Chapter 1
Foster smiled as he walked out of the Marshal
Point-Port Clyde lighthouse museum. Although the story of a child
killed by some rum-runners was a sad tale, the museum itself was
still very interesting.
He had first heard about this haunted lighthouse
when he was a kid and watched Forest Gump for the first time. He
always got a kick out of the fact that if you mixed the letters of
Forest’s name up you could spell Foster... and he loved the scene
where Foster Gump ran up the ramp to the lighthouse. It had caught
his attention and Forest had made quick work out of figuring out
everything he could about the place.
The paranormal world had always interested
Foster for as long as he could remember. It started with Scooby Doo
and moved on to Buffy The Vampire Slayer. When his parents had
given him his first Kindle on his eighteenth birthday, Foster had
gone crazy with all the gay paranormal romances out in the cyber
world, and he still couldn’t get enough.
“Mr. Witman, are you ready to continue our
journey?” The Captain asked.
Smiling, Foster replied, “I keep telling you to
call me Foster, Frank, and yeah, I’m ready to go.”
“Would you like me to show you a few more
haunted lighthouses or would you like to get started on your
fishing?” The Captain asked.
Feeling the energy he had before walking the
lighthouse and the museum wane, Foster decided he should maybe rest
a bit. “You know what? How about if I go to my room and lie down
for a bit while you take me to a nice quiet fishing spot. Remember
I don’t want to keep what I catch, and wouldn’t care if I didn’t
catch anything, but it would be cool if I got a chance to at least
see some sharks while I’m doing it.”
“I have the perfect spot for you. It will take
us about an hour to get there. Will that be enough time for you to
rest?” The Captain asked.
Nodding, Foster replied, “It sounds
perfect.”
Making his way to his quarters, Foster walked
inside and removed his shoes. Lying down on the bed, he closed his
eyes, letting out a long breath. Fuck, he felt drained. The chemo
he had gone through before his parents were stopped with all their
stupid “it will be cured” treatments had really taken its toll.
Foster knew he only had six months at the most without the
treatments, and he was fine with that, but damn it, he was going to
do something he hadn’t done in his twenty-eight years of life.
Foster was going to actually live! He was going to experience life
like he had never been able to do under his parents’ thumbs. Oh, he
knew his mom and dad loved him and that was why they had done what
they had in order to keep him alive, but what they had never
understood was that just because his physical body was there for
them to see, it didn’t mean he was alive. No, he had been just
existing, and that was what Foster had hated so much in all those
years.
Foster had barely been able to attend school and
that was only when the cancer was in remission. He had never been
to a high school dance and was recovering from a chemo treatment
during the prom. He had never been on a date, or gone out to dinner
with a date, nor had he ever had sleepovers, or gone camping or
fishing, or... shit he hadn’t done anything. All his
adventures in his life had been lived vicariously through the books
he read, and for a long time that had been enough. It wasn’t until
he had gotten older and watched kids outside throwing a football,
or bouncing a basketball, laughing and joking, that the twinge of
loneliness hit him and the wish that he could do things like the
other kids, but that was never meant to be for him.
Thinking about those days, he remembered the
only thing that could pull him out of his sadness was when Shark
Week came on. Holy shit, Foster loved that week. Watching the
sharks jump out of the water trying to catch their meal and
listening to all the new discoveries man had been finding since
they started going deeper and deeper into the water. However, as
excited as all of that was, Foster hated the idea that these
discoveries might be causing havoc within the oceans. The problem
was, Foster still had to watch because nothing fascinated him more
than to learn all he could about such magnificent animals. How they
survived the most trying times of today’s world. Climate change,
pollution in the water, so many people exploring areas never seen
before, and in turn invading their space. It never ceased to amaze
Foster when people would be surprised about increases in shark
attacks along the coastlines, but really, who wouldn’t want to
attack those that attacked first. It was humans who were destroying
the waters and land of earth and what did they expect to happen
when they dumped food and crap, literally and figuratively, into
the water from all the ships that sailed the oceans?
Knowing about the increase in shark attacks
didn’t deter Foster from wishing he could swim with them... just
once. However, with his lungs in such poor shape and the risk of
infection due to his chemo treatments fucking up his immune
system... there was just no way, but he could always dream.
