Flight 12

Flight 12 – a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER FOUR: THIS IS NOT A LIGHTHOUSE

Previously (in preceding chapter unless noted):

• Seth, Harry, Ed, and Augie, en route to the lighthouse, find a fifth survivor, Cody. Cody, however, seems to think he's a cattle rancher in Texas. Augie recognizes him as the man asked to move from the left side to the right – and that the flight attendant had called him "Mr. Onslow". Cody shows the group a map which appears to show the location of the twelve Federal Reserve Banks.

• The passengers on the left side of the plane find that they have landed gently on the ocean and are able to reach the shore. Stan Kowalczyk, whose seat was switched with Cody's by the flight attendant (Percy), meets a young clerk (Al Casey) – and Seth's boyfriend Abe Derisian.

• Barry, the pilot, had flown the plane under a threat from a self-described magician named Hamish DiSalvo. After the plane breaks apart, Barry finds himself in an underground building with Hamish. Barry is a professional dom, but Hamish tells him he will be his `boy', and orders him to strip. (Ch. 2)

• The religiously conservative Augie is unaware that his girlfriend' Jordan is actually male; Jordan plans to have the operation' at some point before they are married and never tell the naïve Augie of his birth gender. Waiting in Aruba for Augie to arrive, Jordan and sister Jen learn that Flight 12 has disappeared from radar screens without explanation.

• In a flashback, Seth meets Abe for the first time at a gay bar, which leads to oral sex at Seth's apartment. They make a second date for the following Saturday. (Ch. 2)

FLASHBACK: ABE (CLEVELAND) – November 24, a year ago

Should I come back on Saturday night? "Bring your anus", he said. Funny, too.

But do I really want to connect with this guy? He might be as sexy as Armie Hammer, but did I want to play Timothée Chalamet to him? He had the look of someone who wanted a serious commitment. Still a week shy of my twenty-fourth birthday, I wasn't ready for that yet – although maybe I should be.

I went back Saturday night. He greeted me wearing a leather jockstrap. So much for subtlety. Maybe he was as superficial as I was. Maybe he just wanted a two-night stand. Or maybe he wanted a three-month stand, and then things would get ugly when we started to realize we had nothing going for us except sex.

Well, there are worse things to have going for you. And man, was he hot.

I smiled. He smiled back.

• Am I overdressed?

• You won't be for long.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the apartment, reaching around me and pressing his mouth against mine. His tongue plunged deep into my mouth, and we explored each other's oral cavities for a solid three minutes.

• Okay, now you're overdressed.

• No gin-and-tipsy?

• I don't think you need to be tipsy. Time to get naked, boy.

Boy? Was he doing a dom thing? That could be a turn-on, but I didn't like surprises. Time to send those signals, without pissing him off.

• (flirtatiously) I'm not your boy.

• Yet.

• I'm willing to be your conquest-du-jour, however. Or is that `conquest-de-la-nuit'?

• Are you going to stand there speaking pseudo-French or are you going to get naked?

• Getting naked. (Pause – in a way that said the exact opposite) Sir.

• `Sir'. I like that.

• I was being sarcastic.

• I like that, too. You still seem to have clothes on.

• Well, you know, clothes. They don't come off by themselves.

• Would you like help with that?

• (Grin) Yes. Help me with that. Boy.

And thus (I thought) I managed to convey that I was willing to let him take charge without going too far into any kind of dom/sub role-play.

He put his hands on my top button and slowly, lovingly, passed the button through the hole, then moved on to the next one, slipping his hands inside my shirt to caress my hairy chest and pinch my nipples.

• This would have been faster if you'd worn a pull-over shirt.

• Maybe, but it's more fun this way.

He worked his way down, using his mouth to free the lowest buttons and, once he'd fully opened up the gap, licked the lint out of my navel. His strong hands moved to my shoulders as he tugged down the shirt sleeves slowly down my arms, making me tingle with excitement as the fabric eased over my skin.

