I had graduated college and had accepted a position at the engineering firm where I’d completed my internship over the course of the previous year.
To celebrate, I had scheduled a safari trip to Africa. I love traveling and taking pictures and it had always been a dream of mine to photograph elephants, giraffes, and other wild animals in their natural habitat.
When my younger sister – who had just finished her freshman year of college – learned of my plans, she begged me to tag along. How could I tell her ‘no’? She loved my hobby almost as much as I did. Sharing this opportunity with her would make it even more fun.
~~~
It had been an amazing two weeks. Our guides were terrific and we’d gotten some spectacular photos that I couldn’t wait to get home to share with our family and friends.
My sister and I boarded our flight and sat towards the back. At some point in my life – I had heard that the back of the plane was safer during a crash – so that’s where I’d always sat. It seemed like fewer people chose those seats – so it was usually less crowded as well. Also – with everyone facing forward – most of the noise should be projected in that direction. Although it may have just been my mind playing tricks on me, it always seemed like it was quieter in the rear of the plane.
My sister and I were exhausted. She had laid her head on my shoulder and fallen asleep. I looked out of the window for a bit but then laid my cheek against the top of her head and nodded off as well.
About halfway through the flight, there was some kind of excitement at the front of the plane, but it seemed to subside fairly quickly and I closed my eyes again and went back to sleep.
It wasn’t until we had landed and were taxiing to the terminal that we learned that some woman had died. The pilot informed us that we would all need to stay in our seats until the medical team arrived to assess the situation.
Sis and I gathered our things but sat, waiting.
As the medical team came in, I heard a gasp from the woman sitting on the aisle next to my sister. I followed her eyes to the front of the plane and discovered that all of the medics were clothed head-to-toe in hazmat suits.
The medics lifted a body onto a narrow gurney and took the person from the plane. The captain told us that it would be a few minutes, yet, and thanked us for our patience.
Several minutes went by. Another white-suited person came in and talked with the head stewardess. She knocked on the cabin door and the pilot stepped out. The three of them talked for a bit and then the medical person left again.
The pilot came back on the intercom, told us that the stewardess would be dismissing us by rows and asked us to remain seated until she got to us. He warned us that there were towels on the floor at the front and that we should be careful to avoid tripping on those as we made our way out of the plane. He then said that we were deboarding to a special terminal and warned us that we would have to be released by the medical team before we would be allowed to leave the airport.
Upon hearing that announcement, several passengers began loudly voicing their displeasure. The stewardess attempted to calm everyone and then stuck her head into the pilot’s cabin. The pilot announced that there was a customer relations team available to handle questions and a security team to deal with anybody who had problems with how things were being managed. The outbursts quieted some, after that, but there was still a lot of murmuring going on.
Mom and dad were working – so I had just planned to grab a taxi or something – so there was really nobody waiting on us. That being said, I could see how some people might be upset with what we were being told.
The stewardess began working her way up the aisle, helping people collect their things, guiding them around the towels, and seeing them off of the plane. The way each of them kept looking out of the exit, I could tell that the medical team was processing the passengers as soon as they disembarked.
When my sister and I made our way down the aisle, I (like every person before me) looked at the towels – not because I thought I might trip over them – but to see why they were needed. The rags (which had originally been white) showed stains that were red, yellow, brown, and black. I really wasn’t sure what I was seeing but then it was finally our turn to step to the exit.
When we rounded the corner and looked out of the door, I was stunned. Every person who was not a passenger was wearing a hazmat suit. We were being unloaded into a large room. Passengers were clustered into small groups that I assumed were those with whom they had been traveling. Others stood by themselves – or mingled with other singles nearby.
A medical staffer greeted me and my sister and led us to an empty space. She took out a clipboard and began taking our information. She asked our names, our ages, our health status, where we had been in Africa, and when we had arrived there. She asked a bit about our medical history and asked if we had noticed any changes in our health since boarding the plane. Once she had finished collecting all of our information, she told us to stay where we were, and she headed over to some person who appeared to be processing all of the clipboards.
