Flight 12

Flight 12 – a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER 19: CROSSING JORDAN

Previously, on the surface:

• After three Tower residents have been swallowed up by dodecagons on their birthdays (and presumed dead), Seth vows to protect Dai, whose birthday is next.

Away from the island:

• Stimulever sends Sean to Aruba to `neutralize' Jordan and Miles. Sean decides to shield them by transferring them to the temporary universe Betaworld. Stimulever board member Ari has been sent to America to neutralize the hacker Nick, and, if necessary, Jordan's sister Jen.

Underground:

• Lucas, captured by a dodecagon, is reunited underground with his former partner in cannibalism, Stefan, now one of Hamish's lieutenants.

• Barry learns that as right-siders (`the Twelve') arrive underground, left-siders are being gelded; Stan (whom Ian has fallen in love with) is scheduled for castration on December 11th.

In flashbacks:

• Barry loses his job with Progresa Airlines after pictures of a bdsm session reach his boss (courtesy of Hamish). Hamish then pressures him to work for ZTA, but Barry makes plans to work for a foreign airline.

• Stan and his wife agree to take separate vacations (he to Aruba, she to Peru) then meet up in Cartagena.

• A week before the trip, Seth asked Abe to go with him to a Pearl Jam concert. Abe declined, without explanation.

• • • • • • • • THURSDAY, DECEMBER 6 * * * * * * * *

ST. MORITZ, SWITZERLAND – JESÚS

• Have we heard from Ari or Sean?

• (Germán) Everything's under control. Sean reports that Murdock and King `are no more' – his words. Admittedly ambiguous, but a phone call to their hotel confirmed that no one of either name had been registered there in the past week. Sounds like he took them to Betaworld.

• Smart move. He can dispose of them there, and no one will be any the wiser. The word from Ari?

• The hacker is also no more, by more conventional means. Seems there was an intruder during the night. Ari had to take out the wife as well. Double-homicide, a major story in Louisville today.

• The sister?

• Jennifer Murdock insists she has no sibling named Jordan and has never heard of Zen Tropical Airways. More proof that Sean took his charges to Betaworld.

• Perfect. As long as Sean disposes of them there.

• And how would we know that he has? If he's still in Betaworld, we can't communicate with him. Everyone who can bridge between the two worlds is here.

• Good point. We need someone on the spot. Germán, fly to Aruba and bridge to Betaworld. See if Jordan and Miles are still alive there.

• Got it, chief.

ORANJESTAD, ARUBA (BETAWORLD) – JORDAN

Miles and I met at ten for a late breakfast. He arrived with a copy of The New York Times.

• Did you see this?

• I'm in Bizarro-world, and I'm supposed to take my time reading newspapers?

• Yes, because in Betaworld – the proper name for it, you know – news coverage of the crash exists. Not like the runaround we got the other day.

• And?

• They've done some investigating. There's an exposé of the pilot.

There was, indeed, a story about the pilot, front page, below the fold. He read me the first couple of paragraphs, under the headline ZTA PILOT HAD TROUBLED BACKGROUND.

• A Times investigation into the background of Barry Russell, pilot of Zen Tropical Airways Flight 12, which vanished mysteriously over the Caribbean on November 30th, revealed that he had been fired several months earlier from his job as a pilot from Progresa Airlines, a regional carrier based in Santo Domingo. A spokeswoman for Progresa would not disclose details, but said his dismissal was for conduct inconsistent with company standards.

• The Times has learned that Russell had a side-business engaging in sexual activities generally considered `kink'. Russell's ex-wife, Paloma Echevarría, told the Times that she was unaware of his proclivities when she married him, and was shocked to discover that most of his clients were men. Sources familiar with the situation confirmed that one of his clients was Andrés Fernandez, who often co-piloted with Russell. Both men were fired by Progresa. Mr. Fernandez did not return calls from The Times.

I stopped him, not wanting Miles to read further. I had a weird reaction to reading about Russell's kinky activities – I wanted to learn more. That prospect both scared me and turned me on a little, and I didn't understand that. I switched off that part of my brain and listened to Miles considering the implications of the article, which he thought gave us another line of argument for the lawsuit – why did ZTA hire this guy?

I said we should bring that up with Sean, whom we were meeting at eleven. When I mentioned Sean, Miles seemed uncomfortable – I got the odd feeling that he was holding something back.

FLASHBACK – MILES (MINNEAPOLIS) – January, this year

• Omigod, omigod, omigod, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!

• I'm fucking you, baby. I'm fucking you, my beautiful Black bitch.

• Harder! Harder! Harder! Yes, yes, yes!

• I'm going to cum!

• Me, too!

• (Thrust! Thrust! Thrust! Thruuuuusssst!) AAAAAAHH!

