"The Isle..."

"The Isle..." Part XIX...

"The Isle..."

PG 13

Summary: What "Riverdale" did to "Archie and Jughead" and "Betty and Veronica", I'm doin' to "Gilligan's Isle" ...

Disclaimer: All characters of Gilligan's Isle remain property of that series...Any resemblance of fictional characters to those living or dead is purely coincidental...

Part XIX...

"I know it's none of my business, Professor..." Ginger, seated on smooth boulder eyes the Professor as he stands, his breathing rather more normal now...He examining what appeared to be a green banana.

"It's lung cancer..." he noted quickly. "And this seems an edible species, which is good. We can use the potassium." Quick glance her way... "Oddly enough I was never a smoker. Just bad luck and pollution, I suppose."

"I'm sorry..." she nodded. "I suppose you'd rather not hear that but..."

"No, I appreciate it..." wan smile. "Contrary to any perception of me as a rugged individualist, I rather crave emotional support."

"And don't get much, at home?" she asked, carefully.

"My ex-wife was not much inclined to it, no."

"I see...What stage are you?"

He eyed her...

"I'm not a complete airhead, Professor...And my aunt had lung cancer."

"Stage IV..." shrug.

"And your wife...Walked?"

"Oddly enough, I did. I couldn't accept making compromises anymore." He sighed. "I love my son, but Skylar and I ran out of steam long ago...Just went through the motions for him, he's seriously disabled. Her insisting we put him in a home was the last straw, though I realize, for her, the situation was impossible with me ill too, now."

"By any chance...Do you have a good life insurance policy?" she eyed him.

"Fair. But I was leaving it to chance, Miss Grant, not conceiving an elaborate suicide plot." Wry smile. "I really did want to see some of the isolated islands of the Hawaiian chain."

"But you wouldn't have minded if you never came back..." she eyed him.

"No. Though I did consider the possibility of simply finding a new place to live till the end came."

"Looks like you've found it." She glanced about.

"I suppose I might do worse. But whatever I decide to do as to my limited future, I promise to do everything possible to see the rest of you safely home."

"Thanks...That does mean a lot." She nodded, earnest look. "Though I get that's meant for everyone."

...

"Nice clean job..." Karen noted to the Skipper as she and Mary Wholesomeby watched him open the swordfish and remove its guts in a very deft maneuver.

"Done a few yourself, I take it." He smiled at her.

"Even before getting wrecked and lost here and there..." she nodded. "But I've had to learn to make do with a piece of metal from a plane or a tin can."

"Done that myself..." he grinned.

"It's rather like opening a hog or chicken..." Mary noted. "We had a lot to open on the factory farm my aunt runs back home."

"I would imagine you send them all off with a prayer." Karen, mock-solemnly.

"Oh, yes." Eagerly. "Though when the belt's in high-throughput we have to just say one to cover the morning's or afternoon's mass slaughter." Beam. "Speaking of which, may I, Skipper?" she eyed the gutted fish. "She is helping us survive."

"Certainly." He stood up. "Just let me wipe my hands and we'll do it right." He took a rag Karen handed him, kindly nod to Mary.

"Of course if you would care to do the honors?" Mary turned to him. "Or you, Miss Cushman...Being the one who caught her?"

"Oh, no, honey..." Karen shook head. "You or the Skipper go right ahead."

"It's fine, dear." Grumbie smiled.

"Well, then... Lord. Jesus. Take the soul of this dumb beast to your bosom and let it know Your glory and accept You. Or, if like the accursed heathen and those who vote Democrat or any nonRepublican party, it refuses to acknowledge Your glory, let it be cleansed in the fires of Hell Immortal."

"Lovely." Karen smiled, eyeing the Skipper who shrugged.

At least in my former Catholicism we let em burn in Purgatory for a mortal time, she thought.

"Oh, I think I got one!" Mary, eyeing her jangling line from the rod she'd fixed in the sand of the beach.

"Yeah...Lets kill another for Christ...Or whomever..." Karen noted under her breath.

...

009 and Nauri had now reached the final bit of trail ascending steeply to the summit of the steadily steam-billowing volcano. He looking carefully about to see any signs of vents or worse, flowing lava.

Nothing...All apparently confined to the crater above itself...

"Strange..." he noted. As, far below, gazing up at the still far-off submit, did Professor Hinkle as he scanned with his binoculars, seated. Ginger now standing, watching him.

"Can I have a look?" she asked.

"Certainly...It's quite a site though very odd." Handing the binoculars to her...She taking them up and focusing.

"Wow..." she pulled down the binoculars, a bit nervous. "Is it going to explode? And the island sink or blow up?"

"No, not at this level...But it's odd...The steam doesn't seem quite natural. I wish I had my spectrometer to analyze it."

"Not natural...?" she looked again. "You mean it looks...Manufactured?"

"Yes. Though what could be producing it..."

"009 to Base...Come in, Base..." 009 was trying his satellite phone.

Hmmn...Not getting through at all...

Nauri watching, anxious look...

"You done? We should go now..." she urged.

"No, not quite...I need to get up closer and see what's up in there..." 009 noted. "You may stay here, Nauri. No need to come."

"I no want to be alone. I come. You need me." She insisted, following after him as he headed up.

Both nearing the summit in a few moments...

Hmmn...No great temperature changes that I or instruments can detect...009 noted, repeating for his recorder built into the phone.

Have to send this off later when the interference clears...

He stood looking up...Nauri eyeing him...

"It seems rather safe, actually...I'm going to the lip and have a look..." he climbed up to the crater's lip, peering...

My dear God...He stared down at the clouds of steam emanating from the three space shuttle-style rockets below.

"Base...Base..." he tried again... "009 for Q, it's unbelievable..."

"Ugh..." he groaned as the bullet struck him...He fell, barely seeing Nauri's solemnly quiet face as he tumbled into the crater. She putting pistol back into her holster concealed under the sarong and picking up 009's dropped satellite phone which she put under the sarong in a pocket of her uniform's shorts.

"Security Control to Launch Control..." she told a small radiophone in hand now. "Launch Control, this is Jess. The security breech has been secured. You may proceed with countdown." She peered down to see 009's dead body on the rocks below.

"Launch Control to Security Control...Acknowledged. The breech has been secured. Good job, Jess. Countdown proceeding at T-minus one hour, thirty minutes. All green and go. Hurry home, hon!" Owen's cheery voice.

"I tried, cutie-pie." She shrugged to 009, turning to descend.