Once everyone had deboarded – including the pilots and the stewardesses – and we had all been interviewed, we were told that we should be patient but that we would be released as soon as possible.
After 15 minutes of standing around, I sat down. I squeezed my sister’s knee and pulled her onto my lap. I wrapped my arms around her.
“What do you think is happening?” she asked.
“I’m just going to guess but I would say we are in the middle of some kind of Ebola outbreak or something.”
“What?!”
I shushed her and said, “Those towels looked bad and every person who wasn’t already on that plane is acting like we’re in a life and death situation. I think the person who died might have had some virus or disease and these folks are trying to wrap their brains around it before they can figure out what to do with us. We could be here for a while.”
“Overnight?”
“Honestly?” I said. “Probably longer. Probably until people start dying – and then they won’t release us until nobody else is dying.”
“Shit!” she whispered.
I nodded and said, “I love you.”
“Stop that,” she ordered.
I pressed my forehead to her temple and kissed her cheek.
“You’re freaking me out!”
“I think this is super serious. If something happens to me, I don’t want you to doubt for a minute that I love being your brother. You’re super smart, beautiful, kind,…”
“Seriously. Knock that shit off,” she growled.
I kissed her cheek again and wrapped my arms around her.
She looked into my eyes, sighed heavily, and wrapped her arms around me.
“I love you, too,” she said.
We sat like that for several minutes, watching those around us, as more and more of the groups grew quieter and more serious. The significance of what was going on was becoming more and more apparent to larger numbers of the passengers.
Seeking to distract my sibling, I said, “I told you nice things about you. What nice things can you say about me?”
My sister looked from my hair, to where she was seated on my lap, to my feet, and then smirked and said, “Your cologne’s not bad.”
I snapped my teeth at her cheek and growled.
She started giggling, squeezed me a little tighter, and kissed my cheekbone.
“It’s bad, huh?” she asked, growing more serious again.
“Every minute we sit here – to me – means that they are still trying to figure out what they’re going to do with us. I’d be really surprised if they don’t start bringing tents in, soon, so that we can start setting up our personal spaces.”
“One person tents, do you think?”
“Probably one per family – with cots – and maybe some camp chairs. It’ll be like going to the lake, on Labor Day, but just indoors.”
“Where are the porta potties?” she asked.
“Probably right behind the tents,” I replied. “I’m actually surprised that one of the…”
My words were interrupted by the announcement about how to find the restrooms.
“How much longer can you hold it?” I asked my sister.
“The women’s restroom will be horrible,” she complained. “I should just go into the men’s with you.”
“You’ll regret that decision if some guy with Irritable Bowel Syndrome is in there, tearing the place up,” I told her, laughing a little.
“That’s sick,” she replied.
“You think I’m kidding…” I warned her.
“When do you think we’ll get our luggage?” she asked. “I don’t have clothes in my backpack.”
“Not sure about that,” I replied.
“Carry our packs with us to the bathroom?” she asked.
“I guess,” I told her. “I don’t have much in here but I’d rather not just leave it.”
We sat there until she said she couldn’t wait any longer. She stood, offered me her hand, and helped me up. We shouldered our backpacks and headed towards the bathroom. As she had warned, the line for the women’s room was severe. I followed her as she got into the line for the men’s room.
Once it was finally our turn, she grabbed my hand and led the way. We passed the urinals and found a stall that was empty. I stood outside but she pulled me in with her. It was a tight fit with both of our bodies and our bags.
“Hold my pack,” she ordered.
She grabbed some paper, wiped the seat, dropped her pants, and squatted. She pissed so hard that I could hear it. Girls pee louder than boys anyway – but it has always seemed a little weird to me. She finished, wiped, and then stood and pulled up her pants, all in one motion.
It took a bit of work, but we traded places and she took my pack. I couldn’t stand to pee because she was where I needed to be. I dropped my pants, sat down, finished my business, tapped it off, and stood, pulling up my pants.
We got the door open, shouldered our packs again, and headed to the sinks. We rinsed our hands. The soap was gone – as were the towels. We made our way back outside and headed towards our designated spot.