He pulled himself off me, ripped the condom off and dumped it in the wastebasket. I turned on my side to face him, and cupped his face in my hands. And kissed him for about thirty seconds.

• Oh, god, Sean, that was wonderful.

• You are my number one bitch, you know.

• Is there a number two bitch?

• . . . (grinning mischievously) Would I tell you if there was?

• . . . Sean? Isn't it time you told me about your mysterious job? The reason you're always flying off somewhere? Like Switzerland.

• That's corporate headquarters.

• And Cleveland.

• I have an important client there.

• Yeah? Are you sure he's not your number two bitch?

• I'm sure.

• Your number one bitch?

• Ah, you jealous fool. You, my dear, are my number one bitch. And always will be.

FLASHBACK – SEAN (MINNEAPOLIS) – January, this year

That was a lie. Miles was not my number one bitch. Making love to him was essential, but it was not an act of love. Fooling him into thinking it was – that was an art form. An art form I was exceedingly good at.

Now came the tricky bit. If he didn't play along, it would be dangerous for Miles. I thought I had gotten to the point where he trusted me implicitly, but his questions about Cleveland made me wonder.

• Miles, my job is very hush-hush.

• Obviously. Your hushes are very loud.

• They have to be. It's so complex that – I don't even know how to describe it.

• Listen, I don't have to know. As long as you're not some kind of hit man for the CIA or something. You don't kill people, right?

• (grinning widely) Well, I do stab people, but only with what's between my legs. No, Miles, my job is nothing unethical. And, to be honest, the time has come to bring you into it.

• ME? Why?

• You have a role to play. But you're going to have to trust me, and trust me absolutely.

• Trust you absolutely? I do, but . . . you're being very mysterious.

• First of all, Miles, I need you to know this: I love you. I am head-over-heels, rip-roaringly in love with you. (No, I'm not.)

• Oh, god, Sean, I've been waiting for weeks to hear you say that. Because I love you so much, I can't stand it.

• I need you to know that whatever I ask you to do it's because I love you. It has to do with my job – a secret project – in fact, we call it The Project, it's that big. I can't explain it to you, but you need to be part of it.

• Sean, you're terrifying me.

• Babe, I love you. You and me – we're good. Trust me, this is all for us.

• Enough of the convincing, tell me what you're convincing me to do.

• I need you to start seeing someone else.

• WHAT?!

• Calm down. I told you, I can't explain it, but . . . it's what they call a long con. We have to fool someone into thinking you love him. (Like I'm fooling you . . .)

• So that you can manipulate him into doing something that advances your project.

• Exactly. Or, so that you can.

• Why can't YOU romance him?

• I'm not his type – you are. He's all top, and he likes small, fit Black guys. He's Black, too – big strong guy, he's a physical trainer.

• Well, he does sound intriguing.

• See? It won't be that hard for you to hook him. Just remember you belong to me.

• So how do I meet this guy?

• You're going to join his health club. And you're going to work out in your skimpiest pair of shorts and no shirt. When you sign up, ask for him to be your personal trainer. . . . His name is Vic.

He bought it. God, I'm a good actor.

THE THRONE ROOM – BARRY

It was a little tough to breathe. There was a lot of weight on top of my body – two bodies worth. I was lying flat on my back. Above me was Percy's toy Abe. Above Abe was Percy. Percy was fucking the shit out of Abe. And Abe's cock and balls were stuffing my mouth.

With every thrust of Percy's cock up Abe's ass, Abe's cock got pushed deep into me. His abdomen was pushed hard against my face. I couldn't breathe through my mouth, which had to stretch to absorb the fullness of his genitalia, including the entire scrotum. My nose had pubic hair against it, and barely room to take in any air at all. The combined weight of the two bodies was pressing against my chest, making it difficult for me to push my diaphragm up and down.

As I have commented before, something about this atmosphere gave all the tops here incredible stamina. For as soon as Percy came inside Abe's ass, our positions were switched. I got to be in the middle, pushing my cock into Abe's mouth, while Percy took his talented cock and rammed it up my vulnerable asshole.

Abe, being considerably smaller than me, was having an even more difficult time breathing, as the combined weight of Percy and myself was substantial. But he had no choice in the matter; as Percy assaulted my hind quarters, I actively assaulted Abe's mouth. I was going to get my rocks off, and Abe was going to drink every drop.

When Percy had shot his load, I hadn't yet shot mine, but I rose up and fucked Percy's little cumdump until I unleashed a gusher into his belly. It felt wonderful, more than making up for the discomfort in my rectum, and it pleased me more than a little that he coughed from having to swallow my joyjuice so rapidly.

If I was Hamish's pet dog, Abe had become Percy's pussycat – or just his pussy. He was special somehow, seemingly even more important to Percy and Hamish than the right-siders, the so-called Twelve, the supposed VIPs of this sick mission of theirs, whatever it was.

