Andy Finds Daddy
Part 2 Chapter 11 as told to CARL DICKSON
By: ANDREW FOSS
Warning: This story contains vivid descriptions of sexual activity between a man and teen boys.
If this kind of story turns you off, please find something else.
The author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and underage children.
If you are underage, or this is illegal where you are, then please go away. If you're under 18, Adios come back when it is
legal for you to read this smut. If you lied about your age in order to access this story, remember this is our story. Life
doesn't always work out like a story.
This story is copyrighted, ©1999 ©2006. It is therefore illegal to copy or use any part of this story without my written permission.
My name is Andrew Michael Foss. I still like the name Andy. I am called that by those that love me. I'm twenty four and a college graduate.
I'm the head of my own international security company worth multi-million bucks. I have a wonderful life with my dad. Everything I have and am is because of his love for me.
We would like to know how you like our story and will welcome any comments, we want to know how sick we are in the eyes of the world. We will try to respond to all e-mails, she-males, and he-males as the case may be, fe-males, leave phone number and picture, daddy says I need a wife so I can have sons of my own to pleasure him in his old age.
I was sitting of top of the world. Daddy and I lay in bed. My ass felt so used. Used to
feeling used, I was all smiles as I cuddled up to the one man who would always have my heart.
We were talking about dad's favorite cousin, Chris. Yeah, I did it. I ran the DNA of both men.
They don't want to know but I did. They have a common Indian male ancestor back a generations
or so. I won't tell them what I know but I have the knowledge in my heart that these two
wonderful men are of the same blood. It helps me to feel closer to Chris, if that makes sense. I
really love Chris and I would like to be a part of that crazy zoo he has down the street from my
house. Yeah, we've told you before that we are neighbors. He just has wall to wall boys. Here it
is just Dad, his son Tom, with his lover, our two former bell boys from New York, Jeff and
Mark, and me. I like it like that. Six of us that are mostly monogamous. We get it on once in
awhile but I usually get jumped by Chris's boys when I go down there. A new series lays in wait for those who only wish to masturbate. You may find interest in these stories by Carl Dickson: Currently running serialized sagas by Carl Dickson:
With no mail from this story in four months I have decided that there is no more interest in Andy. So tell me your thoughts at fisherman@iname.com
Daddy and I were going over the things that we learned as we took Prince Cullen out into
the public in New York City. Anytime a Royal Head of State is in the country the State
Department is supposed to be involved. We were breaking so many laws that we could be locked
away forever. It didn't make it any easier that there was a half a world of people after the boy for
the huge reward that was on his young head.
Cullen is a sweet kid and very loving. He wanted to show me his appreciation, constantly.
Chris kissed me and told me I could have all of the boy that he wanted to share with me but he
was sure that I would have all of the boy I could handle long before the boy was through with
me. I was stupid enough to take the challenge. I had never been with a feisty fourteen year old
and had no idea how much cum they had or wanted. I fucked my dick raw on that skinny little ass
of his. Daddy was telling me that I couldn't get personally involved to that level with our regular
clients. The old man laughed his ass off at me. He thought it was funny.
We did learn quite a bit however. We were able to keep Cullen under our watchful eye
every second and the only scary time was when that ambassador tried to run out with him. Even
then we were on it and the man only got far enough away from the crowd that our takedown of
him was unknown to anyone. Chris is a bit of a sadist at heart and I could see how much he
really wanted to hurt the man but his plan to put him in bed with a ten year old street boy was
priceless. Chris has seen to that little guy's future and he will never want for anything again. I
have asked Chris and he'll only tell me that the boy is now with a two parent family who know of
his past and his desires. They are comfortable with all of that because the boy is so much of a ray
of pure joy in their lives. Chris says that he gets weekly reports from his people near the couple
but will never bother any of the three of them unless it is necessary.
Construction was well underway on our regional centers. Arkansas proved to be a breeze.
