Displacement

By T. H. Barker

Matt Holloway was an ex-military helicopter pilot with a nice, easy job ferrying supplies out to oil platforms in the Gulf of Mexico -- but, all that changed... A storm blew up and his helicopter was sucked through a mysterious green veil -- and when he came out the other side, he was flying over land, not water -- land where there were no signs of civilization. Then there was the fauna... Very quickly, it became clear that Matt was suffering from a serious case of displacement...

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. H. Barker
• Release date: May 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311459404

T. H. Barker

T. H. Barker has been publishing erotica on the web since 2003 under the pseudonym Thinking Horndog and has a following on several sites of readers delighted and entertained by the quality of his works. "I tend not to write pure stroke, but rather put my characters -- who are NOT perfect people or Barbie dolls -- in real situations and wrap a real story around the sex scenes. I'm known for my humor, which is a little twisted..."

Book preview

Displacement

T. H. Barker

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2016 T. H. Barker

License notes for the Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this ebook with others, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient or recommend that they go to Smashwords.com and purchase their own copy. If you are reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please go to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the efforts of the author.

Author's Foreword

This book contains adult content – and it crosses various boundaries even for that. If you are too young to be reading depictions of sexual activity or have limited tolerance for such content, including activities that are, well, not ‘vanilla,’ let us say, perhaps you should look elsewhere. On the other hand, if you consider yourself to be open-minded, well, let’s see... There is nothing here that hasn’t been done before, after all...

As I have indicated before, my characters are what they are, and they speak for themselves, not for me. Don't assume that because one of them presents an attitude that you find offensive, or whatever, that I'm providing you with MY opinions – look around and you'll see another character with a differing viewpoint.

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This tale is dedicated to cmsix, who first exposed me to this genre. I tried to improve on his work, which tended to drift at the end – but if I didn’t, well...

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A special thank you to Tomken, who edited this work and corrected my numerous mistakes...

Enjoy!

T. H. B.

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Table of Contents

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

About the Author

Other Titles by T.H. Barker

Chapter 1

Dunno if anyone is ever gonna see this, but...

I was ferrying supplies from Mobile out to drilling rigs in the Gulf. It was a buck or two, and it allowed me to continue flying when I left the Army. The oil company had some S-70's -- civilian models of the UH-60 Blackhawk. I was thoroughly familiar with the bird from hours and hours of stick time in a couple of very unfriendly places, so getting hired on wasn't hard at all. That 'unfriendly places' rating was also a help since, due to some stupidity over the limits of international waters in the Gulf, we actually had the Chinese prospecting -- sometimes uncomfortably close to the rigs. Being handy with a firearm was considered a plus.

Anyway, I took off from the company helipad in Mobile one September afternoon with a load of food, kitchen equipment and machine tools, bound for the company's outermost rig. Usually, I had a copilot, but the guy I usually flew with had come down with the flu or something (a hangover, more likely), so I agreed to head out solo; it wasn't as if I'd never flown the route before...

Things were fine for the first 45 minutes or so, then suddenly there was this wall of clouds to the south. Now, any time you're out over the ocean, a localized disturbance can just pop up -- it happens all the time. I didn't worry about it.

This one, however, was a REAL BITCH! It packed serious rain and even MORE serious winds. I found that I didn't have the ceiling to get above it. It was kicking the shit out of the S-70, rattling the airframe and bouncing me all over -- thank God the cargo was webbed down securely! Anyway, after fighting my way through conditions that I thought were gonna rip the main rotor off, things slacked off some. The rain backed off and I noticed a wall or barrier in front of me -- a curtain sort of like an aurora, greenish lights that flickered and shifted. At the same time, I got caught up in this no-nonsense tailwind, like the curtain in front of me was sucking everything toward it. I turned the bird around and tried to head the other way, but it was like the air itself was headed that way faster than I could fly! I turned around, figuring what the Hell, I could just go with the flow and punch out the other side, but as this thing loomed bigger and bigger I started getting seriously worried. Just about the time I decided to take another run at heading the other way, I was there, suddenly, on top of that glowing curtain of light! There was a flash, and I must have blacked out...