I knew the mission revolved around someone named Herrick – they kept mentioning that name. Eventually, I figured out that Abe was connected to this Herrick. They never discussed Herrick directly with Abe, however. I only caught wind of the relationship from remarks Hamish made when he was not around Abe.

Abe, like me, was not supposed to initiate conversation. Unlike me, he obeyed that directive. So it surprised me when, post-coitus, Abe got bold:

• Sir, may I ask you something?

Whoa, it speaks. Not the way I speak, of course. Abe is so damn polite and deferential, the little ass-kisser. `Sir', he calls Percy. Percy, not me. I wanted to puke.

THE THRONE ROOM – ABE

I don't know what prompted me to say that. I was supposed to be silent and not speak unless ordered to. But, Percy was not Hamish. Hamish was strict but Percy – well, I felt like he liked me, maybe he wouldn't mind having a real conversation. There was so much I didn't understand – maybe he'd tell me. And my heart was aching. I had to let him know that.

• Sir, did you see my message on the beach?

• (Percy) What – the HELP sign? That won't do any good. No plane will see it, I guarantee that.

• No, the other one. It said GIN AND TIPSY. It was a lot smaller than the big HELP sign.

• GIN AND TIPSY. What is that, some kind of private joke?

• More of a remembrance. I wrote it for someone who will never read it.

• Herrick?

• . . . You know about Seth?

• Of course we know about Seth. He's the entire reason you're here. I saw him, you know.

• You saw Seth? He's alive?

• He's alive.

• Was he all right? Where? Where did you see him?

• On the beach. Not far from where I found you. I think he was searching for you.

• Oh, wow, Percy – I mean, Sir – you don't know how that makes me – he's really okay? You're sure it was him?

• I'm sure.

• If you go back up . . . could you give him a message?

• He knows you're alive, Abe. We told him that.

• Oh, thank god. Are the others – is everyone from the plane here?

• Yes. Abe, I've answered enough of your questions. But I have one for you – you who seem so concerned about him – does he know you cheated on him?

• What are you talking about? I never cheated on him.

• Don't lie, Abe. It's beneath you.

FLASHBACK: ABE (CLEVELAND) – Friday, November 27, this year (nine days ago)

• What am I doing here?

What AM I doing here? I decided, after my recent trip home, that I wouldn't cheat on Seth anymore.

• You hate Pearl Jam.

• I do. But I should have gone with him.

• And yet you're here with me.

• So I am.

I was going to break up with him tonight. That's why I'm here. And – oh, jeez, he just put his arms around me. And he's taking off my shirt.

• We shouldn't be doing this.

• No one expects perfect fidelity, Abe. You aren't even living together, you're free to play around.

• And you, Sean? You play around? You got a guy in Minneapolis and a guy in Switzerland?

• I sow the occasional wild oat. But when I'm in Cleveland, it's you and no one else. I got you, Abe. Hey – Sonny and Cher, right? (singing) I Got You, Abe.

• Great. You could go with Seth to their reunion tour.

• That'd be a bit tough. Sonny died years ago.

• Oh.

And now my pants are off and he's sticking his hand down the back of my briefs – and now they're on the floor. His hand's on my bare butt and his finger is . . .

• Besides, do you think Seth doesn't play around? You're not exactly his first, you know.

• I know. He's had a bunch of boyfriends – one was even named Sean. I'm not sure what happened between them, but something serious, because I don't think Seth's ever really gotten over him.

• Oh, yeah, that was me.

• Ha ha, very funny. No, this guy was into bdsm, used to put him in handcuffs – he even left his handcuffs behind and Seth actually used them on me once.

• Did you like it?

• No. I mean . . . I might have, but he didn't ask me.

• What if I asked you?

• . . . I'd have to think about it.

• Don't worry, I'm not that kinky. Now come with me so I can jam your pearl with my cock.

Okay, so tonight wasn't the night. I'm still breaking up with him, though. Next week for sure.

THE PHALLIC TOWER – SETH

A quiet day, for a change. No one had encountered any dodecagons, new or old. That was a relief. The group was adjusting to a reduced wardrobe – one pair of underwear in the entire ensemble, and its wearer (Tim) had no trousers; Ed, Dai, and Augie were bare-chested as well. Six pairs of shoes that could be shared, for food or water runs. Except by me – if I borrowed shoes, they might vanish as the island asserted its authority over me, insisting on perpetual nudity. By now, I was used to walking in the woods barefoot; the soles of my feet were like leather.

Today was December 6th, the anniversary of the date at the Armenian restaurant which Ian, anxious to set me up with Abe, had intruded upon. Days later, Ian flew off to Martinique and had never returned. He never called, never sent a text or email, not even a post card. He just disappeared from my life.