I slipped off my shoes and socks effortlessly, as Seth, wasting no time, ripped the belt buckle open, yanked it free of the loops in my jeans, and dangled it in front of my face.

• We could have fun with this later.

I didn't like the implications of that, and was relieved when he dropped the belt on the couch and left it. He grabbed my hips and ,in one smooth motion, slid my jeans and shorts down to my ankles. I stepped out of them, now completely nude, as he stuck his hand over my groin and grabbed my balls.

• Avec moi.

• Now who's speaking French?

• No French tonight, young man. Greek.

His hand firmly gripping my nuts, he walked toward his bedroom. I had no choice but to follow. I guess I could have tried to remove his brawny hand, but I rather liked the rough feel of it around my testicles.

• You want to do this, right?

• I'm here. I brought my anus. Do your thing.

• My thing coming up. Let's get you on your back, I want to see your face.

I clambered on the bed. I was hard in anticipation of that ample-sized cock that I desperately wanted to feel inside of me. He slid the drawer of his nightstand open, to get lubricant and, I hoped, a condom. I watched to make sure of the condom – I would insist on one if he didn't do it instinctively.

He produced the lubricant. He produced the condom. He also produced two other items: a blindfold and a pair of handcuffs.

I blanched at the latter.

• Oh, no.

• (demonic smile) Oh, yes.

I got up.

• No, sorry, can't do this. Not this way. Not handcuffs.

He intercepted me and grabbed me by the waist. Before I knew it, I was back on the bed.

• You told me to do my thing. This is my thing.

• Yeah, well it's not mine.

• Have you ever been fucked in handcuffs?

Fucked? No. But it evoked a memory I wasn't about to reveal on a second date. I'll stick to the literal truth.

• No.

• Then how do you know it's not your thing?

• I . . .

• You don't.

• Valid point. But here's another valid point. `No' means no.

• Except when your body says it means `yes'.

With that, he took the handcuffs and snapped them around my right wrist before I even realized it. He was not only bigger than me, he was stronger, and heavier. Which, when he was lying directly on top of me, meant I could not get out from under him.

And the other half of the handcuffs was attached to the bedpost. I was now trapped.

• I think we should have a little symmetry, don't you?

And reached into the nightstand to pull out a second pair of handcuffs.

• If you do this, it will be rape.

• I have the feeling you want that.

• You met me Tuesday night; what the fuck do you know about what I'm feeling?

• Your cock is showing me.

Well, he was right in that respect. It was standing straight up.

And then the inevitable occurred. The second set of cuffs attached my left hand to the other bedpost and I was helpless. He climbed over me, slipped the blindfold around my head, pushed my legs back over my shoulders, and lubed up my hole. And then he invaded it, pushing himself inside me full force.

He was raping me, and he was enjoying it. And, dammit, so was my ass; my cock displayed its approval throughout. But while my body was thrilled with the experience, my mind was not.

After he unloaded into his condom, he lowered his mouth to my erect cock and worked it for a solid ten minutes before I tensed, knowing that I was about to shoot. He picked up on that, pulled his mouth off my cock and stroked me to orgasm, which spewed all over my stomach and abdomen.

He got up and left, returning moments later with a pair of wet washcloths, one of which he applied to himself, and the other with which he cleaned off my gism from my own body.

• Want to shower together?

• No.

• Up to you. I'm heading there now.

He released me and put the handcuffs back into his nightstand. I grabbed the washcloth, cleaned myself further, and, to the sound of the shower, headed back to the living room, dressed, and left.

One thing was for sure. I was never going to see this asshole again.

• • • • • • • • SATURDAY, DECEMBER 1 * * * * * * * *

"THE THRONE ROOM" (HAMISH'S UNDERGROUND LIVING QUARTERS) – BARRY

• Well, Barry, don't you look enticing.

• Why are you doing this to me? I did what you asked. I flew the damn plane. You didn't tell me you were going to destroy it.

• Did I?

• If you didn't, who did?