There were very large caverns deep underground with great drainage. The site was perfect for our
needs. We made an extraordinarily secure entry way from a small cabin that we built at about
five thousand feet up the side of a mountain. There was a mountain top lake in front of a sheer
cliff of solid granite. A meadow of short green grass surrounded this little lake. A natural clearing
of the trees framed a commanding view of the area below. This had been a place of solitude to
Cory and Chris's grandfather and he wanted a cabin with a large window overlooking the
magnificent view. He died before ever getting it built. A place of honor was built behind the
three inch thick bullet proof window where a six inch tall pot of Indian design resides. Chris has
a larger version of that same pot sitting in the entry way of his home. Both contain ashes of his
grandfather. The cabin was actually one half inch thick steel plating, clad in wood siding on the
outside. Chris had us use the same Kevlar honeycomb batting that his house is made from for
insulation under the sheet rock inside. The cabin is bullet proof and pretty much, small bomb
proof.
Cory was shown the cabin He was overwhelmed. He and Chris spent several nights up
there. Cory does not know that the back wall of the closet hides an eighteen inch thick door that
leads down into our communications center. An electric cart sits by the door, constantly ready for
Chris to use to come down to the command post. His password and imprint will buy him ten
minutes to get that far before an intruder alert is sounded. Ten minutes is a trip to descend seven
thousand feet on a path just over four miles long, with hundreds of turns and intersections. A
maze that Chris himself designed. Someone that did not know the maze would be nice targets for
the many automated weapons system my boys and I play with.
Daddy had wanted to get the Arizona complex up first. He wanted a place close by that
we could get to on short notice. He stayed with that complex and had it up and fully functional by
the end of August. The runway into the complex was due to the ingeniousness or youth of Jeff
and Tom. Daddy was complaining about there not being anyway of hiding a runway long enough
for a 747. Jeff said hide it in the mountain. Tom shoved his dick in Jeff's ass and said, "see, most
of it is inside. You don't get anywhere with it all out in the open." We laughed but daddy and I
looked at each other.
Daddy loved his old decilog log slide rule. He could whip out his figures as fast as I could
with my scientific calculator and be right to two or three decimals. A 747 should have at least a
mile and a half of good concrete under it but there are many instances of much shorter runways
being used safely. A good pilot can land in a mile. Heavily loaded he might need a mile and a
half to get off. I can get off in much less distance. Excuse me.
We had level ground a quarter of a mile wide and two miles deep into our Arizona
mountain. The thing was one massive rock and very little shoring was needed throughout.
Mammoth structures were erected inside to support the roof on eighteen inch steel I beams of
three quarter inch thick alloyed steel. Five hundred foot long bolts were driven up into the
mountain from inside anchoring the I beams to the ceiling creating a span of five hundred feet. A
six hundred foot tall opening was made a quarter of a mile back into the cavern where it slowly
lowered to four hundred feet.
A mile and a half of three hundred foot wide runway was constructed outside the cavern
with one and a quarter miles of the concrete covered with four inches of packed sand. Some
concoction of one of daddy's engineering friends. He told us that it would break up into chunks
rather than grains if great weight were put on it. The idea was to not have loose sand that would
cause the plane to slide and it should not blow away but hide the extra pavement from the air.
Most of Arizona is government land so it was not unusual for signs to appear forbidding
trespassers around our complex.
The concrete runway was colored and the edges treated so no sharp lines appeared.
Landings had to be by instrument until almost on the ground. Sight landings would be hazardous
as there was really nothing to sight on until a plane was on the ground and could see into the
swiftly arriving cavern ahead. All of the electronics were buried and even the lights were
disguised. The lights were only turned on when a plane was on final approach as a courtesy to a
very nervous flight crew. After a few landings the pilots asked that the lights not be used to
prevent their accidental sighting by unauthorized persons in the area.
Camouflaged tarps were lowered over much of the cavern mouth making it more difficult
to see. The nearest access by land was at the end of the runway at the top of a fifty foot climb full
of electronic sensors to detect intruders. A person could get up on the mountainside across the
river, some seven miles away. High powered lens could be used to snoop us out. We took some
very hard looks at the lessons learned at the so called Area 51, which of course does not exist.
With all that we have put into this base I feel it is the most secure place on earth. No one,
or thing larger than a tit-mouse can get within five miles of us with out our knowing it and what
we have in our own private satellite makes crispy critters out of them in an instant. Not even
ashes are left. We had to play so Chris and I found some old derelict cars over the edge of a cliff
within our range. There are not even melted remains. This puppy is hot. I better shut up.
New York was coming along but we started last on it and were barely out of the ground
when Chris came up. Wait a minute. I am ahead of myself again. Let me go back a few weeks.