Ian had been a fling, a more serious fling than some, but I was still on the rebound from the rebound from the rebound from Sean, who had destroyed my life while setting me on a path toward rebuilding it. Thinking about Ian led me to thinking about Sean. Where was he, had he found someone else to be happy with? He seemed pretty resilient; when the tragedy happened and we broke up, I felt like he was going to land on his feet. I wasn't sure I was, but he seemed capable of moving on. I wonder if he did – I never saw him again after I said good-bye. He flew off to Switzerland like he so often did, and, I don't know, maybe he stayed there.

And Ian – had Ian found happiness in Martinique? Ironic if he had stayed on there and we were both in the Caribbean now. But, as much as I resented his failure to contact me in the past year, I will always be grateful to him for allowing me to repair my nascent relationship with Abe. Mind you, it's been rocky at times, but the moment we sat down on that plane at Hopkins and headed for Miami I felt such joy and such confidence that this trip would be the one that cemented our partnership for years on end.

Now? Who knows if I would ever see Abe again. At least he was alive. I was convinced that whoever had him was using him to get at me. It was clearer and clearer to me that I – for some inexplicable reason – was at the center of all this. And so, in my way, I was responsible for his capture.

Three others were gone now – perhaps they were alive, too, despite the visual evidence. Maybe they were wherever Abe was. If I had some kind of assurance that even one of them – Paul or Leo or Lucas – was still alive, it would give me such hope.

Wherever they are, alive or dead, I had to make sure Dai didn't join them tomorrow.

NEAR THE PHALLIC TOWER – DAI

Seth had decreed that either he or Harry was to be with me at all times, even though it was a day before my birthday. Most of the guys were on missions – finding food, doing laundry or getting water, and I was alone at the tower with Harry and Ed, both of whom had surrendered their pants to be washed. This rendered Ed nude (his shirt had disappeared with Leo), but, unselfconscious about his body, he lay in the sun seeking a full-body tan. Harry had a shirt to partially cover himself, but, being shy, chose to stay inside the tower. I took the opportunity to sneak away for a wank, knowing that Harry would never follow me – and Ed probably didn't care.

I told Harry what I was doing – well, not the wanking part, but a call of nature, and told him exactly where I was going – within fifty yards of the tower, and nowhere near a dodecagon. Confident of being unobserved, I dropped my jeans to the ground and initiated the familiar ritual of hand on dick.

What did I think about while I was masturbating? Almost always the same thing. Almost always the moment when I really indulged in my sexuality fully for the first time.

FLASHBACK – DAI (PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA) – fourteen years ago

It was my second year at Stanford. I had joined a fraternity consisting mostly of Asian men. There were a lot of Asian students at Stanford, which was both comforting and uncomfortable – there was that stereotype, there was resentment, and enough racism to make us want to seek out the company of others like ourselves. In my case, `others like ourselves' would have included gay men, but my fraternity was mostly straight.

Unlike most of my brothers, I had no money. My parents were struggling to pay their bills, and I had gotten into Stanford on a full scholarship. Any spending money I had came from part-time jobs.

One of the fraternity's traditions was that everyone got a tattoo, displayed prominently on his chest. The Asian students traditionally got one in the language of their culture, which gave them identity, knowing that only a select group could read it. But I couldn't afford to waste my money on a tattoo.

My roommate Yuto had a solution' for my problem. I roomed with him because he was Japanese and because he was gay. Yuto was experienced, and sexually secure. I was inexperienced, and sexually insecure. Yuto was more than willing to take my virginity, but I was a bit of a perfectionist, and I wanted the moment to be exactly right – the right guy at the right time, with me on top. I also had the issue of my prodigious seminal output to deal with – when I unleashed my load into a mouth or ass, would it get me labeled as a freak? Don't let the perfect become the enemy of the good', they always say, and I was doing just that. And so I remained a virgin, which annoyed Yuto to no end.

Nevertheless, he was a good friend, and when I had no money for a tattoo, he told me not to worry.

• Listen, Dai, the place I got mine – they have flexible payments.

• You mean like an installment plan?

• I mean like they might let you work it off. These guys are great with the needle and not so great in the brains department. They need help with the business end – paperwork and tax filings and such. They've hired Stanford students to do that for them, and I'll bet you could negotiate an agreement with them to do some work for them in exchange for a tattoo. I'll call them and find out.

Yuto reported back that they had agreed to make a special arrangement' with me, and I walked into 4 Bros Body Art' with optimism and confidence. There were, indeed, four brothers, surnamed `Mayer', and they led me into a back room away from the storefront.