• Does it matter? It brought you here, didn't it? It brought you here so you could be my boy.

• You made the plane break apart so that I could be your boy?

• That would be some magic, wouldn't it?

• That would be perverted.

• (smile) Welcome to Hamishland, Barry. It's all perverted. But, in answer to your question, that was not the main reason I made you fly that plane.

• Then what was?

• (another smile) Let's just say it's part of a bigger plan.

• Fuck you.

• Well, no, Barry, fuck you. Literally. I'm going to take you to one of our Fuck Rooms. But it won't be me who will be fucking you, not today anyway.

• You . . . you are going to use lube, aren't you?

• (laughing) Now where would I get lube on an isolated island in the Caribbean? At the local Walgreen's?

THE BEACH (WEST COAST) – STAN

The three of us huddled together, forming a sort of triangle where we could use each other as pillows. Al's pillow was the small of Abe's back. Mine was Al's legs. Abe, however, chose my most pillow-like feature to rest his head on. I hoped my jeans would be enough protection for him if I farted during the night.

When I awoke, my head was on sand. I must have slipped off Al's legs in the middle of the night. But then I no longer felt Abe's head on my butt. And when I opened my eyes, they were gone. Both of them.

In fact, everyone from the plane was gone. I was completely alone. And, unless I was crazy, this didn't look like the same beach where we'd landed.

My mouth felt weird, like there was a piece of food stuck in it, although we hadn't eaten since Santo Domingo. I swallowed and whatever it was disappeared down my throat.

It was only then that I noticed I was naked.

THE BEACH (EAST COAST) - HARRY

Rewind: I was going on vacation to Aruba, staying at a gay-friendly resort, hoping to somehow overcome my fear of rejection and find someone I could connect with, someone who wouldn't laugh at me because I was a chub.

And now I was on an island with three homophobes: Ed spoke disparagingly of his gay son. Augie was offended at the sight of a nude male. Cody looked at Seth with disgust when he mentioned his boyfriend.

Worse, the one man who was not a homophobe was someone who rang my chimes, the really hot guy I'd met in the airport in the Turks and Caicos. Who was understandably obsessed with finding his boyfriend – whom we both knew was almost certainly dead.

I wanted to help him, and I wanted him to put his arms around me and hug me. I wanted him to put his rough hands on my shirt and slowly take it off and lovingly trace his fingers over my chest. I wanted him to reach behind me and massage my butt like it was the lovely butt that it wasn't.

He will never do that. He will never pay me any attention. I can look at this fine, fine man and dream. And that's all it will be – a dream. Honestly, that's all it should be. Seth has just lost someone he cares about deeply. We don't know for sure that Abe is dead, but he's missing. And Seth is hurting.

He's trying not to let it show. I think he's a natural leader, and he's going to lead us to that lighthouse. When we get off this island, it's going to be because of him.

I have to figure out my role in this. I don't have physical strength, or stamina, or courage, all of which we needed collectively. What can I do to contribute to the group effort? My only asset is my brain. I have to try to figure out the puzzle.

Two puzzles, linked. How did we survive the fall? And where are we? There were clues, but I didn't know how to interpret them.

THE PLAQUE. What was it doing here? The Federal Reserve Bank had no jurisdiction in the Caribbean. And something about that map freaked me out – I knew what it was, but the implications were just too bizarre to believe.

THE DOME. I wasn't convinced it was a lighthouse. The dome shape, though unclear, was unlike anything I'd ever seen in a lighthouse. And maybe the bright colors were a cultural thing, but I wasn't convinced. They were important – somehow.

THE TIME GAP. The plane fell from the sky in the dark, nine o'clock at night. All of us awoke at virtually the same time, in sunshine, the next morning.

SETH'S CLOTHES. I was convinced that this was key. The rest of us woke up in the same clothes we had been wearing on the plane. Seth woke up naked, with no trace of his clothing anywhere. Why him and not anyone else? That had to be significant. He was singled out, different in some way, more important.