We had just become operational at Base Andy. Like that? Their's Base Boy because of our
proximity to Bradford Academy, BAG Boys, daddy loves a joke. And Base Chris, because Chris
owns the west half of the mountain we're in. Our communications gear was up and strong when
one of the monitors hit on a key word, Cullen. Alarms went off everywhere. I was in town and
got the call. Someone in the center had already hit the button that put all of the agencies which
we are associated with into action. I just made it seconds ahead of the boys in black as we homed
in on locators implanted in Chris and Cullen. All of my men have a locator about the thickness of
a standard Bic Pen® refill and about a quarter of an inch long implanted under their balls. Chris
wanted Cullen implanted too so we put one in him the day after he arrived.
The fax machine in my truck was spitting out a full color picture of young Cullen on his
back, naked, covered in cum, with cum spouting cocks aimed at him. The closed caption at the
bottom of the page read in a Slavic language, "The queen who would be King." This had just
been taken off of a live feed to one of Europe's leading television networks. I was driving,
pulling pages out of the fax machine and yelling into my radio mic to shut that story down. I
came up to the school seconds ahead of two FBI cars with their lights flashing. I slammed my
truck into a ninety degree stop against the curb and ran as fast as I could toward Chris who was
just entering the school.
He had heard me coming and was on the ground in protective cover over Cullen. I was
proud of him. The money that we had spent sending him training this past spring proved its
worth right there. It is not easy getting a man away from a family as large and demanding as his
for three hours of intensive drill everyday but we had done it and today showed that the training
had worked. I showed Chris the picture as I placed my hand against his back. I knew he would go
slack kneed and he did. He quickly recovered and let his training take over as he stated shouting
orders at his boys.
I took Cullen and all of the boys outside into protective custody and had them put inside
armored vehicles. Chris
went inside then was back in minutes with the rest of his boys. He got in my truck with Cullen
and me as one of my men took his car. We left in a motorcade that sped through town with
motorcycle police stopping traffic at every intersection. I had managed to put the flags of
Cullen's country on the fenders of my truck and of an FBI car behind me so we looked
impressive. We let our motorcycle escort fall behind to block traffic so no one saw our turn off at
the end of a runway at the main airport where I had one of my planes ready and waiting. We
played out a game months in advance for just this sort of action where we had to get the president
out of town after Air Force One had been over run while he was in town speaking. This was only
one of many such escape plans but it was the one I played for my friends. The boys were rushed
inside the plane and we began to taxi away before the steps were lowered and the door closed.
The ground crew did their job because I did not hear the stairs hit the plane as we got under way.
We took off almost at once. We taxied to the end of the runway and were off at once. The
FBI had alerted the airport of a visiting head of State under attack. Damn their hides. I would
have someone's hide on my wall. I guess they think they were doing their job but no one knew
Cullen was in this country and those that suspected he was had no idea he was in Arizona. Now
my job is getting harder.
The next two days were pandemonium. The state department was all over me, demanding
to know where this kid king was. I was trying to get it across to Chris that he had to get Cullen
out of town but he was not about to split up his family. I was about to pull my hair out when I
learned that he was out trying to save more battered and molested boys. Now don't get me
wrong. I love him for what he is doing. I was one of those boys, if you'll remember. I know how
wonderful it is to have that man on a white horse come up to you and give you hope and peace
and a future. I had to stop and kiss daddy. But dang it, man there is real danger afoot and my
main player is off on his white horse. I had to stop and pray for him.
The next morning Chris is on the phone ordering helicopters and airplanes to carry
supplies to the gulf region. Well I have a heart and I was more than willing to do whatever I
could to help get food and water to those poor souls who had lost everything, including hope.
What Chris was doing was so important but he didn't realize that his life was on the line as well
as everybody in his house. The world's telephone lines were melting down with calls wanting to
know about a State Department memo saying that King Cullen was somewhere in Arizona. It
would not take much longer for them to zero in and once they did these people would not stop
with killing Cullen.
The good news came from Chris in the late afternoon. All of his boys were home safe
from school and he was easier to talk to. He had his mind going in a hundred different directions
but some of those directions made me calm down. He wanted to fly himself and his boys to the
gulf to help with rescue and rebuilding. He decided that he would be better off if he limited
himself to rebuilding. He wanted a plane to take the whole troop south. We rattled back and forth
then he hit on a solution to so many of my problems. He does not know it yet but he now has his
very own airplane, just for his use. I had a 737 in the hanger for a re-paint. The interior was still
set up as a passenger liner. That would fit the bill nicely. He asked if we could use a flat black
primer to make my repaint easier when he got back. He wanted large white script lettering that
simply said, "Friends' Club" painted on the plane. I could do that, gladly.
