The Island Of Depravity Ch 02

Chapter 2: In Which Our Intrepid Hero (and his Lovely Sidekick) Take a Ride.

Dr. Hayanishi's evil machine threatens to drag down the United States of America into a wanton swamp of lust, and only atomic chemist Jack Easterly can save his country.

"Woah, hold on there!" Jack raised his hands in surrender, thinking quickly. He lay in the unlit entryway to his own house, ambushed and knocked down from behind by a man he didn't recognize. A man with a gun.

"I ain't here to talk." The burly figure replied. He raised his revolver and drew a bead between Jack's eyes.

"No, no, wait. The case—" Jack pointed to the valise, still laying on the floor."

"Yeah, what about it?" The click as he drew back the hammer sounded unnaturally loud.

"Not the case, what's inside. It'll make you rich, a millionaire!" Jack said hurriedly.

"Well, that's swell of you, Mister. I'll take it when you're done dead and gone." The other man laughed, a harsh and ugly sound.

"It won't work. Not if you don't have the code." Jack managed. Sweat trickled down his back, but he kept his voice level. "Let me go and I'll give you the code. You'll be a rich man."

The revolver barrel didn't twitch as the gunman stared at Jack's face.

"I weren't born yesterday." He finally said. "Code first."

"And you'll let me go afterwards?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"Al—alright. Open it up and I'll give you the code." Jack nodded.

The gunman kept one eye on Jack as he knelt beside the valise, fumbling one-handed with the latch.

"Slide the little knob there." Jack suggested.

When the gunnman did, the latch moved with a snap, driving a trio of needles into the soft flesh between his fingers.

"Aaaagh!" The thug screamed, cradling his hand against his chest. "You rat bastard!"

His other hand raised the revolver again.

"Wait! Don't you want to know what was on those needles?" Jack asked.

"Wha—?" The thug's revolver hand began to twitch, and beads of sweat broke on his forehead.

"The needles." Jack pressed.

"You—" The other man choked, stumbling back, his whole body shaking. With a last effort of will he aimed at Jack and fired.

Blam!

The shot thundered in the small room, followed by the sound of two bodies hitting the floor simultaneously. When the echoes faded, only one raised his head.

"Powdered thorium. Jack lectured the corpse. "It's not the radiation, it's the way it catches fire when it hits body temperature."

One arm hung limply as he struggled to his feet and blood dripped from a hole in his jacket. Staggering to the toilet, he stripped and checked the wound. The bullet had passed through the fleshy part of his upper arm. Compared to what he'd seen during the war, it wasn't much, but it still hurt like hell. Gritting his teeth, he took a roll of bandages and walked unsteadily back to the kitchen.

Jack took a long drink of bourbon before pouring the rest of the bottle on the open wound, swaying as the pain turned his world white. When it lessened he tasted blood from biting his lip to hold back his own screams.

Just a little rest, he thought, uncapping a new bottle. Then he would pack and leave for the airfield. Just a few minutes with his old friend Mr. Daniels; then he could handle the pain. He eased into the leather easy chair in his living room, cradling his wounded arm. Just...a...little...

"Doc?" Anna Lee's voice broke the silence.

"Wha—huh?" Jack's eyes flashed open, shocked to find that it was dark outside. He must have fallen asleep. "I—arghh!" He yelled, moving his hand to look for his watch before he remembered that he'd been shot.

"Golly!" Anna Lee began, coming into the room with her hands over her mouth. "What happened?"

"Anna Lee? What are you doing here?" Jack asked, pushing himself out of his chair with his one good arm.

Anna Lee's eyes widened as she saw him wince.

"You're whiter than an albino possum, Doc!"

"T-tell that to the other guy." Jack slurred. He grimaced, head pounding as his memory nagged at him. Something about what the gunman said, something to do with Anna Lee, but what?

Then he remembered Agent Crandall's visit.

"What time is it? Is it eight yet?" Jack practically shouted as he rose, fighting to focus through the haze of pain and alcohol.

"Don't go ape, Doc." Anna Lee put her hands on her hips. "And you need to lay down."

"Anyway, I'm not sure." Her curls bounced as she shook her pretty head. "I left campus around seven-thirty, and it usually takes...well, except I ran into Peter Vanden—you know, he's—"

"What time is it?" Jack repeated urgently, holding his head.

"Why?" She set her mouth in a firm line. "And why is there a dead man in your hallway? And—"

She did seem unusually calm about that, Jack thought for a moment, but he was in no condition to speculate.

"Because...I...I can't tell you." He interrupted her. "But I have to go. I have to be at the airfield by 8:30. I just have to. Be a good girl and help me pack. If you left at seven-thirty then I might still have time." Jack ignored her question.

Still fretting about his condition, Anna Lee complied, but she insisted that he sit and direct her while she packed.

"Thanks, Sugar." Jack bent down to give her a quick kiss after she helped him stumble out to the Mustang with his bags. "Do me a favor and call the sheriffs office, will you? Tell them I'm away on top secret government business but I'll explain everything as soon as I get back."