As we proceeded north along the beach, we found another survivor. And, oh my God, he was gorgeous. A tall, Black hunk in a muscle shirt and a tattooed body to die for. Doubtless he would prove to be a homophobe, too.

• (Black hunk, running toward us) Hey!

• Hey.

• (Black hunk) Omigod, so glad to see you guys. I thought I was the only . . . (to Seth) You're a little underdressed. Did something happen?

• (Seth) Yeah, kinda.

• He sent his clothes out to be dry-cleaned.

• (Seth) I'll explain on the way.

• (Black hunk) On the way?

• To whatever that dome is.

We took a few minutes introducing ourselves and sharing our stories and our confusion. Cody remained quiet, just said his name, with no mention of his herd or Texas. And no mention of the mysterious plaque. There would be time to hash that out later.

Black hunk's name was Vic Torrance, and he was – are you shocked? – a physical trainer. A resort in Aruba had just hired him to work with their clients; his lover Miles had flown down earlier. The money was comparable to his current job, the cost of living lower, and he couldn't deny the superiority of the weather.

• (Ed) Compared to where?

• Minneapolis.

Shit. Minneapolis. Another Federal Reserve Bank city.

THE BEACH – SETH

So now there were six of us. Ironically, the latest addition was Abe's heartthrob – the well-built Black guy he had admired in the airport. The one I had joked about buying for his birthday. Which was today. Thud.

Harry said he wanted to talk. We walked a few yards behind the others.

• (Harry) I'm beginning to think maybe we ARE dead.

• Why is that?

• That map. It can't have anything to do with Federal Reserve Banks. It's about us.

• How can it be about us?

• You're from Cleveland, I'm from Philly, Augie's from Dallas, Ed's English but lives in Boston, he told me his son Leo's in Atlanta, Vic's from Minneapolis. On the plane, I heard this Asian guy say he was from San Francisco. Every single one of those cities was on that map. The only exception is Cody – and who knows where he's really from – I doubt it's Texas.

• Meaning?

• What if that map is about us? What if those cities are on the map because we're from those cities?

• Harry, you're not making sense.

• It does if we're not in the real world anymore. Like we're in Oz, only with a disintegrating plane instead of a tornado.

• We're not in Oz.

• No. . . . I think this is an afterlife created just for us.

• Harry, there were two dozen people on the plane, they can't all be from those twelve cities.

• So just the twelve on our side, then.

• We've only found six of those twelve.

• I'm convinced the others are around here somewhere, probably looking for us.

• The Asian guy's from San Francisco, Leo's from Atlanta. What are the other cities?

• Chicago, New York, St. Louis, Kansas City and Richmond.

• Well, if we find the others and it turns out that they – and Cody – are from those five cities: then maybe I'll give your theory some thought. Otherwise . . . we need to catch up to the others.

• Right. Follow the yellow brick beach.

We soon reached the point where we needed to leave the beach and turn inland toward the lighthouse. (I will hold on to that lighthouse theory, because I am determined to get off this island.)

Then something happened which convinced me that we WERE dead – or in some space existing only within the confines of my brain. It was just too bizarre to be real.

We entered the woods. It didn't take long till we saw something bright on the forest floor. When we approached, we saw that it was a large yellow shape like a disc, maybe a dozen feet across. Only it was not round, it had straight sides around the edge, like a stop sign with twelve sides, not eight. A twelve-sided figure was called a dodecagon, if I remember correctly from high-school geometry. On closer examination, it appeared to be a single piece of polished granite – if granite was bright yellow.

Upon seeing it, Cody went berserk. He suddenly sprang forward and fell face down, flinging himself across the polygon, as if to embrace it.

He shuddered, and then grew very calm. And then he rose to his feet. A hard look came over his eye, and he broke into a grin. I had never seen Cody even smile, but there was something alarming about this grin. It was full of swagger, like that of a movie villain about to execute James Bond.

He stood, looking at the rest of us, then lowered his hand to his waist, unzipped, and pulled out his cock.

