The hunter watches from the co-pilot’s seat of the multi engine turbo prop transport as the coast of Africa disappears and the gray waters of the Atlantic appear. “So…what’s so special about the air cargo that that you need to lease my entire plane—just to move one mysterious cubical covered tightly with a tarp?” ask the pilot.

Hunter sips his coffee, smiles and says, “You know my line of work, Jack—we’ve been friends a fair, long time. I need stealth and secrecy; thought I’d throw some easy money your way.”

Oh, I do appreciate the business… double my normal fee.  Bonus alone, for not having to clear customs, will pay for a year of Zach’s college,” replies the pilot.

“How is Zach doing?” asks the hunter as he stares out at the seemingly endless stretch of the Atlantic Ocean.

“Great… Zach is doing great… grades are good, and he’s kept out of trouble. He’s a different kid since you got him out of that jam he got himself into… I still can’t thank…”

“No need to thank me, again. Zach’s a great kid… he just needed to be shown and pointed in the right direction.  Fell into line… after a few ill-advised friendships were ended,” explains the hunter. “Where’s your co-pilot?” asks the hunter as he looks around from the cockpit.

“He’s making his in-flight check in the cargo hold. Don’t worry… Jake’s young, but he knows not to snoop into other folks’ affairs.  Been with me for a couple years now… he’s a good kid, and a great pilot too. He knows when to keep his mouth shut.” replies the pilot.

“Good… when he returns, I’ll show you what I’m moving. It’s not my normal line of work, and I’d normally refuse this type of perverted job. I even planned on proposing an outrageous fee for the job to avoid it… I don’t like to traffic in slaves. But the money I was offered for a few weeks work was triple what I was going to ask—couldn’t pass it up.  Money jobs of this magnitude are few and far between,” says the hunter, and then sips back on his coffee.

“You have a slave on board?” asks the pilot in amazement.

“Slave was probably the wrong word… this job was more like a kidnapping on my part. Slavery comes into play after I turn him over to his owner. Don’t worry… he was completely flushed out and plugged by a vet buddy of mine before I caged him,” laughs the hunter. “There won’t be no mesh to clean up.”

“Plugged… he’s in a cage?” asks the pilot. 

The hunter looks at the pilot and says, “Well, I couldn’t give him “preferred seating,” I’m sorry. Ah… it’s a long story, Jack. It’s like this; I was hired by a wealthy… well, pervert—word gets around—I’ve heard about my client’s depraved appetites. Anyway, my client hired me to capture a local jungle savage, who’d made the mistake of crossing him a few months ago while on a hunting safari. He says he just wants to settle a score with “jungle boy”… humiliate him… parade him around his island naked like a savage ape—use him for hard labor on his plantation in Caribbean. But I think there is more than humiliation and forced labor in store for the air cargo onboard. Here’s the thing… the jungle boy I captured is a very good-looking kid: white, tall… muscled… blond, blue eyes. I’d bet my entire fee for this job, my rich client has an endless supply of roofies. He’ll have this jungle-toy drugged into a stupor, and between his sheets every night of the week. Odds are my client with the bottomless wallet is probably sitting on his plantation’s porch right now, stroking his floppy hard-on and licking his lips, thinking about the first time he’s free to have his way with jungle boy, undisturbed.”

“What a sick freak… how would you imagine the kid came to be this jungle man?” asks the pilot.

“Probably son of some rich family… strayed away from a safari and got lost… survived a plane crash… missionary parents murdered by hostiles—who knows, for sure?  Either way, he managed to grow up on his own in the jungle,” offers the hunter. “Must be one heck of a story of survival… shame it has to end like this.”

A token nicety said…. He didn’t really care.

To be continued….