I told them what I wanted – a kana on my chest that read `Champion Engineer', which was what I was studying to be – and asked about the special arrangement. They said that for a single tattoo like this, they wouldn't require much work from me, an hour a week for four weeks. I'd come in at closing time so I could use their office space without customers being present. I agreed instantly.

I removed my shirt and they put me in a chair that looked like it belonged in a dentist's office. Then came the first surprise. They strapped my arms down and ran another strap across my midriff. When I questioned that, they said that they wanted to keep me still during the process so that they didn't accidentally make a mistake. They got out their needles and one of them bent over my chest.

The second surprise was hands at my belt buckle.

• Whoa, what are you doing?

• Hey, you got a nice body, we'd like to see it while we're working on you. Don't worry, no one will come in. We closed the shop.

Before I knew it, I was naked. More straps held my legs in place. I felt the buzz of the needle on my chest – and I felt something else below the waist. Lips.

• Hey!

• Relax, Daisuke Omi. It's a little anesthetic, take your mind off the pain.

• The pain isn't that bad. I don't – hey!

• Don't fight it. You're cute and this is something we like to do. So just lie back and enjoy it.

Strapped in place like I did, I had no choice but to do just that. The man sucking my cock was named Patrick, and his rough tongue got my cock stiff in no time.

• Oh yeah, Dai boy, you need this, and you need it bad.

My first blow job, done under absolutely opposite conditions than my schemed scenario – rather than me being totally in control, I was totally being controlled. Patrick went down on me with skill, stimulating every square inch of my cock with his moistness, teasing my frenulum, and then plunging down deep and taking my cockhead down to his throat. His lips coursing up and down my shaft filled me with ecstasy, and it wasn't long before I yelled that I was about to come, and his brother Dane, who was wielding the needle, paused to let me shoot.

And I shot. And shot. And shot. Patrick drank every ounce of it, and it seemed to last forever.

• (Patrick) Holy shit, this guy pumped like thirteen times!

• (A brother, one of the twins) Do you supposed there's more in there?

• (Patrick) I don't see how.

Another mouth, belonging to a twin named Lander, encompassed my cock, which immediately stiffened.

• No, I have no more left! Seriously!

• (Lander) Let's see about that.

Meanwhile, Dane, the tattooist, had finished with my chest, and called out "My turn!"

The back of the chair suddenly tipped back so that my head was below the horizontal – and at waist height. Before I knew it, Dane had shed his pants and, standing behind the chair and facing his cocksucking brother, was stuffing his thick organ into my mouth.

• (Dane) This is how you're paying for your tattoo, pal.

• (Patrick) We don't need any business help.

• (Lander) Your friend Yuto said you needed this.

• (the other twin, Xander) You're really hot. We'd try out your ass but Yuto said you're a top and we don't want to mess with that. But we figure oral goes both ways.

Oral was, indeed, going both ways, simultaneously. Dane's cock, by no means a small one, was raping my throat. While I was gagging left right and sideways, I adjusted to the feel of it and once I caught the rhythm of how to breathe, began to revel in the sensation. Meanwhile, Lander was working on my cock, which, despite having spilled an enormous load into his brother, managed to produce additional output – a mere five spurts, but not nothing.

• (Lander) I think that's about it on this end, guys.

• (Xander) Fortunately, he can take more in his mouth.

All four of them stuffed my mouth with their organs before I was released. They took me in front of the mirror to see the tattoo, which read `Champion'.

• Hey, where's the rest of it? I wanted it to say `Champion Engineer'.

• (Patrick) You get the rest of it after you've met your obligation. Four weeks. This one doesn't count. You suck all our cocks, and we get to blow you until you have nothing more to give.

Yuto was unapologetic.

• Someone had to light a fire under you, Dai. You're nineteen years old – your sexual peak. The way you were going, it would take years for you to lose your virginity. It had to be done. Now go out there and find someone to stick your dick into – and drill his ass like I know you want to.

I returned to 4 Bros Body Art for each of the next four weeks. After sucking sixteen additional cocks, I had fulfilled my obligation; they put me back in the chair, and – while still fully nude – completed the tattoo.

When I looked in the mirror, though, I was furious. Instead of the kana reading Champion Engineer', it read Champion Cocksucker'.

Yuto laughed so hard I thought he was going to have a heart attack. But he made me a deal. If he brought a guy to the room and I fucked him in Yuto's presence, he would pay to have the tattoo removed. And that's how my sex life was launched. And why I no longer have a tattoo on my chest.

Since then, I've had lots of great sex – and no meaningful relationships.

AN UNDERGROUND HALLWAY – BARRY

Hamish was either off fucking somebody or scheming some evil deed. So I was free to wander about, until His Royal Hatefulness summoned me. On my wanders, I ran into Ian.

• Hey, Barry, they let you go early today?