"Wait just one minute, Doc." Anna Lee frowned, giving him her best stern face, the one that always made him want to tickle her. "You can't drive. Even if you had two arms—and you don't—you're drunk as a skunk!"

"I'll be righto in no time." Jack protested. "Don't worry about me."

"No way, mister. The only way you're getting to the airport is with me driving." She put a hand against his chest to hold him back.

"You can drive?" He asked skeptically.

"I was driving Paw's tractor when I was 10 and his Studebaker when I was 14, and I can sure as heck get this rod to the airport by eight-thirty." Her nostrils flared with excitement. Taking the keys from his hand she swung her legs over the door, sliding into the driver's seat.

"A rag-top Thunderbird. My brother would turn green if he saw me now." She grinned. "Hold tight, Doc."

The car's V8 gave a throaty roar as she pulled onto the road, sending gravel flying and pushing him deep into his seat. When they arrived at the airport, the guards waved them through, pointing to a sleek aeroliner waiting on the taxiway.

"Jeepers, what's that?" Anna Lee asked, bringing the car to screeching stop next to the plane. The wings swept forwards like an inverted chevron, with jet exhausts nestled where each joined the fuselage. The whole craft gleamed silver in the floodlights.

"I'm not sure. I've never seen that model before." Since the war, he'd been on military flights to Washington before, but never one something like this.

"Dr. Easterly!" Agent Crandall called from the top of the boarding ramp. He descended quickly, a smile on his face that turned to shock as he approached the Thunderbird and saw the bandages on Jack's arm.

"What happened?"

"Long story." Jack said, climbing laboriously out of the car.

Anna Lee came around to join the two men.

"And you are?" Agent Crandall asked sharply.

"One of my students." Jack closed his good hand around Anna Lee's. "Keep the keys. I won't be gone long. Will you watch my place while I'm gone?"

"No way, professor. You won't get anywhere without help. Anyway, trips are always better with a pretty girl along!" She smiled brightly.

"Listen—" Agent Crandall interjected, frowning.

"...pretty girl..." Jack mumbled, his mind finally finding traction in the alcoholic haze. He gave Anna Lee a thoughtful look.

"Don't be silly. You—" Crandall and Anna Lee were still arguing.

"I think...I think she should come." A plan was beginning to crystallize. He couldn't focus well enough to work out all the details yet, but Anna Lee definitely had a part to play.

The other two spun and faced him, mouths open in shock.

"You do?" Anna Lee said. "I mean...super!"

"I'm sure you can arrange some clothes for her on the way, can't you?" Jack asked the other man. When Crandall opened his mouth to protest, Jack took his arm and pulled him aside.

"You can't just—" Crandall began.

"You came to me, G-man, so shut up and listen." Jack overrode him, voice suddenly harsh. He hadn't talked to anyone like that in years and it charged him with a sudden jolt of adrenaline. "I have a plan, and she's part of it. That means she gets on that plane, whether you like it or not."

The black-suited man glared at Jack in silence, and for the first time, Jack stared right back.

"Fine, but you explain first chance we get. And everything is on a need to know basis. Everything. Got that?"

Jack nodded, glad the other man couldn't see his knees trembling as the adrenaline eased. He told Crandall about the body in his house, and the agent promised to have it dealt with.

"Alright. Let's move out." Taking Jack's bags, Agent Crandall led the pair up the boarding stairs.

"So what kind of plane is this?" Anna Lee asked as they climbed, eyes wide with wonder.

"Stop asking questions." Crandall muttered darkly.

Anna Lee turned to look at Jack, who shrugged mutely in apology. Pouting, she followed in silence.

A stewardess met them at the door. A white uniform blouse set off her ebony skin, and her crinkly hair poofed out in a decidedly unmilitary appearance. Even Anna Lee had to admit the colored woman's long, slender legs were hard to compete with. Still, she thought smugly as she adjusted her bra, I've got her beat up top.

While Crandall and the stewardess got Anna Lee and the baggage stowed away, Jack slipped forwards to the cockpit. The pilot was talkative, glad for a change from the close-mouthed spooks he usually flew.

"No kidding, you flew a Dauntless in the War?" He asked after Jack mentioned his own piloting experience. "Buddy of mine flies one in the Confederate Air Force."

"Yeah?" Jack asked, interested.

"No colored girls in that air force." He said with a roll of his eyes and a nod towards the back.

"Who'd he fly with?" Jack asked, changing the subject.

"The Lexington, I think. How about you?"

"I started on the Yorktown."

"Oh." They shared a moment of silence. Then he brightened. "Anyway, that was before my time, I cut my teeth flying a Sabre down MiG Alley.

"Tag any Russians?" Jack asked, curious about the rumors that Russian pilots had been flying missions for the Communist North Koreans.

"Hard to tell, we were moving so fast. Not as fast as this baby, though." He patted the instrument panel like a father with his new child.

"Yeah? What—"

"How are we doing, people?" Crandall poked his head through the cockpit door. "Ready for takeoff yet?"