I sat again and pulled Heather onto my lap and into my arms. We rested our heads against each other and waited. We began reminiscing about the places we’d gone and the pictures we’d taken while we’d been on our trip. We talked about which family member or friend we thought would like which pictures.
Soon, the tents, cots, and chairs began arriving. A blue moving-blanket became our “outdoor space”. The four-person tent we set up next to the blanket became our home. I began setting the cots up – one to a side – with an empty space in the middle.
Heather moved them together – in the center of the space – and set her pack to the right of the right cot. She laid on that cot and patted her hand on the other one, looking at me.
“Cuddling?” I asked, smirking.
“I need a little contact, if it’s alright,” she replied. “We can sleep clothed, if you want, but I’m freaking out a little.”
I set down my pack and laid down on the left-hand cot. She scooted over, put her back to me, and pulled my arm across her ribs. Her butt bumped my groin.
“Umm,” I said. “If you feel anything…”
“It’ll be fine,” she whispered, sounding exhausted.
She pulled my arm around her a little tighter and my dick definitely nudged her ass that time. I squeezed her a little, to let her know I wasn’t rejecting her. I managed to cram my dick harder into her ass – and palmed her left breast at the same time.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
“Just shut up and hold me,” she ordered. “You’re not bothering me. If anything, I could use a little distraction.”
She wriggled against me, laying her head back against my chest. Soon, her breathing slowed and I knew she had fallen asleep. I dozed off shortly after that.
~~~
The next morning, once we were in our seats “outside” of the tent, we were brought breakfast and a medical team member came to take blood samples and check our vital statistics.
“Anybody else die yet?” I asked the medical staffer.
The girl looked at me through the clear plastic visor of her suit.
“I’ll get in trouble if I talk about that… or pretty much anything for that matter,” she replied.
“Sorry. I’m just curious,” I told her. “Sis asked me how long she thought we’d be here and I warned her that we’d probably have to wait until the next person died and that we wouldn’t be released until it looked like nobody else was going to.”
The girl looked from my eyes – to Heather’s – and then back to mine. “I can’t tell you that that’s probably not a bad overall assessment.”
I nodded to her and whispered, “Thanks.”
Heather took my hand and squeezed it. She looked at the young woman and asked, “How are you doing? Are you quarantined as well?”
“Pretty much,” she replied quietly.
“If you get bored, stop by,” Heather told her. “We’ll talk my brother into grilling some steaks and I’ll whip up some mimosas.”
I looked at my sister and raised my eyebrows in surprise.
“Yeah. Don’t mention that to mom, please,” she told me, smiling conspiratorially at our companion.
The medical staffer chortled and said, “We’re not supposed to leave our area but I just might have to make up an excuse to drop by.”
Heather smiled broadly and said, “We’re having shrimp kabobs and margaritas tomorrow.”
The girl laughed and said, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”
Heather and I sat around for a bit and then started digging through our packs. Long ago, mom had trained us to take games and things to do with us, whenever we traveled. I dug out the pack of playing cards that I’d carried in my backpack since I was a kid. Heather shuffled the cards and I went to grab my cot so we could use it as a table.
We had played a couple games of blackjack when I heard the kids next to us, driving their parents crazy, asking if they had any cards. Obviously, we had drawn their notice. I shuffled the cards, slid them back into the pack, and handed them to Heather. She took them over to the little girl and gave them to her. Their mother exhorted the two children to tell us “Thank you”, and then they invited us to join them for a few hands of Crazy 8’s. After that, I dug some Q-tips out of my pack and we taught them how to play Spoons. When lunchtime arrived, Heather and I returned to our “home”. The little girl tried to return the cards (and the Q-tips) but we told her to keep them.
After the two of us had eaten, I walked over to the customer service area and asked them about bringing in some decks of cards – just so that people would have something to distract themselves. It took a couple hours but, soon, members of their team came around with a few choices of games for people to choose from.
A few minutes later, the little boy and girl from next door came over, thanked us for letting them use our deck of cards, and returned them to us – reporting that they had gotten their own deck. I laughed when the little boy asked if it was okay if they kept the Q-tips so they could play Spoons. I assured him that that was no problem and that he was more than welcome. The two of them skipped back over to their space. The dad gave me a wave, which I returned.