• Until they want me again, yeah. They had me in a three-way where I was on the bottom of the pile and getting crushed. Percy has a pet, like Hamish has me – but this guy never gets out, just spends all his time in the Throne Room. You probably don't even know who I'm talking about – his name's Abe. Ever hear of him? Percy always calls him by his last name – Delusian, something like that. Personally, I think we're all under a delusian.

• Derisian? Abe Derisian?

• Yeah, that's it.

• Abe Derisian is down here? I heard he was on the surface.

• What, you know him? Short guy, dark hair, narrow face, well-cut beard?

• That's him.

• Class A ass! But don't get your hopes up. He's off limits to anyone but the Clothed Ones. Listen, Ian, I've been wanting to tell you. You work for the Boss, you hear some shit, you know?

• What have you heard?

• You like this guy Stan, right?

• Yeah. So?

• He's on a schedule.

• . . . What kind of schedule?

• I'm sorry, but . . . look, they brought a dozen guys down here, the `left-siders'.

• Sure, Stan's one of them.

• But other guys are arriving, right? The ones they call `The Twelve'? When they do, a left-sider loses his balls. They cut my co-pilot Phil, then made me fuck him. Hey, he was a good fuck, I enjoyed it, may he rest in peace, but they shouldn't have castrated him first.

• Whoa, what do you mean `may he rest in peace', and what does this have to do with Stan?

• Yesterday, another Twelve came down from upstairs. And Hamish and Percy, they're saying they have too many balls, they gotta cut a left-sider. So they cut some guy named Curtis. Anyway, Curtis ain't here today. Which is like a pattern: The day after they chop your balls . . . you go bye-bye.

• Yeah, they release them when they don't need them anymore.

• Ian, Ian, are you naïve? I've been here less than a week, I know what's what more than you do. Believe me, if they release these guys, they're releasing them to the great brothel in the sky, if you know what I mean. They don't send them home to mommy.

• You're saying they kill them?

• They killed Phil. They made me do it, I shot him in the head while he was asleep. They said if I didn't, they'd kill him in some awful manner, and I couldn't let that happen. Listen, there's supposed to be a guy coming tomorrow and another on the 11th. And your pal Stan – he sings soprano that day – the 11th. He's on the schedule. And I think that means that on the 12th it's Fertilizer City.

• No. No, Barry, no.

• Look, sorry, I know you like the guy, but –

• This can't happen.

• Yeah, I wanted to let you know, I thought maybe you could talk to Percy, he likes you. I don't think anyone can persuade Hamish, but Percy, now, he might listen to you, and then maybe Percy could talk to Hamish, you know?

• Right. . . Thanks, Barry. . . . I guess.

• Good luck, pal.

• I don't . . . I don't know if I can stop them. Hamish – he seems . . . unstoppable.

• You said a mouthful there, my friend.

FLASHBACK – BARRY (SANTO DOMINGO) – May, this year

I was making my plans. I'd accepted the job from Ethiopian Airlines. All I had to do was sneak out of the country without Hamish noticing. He'd gotten me fired, and now was pressuring me into working for him. He didn't say for HIM – it was this Zen Tropical outfit – but I had the feeling he had more of a stake in it than just owning stock.

He had pictures of me and Andrés that he could blackmail me with, and if he knew where I was going he could get me fired again. But he couldn't possibly send them to every airline in the world on the off-chance that I would go to work for them.

If I booked a flight in my own name, he'd be able to find me, I was certain of that. But there was one thing I had up my sleeve. When I married Paloma, she wanted to hyphenate our names. I actually had a passport made up under the name Barry Russell-Echevarría. I'd make my plane reservations under the name B. Echevarría. And I wouldn't fly directly to Addis Ababa. I would take a circuitous route – Santo Domingo to Madrid to Lome to Addis Ababa. All on different airlines.

I'd have to get someone to take care of Lash, my cocker spaniel. Lash was the best male companion I never fucked, but Luis from downstairs could take care of him. I'd leave Lash on his doorstep, with a note. Luis loved Lash, if not his name; he'd take him in.

But leaving Santo Domingo brought heaviness to my heart. Not because of Paloma, I was happy to leave her. But my little boy. Rafa, my son, the result of my indiscretion with Paloma and the cause of my misguided marriage to her. I would never see him again. If I had enough courage, I'd swoop in, grab him, and take him with me, but that was fantasy: Paloma would be even more determined than Hamish to track me down, and what would I do with him in Addis Ababa when I was flying?

My flight was tomorrow night. On my way out, I'd tie Lash to Luis's doorknob. I'd take back streets, abandon my car halfway to the airport, and take a taxi from there. I'd make myself damn untraceable.

And then I walked up the steps to my apartment; when I opened the door there was Lash. Not waiting for me. Lying lifeless on the floor. Burnt to a crisp.

