Turbulence 6: Flying Blind by Jordan Castillo Price

Author:Jordan Castillo Price [Price, Jordan Castillo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance, mm romance, gay science fiction, bermuda triangle, gay paranormal romance, mm paranormal, gay pilot
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

travelers in dark,

when the blazing sun is gone

find the tiny light

Paul’s heart resumed its hyperactive thudding, and even picked up its pace. The rotating beacon. That was it. The key…it had to be. What else could that message possibly mean? He flipped on all the lights again, and the empty airport lit up. “Paul?” Kaye called from the aircraft a few hundred yards away. Distant, but as the only other human voice on the island, distinct. “Did you find something?”

He called back, “I don’t know. I’m going to check.” And while he briefly considered being all Marlin about it and jaunting off without bothering to mention what he was doing, he decided it was best if Kaye knew—even if she probably wouldn’t leave the aircraft even to do recon. “It’s the tower—the beacon.”

“Be careful!”

No, he’d probably die injured and alone if he fell off the damn tower attempting to reach the damn beacon. But at least Kaye and Dallas would know precisely what he was trying to do, and why. For such a small airport, Wade International kept its control tower in a hard-to-reach spot. Paul had to pass the private hangars, cross the runway and the taxi lane, and then hike across a hundred yards of scrub. He’d started off in a huff, but soon realized he’d better keep his eye on the ground to keep from twisting his ankle on a hunk of rock or a discarded bottle. Though the night air was chill, he’d worked up a sweat by the time he reached the tower.

It was unlocked.

Shift change, protocol, Paul didn’t stop to marvel at the fact that he wouldn’t need to rifle through the empty cars and dig up a tire iron to pry open the door. What mattered was that any moment now, he would get to the bottom of the turbulence once and for all. He darted up the stairs, then paused in the empty control room that smelled like burnt coffee. The room was octagonal with windows all around, a 380-degree view of emptiness. Monitors flickered, and the radio band from the weather service played in a continual loop, small and tinny, through an empty pair of headphones that had fallen on a nearby chair. The idea that maybe it wasn’t a loop—maybe he wasn’t alone—sent a creeping sensation up the back of his neck. He spun around, heart jolting when he spied motion, only to realize that it was his own reflection in the tower’s window, looking back at him with wide, terrified eyes.

As he willed his heart to stop pounding, the headphones beside him announced the temperature and windspeed in a computerized voice.

Too bad he wasn’t a rock climber. Then he’d have access to some kind of harness to keep him from falling off the tower. It was unnecessary, though. A metal walkway circled the top of the tower, and a set of rungs set between a pair of windows led to the flashing light on top—the modern equivalent of a

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