• Okay, which of you bitches is going to blow me?

FLASHBACK – CODY (KANSAS CITY) – June, this year

• Shit, what am I doing here? I really need to get back to the ranch.

• You don't have a ranch, Gary.

• Don't do that. Don't call me that.

• It's your name.

• No, it's fucking not. It's HIS name.

• It's the one on your driver's license.

• A person has to drive, right? I ain't never taken no driver's test. I don't need to. Right? I mean I know how to fucking drive. If I know how to fucking drive, and I have a piece of paper that says I can drive, who cares who it belongs to.

• It has Gary's name on it.

• Yeah, he gave it to me, okay? He's a wimp, he'll do anything. He lets Ray use it, too.

• Why do you think it's Gary who has the driver's license?

• Because he's a wimp, like I said. Do I have time to take a fucking driver's test? I have a ranch to manage. Ray's got his painting jobs. Gary wants to waste his time with that shit, let him.

• Where's your ranch, Cody?

• You know where my ranch is.

• It's not in Missouri, is it?

• What kind of ranch would be in Missouri?

• We're in Missouri now. A long way from Texas.

• I must drive pretty fast because it don't take me that long to get there.

• Cody?

• Yeah?

• Could I speak to Gary?

• Why do you want to speak to that loser?

• If you don't mind.

• Listen, I don't get enough time as it is. I'm here now, can't I stay?

• If he's as much of a wimp as you say, he'll let you back.

• . . . Yeah, okay.

A long pause.

• (grin) Hey there, sexy.

• Gary?

• Guess again.

• Ray.

• Bingo. Gary wasn't home. I am. You're looking very pretty today.

• Pretty is an odd word to use to a man, don't you think? Most would say `handsome'.

• Yeah, well you're pretty to me. I bet your ass is pretty, why don't you show it to me?

• Do you think you can seduce me, Ray?

• Oh, I could seduce you. I could have you twirling on top of my cock in two minutes if I could get you out of this office. Don't you want a taste of my big boy?

• I think we should end this. I promised Cody he could have the rest of the hour after I was done with Gary.

• Ah, doc, you're such a spoilsport. Cody doesn't know what he's doing. You know he doesn't have a sex life at all. I'd think maybe he was fucking his cattle, but I don't think his cattle even exist, except in his own mind. But you, doc. You'd be worth fucking. Tell you what, doc. One of these times instead of talking, let's fuck. What do you think about that?

• . . . I think I want to talk to Cody.

• (grin) Yeah, you're yellow, aren't you, doc? Scared of my big fat prick. But we both know you want it squirting my love juice up your back door.

• Goodbye, Ray.

• Think about it, doc. My dick, your ass – made for each other.

THE WOODS – AUGIE

I stared at Cody and then had to look away. Visions of Alfonso flooded my brain. It had been bad enough looking at Seth when he was naked, but at least he was flaccid. This was a shock – the first male erection I had seen since that moment five years ago when I had taken Alfonso into my mouth. The moment of my great sin.

Ed went ballistic.

• Jesus Bloody Christ! You fucking pervert! Put that thing back in your pants. What's wrong with you?

Cody just grinned and stroked his cock.

• Well, I guess it won't be you, Brit boy. You're not my type, anyway. Too old. You, on the other hand – you'd be perfect.

I realized with horror that he was addressing that last sentence to me.

• Yeah, I saw you look away. We all know why you looked away. Because you want it so bad. Get down on your knees, boy, and suck my dick.

I saw Harry and Seth exchange glances. The Black guy was staring at him with something like fascination – jeez, maybe he was another queer.

• Cat got your tongue, boy? Or is it because you can't get past the image of your tongue being wrapped around this baby?

• (Seth, calmly) Cody, that's enough. I think you know that no one is going to suck your dick.

• Why not? You're gay. The boy here is gay, even though he pretends like he's not. The big Black dude looks like he's ready to chomp down on this. Who knows, maybe even Lardo here is hungering for my dick.