A note was pinned to his charred fur: NOT THINKING OF LEAVING, ARE YOU? THINK AGAIN OR THIS WILL BE YOUR SON.

The next week I started to work for Zen Tropical Airways.

THE DORMITORY – LUCAS

I knew instinctively that where I had landed – and so felicitously reunited with Stefan – was the answer to the question "What happened to Leo and Paul?" Unless I was kept isolated, I figured I would run into them sooner or later. But I didn't expect to be rooming with them.

After my joyous sex with Stefan, they sent a dude named Barry – who looked a few years older than me – to escort me to my chambers, which turned out to be a sort of dormitory, with a dozen beds. Two of which were occupied by a pair of the most delicious bodies that Flight 12 had carried here.

I didn't know which to address first. I started with Paul, the easier target.

• So, Paul, what's with the jockstrap? Don't want us to see your junk? Looks like you got a decent package there, why don't you take that thing off and let me check it out?

• Oh, shit, Lucas. Of all the guys to show up down here, it had to be you? You want me to lose the jockstrap? Go ahead, be my guest. Take it off me. Just try. You'll be doing me a favor.

• Still superglued on, eh? Well, never mind, that's the nice thing about jocks, there's still plenty of access to your most attractive feature. You have quite a spectacular rump there, Paul.

• . . .

• Maybe it's already been taken for a test drive?

• Wait till you're here a couple of days, Lucas. You won't be making so many jokes about asses when yours is the center of attention.

• Paul, I never joke about asses. Yours is top notch. Now Leo here, he's got a decent ass, but it pales in comparison to yours.

• (Leo) Fuck you, Lucas.

• Likewise, I'm sure. So you going to give me back my shoes, now?

• (Leo). . . . Yeah, right. You see me wearing them?

• I think you should pay a little penalty for stealing my shoes and then losing them. A penalty called, I don't know – sodomy?

• (Leo) Get lost, Lucas.

• Hmmm, switched from fuck you' to get lost'. Maybe you don't want to think about the word `fuck' when it comes to old Lucas, huh?

I started to move on him and he scrambled across one of the beds to another one.

• (Paul) Lucas, leave him alone.

• What, you his buddy now? . . . Yeah, I can see you're real fond of Leo, we all are. We all know he's a flaming asshole. Paul, if I were you, I'd stay out of this. And let me deal with Leo.

• (a new voice) Sure, Luke, you deal with Leo. I'll take care of Paul. I haven't fucked him yet.

• Hey, Stefan, I didn't see you come in. You up for a little tag-team action?

• You bet, bud.

• (Leo) No way! Absolutely no way!

• (Stefan) You have to obey me, I'm a lieutenant. When I want sex, you have to comply – or you'll spend a couple of hours with the Unholy Trio. I understand you've already met us.

• (Leo, grudgingly) Yeah, what of it?

• (Stefan) Fun, wasn't it? Alec, Mac, and me – we're the ones Hamish sends bad boys to when he wants them to learn a lesson. My lessons are worse than Alec's, Leo. So if I tell you to bend over, you bend over.

• (Leo) I have to bend over for you. I don't have to bend over for him.

• (Stefan) You have to obey me. And I say you're going to get fucked by my buddy Lucas.

• (Leo) Your buddy?

• He and I knew each other on the other side. You're lucky you didn't run into us in Chicago, that's all I can say.

• (Leo) Why? You said the same thing to me a couple of days ago.

• Trust me, kid, you don't want to know. Now bend over – Stefan, you want to do Paul first?

Yeah, first. Leo took some convincing – like pushing him up against the wall and pounding him in the kidneys – but he said `uncle' and bent over like a good puppy. His insides were as silky as one could have hoped. He squealed a lot, still not used to taking it up the ass, but driving my power tool into his backside was one of the all-time great pleasures.

I rode Paul, too, after Stefan had opened him up good. Paul was an even more satisfactory fuck than Leo. Mainly because he liked it. Leo was gay, but it was clear that back in Atlanta he was pitching plenty but not used to catching. Well, that would change here. But Paul – Paul was pure catcher. He had a sexy little butt, and it felt great around cock. Maybe he didn't like having no choice, but he did like feeling my ten-incher reaming his ass. Stefan was equal in length to me, and ten percent thicker, so he gave our little Virginian – Virginian, not virgin – a heavy workout. Even though it was Leo I wanted to punish, Paul was the one who wound up bleeding. Fortunately, Stefan had informed me, down here repair to a damaged rectum was near-instantaneous, and he'd be good for multiple rounds tomorrow.

As I was pulling out of Paul, I heard a voice, as if on a P.A. system. .

• Lucas, Stefan, report to the Throne Room.

I turned to Stefan.

• Throne Room?

• Hamish's suite. Hamish . . . can be a scary fellow – not to me, but to some. Be respectful.

