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At least there is still a chance the co-pilot will recover in time. How are you getting on here?”“Well, could be worse. I’ve been taught how to ...avigate this thing.”“Excellent! I knew you could do it! You made some flights with Wayne, after all!”“Yeah, not exactly the same. All I’m doing is entering waypoints, which are worked out by that Belgian lady on the ground. The autopilot is doing the actual flying. I’m not touching anything.”“What do you mean?”“Basically, I keep telling the autopilot. She wanted him and wanted him to want her. Right then and there.Her conservative button down brown cotton blouse and tan bra had been traded for an oversize shear grey muscle tee and the corporate very appropriate office business casual tan slacks had been replaced with a pair of candy cane pink jeans. The tee seemed like a light grey fog that began its downward journey from a cold mountaintop as a soft cloud of mist gently gliding from her neck to quickly grow into a speeding mass racing down. The thing was there was old journal with clipping from old newspapers in it from a 1800's talking about the lamp. It told of how it had been in the family for years but had passed hands quickly as each person had died in extremely painful ways after seemingly having the best fortune of there lives. They writer had noticed that his old uncle had been the only one who had kept it for any length of time. He had been a jail owner in the 1820's and after his death it came out had regularly had. I stared, disbelieving. Diane was tiedspreadeagled on the bed, facedown, totally naked, her hands and feet tied toeach corner. Rope was also tied tightly around her waist, and then loopedthrough the crack of her buttocks and obviously secured in the front. Her labiawere split by the rope and from my vantage point I could clearly see themprotruding, red and swollen. Diane?s buttocks, thighs, and upper back werecovered with red welts were she had obviously been whipped with something. My heart.
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