5. Here Comes the Storm

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Tilda awoke early the next morning. Feeling groggy, and her head a little stuffy, she did a couple laps walking around the main deck, allowing the fresh sea air to rouse her, as well as the first rays of sun from a new day.

Her thoughts were still consumed by the nature of this expedition, how there still seemed to be so many secrets and how no one really knew what was going on.

This unquenchable curiosity led her to venture back below decks before breakfast to reexamine the supplies.

She flicked on her torch and shone the narrow beam of light across the stacks of crates. All said the same: RESTRICTED. Not that she had expected it to change overnight. But with something like this, you never know.

Being here amongst the dark towers of crates holding mysterious, unknown cargo made her feel small, and she found herself wishing - almost - that she might come across James again.

She jumped and gasped when her light shone across something other than a crate and quickly became aware that she was not alone.

Philip was standing by a smaller crate. He appeared slightly startled as well. She flicked off the light.

"Oh, Matilda, it's you."

"Yes-" She caught him slip what looked to be a pocket knife into his back pocket before leaning casually against the tower of crates. By the looks of it, he had been attempting to pry open the lid of one of them, before she came along. Kind of odd behavior. Even more odd than her own.

"And what are you up to this morning?"

"Exploring," she said. "And yourself?"

"The same."

"I see."

"May I ask what you two are doing down here?" another voice, not belonging to either of them, said suddenly. The two turned to see the serious Colonel Packard had appeared. He had been so quiet neither had heard him approach and both jumped slightly.

"ColonelPackard, Sir," said Philip, straightening up. Tilda was sure he was still holding the knife.

The Colonel scrutinized them. "You are aware that this is an authorized area."

"Yes, Sir."

"And that you are not authorized to be here."

"Yes, Sir."

"Do I want to know what's going on here?"

"We were just looking," spoke up Tilda. "Sir," she quickly added for good measure.

He continued to eye them, even as he turned away. "Well, get on with it then - preferably elsewhere. And I don't want to find you here again."

"Yes, Sir."

As soon as he was gone, the two guilty parties shared a glance and exhaled a breath.

"You two okay?" Mason asked as they arrived for breakfast, quickly noticing something was up. "You look like you saw a ghost."

"No, but just had a run-in with Colonel Packard," Tilda informed her and James. "Though I think I would have preferred the ghost." James and Mason chuckled.

After breakfast, most everyone was up on the main deck, but not Tilda. She was on the ledge above.

Even from up here she could hear Mason's hearty laugh as she took pictures of the soldiers as they goofed around.

"What are you doing up here all alone when clearly, everyone is having fun down there?"

She turned to see James. "Well, I could ask the same of you."

"Fair enough." He joined her leaning against the railing. "Nice view from up here."

"That's what I thought. The perfect perch for the observant writer to see everything."

"So why are you here?"

She looked down.  "Have you ever heard of the introverted writer?"

"To be honest, I don't think I would have guessed it from what I've seen of you so far. Especially not after seeing you take out that boy who robbed you. You're out of your element then, throwing yourself in amongst this group."

"Now who's the observant one." She chuckled.  "Tell me about it. It was Mason's idea, she wanted to do this job. And we work together so I was kind of in it anyway. But I will admit I am very curious about what's going on."

"Me too."

"What are you two doing hiding all the way up here?" They were interrupted then by Philip. "Sorry to interrupt, but Colonel Packard has announced that we'll be going airborne for the remainder of the journey. So, in other words, suit up. I hope you're okay with heights."

A fleet of helicopters lined the deck, ready to carry them into the storm brewing ahead, and - hopefully - to the island that was supposedly on the other side.

"Oh good, they got the record player," Mason noted as they passed a group of soldiers packing up supplies.

They walked over to a helicopter which was already half-occupied by the two trackers.

Mason waved her hand in a scooting motion. "Shove on over, boys. The ladies are here."

"Yes, they are." Philip and James exchanged a glance before both moved to the next seats over to make room for the photographer and journalist. The ladies sat across from each other, Mason beside James and Tilda beside Philip.

Colonel Packard began giving an address over the radio as they took to the air and pressed on into the now roaring storm, comparing their situation to that of Icarus, and how they were better suited being in helicopters with 'good American steel'.

"Nothing like a little Greek mythology to ease the tension," Tilda called over the roaring of the propellers. "Good old Icarus - oh!" She gave rather loud cry when the chopper gave a great lurch.

"Here comes the storm, do, do, do, do..." sang Mason.

The storm rattled the helicopters as well as the passengers.

"If we die, may I remind you that this job was your idea!" Tilda called to Mason, who only flashed her a grin.

"Might be the highlight of your career, English!"

But suddenly, all was still and quiet - the storm had passed. Or, rather, they had passed through the storm

"Well I'll be damned," remarked Philip as they emerged into a peaceful area, hovering over a serene island.

"So our mysterious island does exist," said Tilda.

Click, went Mason's camera. Click. Click.

That serenity and awe was short-lived, however. And everyone had barely recovered from the storm. Tilda was just cleaning off her glasses - she wasn't completely blind without them, but everything was very fuzzy. So at first she thought the huge, dark mass taking shape in her vision was just her fuzzy eyesight. That was, until she put her glasses back on, and it all came into sharp, startling focus.

She cried out, the first in their helicopter to take notice of the giant ape approaching the chopper fleet.

But they had noticed too late.

Philip had a more verbal reaction. "Holy shit-"



(Hello, I know it's been forever and I'm very sorry! But I'm back and so is Tilda! :)

Thank you so much for reading and for sticking with me and I hope you enjoyed! :))

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