“Jesus, what the hell could have happened?” Tina asked.
“Honestly, I can’t imagine an entire camp of scientists disappearing without a pretty good reason.”
“Could they have been kidnapped by rebels or something?” Todd asked.
“Not in Costa Rica. They haven’t had any kind of turmoil like that in over fifty years, so I can’t help but wonder if they all got drunk and ran off into the jungle to go skinny dipping and perhaps got lost.”
“In which case, it’s likely they’d all just turn up on their own,” Tina said.
“Yeah, though it wouldn’t explain the roar or that fucking scream.”
Suddenly, the party mood was long gone as the three of us sat there and quietly pondered all that we had learned. The flight attendants came by and collected our garbage and empty bottles, and about two and a half minutes later, the fasten seatbelt sign lit up.
“Uh oh!” I said, aloud.
“What is it?” Tina asked, looking concerned.
“I really have to pee.”
“Get up and pee.”
I thought for a moment and tried to calculate how long it would take before we landed, and I realized Tina was right—I needed to get up and go to the lavatory. She and Todd undid their belts and stood up to make room for me to pass, and no sooner had I reached the aisle that a flight attendant appeared and shoed us back into our seats.
“But, he needs to pee,” Tina said.
“I’m sorry, but you should have done it earlier. Now, you’ll have to wait until we land.”
“I can’t.”
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to, as it’s for your own safety. Now, please take your seat and fasten your belt.”
Frustrated, I did as she asked and returned to my seat and wondered if there was a snowballs chance in hell that I could hold it until we were on the ground.
“Is it bad?” she asked, as she looked over and cringed.
“Yeah.”
“Shit, I’m sorry I made you drink another beer.”
“Not your fault. I should have peed earlier.”
She looked around and saw that she had tucked one of her empty plastic cups in the pocket below her tray table.
“Could you pee in here?” she asked.
“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be big enough. I’m holding back the equivalent of the Colorado River here.”
I tried to call upon my years of martial arts training by using my mind to overrule my body and clear all thoughts of my swollen bladder. No luck. I was only seconds from wetting myself and was pondering the idea of crouching down and pissing on the floor. Tina could see my desperation, and so she started to rifle through the seat pocket then pulled out a barf bag.
“Are you worried I’m going to puke?” I asked.
“Not at all. Are you forgetting this bag is waterproof?”
“Holy shit! You’re right! But what the hell do we do with it afterward?”
“Hand it over to the fucking flight attendant who told you to take your seat.”
She handed me the bag, and I stared at it and imagined my bladder empty and it full of urine. It was a pleasing thought, but there was one small problem. I had to pee in front of a couple of strangers—one of them the very attractive woman directly beside me.
“I don’t know if I can do it with you guys right here.”
“Pee shyness. Dude, I totally understand,” Todd said.
Another pang of pain shot through my abdomen, and I realized I was going to have to man-up and pee in a bag or else pee in my pants. I took it from Tina’s hand, opened it up, then unzipped my fly and felt eyes on me and saw that Tina was watching closely.
“Um…”
“Oh, sorry. Force of habit. I’ll look away,” she said.
I realized I needed to slide forward in my seat in order to keep the bag at the proper angle, so I loosened my seatbelt and got into place, with my last maneuver being to take Tag Junior out of his cotton prison. I placed his tip into the bag and tried to relax, but the urine just wouldn’t come.
“Fuck,” I said.
“You just need to relax,” Tina said, as she rubbed my leg and looked into my eyes in what she thought was a soothing action.
“OK, but rubbing my leg and looking at me that way will likely make it harder—literally,” I said.
“Shit, sorry,” she said, as she stopped rubbing and looked away.
“OK, no one’s looking, so go ahead and pee,” she said.
The pain was now overwhelming, but thankfully urine finally flowed from my penis like water from a fire hydrant, and the pressure was actually making the entire process surprisingly noisy.
“You weren’t kidding,” Tina said.
“No shit, and I’m only getting started.”
I continued to pee and felt welcomed relief until I noticed that the bag was nearly full, and there was no end in sight to the fast flowing river of urine.
“Um, we have a problem. I’m going to need another bag.”
“Todd! Check your seat pouch,” Tina said.
He did as instructed, but literally found everything except a sanitary bag.
“Shit, we’re going to have to look in yours,” Tina said.
She reached across, but my precarious position was blocking her way.
“Can you scoot back a little?” she asked.
“No, not without spilling some pee.”
I realized the answer to this problem was going to be awkward to say the least.
“You’re going to have to hold the bag or my penis while I check the seat pocket,” I said.
“You can’t just pinch it off and hold it?”
“No, the most I could manage is about one or two seconds at the most.”
She looked down at the bag and cringed.
“I’ll take the penis,” she said.
“I was afraid you were going to say that. OK, on three we’ll switch, just like the golden monkey statue in the beginning of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark.”
“Except it’ll be your penis instead of a golden monkey,” she said.
“Exactly, and you won’t be spanking it.”
