Date: Mon, 27 Dec 2004 16:25:47 EST From: Jonah Subject: Island Paradise Ch 1 This story is entirely a work of fiction and it's characters include no real people, living or dead. This is the first chapter of a six part serial, which I hope you'll enjoy. It may have been the storm. The ageing Focker Friendship had weathered storms before, but you never could tell. Carl Breed had never flown in such a storm. He had only signed on as cabin crew on Talbot Airlines three weeks previously. None of the larger airlines wanted to take on an eighteen year old to train as a steward, and Carl hoped to be a pilot some day. There were only ten passengers on this flight. The Thomsons with their four boys, and the Wynns - Grandpa and Grandma, Letitia and her son Simon. Carl had made friends with Simon Wynn: He always got on with boys. The Thomson boys were lively and excited. Carl couldn't remember all their names though they were on the manifest. Both families were headed for a holiday in Barbados, but, as the storm clouds began to close in, Barbados seemed a long way away. The Friendship was not large enough to carry a senior steward as well, so Carl's training was entrusted to Brad Walters, the co-pilot. Because the massive cumulo-nimbi meant turbulence Brad was back in the cabin with Carl. Reassuring frightened passengers is one of any steward's first priorities. "I saw a fork of lightning shoot right through the cloud over there - it was like a spear". That was one of the Thomson twins (the two middle Thomson boys were twins, about ten, and always tried to outdo one another). "I saw a thunderbolt nearly hit the front of the plane". Carl thought it best to intervene at this point. Claim and counter-claim would probably escalate till they made other passengers nervous. It never happened. Before Carl could open his mouth the turbulence struck. The violence was such that Zack, the Canadian pilot, decided to try to climb above the clouds. Both Carl and Brad felt the aircraft's nose rise. "Best get back", said Brad making for the cockpit. The aircraft lurched violently. Brad was on the floor - face down - there was blood on the side of his head. Letitia Wynn screamed. Carl noticed that the aircraft was now nose downward. "Lifejackets!" he shouted above the rising scream of the engines. The grown ups were already trying to get the old fashioned Mae Wests onto their children. The cabin lurched as if the aircraft had hit a brick wall The lights went out as Carl hit the floor. His head ached. It was dark. His eyes were closed. That's why it was dark. He was soaked to the skin. Someone was holding him. Must try to open his eyes. Pain. Can't tell where. Arm. Left arm. Could be broken. Headache. At least the sun is shining now. Still can't focus. Hurts. At last his eyes began to focus. He was lying prone on an aircraft wing. the wing lay on the wet sand of a beach of some sort. Inches from his face was the face of a fair haired child. It was one of the Thomson twins and he appeared to have survived by clinging to Carl. He was obviously conscious, but there was no evidence in those pale blue eyes that he recognised the fact. How often had Carl dreamed of lying like this with a cute ten year old boy? The thought never crossed his mind. The pain, shock, desolation - yes they were all there - deep in those eyes left no room for anything but concern for the poor boy. Carl put his arm around the boy. He noticed that the child was shivering. "What you doing with my brother". Pain shot through Carl's arm as rough hands pulled him away from the boy. "You let him go". Carl was being roughly shaken, but he allowed himself to be pulled away from the child. As the unseen hands turned him over he found himself looking into the angry face of the other twin. The boy still did not stop shaking him violently so Carl reached up with his good arm and gripped one of his assailant's arms. Using this arm for leverage Carl pulled himself up till he was upright enough to pull the boy downwards. The shouting stopped. "He's hurt; he needs someone to hold him" Carl gently told the boy as he pushed him towards his brother. The boy surveyed his brother suspiciously. "Whats wrong with him? He doesn't look hurt." Carl reached out to the stricken boy's head. Gently he pushed the hair back from his forehead as he told the twin, "he's not hurt outside; he's hurting in here - hold him". Suddenly the anger and suspicion disappeared. Tears flowed freely instead as the boy hugged his brother. Carl stood up. Further along the beach another figure lay prone on the sand. A little nearer a boy was walking quickly toward him. He easily recognised the bespectacled figure of Simon Wynn. Simon was thirteen and tended to be well padded without actually being fat. His straight brown hair, healthy complexion, and round spectacles gave him a studious look. Nobody had ever told him he looked like Harry Potter, but many had thought it. Recognising Carl, Simon broke into a run. Carl spoke before Simon reached him. "Who's that?" he shouted. Simon waited until he was closer. "That little kid", he panted, "can you have a look at him? I can't make him wake up. He's only about eight". Carl nodded, "Look after these two. I'll go and take a look". Simon looked down at the huddled twins. "What's the matter with them". Carl was impatient. "They've been in a plane crash", he said, then - seeing that the sarcasm had stung Simon - he relented. " They're in shock. they've been through a lot, and", lowering his voice, "I think they've lost their parents". Simon's green eyes fixed firmly on Carl as he quietly said, "we've all done that. They were too busy putting lifejackets on us, then when the plane sank my mum wouldn't leave granny and grandad". Carl pulled Simon to him. "I'm sorry" was all he could say - what else is there? A sudden thought struck him. "Did you see the plane sink?" Simon nodded, "It broke in half ", he said, "the nose end sunk first. Me and one of the twins pulled you back into the tail end. There wasn't time to get the other man". A sudden shout interrupted their conversation. Simon peered round Carl and brightened suddenly. "It's Rory" he said, then - sensing that further explanation might be necessary, "Rory used to be in my class at school, but he goes to a special school now. He's the twins' big brother." Rory appeared to be naked. Carl found his member beginning to come to attention. He could also feel Simon's cock against his leg. Hmmm! Suddenly he broke away. "Rory can look after the twins then", he told Simon, "we'd better go and see what we can do for their little brother." As he strode purposefully down the beach with Simon in his wake, Carl began to realise his situation. He, Carl Breed, eighteen year old would-be aviator, was stranded on a remote island with five lovely boys. Normally that would be enough to get the juices flowing, but some or all of them were at least traumatised, if not permanently scarred. All of them needed his help and his care. It would be as much as they could do to survive. Could he keep lust in check ? Would they always want him to ? I'll tell you next time.