To my surprise, Hamish had summoned us to lavish us with praise. Hamish loved that I had raped my fellow captives, and liked my doubling up with Stefan. He, of course, was aware of our past history. He told me that, while I would be fucked daily, he would restrict the privilege to Stefan. And he would give me free rein to force any of my fellow captives to accept my cock in either orifice. If I kept it up, other privileges might follow.

So much for Hamish being a scary fellow.

ORANJESTAD, ARUBA – JORDAN

I spent the day, my first in Betaworld, with Miles and Sean. The newness of this double-world reality was getting to be overwhelming, and Sean suggested we just chill out at the beach – partly so I could see that I could be comfortable in Betaworld, that it was nothing to be afraid of. I agreed, but first I needed to buy some swimming trunks – I'd only brought a woman's swimsuit, complete with padding.

I'm not so sure how comfortable I was when I saw Sean in his swimming trunks. His chest was perfection – smooth, well-formed pecs, not too big, but well-molded, above abs a woman in a third-world country could wash her clothes on. Not a body-builder, and yet chiseled. Like a gymnast. I was in lust.

The feeling seemed to be mutual, and Miles didn't like it. I never thought of Miles as any kind of a prude, but when Sean rubbed suntan lotion on my back – and let his hand slip under my trunks to caress the top of my butt, a disapproving look crossed Miles's face. I would have thought he was jealous if he wasn't so attached to Vic.

That evening Sean took us to El Paradiso, one of the best restaurants on the island – on his expense account, he said, the sky's the limit. We were sitting there nursing our pre-prandial Mai-Tais when a blonde woman in her early twenties with an angular face approached our table and spoke to Miles.

• (woman) Excuse me, are you Miles King?

• (Miles) I am.

• (woman) Magda Kowalczyk. I've been looking for you and Jordan Murdock. The concierge said you were here.

• I'm Jordan Murdock.

• (Magda) They told me Jordan Murdock was a woman.

• (Sean, pitching in to spare me awkwardness) Amazing how people can give you false information.

• (Magda) Well, anyway, I heard you were suing ZTA over the plane crash. I want in.

• Yes?

• (Magda) My husband was on that plane. We were actually taking separate vacations because we had different interests, but we were supposed to meet in Cartagena on Saturday. And now he's gone, but ZTA won't even comment on the fact that he's dead. They just say the plane disappeared and they're investigating.

• (Miles) We know.

• (Magda) He didn't make out a will, but as his widow, I should inherit. But unless we can prove he's dead – well, doesn't it take seven years before they declare a missing person dead?

Nice woman, this.

• (Miles) Actually, we're not sure we're going through with the lawsuit. We've made some contacts with their parent company, and I think they'll settle with us privately.

This is news to me, Miles.

• (Magda) Oh. Oh, I see. You don't care about all the rest of us who lost our loved ones in the crash, you're just going to make a private deal for yourselves.

• (Miles) That's not –

• (Magda) I know your type. Sorry, I got some misinformation about what kind of people you were. (to me) And even what gender you are. I see I'm wasting my time with the likes of you.

And she stalked off. Miles turned to me and smiled.

• (Sean) Well, that got rid of her. Good job, Miles.

• (Miles, to me) You didn't think I meant it, did you? About giving up the lawsuit?

• I didn't think you'd say that in front of Sean. Unless you and he have something going.

Okay, maybe that was me being jealous. I WAS attracted to Sean, which racked me with guilt, especially since I knew Augie was still alive – in Betaworld. But something about Miles wasn't quite right, and it had to do with Sean.

• (Sean) She's just after his money. In Alphaworld, Magda Kowalczyk is in Peru sleeping with a different guy each night. And I have it on good authority that Stan Kowalczyk may be rethinking his heterosexuality. He's still alive, too, of course.

• In Betaworld. And in Alpha world?

• Not sure.

• But I'm only in Betaworld. Am I trapped here forever?

• Not such a bad fate. Betaworld in Aruba is just like Alphaworld. I hope you saw that today – not such a bad place to be, temporarily. In Betaworld, you can call Jen and talk to her.

• And in Alphaworld?

• Jen doesn't have a brother.

• And she doesn't know Augie.

• Augie's family doesn't know Augie. He exists only here in Betaworld. If you talk to Jen about him in Betaworld, remember that he's supposedly dead.

• Where is he?

• On an island – a very special island – that doesn't exist in Alphaworld.

• Can he come here? Augie – I need to see him again, I need to know that he's all right, and that you aren't just lying through your teeth about him being alive.

• You will see him again. And Miles, you'll see Vic again. But neither one of them is coming here. Tomorrow I'm taking you both to the island.

[COMING UP NEXT: CHAPTER TWENTY – NEW ARRIVALS]