• (Seth) Yes, I'm gay, and whether or not anyone else is – that's their own business. But right now, we're on our way to the lighthouse. This gentleman needs to find his son. I need to find my boyfriend. And we all need to find a way off this island. If you want to try to seduce one of us later, go ahead. But now is not the time.

• (Vic) Or a very effective approach.

• (Cody) Oh, so other approaches are possible, eh? Meet me later, dude.

• (Seth) Cody, if you please. Tuck it in.

• (Cody) I'll tuck it in. For now. (to me) But I'll show it to you later, when we're alone. (to Seth) But just for the record, I'm not Cody Benson.

• (Harry) Are you Ray or Gary Onslow?

• (Cody) Pfff. Do I look like fucking Gary? I'm Ray.

• (Harry) Where are you from, Ray?

• (Ray) Missouri. Kansas City, Missouri.

Harry and Seth exchanged looks. I couldn't figure out what that was about.

A few minutes later, there was another startling discovery: wreckage from the plane! We could see part of a wing, a bank of seats, and a bit of the tail – with the big letter Z that was the logo of ZTA. Were these our seats? Yes, it looked like the right half of the plane, behind the cockpit.

• (Harry) Hold on, guys. This is not our plane.

• (Ed) What are you talking about? It's ZTA.

• (Harry) These seats. They're gray. Ours were blue.

• (Ed) Are you saying ZTA crashed on this island TWICE?

• Are you sure ours were blue? Maybe they were gray and you forgot.

• (Seth) No, they were blue. He's right. I distinctly remember that.

Harry approached the bank of seats, which thankfully bore no evidence of corpses, recent or decayed. He reached into one of the seat backs and pulled out a small rectangular card – a boarding pass.

• (Harry) This is dated December, two years ago. ZTA Flight 4 from Panama City to Guadeloupe. Passenger's name is Patrick Mayer.

• (Ray) Jesus Fucking Christ. This has to be the world's worst airline.

The airline that had taken my girlfriend to Aruba. Now I had to worry that she'd even gotten there.

QUEEN BEATRIX AIRPORT, ORANJESTAD, ARUBA – JORDAN

We stayed in the VIP lounge for nearly an hour, awaiting the news. The ZTA representative picked up the phone a couple of times, and listened, said "Uh, huh" a couple of times, and then hung up. He smiled at us and shook his head in a way that said, "No, we don't know yet."

Then after about twenty minutes, he left the lounge. A young woman with pink hair shouted questions at him but he ignored her like a scandal-ridden senator evading the press. We waited for him to come back – or anyone to come talk to us – but after another half hour we gave up.

I had gotten over my crying. I was past crying. I was hopping mad. Jen had suggested we have a drink, as she thought we both needed one. Before I knew it, we had repaired to the nearest bar, a stiff martini in my hand.

• He's dead, Jen. It's all my fault.

• How is it your fault?

• If I'd told him before the trip, he wouldn't have gone. And then he wouldn't be dead.

• We don't know what happened. He may still be alive.

• Planes don't just disappear from radar. If it were a communications failure, we'd have gotten some news by now. Who the hell ever heard of ZTA, anyway? Have you ever heard of them?

• No, but there's lots of little airlines I never heard of.

• I'm going to sue them, Jen. I'm going to sue them for everything they've got.

• (a male voice nearby) I'll join you.

I looked up, startled. A guy, nursing a scotch at the next table, was looking at us. He was in his twenties, about five-five, quite good-looking, with coal-black skin and mini-dreads that only went down to his neck.

• (the guy) I'm sorry. I couldn't help but overhear. My partner was on that plane.

• Oh, I'm so sorry.

• Yeah, so am I. (extending a hand) Miles King.

• Jordan Murdock. This is my sister Jen. My boyfriend Augie's on Flight 12.

• So I gathered. My boyfriend, too.

• (Jen, smiling) Oh, that kind of partner.

I wanted to kick her.