Realizing his mind was going all over the place,
Foster did his deep breathing exercises he had been taught when his
sickness kept him awake at night. It didn’t take long until he
found himself slipping into a peaceful sleep, dreaming of swimming
with the sharks.
* * * *
The knock on his cabin door woke Foster. He
stretched wide, calling out, “Yes?”
When the door opened, Foster watched as an
extremely handsome man walked into his room. He stood about six
feet tall with long black hair and had some well-defined muscles
over a very nicely shaped body. However, it was the man’s
emerald-green eyes that truly stood out to Foster. They were
mesmerizing, and for some reason made Foster feel as if there was
more to the man than just a crewmember. There was something exotic
as well as almost magical in feel coming off this man.
Shaking his head, Foster said to himself,
You’ve been going to too many haunted lighthouses. He’s just a
man. “Can I help you?”
The man smiled and gave a slight bow, “I am
Zotol. The Captain asked for me to come and get you. He said we
have arrived at our location and you won’t want to miss it.”
“Thank you. I’ll be right up.” Foster replied,
rolling off the bed and stretching once more.
Noticing Zotol had not left the cabin, Foster
asked, “Was there anything else?”
Zotol tilted his head to the side, “Besides
being a bit too skinny, you don’t look like a man that is close to
death?”
Foster’s eyebrow raised, “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry, that was rude. My ma... husband is
always saying I need to remember to think before I speak. It’s just
that when last I saw you on that electronic contraption from hell,
you had no hair and looked like skin over bones, or should I say
gaunt, yet here you stand... yes, still too skinny, but you do have
hair and your coloring is a bit pale, but you do have a little
color.” Zotol replied.
Sighing, Foster remembered seeing the viral post
all over Facebook, Twitter, and even on the news. It had gotten him
a great deal of attention that he hadn’t asked for or wanted.
People seemed to recognize him no matter where he went, and were
constantly badgering him with questions, or worse, looking at him
in pity. It was one of the reasons he had chosen a private charter
boat to travel rather than a plane or cruise ship. The funny thing
was, Zotol didn’t look as if he pitied Foster, but was more
curious, which must have been why Foster found himself wanting to
answer the man.
Running his hand over his short blond stubble,
Foster said, “It’s been over a month, and since I gave up on the
chemo I’ve been lucky enough to have it grow back a bit, and even
though it’s still hard for me to eat, I no longer throw up what I
have been able to swallow. As for my coloring, I guess it might
have something to do with my nap, because I’m sure had you seen me
when I came back from the museum you wouldn’t have seen quite so
much color.”
“Is it scary?” Zotol asked.
“Is what scary?” Foster asked.
Zotol quietly asked, “Knowing you’re going to
die.”
Shrugging, Foster replied, “All of us are going
to die at some point. I’m just going to do it sooner rather than
later.”
“But you’re so young.” Zotol said in awe.
“Some don’t make it to birth and some die during
birth. Some die soon after birth and some go on to live well into
their hundreds. No one is immortal, Zotol. We all have a time
limit. Mine just happens to be sooner than some.” Foster
relied.
Shaking his head in wonder, Zotol said, “You are
a remarkably courageous man with a strength many humans don’t seem
to have within them.”
“Why do you say that?” Foster asked.
“Because you face the inevitable end to your
life head on without a word of scorn or crying about the unfairness
of it all. You have not even revolved around the sun thirty years,
and yet you are okay with never seeing it rise another day. There
is so much in life you have not experienced, and yet you seem to be
alright with that as well. Your body has limits that keep you from
doing things the world knows you would love to do, and yet, you do
not complain, yell, cry... no. Instead you, Foster Witman, face it,
adapt and move forward. Many a man could learn from you.” Zotol
stated.
Foster wanted to ask the man meant by what he
said when he had been talking about the “human” comment. However,
at this moment, hearing the true adoration in Zotol’s voice when he
spoke, Foster found himself not caring. Maybe this man was some
type of magical being because the words he spoke had Foster calmly
and quietly saying, “Thank you.”
“Okay, so why don’t you do whatever it is you
need to do and the Captain and I will see you on deck.” Zotol
stated, turning to leave.
A thought came to Foster and he found himself
calling out, “Zotol?”