We worked all night to fill the plane with craftsmen and tools. The next morning he
showed up with his boys to find us in a heavily guarded hangar at the Air Field along with eighty
five men who would be going with him to build houses.
I had to file a flight plan and I notified the State Department. I made it clear that Prince
Cullen was my responsibility and that I would take the full brunt for any actions that might
endanger him. I refused to identify or point Cullen out. I told them that he was flying with a
group of volunteers from his highschool who knew who he was and were dressed like him to
protect him. They liked that like the plague but I had the upper hand, I had the boy.
We landed in Hettiesburg, Mississippi under extra FAA and NSA security. The small
airport there was not long enough for our plane but we had one of the best combat trained pilots
in the country at the stick. We unloaded the plane and got down to work. Chris amazes me with
his expertise. He had us organized and working before the sun was fully up. He took a chopper
down to Biloxi to survey the area. FEMA had reluctantly given us an area to work in. I believe
that they expected us to fail as badly as they had. Not so with Chris. His boys were already
landing and setting up their command center and their own shelter and food station.
By noon Chris had the military flying in heavy equipment and he was clearing roads and
moving debris. The first roofs went on before dark as he took those houses that were deemed
salvageable to task first. The area he had been assigned had not had significant flooding so that
was no problem. The damage here was simply from the high winds and rain. He found a
highschool cafeteria virtually intact. With few new windows installed and some serious cleanup
and sanitizing Chris had volunteer cooks working by noon. Hot soup was the fare with a
sandwich and a piece of fruit but it was more than some of these people had eaten in two or three
days.
Chris was flying in planes loaded with lumber and boxes of apples set on top of that. He
brought up three helicopters full of oranges from a Florida grower that he knew. The oranges had
been destined to a now non-existent cannery and would rot. Chris smiled at me, "Orange juice
futures. I have to protect my own don't you know." I don't understand commodity trading but the
man has made me a fortune in coffee and orange juice futures. At least that's what he tells me.
When I heard that there was a warehouse found under water and full of coffee my heart sank a
bit. Chris told me it was all good that the price was going up. He told me to buy lots of cans of
coffee and this winter reap the profits from the higher price. He knows this stuff I don't.
Just five or six days into our work Chris came to me to ask for a very special personal
favor. He had found a boy in real need. He told me that the boy was a link to a serious court case
that he was working on. I don't know about that. We're in Mississippi. What kind of court case
did he have going here? Anyway the boy needed to be in a hospital. He was trying to get legal
guardianship so he could get the boy treated and every day counted.
Things blew up on Chris on about our twelfth day on the job. Rita Skeeter spotted Cullen.
Cullen had dyed his hair black and was wearing black horn rimmed glasses but this television
reporter thought she saw him. I heard Chris shout into the radios that we all wore and one of my
agents accidently fell over the reporter's photographer causing both me to fall into a puddle of
standing brackish water left over from the storm. My man had a heavy duty magnet that we all
carry for just such a job. He slipped the magnet into his glove and picked the man's camera from
the water, making sure to wipe every inch of the camera with the magnet and really giving the
area over the inserted tape cassette a good going over. Chris was thankful that the news crews
weren't able to get their microwave uplinks back into where we were yet and were reduced to
using the older tape cameras.
He had four boys on a plane to New York a half an hour later. I had to beg him to send
them anywhere but Tucson. He settled on New York when he got hold of his friend, a Mr.
Bradford that ran the school there. Chris and his boys were staying at the school this past
summer. They were down in New York city when we met the boys for the big party. Mr Bradford
agreed to put the three boys up get the new boy into the hospital. I asked about this reporter, Rita
whatever. He told me that she was the bane of a young wizard in England and he would tell me
the story when the rush was over. A boy by the name of Christopher told me it was a character
from a Harry Potter book. I've never read the books so I was at a loss. Christopher explained
that the character in the book wrote her own distorted version of the truth without regard to
whom she may hurt. I never did find out why Chris related this character to the reporter at the job
site.