For the next couple hours, Heather and I just sat and watched the groups around us, playing the games that they’d been given. She asked me how long I thought the airport staff would have let people sit there, driving each other crazy, before figuring out to bring them something to do. I told her that I had no clue. We both agreed that our mother – who’d had plenty of experience with her own siblings and children – was much smarter than the ones making the decisions around here.
Our favorite medical staff-person returned just as our dinner arrived. She joked that it didn’t look like we were having steaks and mimosas after all. We shared a laugh as she took our vitals.
Just before she left, she leaned close and said, “That theory that you talked about before…? It’s started.”
Heather raised her eyebrows at the woman and took my hand to squeeze it. The girl nodded at her.
“See you tomorrow,” she said, before stepping away.
Our food sat on the cot that we were using as a table. Heather pushed me onto my chair and dropped into my lap, pulling my arms around her. She laid her head against my chest and shuddered a little.
“I had really hoped that you were wrong,” she whispered.
I squeezed her and kissed her temple.
I let her brood for a few minutes and then said, “Our steaks are getting cold.”
She didn’t react. She stood, grabbed our food, and dropped back onto my lap. She tore the plastic cover off of the top of the TV dinner that we’d been given.
I just sat there as she began eating.
“Eat,” she ordered.
“Could you move to your chair?” I asked.
She huffed at me and said, “Fine. But I’m calling dibs on this seat for later.”
We ate our food, drank some bottled water, made a trip to the men’s bathroom, and returned “home”. As I’d been warned, she reclaimed my lap as soon as I was seated.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” I told her.
“At least I’m cute,” she retorted.
“Who told you that?!” I scoffed, laughing.
“You did, dummy,” she replied, kissing my cheek and then pulling my arms around her.
She laid her head against my chest and fell asleep, snoring softly. Even her snores were cute.
~~~
Halfway through the night, I woke up, finally managed to lift my sibling enough to escape from my umbrella chair, and carried her inside to her cot. I pulled mine into the tent, closed the door enough to give us some privacy, and then laid down beside her.
They had, finally, turned the lights out, signaling the arrival of bedtime, sometime after Heather and I had fallen asleep.
~~~
I woke up, before the lights came on, to find Heather facing me, with her cheek against my chest, and her left arm across my ribs, and her right hand next to her face, also pressed against my chest.
My movements must have woken her. She opened her eyes, kissed my jaw, gave me a squeeze, and then got up.
We walked hand-in-hand to the bathroom. It was almost empty. I headed for a urinal but she dragged me into the stall with her once again. She peed, we traded spots, and I peed. We washed our hands (now with soap!) and headed “home”.
The medical staffer arrived a few minutes later. She held up two fingers. I nodded. She began taking our vitals – and new blood samples.
“Just so you know,” I told her, “we’ve nicknamed you ‘Mary’.”
“Mary?” She thought for a moment, as her eyes switched from looking at me to my sister, and then asked, “As in Typhoid…?”
Heather laughed and said, “Yes.”
Mary shook her head at us but smiled.
After breakfast, we played a couple games of Spoons with the kids next door and then the older couple on the other side of us invited us over to chat. We visited for a while, talked about how long we thought we’d be quarantined, and then returned to our place to chill until lunch.
Heather claimed my lap again. I’m not sure what possessed me to do it but, as I wrapped my arms around her, I quickly and lightly pinched her breast with the fingers of my right hand, acting as if nothing untoward had taken place.
Heather gaped at me. I raised an eyebrow at her. She got an evil grin on her face and I wondered if I had just incited her to some future violence.
“I’m starting to get horny,” she whispered in warning. “It’s been almost a week since I last got myself off. You may need to cover my mouth tonight, while I finger my cunt.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I told her.
“If you don’t, Bobbie and Suzie are gonna hear me,” she replied, “and that will be bad.”
“You’re just gonna have to chill,” I told her.
“Okay, but I’m telling you, if we’re not out of here in a couple more days, there are going to be some traumatized kids living next door.”