• You weren't on the plane from Miami, were you? They weren't letting young men –

• I flew down separately two days ago. I had some business to attend to.

• What kind of business?

• Oh, just business. You know.

• So, Miles, know anything about this ZTA?

• Never heard of them.

• We need to find out who's on their board of directors.

• Right.

He had a laptop. A couple of minutes later, he'd connected with the airport wi-fi and was searching.

• (Miles) . . . Oh, that's strange. Google never heard of them. `ZTA' produces lots of links to Zeta Tau Alpha fraternity, and a few for something called Zero Trust Architecture, but no airlines.

• Try Zen Tropical Airways.

• (Miles) . . . No, nothing. There are a couple of things for Zen, but they're cargo-related and clearly distinct from Zen Tropical. ZTA doesn't seem to have a website.

• How is that possible? How do people book flights?

• (Jen) Maybe they pulled down their website after this event.

• Which would mean there really was an event.

• (Miles) Let me try another search engine. I heard of a new one called beetscrew. Founded by a bunch of health nuts into beets – the beets crew.

• (Jen) Or maybe they liked screwing beets.

• Jen!

• (Jen) You're right. Carrots or cucumbers, sure, but beets?

• (Miles) . . . Okay, here's something, but not much.

• What?

• (Miles) Not their website, not a link to anything. It just says, `see Stimulever, Inc.'

• (Jen) Stimulever? (laughing) Sorry, but that sounds like a competitor of Viagra. Stimulate your lever.

• Jen.

• (Jen) Sorry. It's just . . . a funny name.

• Okay, what's under Stimulever?

• (Miles) Nothing. It says, "You don't have access to this page."

• This company definitely doesn't want to be sued.

• (Miles) This company needs to be sued. We're going to do it, ladies. Unless your Augie and my Vic come walking in here in the next ten minutes. We'll get to the bottom of this.

THE WOODS – SETH

What were the odds? The same podunk airline, which I had never heard of, had crashed twice on the same island? In an area where there weren't any islands large enough to appear on a map? And what happened to this Patrick Mayer? This was his seat, but he wasn't in it, nor was his skeleton. Was he another denizen of this afterlife – if this was an afterlife?

The plane's discovery prompted considerable discussion among the group. No one was willing to speculate about the implications of being alive or dead, but everyone was upset about the fact that a second ZTA flight had crashed here. No one believed in that much coincidence. And, after being freaked out by Cody's transformation into a sexual aggressor, nerves were on edge, preparing to plunge off the cliff.

There was only one thing to do – keep your eyes on the prize, as the song says. And our prize was that lighthouse.

• Come on, guys. Nothing more to be gained from staring at that thing. Let's keep moving.

Harry echoed my sentiment, though I could see wheels churning in his head. The rest nodded their agreement and tagged along – Ed, Augie, "Ray", and Vic.

Suddenly there was a clearing; the forest opened up into a vast grassland with the occasional tree but no dense foliage. During our time in the woods, the sky had clouded over, and there looked like storm clouds in the far distance. That wasn't what caught our attention, however. The multi-colored building now stood in front of us. When we saw it, we gasped.

It was not a lighthouse.

The dome did fit over a large vertical column, about twenty-five feet in diameter. The vertical stripes descended all the way down the column. The dome-like structure we had seen before hung over like a mushroom head, but tucked in along the side, bulging out in a smooth curve. There was a groove at the top of it that had not been visible from the beach – a groove that was more like a slit.

Ray started to cackle, and then burst out into gales of approving laughter.

• It's a cock! It's a fucking cock!

The others just stood there, stunned. There was no denying it – the structure was a sixty-foot tall phallus, painted in all the colors of the rainbow and then some.

Harry had a funny look on his face, like he had just amused himself.

• What?

• (Harry) Sorry, inappropriate pun.

• Let's hear it anyway.

• Well . . . it appears that a giant penis . . . has been erected.

Indeed it had. But by whom? And why?

[COMING UP NEXT: CHAPTER FIVE – THE PHALLIC TOWER]