxes look full and untouched. Well done sir! If I didn’t know what I was looking for, I wouldn’t have spotted it.” I got a small smile of thanks.

“You mentioned that you were fishing to kill time. You were also fishing to complement your protein and fat intake. But since you seldom if ever go outside. There is no way you could fill in the gap with the metabolism I suspect you have.”

Cory interrupted with: “How do you know…?”

I smiled. “Elementary, my dear Watson! Considering where we are located, you have jack for a suntan. So obviously, if you go outside, it is either overcast, or for short periods. Or, at night.”

Cory gave me an “okay, yeah, duh” look as I continued.

“In conclusion, you have been rationing your food for quite some time. Not at starvation levels but close. This question is rhetorical, and I don’t expect an answer, but: Just what were you planning on doing when your stockpile finally ran out?” Cory showed no reaction as he looked towards the floor.

“Second. The fact that we are leaving here alive means this island won’t be as secret as it used to be. This means that the company will have to do one or more of the following: Dust off an old contingency plan to explain it. Come in and do a deeper cleaning to hide its past. Possibly re-occupy it to help dampen questions on why it was abandoned and keep away the curious. Come in and level the place down to the native coral to give the curious nothing to look at. Or any combination of these.

“You have two good hiding places and a nice hidden way to go between here, the hangar and the old lab.” I got another surprised quizzical look. “But, do you honestly think you can manage to stay hidden long term if any of these things happen?” Cory again showed no reaction and went back to looking towards the floor.

“Third, and final. Even if you do somehow figure out a way past these first two things, the way the climate is changing and the ocean levels are rising. This island will probably become uninhabitable in your lifetime.” I paused about half a minute. Then I asked: “So, what say you?”

Cory kept looking at the floor for a few moments. He finally stood, gave me a small smile made a fist, held out his thumb, pointed to the side and said. “Can you give a guy a lift, sir?’

I smiled. “Sure! Not a problem, kid.” I dropped my smile. “But we need to do a lot of prep in a short amount of time. Most of this you are obviously aware of but I’m going to mention it anyway to be sure. Plus I suspect you will be busier than I will be.”

Cory nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“What you need to do is, cover your tracks on this island. Using whatever magic you use. Obviously leave my tracks because I would certainly have crawled all over this place. Let me know when I may need to re-create any of mine after your cleaning. Next, you need to pack up two bundles. Stuff we need to throw away because we don’t have time to deal with it. Then, stuff you want to take with you. Bring them both to the hangar.

“My list consists of: Arranging the plane to fit you and yours in it. Clearing the runway so we have an uninterrupted shot at taking off.” Cory replied: “I can help with that if needed sir.” I nodded. “Sounds good to me. Just remember, don’t move anything I can’t without cutting it up.” Cory grinned. “Then I need to do some chemical “aging” to the bullet holes in the front of this building. Then, find and get rid of all of that shiny brass scattered around outside.” When I said all that, I saw a fast cloud pass over Cory’s eyes. I thought, “I may need to have him do something else first.”

“Finally, I need to really get a couple hours sleep. Which I don’t have time for. Think we can do this in 2-4 hours?”

Cory nodded. “Yes, sir.”

I gave him the classic disapproving dad glare. “There is one issue yet.” Cory suddenly looked apprehensive as I continued. “I have never served in the military. Also, until my father passes from this plane of existence, he has the exclusive title of sir. Not me.” I grinned. “Got it?”

Cory gave a relieved smiled and nodded. “No problem… Tyler.”

“Good! There is one more tiny thing you might want to do. I assume you have been taught meditation, centering and calming exercises?”

He nodded. “Yes, I have some training. Why?”

“Well, I would like for you to do one thing before you start. Even if it causes a bit of a time crunch.

“I would like for you to grab a bar of soap and a towel. Go stand out in the breezeway between here and the physical plant. Then do the best you can to take all of the pain, fear, anguish, sadness and betrayal you have experienced in the past and tonight inside you. Picture it as a dark liquid. Use your center light to push that liquid out to the exterior of your body. Imagine that liquid exiting your skin like sweat. Sitting on the surface of your skin. Once you have it all pushed outside. Step into that clean clear rainwater and take a nice long soapy shower and wash it all away. Sound reasonable and doable?”

Cory nodded. “Yes, it does. I’ll go do that now. Thank you.”