I couldn't have been out long, because I was still airborne when I came to -- and if you know anything about helicopters, you know that they don't fly by themselves! Helicopters aren't like airplanes -- they don't glide. If you're VERY lucky, they do something called 'autorotation' which is where the air rushing past the rotor blades causes them to spin fast enough to generate some lift -- but you still need to have hands on the controls to keep things balanced. You don't get up and go take a leak in a helicopter if you want to live, because if anything goes seriously out of kilter in a helicopter, it will head for the ground...

There were dark clouds behind me, receding -- good news! -- but I was over land, which made no sense at all! The GPS said there were no satellites available to provide a fix at all, and radio calls got me nothing. I couldn't find any navigation beacons, either! The sun was out and the storm dissipated in no time leaving not a cloud in the sky -- but I'd taken off at three thirty p.m. and planned to stay overnight -- and the sun said it was maybe noon... What the fuck?

I was down to looking for landmarks -- and there weren't any. There wasn't so much as a house or a road or a power line ANYWHERE! I flew for twenty minutes without seeing a single sign of civilization! I was totally lost -- and my bird only had so much fuel... I'd been in the air almost two hours and was past the point of no return, but since I had no idea where I was in the first place, was turning back to the north a good idea? Those forests below me looked nothing like the Gulf Coast of Alabama... Hell, they looked like birch trees!

The grand plan was to land at the nearest airport, discover why my navigation equipment didn't work, refuel, and head either back to Mobile with my tail between my legs, or maybe out to the rig. It sounded good, BUT... No airport. No cities. No roads. No houses. NO signs of civilization, PERIOD! I swept around in a circle that should have taken me over three or four towns in the good old US of A -- and saw trees -- LOTS of trees -- and little else...

Mexico? Uh uh -- no way. I'd have run out of fuel before I hit the coast. It wasn't Texas, either, for the same reason. Frankly, it couldn't be Alabama or Louisiana, either. I was inland -- a good distance -- and I hadn't had fuel for that...

I decided to set the S-70 down; I wasn't going to get clearance to do so, since I couldn't talk to anyone on the radio, so it didn't matter where, apparently. I looked around and discovered a clearing separated from a stream by a stand of trees and put the bird down there. Maybe a fisherman would wander by...

I SHOULD have attracted curious kids on bicycles or something -- you don't land a helicopter much of anywhere without attracting attention -- but I got nothing. I sat there for two hours trying to contact someone by radio -- and never heard a syllable on any frequency. Apparently, the damned thing was toast, along with the GPS -- which also appeared to be fine, but couldn't find a satellite. If the helicopter had taken an EMP hit, I'd have fallen from the sky immediately -- too many systems dependent upon electronics. So why did navigation and commo gear LOOK okay, but fail to function? I couldn't guess. Why was it apparently three p.m., when I'd left Mobile AFTER that? There was a lot of weird shit going on here...

I grabbed the M16A2 I carried in a rack behind the pilot's seat (we told the snoops that they were semi-automatic civilian AR-15s, but they were the real deal and could rock and roll) and my 9mm and hopped out of the S-70, closing it up behind me. Maybe if I took a walk, I would see something I hadn't from the air... I walked into the trees -- which were apparently old growth stuff -- and headed toward the stream.

The first things I found were four deer -- including a twelve point buck. I was surprised that his head wasn't adorning some hunting lodge's wall -- and that neither he nor the does seemed all that concerned over my presence! Oh, I wasn't going to touch them, but they took their time about wandering away. Strange. VERY strange.

In fact, there was wildlife like nobody's business -- and plenty of fish in the stream, too -- you could actually see them in the crystal clear water. I'm not much of a fisherman -- or hunter, either, actually -- most of my hunting had been for that most dangerous of game, and I hadn't seen hide nor hair of THAT particular species, anywhere! The critters that I saw appeared to be less than worried about me; either they'd never seen my like before, or they just didn't consider me to be much of a threat. Like the deer, most other animals -- some bigass beavers (six feet long, believe it or not!) and some other stuff I couldn't put a name to -- just wandered off slowly if I approached.

To tell the truth, I was a little bothered by that -- it made me nervous -- so I headed back to the S-70. I figured that if something decided that I was a threat and took a run at me at close range, the 9mm might stop it AFTER it did whatever it was gonna do, and the M16 might not get into play. I climbed back into the bird and sat down to think.