Chris's efforts were drawing a lot of attention. It seems that we were the only ones
working. Chris had train cars of material arriving hourly. Everything was coming in under the
name of the Friends' Club. Reporters were dragging men away from their work trying to find out
who this group was. Nobody could recall ever having heard of them. Finally on Sunday the
eighteenth Chris had all one hundred and three of us load up and sneak off.
My men didn't go to work that morning. They quietly broke down our equipment and
loaded it onto the plane. Many of the men put on their black uniforms with black patches that one
had to get right up on to read. They armed themselves and took locations around to keep
everybody away from the boys, the office, or Chris. I heard the reporter that Chris called Rita ask
two of the boys who the Friends were. They put their arms over each other's shoulders and
simply said, "We are." She chased after them wanting to know if they were a church group and
why they were all vegetarians. Chris was right, she was dangerous. She had been asking too
many questions and she could not be allowed to know the truth.
I filed a flight plan for St. Louis but changed it while in the air to Chicago. Chicago was
exactly as we had hoped, inundated with rain We dropped below radar in Chicago's flight plain
and switched transponders. When we got back up where we could be seen we were identified as a
government plane on a priority flight. I didn't listen to the radio chatter but I am sure there are
some nervous ATCs wondering what happened to the black airplane flying under the name of
Friends' Club.
We landed in New York and into a peck of trouble for Chris. I really wish now that I had
taken him back home. As soon as his boys were fed and bedded Chris took off to the hospital to
see his new boy that had been hurt. I learned from the other boys that this new boy was an old
friend of their newest family members and he had been molested by the same ones that they were
waiting to testify against.
Chris came back to Base Bradford so mad that I could see the veins in his face. He hardly
slept. He paced almost all night. Pete sat with him awhile but the poor boy passed out. Chris
carried him to his bed. Cory awakened and wanted to know what was going on. I knew to just
keep my distance. The next morning I moved my things into Carl's and my private apartment.
Chris put on a suit and left in a rental Cadillac as soon as it was delivered.
He was gone for most of the day then he came back and stayed with the boys for a few
hours. He couldn't sleep yet and was up about ten. I was watching a young man on my monitors
as he prowled around the barracks in which Chris and his boys were sleeping. I was just about to
have him picked up when Chris walked up to him. I aimed a microphone at them and tightened
my picture. I could see the joint. That really got to me. I have known Chris for seven years. I have
done a very thorough background check on him. He does not do drugs. Maybe he will have a
drink, every year or two but drugs...there was something bad wrong.
I had IDed the peeper, he was Toby Minor. An eighteen year old new hire on his first job.
He was part of the above ground laborers with no clearance or knowledge of the underground
activities going on around him. We had no background or other information on this Toby Minor.
It was unknown who had placed the young man on the job. He was just there raking the grass and
doing a good job so we watched him, all day.
Chris was laid back on the grass as Toby swallowed his first cock. Chris was giving the
boy instructions on how to suck him as he lay back with a marijuana cigarette. When he finished
smoking he gave Toby a big kiss then stripped the boy naked and sucked his young cock, outside,
in the grass, under the moonlight. What a fucking man. He knows no fear. I am falling more and
more in love with him the longer I get to know him.
I'm afraid that my cock found its way into my hand when Chris took Toby's virginity. I
actually have a close up tape recording, well okay, three tape recordings from different angles,
with sound, of Chris deflowering a very cute and sexy teenage boy. His technique is so smooth.
He ate the boy's ass then sucked him off again. He did this twice after already sucking a load out
of the kid when they were sixty nineing. He had his fingers up the boy's chute working it open
for his monster to work its magic inside.
From their pillow talk in the soft grass everything had come out okay and Toby was in
love. The two lay there and slept until the sky began to brighten. Chris left Toby as he dashed
into the barracks to get dressed. He was back in a flash with one of the base jumpsuits on. He and
Toby got into the Cadillac and left. It was just after sunrise when Chris returned, alone, and went
back into the barracks.
Chris spent most of Monday morning with the boys. He had a couple of phone calls and
he made a couple of calls. I spent the morning sleeping in. Chris found me at lunchtime and he
had some great news for me. He had pulled all of the boys out of school for the semester and was
taking them to Europe. Oops, did I say great news. I thought that I was having nightmares trying
to watch over him now but here he is wanting to jump into the fire with both feet.