I nodded. “Good! I hope it helps.”

We both left the room to start our tasks. I hoped that shower might be the first step in him getting some long overdue healing done.

I went to the kitchen and found some salt and vinegar. Then some hydrogen peroxide in the infirmary. I started hopefully giving the bullet holes in the metal parts a sheen of rust. Next I got some instant coffee and vinegar, mixed it strong and painted it on the places where the concrete was chipped. I hoped it all would do something useful in the rain. Then I went out picked up and pocketed the large concrete chips and all of the spent brass I could find. I grabbed a hammer, broke up some of the smaller chips and lightly coated the holes in the concrete with a very thin layer of the wet dust. Plus more mixture. Inside I swept up the plaster dust and started digging out or finding all of the slugs I could. I didn’t want any one in a million curious person to have anything to do any ballistic testing with. Next, I found a couple large dust bunnies, broke them up and used them to “age” the holes in the wall board.

Next I went to the airplane and started pumping fuel between tanks. With the fuel I already burned I wasn’t expecting a weight and balance issue with Cory. But it pays to be sure. It did mean I would be mixing some of the suspect fuel with the rest of it. But I hoped dilution would be the solution to pollution in this case. I also crossed my fingers that no one ever thinks to ask how I ever managed to take off with a full fuel load and Cory. Then I sat down for a minute to think out how I was going to work out, explaining Cory, the flight plan, ATC, customs, the storm and the approaching company ship.

I woke up when Cory stepped into the hangar and called my name. “Tyler? I came in to grab a saw for the tree on the runway.” I blinked a couple times. He was carrying one large garbage bag and one smaller one. “Fantastic! I’m ready to help. How goes things inside the building?” He shrugged. “I’m pretty much done. Half hour at the most. I will need you to retrace a lot of your steps though. Your aging process on the front door looks pretty good.” “Thank you. They probably need a second coat though. Let’s go tackle that tree. Then make tracks.” Cory blinked and shook his head.

I had dozed off for almost two hours. Thankfully, I’d got most of my stuff finished. But we were taking a lot longer than I would have liked. The rain had mostly tapered off but the wind was still blowing strong down the runway. We had about 2 or 3 hours before sunrise. Cory carried off the wood chunks as I cut them. We finished in about 20 minutes. I said I would put the saw back. Cory said he would meet me inside the hangar.

On the way to the hangar, I stopped by the chopper. The major was hanging from a slightly loose lap belt. The shoulder harness was loosely set around his torso. His chest was resting against the center console. I took in what I could for any reports I needed to write for the FAA. Plus a collection of photos of the crash scene that I uploaded. I continued back to the hangar, then over to the building. Then gave the concrete and metal a second coat of the mixtures and poured it out. I hoped it was enough Then, as directed by Cory, I left nice sets of tracks in all the areas of pristine dust. I gave the concrete and metal a final rinse. The metal looked ok. The concrete, I crossed my fingers.

I left Cory to button up the building and say any goodbyes as I opened the hangar and did the preflight on the plane. I set up the large garbage bag so we could throw it out after we were in the air and well clear of the island. I had just opened the main hangar doors when Cory showed up. I ‘helped’ him push the plane out of the hangar and close the doors. We both got in and I cranked over the engines while telling my inside voice to shut up. I breathed a slight prayer of thanks that they started with no problems.

With the headwind we took off with runway to spare. It seemed like I had power to climb but I stayed slightly above ground effect. Not that far above the storm generated waves. I made a slow 90 and picked up my crosswind. The rain and turbulence made the piloting ‘sporting’ and I kept both of my hands firmly on the yoke.

After about three minutes Cory looked at me. “Is there anything wrong? We are pretty low and I feel like a die in a cup right now. I am a virgin at this too. Okay?”

I switched frequencies on the radio, turned down the squelch and turned up the volume. A hiss could be heard. “This is an unused frequency out here. Hear the static?”

Cory nodded. I switched frequencies. “This is one of the commonly used frequencies out here.”

There was dead silence. It only took a second for Cory to say, “It is being jammed!”

I nodded. “Uh huh!”

A second later he said: “You are worried about their ships radar and SAMs!”

I smiled and nodded. “Right again! That’s why I’m also flying a course parallel to the one we need. Rather than an intercept. I have no idea beyond a vague guess of where could be and I hope we don’t accidently fly too close to them. The jamming can’t go too far. Otherwise people would have complained about it before now. This will suck for a while. But, once the jamming fades, I will climb to altitude, contact ATC and customs and get on course to Hawaii.”

