Foto Chapter 8
Notice:
The contents of this story is purely fictional although based on real life happenings in my life. All names have been fictionalize to protect the innocent and not so innocent. The content matter of this story concerns love and sex between males teenagers. If this is not what you like reading or it is illegal for you to read this material because of age or laws go somewhere else. This story is copyrighted by it's owner and may not be copied or published elsewhere without the owners permission.
Author's note:
Here's the next chapter. Write me.
Hope you like the story. Let me hear from you.
Sam Lakes
samlakes86 at yahoo.com
Foto
by Sam Lakes
Copyright © 2006 All Rights Reserved
Chapter Eight
He hadn’t lied to me, I don’t think. There were 25 gallons of water, enough food for me for at least a week or so and a sleeping bag. There were other things like matches, a knife, a hand axe, some fishing tackle and a notebook with notes on how to survive.
He intended for me to survive. As I unrolled the sleeping bag a letter fell out. I picked it up and started reading it.
“Hey Bastian,
I guess if you found this note you’re probably getting things organized. You’re probably pretty scared – I know I would be. When I started this job my intention was to dispose of the body. They never told me you were alive.
I have to confess when I took you to the starboard side of the yacht I was going to give you a gentle shove overboard. I couldn’t. Believe it or not I have never killed anyone – I’m just the garbage man.
The guys you took pictures of aren’t good people, and neither are the guys they get rid of. The bodies I’ve disposed of were not good innocent people. I hate this job and I think it is time I changed.
I have never fallen in love with anybody in my whole life – male or female. Hearing your stories of your life and feeling the love you had for others changed all that. You are a good person and you don’t deserve to be where you are. The hardest thing in my life will be leaving you.
As I said, maybe if we’d met under different circumstances, we would have been best friends. I’d like to think so. I hope someday you will forgive me for leaving you stranded on a deserted island. Help will come.
Love you,
The guy on the boat.”
I missed my dads. That night I fell asleep under the stars thinking about the guy on the boat – that’s what I called him because when I asked his name, he said, “I’m just the guy on the boat.” He wasn’t a bad person, maybe a little mixed up, but he was kind to me. I think in his letter he was trying to tell me that he fell in love with me. I think I fell a little in love with him.
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The thirty-two days I was on the island were the MOST BORING days of my entire life. There was no one to talk to except me, and frankly I got tired of taking to myself. I talked to the trees, the fish, the water, the sand, the wind, everything. I’d sing a lot too. I even told jokes to myself, and other things to keep me amused; like I’d pretend to take a picture of a coconut tree and ask it to step just a little to the right. For some reason, that really cracked me up.
Everyday I’d write in the notebook a letter to my dads or to Brady, a couple to Edna, Lucien, Henri and Jacques. After two weeks I ran out of paper so I would read through my letters and change them a bit, or correct my English, or French. I wrote a letter to the Guy on the boat too. I told him I forgave him for leaving me stranded because he actually saved my life, but if I ever met him again I was going to kick his butt because he left me nothing to read!
I searched every inch of that island looking for signs of buried treasure. I found a skull of a bird which was neat. I named it Peckerhead. I would move its beak up and down and we’d carry on really stupid conversations. I was the straight man (ha-ha – the only time I was ever straight) and the bird skull would be the funny one.
His (my) favorite line was “I’m a little peckish here and I’m all skin and bone - well bone anyway”. Get it? Peck-ish as in birds peck and hunger and he’s like a skeleton. Well, when you spend thirty-two days on an island alone it will seem very funny.
On the night of my thirty-first day I woke up from a terrible nightmare and was too scared to go back to sleep so I stayed awake until sunrise. Then fell asleep which is probably why I never heard the sea plane land.
“Bastian! Bastian! Are you alright?” I heard a voice say.
“Leave me alone. I wanna sleep in,” I mumbled and pulled the sleeping bag over my head.
“Bastian! Oh, Bastian! My baby!” cried Michael.
“Michael?” It was Dad’s voice and Michael’s voice I heard, “Michael! Dad!” I said as I sat up and opened my eyes. They were crying and hugging me and I was crying and holding onto them, afraid they’d disappear. Both were apologizing to me and kissing me, like I was a little kid.
“There’s someone else to see you,” said a tearful Dad.
I looked up to see Brady with a huge smile and tears running down his cheeks. He mouthed “I love you.”
I jumped up out of my sleeping bag and hugged him so tight. I was kissing his cheeks, his neck in between crying.
I heard Dad and Michael giggling. I stopped for a second to look at them.
Dad smiled. “You might want to consider putting some clothes on,” laughed Michael.
I quickly released Brady, covered my privates, blushed like I have never blushed before. Brady was smiling, which made it even worse, and to top it all off I couldn’t remember where I’d put my pants.
I ran into the little hut I had built to see if they were in there. They weren’t. Dad and Michael were laughing and I heard a few giggles from Brady. Oh man how embarrassing! I eventually found them. They were pretty dirty but they covered my nakedness.
I collected my things especially my camera. I gave my camera to Dad as the man on the boat had told me to do. He had removed the battery. He said Dad might be able to recover the pics of the guys I accidentally photographed.
How all three came to rescue me was Brady had gotten a call and had been told that I had been stranded on a desert island. Brady had to find Michael and get him and Dad to reconcile their differences and when that happened he was to hang a white t-shirt from his window and they would be given the exact coordinates of where the island was located.
Of course within a day or two of my disappearance they had already reconciled and were trying to find me. What took so long was it was three and a half weeks before Brady had gotten the call. The anonymous caller then insisted that Brady be included in the rescue.
Brady said wild horses couldn’t have stopped him from coming after me.
Dad was able to recover the photos. The guy in the suit was a politician and the captain of the boat was actually a well known crime boss. Both are in the hands of the Australian justice system. The boat I had been on disappeared without a trace assumed lost at sea.
We were all three; Michael, Dad and I, on our way to Chicago having said goodbye to Brady in Denver.
“Dad?”
“Yes, son.”
“I know who the anonymous caller is.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, he was the guy that saved my life.”
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