“Not yet, anyway,” she said, with a smile .
Tina had a good sense of humor, and I couldn’t ask for a better wingman or should I say wingwoman.
“OK, on three. One, two, three!” I said.
On three I passed my penis into her hand and was now free to search the seat pocket. As I dug around the various paraphernalia, Tina was trying to get a better grip, and it was inadvertently mildly stimulating.
“Um, you might want to be careful, as you’re going to give me a boner.”
“A boner? Now?” she asked.
“Yeah, even light handling can be stimulating.”
“Oh, sorry, I’m not used to holding one of these for non-sexual purposes.”
At last I found a sanitary bag wedged between the plastic emergency instructions and a SkyMall catalog, and I pulled it out and held it up so that Tina could use her free hand to pop it open.
“We make a good team. It’s just too bad I’m not holding your penis for different reasons.”
“Agreed, now, I’m going to switch bags, but I’ll need you to squeeze my penis and stop the urine for a second. Ok, you ready? we’ll do it on three. One, two…”
“Wait, how hard do I squeeze?”
“Think of it as a hose.”
“OK.”
“On three. One, two, three!”
She pinched off the flow, though she did it a little harder than expected.
“Ow!” I said.
“Sorry, you said hose.”
“Yeah, garden not fire.”
She lessened her grip.
“Is that better?”
“Perfect, just keep holding.”
I quickly removed bag one and replaced it with bag two.
“OK, let her rip,” I said.
Tina relaxed her grip, and urine again flowed and gave me sweet relief
, though I hazarded a glance around the immediate area and saw that the nearby passengers were all smiling as they watched my pee drama unfold. Wonderful.
“Will this bag be enough?” Tina asked.
“I think so. I’m almost done.”
Just as my flow of urine came to an unceremonious stop, the flight attendant came walking up the aisle and paused at our row.
“What the hell is going on here?”
“I told you I had to pee.”
“Sir—Ma’am, this is highly unacceptable. You can’t have your penis out of your pants, and you can’t be handling it,” she said, directing the second part of her statement to Tina.
“He had to pee, and you wouldn’t let him go to the bathroom, so this is what you get,” Tina said.
The flight attendant looked closer and realized what we had done and looked confused as to how to handle the situation.
“Well—um…”
“Do you mind taking these?” I asked, holding up both bags of urine.
She didn’t appear to be thrilled with the concept and recoiled back a step.
“Just a second, sir,” she said.
She hustled back to the kitchen and returned with a trash bag which she held open, and I tossed the piss packets in, and she quickly closed it up before retreating to the back of the plane. Sweet lord! My drama was at an end, though I realized that, in all the excitement, I had forgotten Tina was still faithfully holding my manhood.
“Alrighty, you’re free to unhand my hog.”
“Ah, too bad—I was just getting the hang of it,” she said.
“Well, maybe we can conduct some dry run-throughs runs later—just to keep in practice,” I said, as I slid Tag Junior back into my pants.
The two of us laughed, and it was a welcome relief from the awkwardness of our situation.
“Might I say, you make a wonderful pee-buddy,” I said.
“Thank you, and you should see what I can do when it’s about pleasure rather than peeing.”
Todd had enough of our banter and finally chimed in.
“Just in case you two have forgotten, I’m right here and getting more uncomfortable by the minute.”
“Sorry, Todd, we’re just trying to break the tension,” Tina said.
“Yeah, tension all right. Sexual tension,” he said.
The plane began its descent to LAX, and fifteen minutes later we were pulling into our gate. Everyone started to open the overhead bins and crowd into the aisle, but Tina, Todd, and I waited for the rush to end before deplaning and gathering in the terminal.
“I guess I’ll be seeing you guys in Costa Rica unless something good happens, and everyone turns up safe and sound.”
“Yeah, and it’s the first time I kind of wished that things didn’t turn out for the better, as this has been kind of fun,” she responded.
“Indeed it has.”
We exchanged contact information then parted with a hug and a handshake—the former going to Tina and the latter going to Todd. They headed off for the international terminal while I went out into the main airport, where I would call Triple D and see how and when we were meeting up. As I walked out past the security checkpoint, there was a man standing there with a sign that had my name written on it. He was in his middle fifties and was around average height and looked mostly fit except for the ever so slight paunch common to men in the middle age bracket. He was also sporting a well-trimmed grey flecked beard, and that, combined with his shaggy brown hair, khaki dockers, white button up shirt, and casual brown leather loafers, made him look like a typical member of the academic community. Technically, my first glimpse of the man had been brief and had occurred during our accidental FaceTime moment, but it was more than enough to now recognize my latest client. I smiled and walked over, and he smiled back, but it was quickly replaced by a very obvious look of concern.
“I’m Dean Donald Delany. Nice to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand.
“I’m private investigator Tag Finn. Nice to meet you too. What’s the plan?” I asked, shaking his hand.
