Second Chances (15 page)

The other bure was in better condition. Miles used the toilet and was somewhat surprised to find it still worked. Washing his hands, he stared at himself in the mirror. He’d been to the barber about a week before all the shit hit the fan back in Haven Falls, so he didn’t look too ratty. Just as well, because from the looks of things there wasn’t much in the way of facilities here.

Miles ran his finger over the top of the bedside table and wiped off the dust he collected. Strange. Either housekeeping was slack or these buildings had been empty long before the cyclone hit.

He slung Darren’s bag over his shoulder again as he walked back outside. A few more minutes of wandering around confirmed that the resort, for want of a better word, was deserted except for some wildlife that scurried away when he walked inside the damaged buildings.

Definitely no sign of villagers or locals, injured or otherwise.
Maybe they were further down the island.
The sound of engines startled him. He looked up to see the seaplane climbing back up into the sky and heading off in an easterly direction. Now he could see it in flight, the resemblance to a pelican was even more marked.

Another path led off from the clearing.
Should he go back to the others first?
They were probably wondering where he was. Miles hesitated for a second then set off to check it out. Seeing the bures had set his thoughts racing back into the past again. Memories of furtive gropes and stolen kisses as he and Darren tried to find places they could escape from the prying eyes of his sister, Siobahn. Running down paths like this, trying to lose her, laughing their heads off and stopping as soon as they realized they were alone.

Each year it had been the same. No matter how many letters they’d sent to each other, nothing matched that first touch, that first press of lips against lips. The playful touch turning into something more serious as they got older. Eventually when they turned eighteen, they’d stayed behind when their parents went to a traditional island feast, pleading exhaustion from swimming and fishing all day, undressing each other slowly and finally making love.

He’d thought he was ready to move on, but how could he cheapen that memory by having sex with someone when his heart wasn’t involved?

He should go back and apologize to Gil. As far as the young man was concerned, he’d been as bad as a starving dog with a piece of meat, snarling at anyone who came near. And didn’t that say a lot about how low he’d sunk, to objectify Gil like that? Thinking of him as a piece of meat not a person. Gil deserved to be treated better than that… a lot better.

Miles stared blindly at a clump of pandanus lining the edge of the sand. A dark shape was pulled up in the shade. The image swum in the tears gathered in his eyes. Was that some sort of boat?

He stumbled towards it, catching his foot slightly on one of the exposed roots. Something hit his head and the world went black.

Gideon Sterling, Carter (Gil) Gillespie, Lyle Ashley Tate

with mention of Miles Sutherland and Aiden Parker

___________________________________________________

Early morning, 25th January, Mystery Island

Gideon waved to the plane as it rose into the air again, shielding his eyes against the sun’s glare. He just about saw his co-pilot give him the thumbs up as the plane banked and turned, heading out into the flawless blue. Gideon surveyed the men who stood nearby, looking like fish out of water. He had to sympathise, Breslaw hadn’t given too much away on the phone, but he had intimated that their present situation wasn’t the fault of the disparate group he saw before him. They were victims of circumstance.

He’d sensed tension between Gillespie, Tate and Sutherland, while Parker had seemed withdrawn and even more anxious than the rest. The kid had almost had a meltdown before he picked them up in Japan and would only be placated by a phone call. He had kept well out of that. If Pierce was dealing with them, frankly it was no wonder. Parker had calmed considerably but Gideon would lay bets that he was suffering PTSD. Of the others, Gillespie and Sutherland looked to be the better prepared for this jaunt, although they were medical personnel and rumour had it one of them had served with Medecins sans Frontieres. He couldn’t remember which one. Sutherland was the doctor, wasn’t he, and Gillespie a paramedic? They were both useful people to have around.

“Okay, gentlemen, we’d better get this stuff stowed. There’s another storm-front coming over tonight and we’ll need to get the rest of these boxes under cover fast. According to the satellite data it’s not going to be a bad one, but it’s bound to be wet. We need to effect repairs asap.” Gideon noted that Sutherland had already gone walkabout. One less pair of hands to help, he thought with exasperation. “Right, guys, I’m not going to put too fine point on this, but we need all hands on deck. I expect you to at least show willing and not sit on your arses, getting a tan.” He shouldered a large pack and picked up a tool box.

“We’re not stupid. We didn’t ask to come here. We’re not fucking tourists, and we’re not bloody labourers either…” Tate seemed to be winding up for a real rant. Gideon sighed heavily.

“No, Mr.Tate, you are not fucking tourists, and you are not bloody labourers as you so eloquently put it. But what you are is part of a team. You and I are stuck here at least for the foreseeable future and as such, we need to depend on each other. Otherwise life here is going to be that much harder for all of us. Now, I am sure you are in need of a shower, food and bed. I know I am. All that and more can be yours, but first, we get this stuff shifted. Am I making myself clear?” Gideon’s voice had hardened. He really didn’t want any shit from any of them. There was a lot of equipment to move to the resort complex and nothing to move it with except their own muscles. They had Bill and Colly with them, but there was a heap of shit that wouldn’t fare well if left to the elements. After flying for 30 hours Gideon wanted a shower and to stretch out on his bunk, but knew that was a while away yet. The others had been flying longer than that, so although he couldn’t tolerate it right now, he could see why they would be a bit pissy; that and being ripped out of their comfort zones with less than twenty-four hours notice.