Cory looked worried. “How are you going to explain me?”

I shrugged. “I’ve been working on that. I have several ideas. I really hope we can use a simple one. I’m hoping to get a phone call from a friend before we land that may help.” I got that appraising look I got once before from him. “I hope I can keep explaining you simple. Maybe we can. Oh yeah. Just so you know, I borrowed your wallet and passport long enough to grab the info for my friend to use.” I wasn’t about to tell him about the fingerprints. I may never tell him. Cory’s look switched to an appraising glare. I ignored it. “My plan regardless of how the call turns out will be this:

“I’m telling ATC and customs that we will be arriving at Hilo international on Hawaii as planned. But 3 hours or less before arrival I will let them know that I’m worried about fuel and wish to divert to either Maui or O’ahu. That should throw off any company people who may be waiting for us at the airport. It will annoy customs but they have ports of entry there and they will still get about two hours’ notice. Next, we hit a thrift store or something and grab you better clothes.

“Then grab a quick inter-island flight to throw off our scent even more for the short term. I’ll send you first, Then, I’ll follow on the next flight. I not as worried about them spotting me as I am about them spotting you and connecting you to me. I plan on leaving the plane where I park it and tell my friend I’ve had enough flying for a while and he needs to move it on the final leg himself.

“As far as you. It would be easier if we could just have you living in US Samoa when we met. We can stay quiet and let them assume that first. If they start pushing, or it starts to fall apart, we go with: In your stupid period late teens you got the wanderlust. You left the US without letting Customs know. You wandered around the Pacific Rim for a while.”

“If the phone call is bad news: You worked on a freighter or something, jumped ship and somehow got into US Samoa without letting customs know. Or filling out the paperwork.

“Or, if the phone call is good news, I managed to get a friend of mine to arrange customs documents on the US side saying that you arrived legally in Samoa. “There we ran into one another and you talked me into giving you a lift back home to the mainland.”

I continued: “The reason I didn’t mention you in my flight paperwork before now was: One: I figured my friend might not like me hauling hitchhikers and forgiveness VS permission. Two: I was having computer issues and probably fat fingered the customs forms while updating them to list you and it apparently either never saved or sent. Three: I obviously picked you up in Samoa. The only other place I landed for fuel has all of its tiny population accounted for.”

I gave an evil grin. “If for some reason all this goes to pot: While taxiing in, I’ll look for a spot where the tower or customs people might not see us, have you jump out of the plane while I’m taxiing, jump the fence and I’ll meet you later.”

Cory shook his head and smiled. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

I nodded in agreement. “The odds of that one working aren’t good.” I added, “I assume you know the routine. Never volunteer information.”

Cory grinned and continued, “Keep the lies simple, minimal and vague. Simple lies are the easiest to defend. A simple yes or no is always a good answer. Never elaborate on an answer. Incredibly detailed stories and answers are almost always fabricated.”

I returned the grin. “Good! It sounds like you know all this, but I like to talk. Get your story together. At least a couple simple versions. Include some family background stuff, geographical info and such. Customs will probably make some small talk to loosen you up and maybe catch a mistake. Make sure it all hangs together well. Give me the broad brush outline of it later so I can give some collaboration but not sound identical. After all, we only just met and I don’t know everything about you. I might be able to help with some geographical stuff. Depending on what you come up with.” Cory nodded.

Things went silent for a while and I concentrated on simply flying straight, level and out of the water. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Cory looking at me in thought. He finally said: “Tyler. Just what do you do for a living?”

I shrugged. “A little of this. A little of that.”

Cory frowned. “If I recall, that is exactly what you told me yesterday. Wow! Yesterday.”

I kept not looking at him and nodded. “Kind of hard to believe. A lot has happened. Are you going to be okay?”

He wore an incredibly evil grin. “No changing the subject.” I glanced his way as he dropped into English with a spot on Mid German accent. “Ve haf vays to make you talk. Und I zink ve will start vit.” He interlocked his fingers stretched out his arms slightly and cracked his knuckles. “Tventy… Questions.”

I went back to my visual scan and sighed. My inner voice laughed and laughed. “Gotcha!” it said. This indeed was going to be a very long flight.


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