“The news isn’t good. You need to leave immediately. I already have you booked on a Virgin Atlantic flight to Costa Rica that leaves in an hour. Let’s get you checked in, then I’ll give you the update, so you’ll be ready to roll when you get there.”
It wasn’t exactly the answer I was expecting, but at least I might get to hang out with Tina and Todd again. Costa Rica, here I come.
CHAPTER FOUR
Long Distance Relationship
WE LEFT THE Southwest gate and headed over to baggage claim before visiting the security office, where we picked up my special luggage—namely my gun. From there, we headed over to the LAX international terminal, and I checked everything in at Virgin Atlantic and again received suspicious looks from the woman behind the counter. I guess the average traveler didn’t run around with a pistol. With everything in order, I was handed a first class boarding pass, which meant I owed some serious gratitude to Dean Donald Delaney and the UC system. With all the incidentals out of the way, we ventured to the nearest bar and got a quiet table in the corner. The waitress came by, and, this time I ordered the sparkling water that I should have been drinking all along.
“You brought a pistol. I see you came prepared,” Donald said, obviously referring to the weapon I had just checked in.
“It’s a force of habit, but it’s probably unnecessary.”
“Maybe not.”
“Really? What’s the latest?” I asked.
Donald looked around nervously before lowering his voice and speaking.
“We got an update from the rescue team, and it’s worse than our preliminary reports. Not only did everyone disappear, but they’ve now found evidence of potential foul play—namely some blood droplets, strange claw marks, and broken items—basically, signs that there was some kind of struggle, which means our people were forcibly removed from that camp.”
“Jesus, who would go after a bunch of archaeologists?”
“We have no idea, and whoever or whatever did this left no trace behind.”
“What do you mean by whatever did this?”
“Exactly that—it’s like a God damn horror movie. The only physical evidence of the perpetrators of the kidnapping was some claw marks on a couple of the walls.”
“Seriously? That’s it?” I asked
“Yeah, there wasn’t any DNA evidence, fingernails, or even a footprint.”
“What about the blood droplets.”
“They were from our own people.”
“How could you know that so quickly?”
“Anytime we have faculty going out of the country on a dig, we have all their medical information on file, and we had a rush order done on the DNA and confirmed that the blood belonged to our team leader Thomas as well as one of the grad students.”
“So, it would appear that the team was apparently kidnapped by mysterious and particularly clever jungle creatures with claws.”
“Apparently so”
“You know, I can’t help but wonder if perhaps it was some kind of animal, considering the claw marks and the fact that I heard some weird roaring sound in the background when Estelle called. I can tell you without a doubt that it did not sound human.”
“Are you thinking something like a jaguar or a puma?”
“Yeah, but that’s also doubtful, as they’re generally solitary animals that hunt alone, and a camp that size would have required an entire pride of jungle cats.”
Donald looked nervous as he rubbed his eyes.
“Jesus, what the hell happened down there?” he asked aloud.
“I hope I can find out,” I said.
“I do too. I’m not kidding when I say that this entire affair has got me more than a little freaked out, Mr. Finn.”
“Please, call me Tag or Finn. No Mr. is necessary.”
“Finn it is.”
We sat there quietly for a moment and pondered the situation, as I imagine neither of us want
ed to acknowledge the grim facts that had come to light.
“I could sure use a drink,” Donald said.
“Me too, but I’m trying to abstain for the moment.”
“Yeah, it’s probably a good idea to keep a clear head.”
I spied Todd and Tina on the other side of the bar and noticed that neither was having an alcoholic beverage. I suppose the news of their friend must have hit them pretty hard. At that moment, I heard the announcement for pre-boarding of my flight, and so Donald and I headed over to the security checkpoint.
“Good luck, Finn,” Donald said, as we shook hands.
“Thanks, Donald.”
“Oh, and the University has someone from the embassy to supply you with a satellite phone so that you can keep me apprised of any updates. Also, we’ve arranged for you to meet up with Professor Hitzig, who is the head of the Archaeology Department for the University of Costa Rica and a member of the Board of Antiquities. So, the Professor will serve as your personal liaison and help you get up to speed once you’re there.”
“Excellent. I’ll call as soon as I have any news.”
I joined the security line and started the slow crawl with my fellow international travelers and felt a lot like a cow being herded into a corral, and it was all I could do not to moo as I crept forward only a step at a time. About halfway along, I looked to my right and saw Tina and Todd in the adjacent line.
“Hello, strangers,” I said.
“So, I’m guessing we’re on the same flight?” Tina responded.
“Virgin Atlantic?”
“That’s us! Cool! Maybe we’ll have another beer together later,” she said.
“Absolutely—as long as it’s actually after five p.m. and there’s access to a proper bathroom.”
“No problem. We definitely started the party a little early.”
Suddenly, a security person appeared at my side, and I was getting a bad feeling that I was about to be hassled for attempting to bring firearms into a foreign country. The TSA officer, who was a pretty Asian woman, looked at me questioningly.
“Um, excuse me, are you Mr. Finn?”
The Chalupa Conundrum Page 4