Crazy shit went through my brain -- I'd been dumped in ten million BC and would have to outrun dinosaurs, maybe. This was the Twilight Zone, I was being watched and bad shit was gonna happen. Heaven (or Hell) was a little different than anticipated, maybe. Little did I know...

I got up and went and got the inventory sheet for the flight. The cooler had a shitload of eggs, bacon and sausage in it, along with some steaks, chops and chicken and a couple of big hams. I had a box of veggies -- potatoes, corn and lettuce, and about a dozen each of cucumbers, carrots, celery and tomatoes. There were some jars of this and that, too, and bread -- I would eat well for a while. Half of it would probably spoil before I got to it.

One of the cooks must have ordered new shit, because there was a whole institutional pan set and some cutlery in one box. Beyond that, there was some heavy chain and tackle, some machine tools and a lot of 18v battery-powered stuff -- drills, a saws-all, lights -- that kind of thing. I went digging and found the thing that would make THEM work -- a solar panel and a charger. You can't make a generator run on crude, and rigs in the Gulf get plenty of sun... The supply officer in Mobile SWORE the guys threw everything overboard once a week, but, hey, if you drop a tool and it goes into water a couple of hundred feet deep, it's gone...

There was a big crate of all-weather and cold-weather gear, work clothes and gloves -- something that the guys on the rig tend to go through rapidly -- in various sizes, a shitload of plastic tarps and some tie-down rope. There were some other things, but I got tired of looking. If I had to hang out here -- wherever here was -- I should make it for a while. Living on a rig isn't like living next door to Wal-Mart, so they do pack in the essentials.

Ammo might be important; fortunately, I'd been carrying some around in the bird for the 9mm. The stuff was getting hard to find, so when I happened on a Wal-Mart in Mobile that had some, I bought a couple of boxes. I'd intended to do some plinking off the rig platform, but hadn't done it; the boxes had been stored in my seat pocket for a couple of trips now. I was surprised that they were undisturbed, frankly, because the other pair of guys who flew this bird tended to be nosy.

What wasn't a surprise was the fact that I had a whole ammo can full of 5.56mm ball and an IR scope for the M16. It was a company gun, and stayed with the bird; the Chinese had been a little too visible of late and we were packing in case they tried to sabotage the rig. I made damned sure the thing was in good condition, then fished out the little Coleman stove in the bird's survival pack. I put together a meal from the veggies and some hamburger patties. I was tired; the sun hadn't quite gone down but I figured that my biological clock thought it was four or five hours ahead of where the sun said we were. I put together a bedroll, stretched it out on top of the crates and crashed.

I was awakened bright and early the next morning by the fact that the bird was rocking on its suspension. What the fuck? I muttered and crawled off the crates and looked out the side door. Nothing. I went forward to the cockpit and settled into the pilot's seat -- and nearly crapped myself when a big cat draped himself on the front of the airframe so he could eyeball me in the cockpit! Clearly, he'd never seen glass, because he whacked the canopy several times -- HARD -- before getting down. I backed out of there and ducked behind some crates, reaching for the M16 and hoping like Hell it would stop an eight foot long cat with fangs that hung down six or seven inches from his jaw! Fuck! Weren't saber-toothed cats extinct?

This one wasn't -- he came around to the side door and beat the shit out of it because he could see me through the window! A helicopter isn't a tank; he was going to get in if I didn't find a way to dissuade him! I didn't know if the M16 could punch through the door adequately and didn't REALLY want to hole the thing several times and have to worry about ricochets while I found out, so I cracked the door on the far side, stuck my arm out and fired the 9mm into the air.

That stopped him; he couldn't see me, but the 9mm hurt his ears, so he stood thinking about it a while, his stubby tail swishing back and forth, before disappearing from sight behind the bird. I closed the damned door and quickly and quietly got deep in the tail of the cargo area where I couldn't be seen -- and cowered there, scared to death! I mean, damn!

I didn't even move for fifteen minutes, but that got old, so I slowly and quietly started putting together a quick meal, hoping I wasn't titillating old Smiley with tasty smells. After I'd eaten a bit, I crept up and started cautiously taking peeks here and there for that damned cat -- but he seemed to have moved on. That worked for me; I was sure there was bigger, better and tastier -- and easier to get at -- stuff around than me...

