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.