With a promise to chat later, Jack followed the agent back through the plane's spacious cabin to a seat and buckled in with the others.

"We'll stop at Hawaii to refuel. There should be luggage waiting for Miss Hicks when we land."

Anna Lee acknowledged his comment with a nod, still staring around the plane as if she was trying to memorize every detail.

The stewardess doubled as a medic, and once they were at cruising altitude, she carefully bandaged the bullet hole in his arm. Meanwhile, the other two pressed Jack to explain the injury. Between sharp inhalations while the stewardess cleaned his wound, he told them what he could remember about the assassin. Between the injury and the alcohol, the events were hazy in his mind, and he could only remember pieces.

"You have poison in your briefcase, how exciting!" Anna Less gushed.

"It doesn't sound like a robbery. Did he say why he'd come?" Crandall changed the subject, not comfortable talking about classified precautions in front the girl.

"I don't know. Did anyone follow you to my office?" Jack asked the agent.

"No." He shook his head firmly. "I would have known if I had a tail. Only a handful of people in Washington knew my plans to contact you; I can't believe any of them could be a spy. There must be something else, something to do with your work at Maple Ridge?"

"Maybe it's something to do with that super secret stuff you do there." Anna Lee suggested.

"Ahem." Agent Crandall prevented Jack from replying.

"Nothing that someone would want to kill me for." Jack insisted.

"Hmm." Crandall crossed his arms, uncomfortable with what that implied about security at the Directorate. "A woman?"

Something tagged at Jack's memory. Was that it? He glanced at Anna Lee.

"Don't look at me! I may be a country girl, but my family ain't like that." Her cheeks reddened.

"Excuse me, Agent Crandall, but Dr. Easterly needs to rest now." The stewardess had returned with a pill and water. "This is for the pain, sir. Why don't you move to one of the rear seats? They recline fully so you can get some sleep."

"Thank you." Jack took the medicine gratefully, laying down the back, leaving Crandall and Anna Lee to glare at each other. The engine vibrations thrummed comfortingly. Whether because of the medicine, the alcohol, or the injury Jack didn't know, but he dropped into a deep slumber, only briefly interrupted when the plane landed at Hawaii to refuel.

Anna Lee looked disappointed when he went back to bed after they stopped. Neither Crandall nor the stewardess would talk to the girl, and it was obvious she was tired from the long, boring flight. His final thought was a twinge of guilt for bringing the blonde into this. Still, he told himself, if his plan went as expected, she shouldn't suffer any lasting harm.

Plans never survive contact with the enemy, though, and Jack's was no exception. He awoke with a crash, sliding off the bed to slam feet-first into the seat in front of him.

"Ahhh..." He groaned as the seat corner caught his injured arm. Forcing himself to concentrate, he gritted his teeth and looked around. The plane was in a steep dive, accelerating into the dark waves of the Pacific. Crandall slumped low in his seat; the stewardess was nowhere to be seen.

"Crandall—what's happening?!" He called, but the only response came from the rising pitch of cabin noise as the plane's nose dipped dangerously close to vertical. He stumbled downslope to the cockpit door, moving clumsily with only one good hand. As he went, he saw Anna Lee fumbling clumsily with her seat belt.

"Stay put!" He yelled, but the girl gave no signs of hearing. Her hands kept moving; her face looked oddly blank.

How much time did they have left? He didn't know how long the plane had been diving, or how far it was to the water. One thing was sure—at this speed, they were all going to die soon.

Painful memories returned, diving towards the same ocean in a wounded bird. His friend had almost died that day, and Jack shuddered, feeling the fear and helplessness anew. With a groan he wrenched the cockpit door open.

Time seemed to stop as Jack took in the scene. The pilot was sprawled with his back against the controls, blood streamed from a cut on his forehead. His mouth hung open, and his hands flopped limply at his sides. That, though, wasn't what shocked him the most.

The stewardess's uniform was laying discarded on the floor, and she had wedged herself into the pilots lap. The perfect globes of her naked ass clenched as she ground her hips into the pilot's, and sweat sparkled on her black skin. Her eyes were closed, unconcerned with their impending doom.

"Mnnnn..." She moaned, grinding her hips against the pilot. Jack noticed that his flight suit was unzipped to the waist and he could see—holy crap, they were having sex!

What was happening? For a moment Jack wondered if this was all a nightmare, but the sound of an airframe stressed beyond its limits, the shuddering of metal, and the spinning gauge of the altimeter forced him to action.

He lurched through the door in a barely controlled fall, landing against the cockpit glass with a sickening thump, gritting his teeth against the pain from his arm. It was dark outside, but he imagined the ocean below, waiting to smash them to bits if he couldn't right the craft. Unless the wind speed broke the plane apart first, he thought with grimace.

Pulling himself across the window with his one good hand, praying the glass held, he reached for the stick. Try as he might, though, it was just out of reach, blocked by the sex-crazed stewardess. Helpless, he slumped back against the glass, staring into the darkness at the abyss below.

Tune in next time for another installment of Jack Easterly and the Island of Depravity!