Second Chances (41 page)

“I know love isn’t rational; if it was, it wouldn’t be love, would it?”

Miles studied Gideon’s face for a while and wondered whether the man had ever been in love, and if so with whom? Maybe he was married to the job. A lot of soldiers were. Finding it hard to let go of all the adrenaline and excitement and that thrill of just surviving each encounter. “Thanks for the whisky.” Holding the bottle up to the light, he wasn’t surprised to discover they’d managed to polish off half of the contents. He handed it back to Gideon without regret. Alcohol wasn’t the cure either. He’d tried that and failed abysmally. All he’d done was put on weight and rip holes in his stomach lining. He’d probably be feeling the effects there tomorrow.

Gideon sensed the conversation coming to an end. There was more he wanted to say, to offer. At least he’d made a start at building bridges, with Miles at least. “Well, is there anything I can do to help? You know, if you need a drinking partner, someone to listen, a firm hand perhaps...?” A corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile.

Miles raised his eyebrows at the last offer.
Was the man serious?
Now was not the time nor the place to find out, but he’d store that suggestion away in his brain. As for things he needed. “Maybe I’ll take you up on the offer later, but now you mention it, there is something you could do to help. Not me, but the islanders. I told Pierce what I wanted her to send over: a couple of wheelchairs and some of the equipment that came with the seaplane. You know... stuff that was supposed to be used for
disaster relief
.” He let the sarcasm shine through his words. He’d taken ages to calm down after his encounter with the bitch.

“I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”

Miles glanced back at the hospital. Lucas was still sitting on the step, eyeing them warily. “The younger islanders need assistance. Non-stop games of pick-up rugby are well and good, but they have too much time on their hands; they need their brains stimulated as well as their bodies. I’m also concerned that if they’re not kept busy they might be tempted to visit Mystery Island, and given Pierce’s reaction, that would only lead to trouble.”

Gideon nodded. In light of the White Witch’s reaction he had to agree. A thought occurred to him. The teacher, Aiden whatever-his-name-was. He was at a loose end, moping about something. He was taking his enforced stay on the island much harder than the others. As a teacher, he would have more than enough experience of dealing with young people.
Maybe,
Gideon thought,
I can persuade him into helping here, jolt him out of his depression.
“And what about you and Gil? Isn’t it time you came back to Mystery Island?”:

“I suppose so; I miss Roofie. The silly mutt’s sort of grown on me.”

“He’s a character alright, but he needs his master. My lads have grown quite attached to him, I think he might be missed if we sent him over here, but he’s getting under people’s feet. The Akita is a bit like his owner, a little too quiet, whereas Roofie is up for anything...” The inference was not lost on Miles as Gideon began to push the boat back into the water. “And for the record, I never say anything I don’t mean... Sleep well, Miles, I’ll see you soon.”

Miles just nodded and took over the pushing as Gideon jumped in. He stood there for a while, watching as the boat sped out of sight, back across the lagoon. Should he take Gideon up on his offer of a firm hand
?
The man looked like he could deliver on his promises. The skin on his back tingled with anticipation.

Tonight, he’d learned a lot more about the man who had brought them to the island than he’d expected. The details had been gruesome, but in a weird way they stopped him from feeling so alone. Most of the other people around here didn’t have that sort of dark past. The water rippled around the bottom of Miles’ legs, chilling him. No, he was wrong there. Flynn obviously had a past full of darkness. Lyle had secrets he preferred to keep covered, so finding that Gideon also had terrors that no doubt kept him awake at night shouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise. Life was like that; the longer you lived, the more likely it was that shit happened. The important thing was to learn from the past and move on.

Silence descended once more as the sound of the boat’s motor diminished into nothing. Miles turned and walked slowly back up to the hospital with only his thoughts for company. Lucas had disappeared. Already in bed most likely. Miles yawned. That was where
he
should be, he’d had precious little sleep of late. He sat on the stairs and brushed the sand off his feet, surveying the primitive huts and buildings that had been his home for the last few weeks. Despite the fact that he enjoyed being amongst the friendly natives, maybe he should follow Gideon’s suggestion and return to Mystery Island. He couldn’t speak for his fellow ‘refugees’ from Haven Falls; they would have to sort out their problems in their own way, but it was time he took responsibility for his own. Roofie for starters. Miles wasn’t needed on Rapatoka anymore. Carolyn was well enough to resume her role and with Aiden’s help, the children would be better educated and kept out of mischief.

Miles stared toward the flickering lights on the other side of the dark lagoon and thought about the circumstances that had brought him to this island paradise. Gideon had hinted that he should give Eidolon a second chance, and he respected the man enough to know that at least
his
heart was in the right place. The prospect of being trapped on Redemption Reef didn’t fill Miles with so much dread now that Gil was firmly lodged in his heart and by his side. It remained to be seen what sort of life they could build together, but even if all
he
did was ensure that the Rapatokans didn’t suffer from the organisation’s presence, he would feel he had accomplished something.
Still championing the underdog, Miles?
Darren’s voice sounded in his head, clear as a bell, amusement tinged with pride, and was that an approving
Woof
he heard from the other side of the lagoon? Miles smiled, dusted off his hands and went inside to be with the man who had given
him
a second chance on life and love.

Here’s a teaser.

King Kong vs the Smart Ass

Ray Bullivant and Flynn Archer

March 1
^st
, Mystery Island

This was all so much bullshit.