“Fine by me.” Gil shouldered his backpack and grabbed his canvas bag, picking up another toolbox in his other hand. Balanced, he followed Gideon without complaint as the big man moved along the jetty. As they moved out, it seemed as though Gideon also walked with a very slight limp, and Gil resolved to ask him about it. Boy, he had a nice arse on him. Gil mentally slapped himself. It wasn’t five minutes ago that he had been fucked into the mattress by Miles. He wondered where the doctor had got to. Vaguely concerned, Gil hoped Miles hadn’t got himself into trouble somewhere. The dogs had run off as well, too busy playing to heed their masters, enjoying their freedom after such a long time cooped up on the plane. Aiden was quiet, carrying his own and what Gil presumed was Flynn’s bag too. Miles’ case was also there in the pile. Gil decided he would come back for that, unless Miles put in an appearance later.

It looked to Gil like Gideon’s ploy of turning away from Lyle had worked; he filed the ploy for later use if needs be. Lyle bent and grabbed some bags from the jetty and came after them. Lyle Tate was too intelligent to bother wasting breath arguing with a man’s back. Aiden came after, trailing slightly, looking despondent. He was obviously missing Flynn but for the life of him, Gil couldn’t imagine what the teacher saw in the obnoxious little shit.

The trail to the complex was a bit overgrown but Gideon had ordered it be kept that way. The less visible they were from the shore the better. Everyone followed him through the trees and up toward the reception building, which from the air had looked the least badly damaged of the buildings. He produced a key and opened the door and guided them past the built-in reception desk, through another set of double doors and left down a short corridor. Thankfully his assessment from the air had been right, this building seemed pretty intact and water tight.

“We can get some shut eye once we get all our stuff inside.” He opened a door on what looked like a hospital ward. “Stow your stuff in here then come help me shift the rest, okay? Your sheets and pillowcases are on the jetty right now.” Gideon ducked out and left them to it.

@—}–—}——

The room was outfitted with six bed frames–thankfully with mattresses–but little else. One door in the corner lead to a toilet, they quickly discovered. There was a scramble to use the facilities.

Lyle looked at the place with dismay. That it was basic wasn’t a worry, but that it was communal was. How the hell was he going to get around this one? Gil was the only one aware of his transman status, as far as he knew, and he wasn’t ready or willing to come out to everyone right now. He drew a few deep breaths, pushing down the emotions that were roiling around in him, trying to work out a way past the issues. He was so damn tired though!

He had no idea what Sterling knew about them all. He had already worked out that Gideon Sterling was their new guardian angel, though. Or demon? Either way, he would have to speak to him, alone, and as soon as possible.

with mention of Aiden Parker and Carter (Gil) Gillespie

___________________________________________________

Morning 25th January, halfway between Rapatoka and Mystery Islands

Miles moaned and opened his eyes. What the? Two large feet filled his vision. Wet gritty sand rubbed against the side of his face as he moved slightly. Pain ricocheted through this body and the image morphed into a pink and brown blur. He shut his eyes. Ah, that was better; now he could identify the culprits. Left temple, back of the head, both shoulders… Shit, everything hurt. Added to that, he was trussed up like a bloody turkey: hands and feet tied together into a neat bundle, ready for roasting. He tried to roll over and sit up. The world rocked alarmingly and loud incomprehensible yells stung his ears. He stopped moving. The canoe, for that’s what he worked out he was in, lurched forward again, travelling even faster than before.

Damn. Even if he did manage to overturn the flimsy craft, what would that achieve? From the air, the dark blue in the centre of the lagoon suggested the water was bloody deep. He didn’t want to test how deep or whether his Houdini impressions were as good as Roofie’s. With the amount of weight he’d packed on, he wouldn’t need cement shoes to do the job properly.

“Ah-hee noo-oh.”

“Low-ah-hee noo-oh”

The unfamiliar phrases shot back and forth over his head repeatedly in time with the rhythmic splash of paddles.

Two men.

Memory returned. It
had
been a boat pulled up in the shade, an outrigger of sorts.
Good one, Miles, seeing the locals are far from friendly, let’s hope for once the missionaries did come a’calling on their door-knocking tour of the Pacific all those years ago.
He didn’t fancy being “long pig” on the communal barbie.

What now?

He fumbled with the cord at his wrists. By the looks of things his captors had woven some fibres together into a makeshift rope. Shouldn’t be too hard to get it off. He flexed his wrists in and out, trying to loosen his bindings. Normally when Darren had tied him up for a little BDSM, getting free was the last thing he wanted to do. Unfortunately these guys didn’t look as if a little spanking was on their minds. Pity, because from the looks of the muscular calves and the size of the feet, the guy sitting on the bench above him was a strong enough bastard to deliver a good whack.

Miles snorted softly under his breath. As soon as he made it back to civilisation he was checking himself in to see a shrink. One minute he was getting all touchy feely, thinking he might have hurt Gil’s feelings by fucking him, now he was conjuring up all sorts of deviant ideas about anonymous sex with guys who were probably more interested in eating him and not in a good way.

He yanked at the cord, rejoicing in the sudden snap. A startled yell greeted him, followed shortly after by a searing pain in his temple, the right one this time, and the world went dark… again.

@—}–—}——

Miles stared up at the ceiling above him. Patches of black mould stained the areas where paint no longer clung to the surface. The soft, dry mattress beneath him told him he was no longer in the canoe.

His head felt as if he’d just gone ten rounds with Anthony Mundine, or two rounds with Mike Tyson. He wasn’t sure which would have been worse. Both temples felt tender, one where the butt end of a paddle had crashed down on him seconds after he’d managed to free himself and the other where he’d hit his head on the root of a tree after being felled from behind.

A triple whammy. His eyes drifted shut.

“Are you alright?”

The female voice was slightly accented, possibly New Zealand but not quite. At least she spoke English. Miles opened his eyes and carefully turned his head to one side. The woman in the other bed grimaced as she propped herself up on one elbow.