Chris laid out a story to me that made me see red. Someone was trying to shut down the
school. There was big money behind the effort and a lot of people stood to get hurt. He also told
me about a boy he had met at the hospital that had been the victim of an over amorous and
anxious boyfriend. The boyfriend had been literally stomped by his own father. The father had
jumped up and down on his sixteen year old son. Chris was on his way to get the boy out of jail.
He asked if I could monitor the local cops and keep him up to date. No problem. I was in
constant communication with Chris the rest of the day as he got on his white horse, or in this
case, his black Cadillac and set about the countryside rescuing cute young boys.
That evening he had me move on information that we had gathered when one of Chris's
throw away phones was activated. The call went to Tucson. I sent a specialized crew in to take an
old man out to safety. After he was gone we examined the most sophisticated network of
computers that any of my people had ever seen. They were pieced together with bits and pieces
of cables that had been spliced together to make unusual connections. Everything was
documented and schematics were drawn so that we could reassemble the set up here. An
interview was arranged for the man the following afternoon so that he could get his rest from his
trip to us.
The following few days were a mess as Chris ran back and forth. He kept me up on
everything and I accompanied him to a couple of meetings. We were on the trail of the biggest
bunch of really bad mother fuckers that I had ever heard of. The people who wanted to shut down
the school was an international ring of white slavers. They were kidnaping children, right here in
our own country then selling them as slaves to the highest bidder. The school had seriously
dampened their boy supply, or so they thought. They had Chris listed as the head man at the
school because he was supplying boys for big sex parties in New York.
He even brought the Crown Prince Cullen and offered him as a prostitute to the men at
the party. A five million dollar price tag was placed on his head and they would double the
current three quarter million dollar reward on Cullen if both of them could be taken at the same
time. Before I could get Chris out of the country we had a gun held to our heads. Chris and some
of my men were in a gun battle where Chris actually shot and killed one of the slavers.
I found out who was behind it all and had to lay a plan. I killed Chris and claimed the
reward money. Now I knew who and I knew where. It was only a matter of time. Chris cannot be
that easily satisfied. We had to go on a vacation to the French Riviera and find three boys that
had been kidnaped off of American streets and were being led around on dog leashes to service
men in broad open daylight on the streets of a quiet little fishing village where we were supposed
to be relaxing. Yeah, we. The crazy momma humper dragged me over there with him. Something
about needing a break today where there was no Rainbow Room, his silly name for
McDonald's™ because of the Golden Arches which he says are gold rainbows, hence rainbow
room. He is so crazy that you have to love him.
While we relaxed on the Riviera Chris located an old friend and his cronies and arranged
for another really old friend of his, who just happened to be the chief of police for that province,
to do a little torture chamber study. He wanted to know everybody involved. What we didn't
know then is that we had been compromised from within and there was a systematic plan in place
to get rid of all of us.
While Chris was playing with Tasers and bad guys, I got word that my precious daddy
and his son, Tom had been killed in a automobile accident on a winding mountain road in
southern New Mexico. I don't know what to do. I feel like all of these boys did just two days
when I told them that Chris was dead, only this is for real. There is nobody else behind the scenes
pulling my irons out of the fire. I am alone again. I am right back where I started seven years ago
when I met the most wonderful person on earth.
Of course Andy is not alone and never will be. He will become a member of my
household. He is already a member of my family. It is not going to be easy, the death of a loved
one never is. I am going to help Andy remember the good times he had with Carl and where he is
today because of the man. I have been on the telephone with Eddy all day. He is making funeral
arrangements. I will fly home with Andy to bury our friend and lover.
Eddy filled me in on the details as he knows them. Carl Dickson and his son, Tom were
killed by a drunk when Carl's car was run off of the road on U.S. highway 70, a few miles east of
Ruidosa, New Mexico, Halloween night, October 30th. Witness said that a west bound car was
seen speeding and weaving back and forth across the road. The witness came around a curve and
saw the flames from Carl's car down in a deep ravine. They ran to help and heard the screams of
the two men trapped inside the twisted wreck. The bodies were positively identified as Carl and
his son, Tom, who were on their way to Oklahoma to check out Base Chris. Eddy was going to
fly in and meet them as soon as first quarter testing at college finished, giving him a five day
break.