This didn't seem to be the safest place to be -- maybe I'd lit smack dab in someone's game preserve? Giant beavers, saber-toothed cats, and God knew what else were wandering around here. Maybe this was somebody's idea of Jurassic Park, with genetically-altered critters wandering the place... I hopped out and took a quick look at the bird's exterior, then went through the checklist to fire her up; no need to hang out and get eaten... I fired her up and let her idle for a few seconds, then just as I was feeding power to the main rotor, somebody fell out of a tree on my left!

I shifted things back to neutral and started to shut down without looking away from the kid. He'd lit on his back and was clearly winded, at least. He had dark, shaggy hair, a SERIOUS tan, moccasins and one of those rigs that goes over and under a rope fore and aft for shorts --a breechclout? I watched him while I threw a Kevlar vest over my Nomex flight suit -- if Smiley came back he was going to have to get past it and my flight helmet, not that he probably wouldn't go for the neck, anyway; he didn't move, watching the main rotor sweep slowly past a few feet above and away and sucking in air. I grabbed the M16 and climbed out to have a closer look at the kid.

That wasn't going to happen. About the time I stepped down from the bird, the kid stopped watching it and started looking in a different direction. I looked, too, and discovered that Smiley was back. The kid jumped up and headed back up the tree. I backed into the S-70 and closed the door.

Smiley was leery of the bird and circled around outside the slowly moving rotor, but he stopped under the kid's tree and started menacing him, leaping up a bit and scrabbling before falling back down. The thing wasn't sleek like a lynx or a tiger -- it was real stocky. Just jumping up the tree wasn't doing it, so after a couple of cautious glances at the S-70, Smiley started backing up and taking a run at the tree. The first time he did it, the kid let out a screech, so I reluctantly decided that it was time to intervene.

Smiley backed off for another run at things, so I put the M16 on auto and slid open the door. Smiley looked over at me but I wasn't a threat, so he started his run. I yelled Hey! and waved the rifle. He broke off, stopped and turned on me, clearly pissed that I'd interfered with dinner. He yowled and stepped off in my direction, so I raised the M16 and let off a three-round burst.

Oh, he didn't like THAT at all -- but it didn't stop him, either! He stopped and let out another yowl; I watched him over the sights while he gathered himself and thudded forward, taking his time, confident despite the odd pains he suddenly felt here and there. I let him have another three rounds -- one of which was, luckily, right between the eyes!

That convinced him he was dead, fortunately; another dozen feet or so, and I'd have joined him! As it was, I thought I might from a heart attack! I was worthless from reaction while the kid dropped out of the tree again -- on his ass this time -- and ran off gabbling. Whatever his language was, it was no kin to English...

I sat in the door of the S-70 for a good ten minutes with the M16 pointed at Smiley, making sure his opinion and mine regarding his demise were similar. They were. I got up and gingerly nudged him with my Buck knife, but he didn't respond to that, either. His damned fangs were longer than my Buck Pathfinder's blade – they HAD to be seven inches! This cat did not exist in the world I took off from yesterday morning...

That thought explained a few things -- and failed to explain a lot more. That kid, for instance -- I had him marked as 'Thud' in my mind, because until he took off, yammering, the thud of him hitting the ground was the only sound I had associated with him, and he did THAT, twice -- there might be somewhere in the modern world where he could run around like he was, but I bet it wasn't anywhere in North America. I really didn't think Central or South America had any forests with the types of trees I was looking at in them -- and I really didn't think a kid would be running around like that anywhere that wasn't deep jungle, which this wasn't. So, I was in the Stone Age, for lack of a better hypothesis. What did I know about the Stone Age? Diddly-squat, basically. I didn't THINK Smiley and dinosaurs had co-existed, but I wasn't taking any chances... I kept an eye on a suddenly VERY dangerous landscape, sitting in the door of the S-70 while I racked my brain for stuff I'd learned in school about ancient history.

It was damned thin. I'd gotten vaguely interested at some point and read up on mastodons and wooly mammoths -- didn't they die out about the same time as Smiley, here? Cave men... I thought Neanderthals were gone at this point, but I wasn't sure. The kid wasn't one, I was pretty sure. I