Flynn wanted to break into Eidolon headquarters and beat up every motherfucker in a suit until they told him what the fuck was really going on here, but they kept him too busy - and too unsettled - to even try. Aiden was possibly safe, and quite probably not, as he’d left with a bunch of other do gooders to start a school or some such nonsense on the ass end of this island reef, hell, where apparently they hadn’t even invented the telegraph yet. Aiden had told him not to worry, but it had been two weeks now, and there hadn’t been so much as a carrier pigeon with a note tied to its leg. Okay, it wouldn’t be a pigeon here. Fruitbat? Why not. A fruitbat with a scroll tied to its leg. He had yet to find one.

Eidolon kept him busy, with their “training”, but he half assed it enough that they got tired of dealing with him. Flynn was happy this skill hadn’t gotten rusted. You’d think it’d be easy to frustrate people, but when they were a huge corporation that drilled you to be just as Stepford wife cheerful as possible, pissing them all off was a true art. He was proud his sulky teen-hood had trained him to be as big a pain in the butt as possible.

It was a nice day. What a shock! Because every day was hot and sunny, with cloudless blue skies and stunning sunsets. It was pretty at first, then slid over to mundane, and lately, since Aiden had been gone, he just found it supremely irritating. He wished the sky had a face, so he could punch it.

As it was, he was just wandering what had been the old resort, the tourist trap that existed here before violent weather and an earthquake or two sent all the fat white people running. Not that there was anything to see. The buildings, if intact, were empty shells, housing rodents and various island fauna. All the good stuff had been looted or destroyed ages ago. He thought if Eidolon were really serious about building the island up, they could open the old resort as the Tourist Trap Ghost Town and make some fast cash.

There was a rusted shed near the cracked, cavernous hole he took to be the location of a former swimming pool. Some of the tile was still intact, little flashes of white like bone beneath black soil. That just added a nice creep factor to the whole ghost town thing. Scatter some rubber skulls around, and you’d have a built-in Halloween party spot.

There was a chain and padlock on the shed, even more rusted than the door, suggesting cheaper materials. If he yanked on it really hard, he could probably break it, but he was in the mood to test out his skills. He used a couple small picks and got the rusty padlock open in no time - definitely cheap - and the chain fell apart as he pulled it through the handles.

Inside, he could see why no one had ever bothered to open the shed. There were skimmers, a net, the strong smell of chlorine, a couple of lawn implements. Nothing valuable, nothing of much use here. Still, he grabbed one of the skimmers and shouted over his shoulder, “Hey, wanna scoop? We could go corral some sheep to ride and have ourselves a joust.” Someone was following him, had been since he left Eidolon’s base, and they were about as quiet as you could be out here. Which meant not at all. Tailing people was for urban centers, not islands with too many damn leaves.

His shadow stepped out from the side of the main building, and almost instantly blocked out the sun. Great, they sent King Kong after him. “They sent
you
to tail me? What, were they out of tanks?”

“I’m just supposed to make sure you don’t get into any trouble.” The big man replied, lounging against the door jamb.

Flynn smirked. “Really? So where’s the tranquilizer darts and sap full of buckshot?”

The big man looked kinda sheepish. “Huh? Sap full of buckshot? Sorry, you lost me there.”

“A sap. It’s a … thing, and you hit people with it. Ever see any Ray Milland movies?”

“No, but as it so happens my name is Ray, Ray Bullivant.” He offered his hand out to shake.

Flynn looked at the man’s extended paw, and wondered if he’d find it funny if he held out the pool scoop. Maybe not. Still, he made no move to shake his hand. “Not Lenny? Wow. So, how long have you been working for the evil empire? And what did you do to get this shit assignment tailing me?”

Ray put his hand in his pocket and pretended that’s where he meant to put it all along. “Gideon said to watch the punk and make sure he doesn’t kill himself. You’re not meant to be in here.” He knew he was stating the bleeding obvious, but hey, he liked watching to see what the kid would do or say next. It was better than watching Harry fiddle with his radios all day, and there are just so many games of cricket you can have with only five people.

“Oh, why? Are they worried I’m going to start cleaning everyone’s pools without the authority to do so? Well, slap my hand and take away my birthday, ‘cause I feel like skimmin’.” Flynn tossed the scoop back inside the shed and kicked the door shut. They should have named this place Tedium Island.

Ray straightened and stepped back as the young man strolled past him. “What’s with the Lenny jibe? I didn’t get that one.”

Flynn looked back at the guy. He was honestly built like a refrigerator; his shoulders were square and everything. “If I said “
Tell me about the rabbits, George”,
would that help?

“Nope.” Ray grinned and lounged after him with his hands in his pockets.
What was this kid on?!

Flynn shook his head. He was Lenny! Holy shit. He better warn the womenfolk. “It’s a sitcom reference. Laverne and Shirley. But you’re not American, are you? You wouldn’t know.” Flynn headed back into the trees, wondering if pirates ever washed up here and buried treasure in the sand or volcanic soil. It’d be cool to come across a two hundred year old bottle of rum, or a syphilis encrusted skull.

“Nope, I may be a tank, but I’m not a yank.” Ray chuckled at the look on Flynn’s face at his sick joke. American sitcoms sucked but then so did British soaps. No wonder he never watched them! The silly git wasn’t even looking where he was going. Ray threw himself into the air and landed on top of Flynn, squashing him into the ground. He rolled off and sat there grinning at the look of astonishment on the young man’s face. “Careful.”

Flynn glared at the big ox. “What the fuck, Fridge? You ain’t even my type. What the fuck’s your problem?”

Ray brushed off his hands and scrambled to his feet. That was close. Someone had removed the barrier they’d erected. Who the fuck would have done that?  He held out a hand to help Flynn up. “There’s a hole there. A big one.”