Gene Polanski, Male, 45

	- Business VP, husband of Tamara, father of Lauren, Finch, and Logan

	- tanned beige skin, 6'1, 210lbs, short peppered grey-black hair

Tamara Khouri-Polanski, Female, 43

	- Professor, wife of Gene, mother of Lauren, Finch, and Logan

	- dark olive skin, 5'6, 150lbs, shoulder-length curly rich brown hair with natural red highlights

Lauren Khouri-Polanski, Female, 15

	- High school freshman, daughter of Gene and Tamara, sister of Finch and Logan

	- medium olive skin, 5'8, 150lbs, back-length curly black-brown hair, colored white-streaked highlights

Finch Khouri-Polanski, Male, 14

	- Eigth-grader, son of Gene and Tamara, brother of Lauren and Logan

	- dark olive skin, 5'6, 145lbs, ear-length curly rich brown hair with natural red highlights

Logan Khouri-Polanski, Male, 12

	- Sixth-grader, son of Gene and Tamara, brother of Lauren and Finch

	- medium olive skin, 5'1, 110lbs, ear-length straight black hair

Holly, Female, 19

	- Companion to and 'researcher' for the Harrelmans, agent of Marker 1

	- Bronze-tanned skin, 5'1, 100lbs, straight shoulder-length straw-blonde hair

Harvey, Male, early-40s

	- Agent of Marker 1

	- Dark-brown skin, 5'2, 120lbs, dark brown / black hair pulled into neck-length cornrows

The droning engines slowed a bit as the plane hit cruising altitude. Harvey piloted the plane much as he had driven the van: focused intently on his task and largely ignoring his passengers. Holly sat in the copilot seat, largely obscured from Gene's view. Tamara shot him weary, concerned glances, but they'd sat in silence throughout, stunned, unable to communicate their fears and their questions.

Lauren was resting against the sideboard, her eyes peering out the window, her arm held over her stomach. The boys were sitting across from him, facing backwards, uncertainty on their faces. Gene felt afraid, and he needed answers.

He moved up to the cockpit and sank onto his knees. “Holly. What in the fuck is going on?”

“I'm playing with myself, isn't that obvious?”

Gene hadn't noticed, too concerned for the safety of his family, the chaotic flight that had taken them from the safety and security of their home to 30,000 feet in the air in a matter of hours. Gene's eyes shot momentarily to where Holly's hand moved under her jeans, slow motions of her hips rocking with her obscured fingers. Harvey seemed oblivious to the masturbating nineteen-year old nearby.

“Holly. What the fuck! Stop it! My family is back there, my kids!”

“Lighten up, Gene. I'm sure they all do it.” He cast her an angry glance. “Fine.” Holly withdrew her fingers. They were wet, sticky. She sniffed them, smiled, swept them under Gene's nose.

He inhaled instinctively before slapping her hand away. “Goddammit, Holly.” Her scent lingered in his nose, light, florally, sweaty, briny, pleasantly fishy. Gene forced thoughts of Holly's pussy away, said, “tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Holly sat upright, exhaled, looked toward the rear of the cabin. “How much does she know... about Mason Shay.”

“Nothing.” Gene's reply was automatic.

“Thought not. She's gonna find out. Up to you how. 'Mason Shay' is why they're after you. Your connection to Whitehead drew them.”

Gene said nothing, stewing, that part of his life had been so carefully concealed and left behind.

“Charles Utah and Kittymooner are dead, Gene.”

The names brought memories he hadn't thought about in many years. Most were unwelcome.

Holly watched his reaction, showed no expression, continued, “Jaxson is in hiding, and Poppy is at the safe house. We don't know anything about Viceroy or LitaJane. No one knows where they are.”

Gene fought for breath, weariness hitting him heavily. The names registered deep, long-lost reminders of the life he'd known years before. “How do you know all this?”

Holly smiled tightly. “It's what I do, Gene.”

“Please... who are you? Who do you work for? Why have you been watching me?”

Holly glanced once more to the back of the cabin, said quietly, “I'll tell you what I can.”

“Talk.”

Holly leaned back a moment, swung her legs over to one side, turned her torso toward Gene and leaned forward, face close to his. Gene smelled her spicy perfume as she began speaking quietly. “Marker 1.”

“Marker 1?”

“Doesn't ring a bell? Guess you'd left Whitehead before M1 formed. Marker 1 is an international watchdog, a... carefully hidden watchdog. We watch the watchers who are watching the watchers. CIA, Mossad, Chinese MSS, we keep an eye on them and more.”

“For who?”

“For ourselves, Gene. M1 formed out of the rise in state-sponsored cutting-edge intelligence gathering, which also coincided with the rise of autonomous groups of revolutionaries, global anarchists, religious fundamentalism, and the development of technology-based warfare. We put our fingers on all the pulses, and we occasionally get involved if we feel the timing is right.”

“Involved.”

“Assassinations, hacking, rescues.”

“Fucking James Bond, are you? Fucking Justice League?”

“Yes and no. We're mostly hands off, ourselves autonomous, state-less, and until last week, largely unknown to even the most sophisticated intelligence networks. We were compromised by No Limit, and when they found out we were keeping tabs on the founding partners of Whitehead, they launched the opening salvo in the war they've been planning for a long time.”

“War. Look... Whitehead... Whitehead is behind me. I knew Utah was going to keep going with it, I expected him to eventually get himself killed... but... Jesus, Holly. They know everything about Whitehead?”

“Enough. No Limits tried for years to find you and the others. Your second lives were pretty isolated from who you really were. But they know what you were up to, and I think you know why they want you dead.”

Gene was silent, shook his head, “no. No, I don't know why. There were a lot of... situations... that were sketchy, dangerous, might have gotten people killed...”

“Did get people killed, Gene.”

“Fine. But... we had hands in a lot of pots, and some groups were sticking their hands in ours. That's why I got out. I had a family, couldn't risk anything more. I never knew it would blow up like it did.”

“No one ever knows. But you were on to something, right before you left. Something that No Limits doesn't want known. I'm not sure what it is, but I think you do.”

“Nothing.” Gene shook his head again. “Nothing would lead to this, I... I don't know anything. Nothing. Goddammit, Holly, I... there's just nothing...” His head hurt, sharp pains radiating through his brain.

Holly watched Gene a moment before replying. “Well, we'll get to that later. Right now, you might as well just relax and get some sleep. We've got a two stops on the way, could get rough.”

“Rough?”

“The opposite of smooth.” Her hand had drifted back to her crotch, rubbed it lightly.

“Cut it out.”

“Come on, Gene, doesn't this all make you horny? My pussy is so wet. Car chases, guns, a starring role on the front lines?” She looked to where Tamara was dozing, Finch leaning into her. “We can pull the curtains, she'll never know if you fucked me.”

Gene was the opposite of aroused. “No, Holly. No. The only thing on my mind right now is my family. Promise me you'll help me keep them safe. Promise me.”

“I'll do what I can, Gene. I promise you that. Now,” her hand slid under the edge of her jeans, down deep between her legs, “if you don't want to watch, you might as well go back and get some sleep. Long days still to go. Mmmm...”

Holly started slowly masturbating, her head back, eyes shut, Gene and Harvey forgotten. The pilot never turned, never seemed to care that Holly was fingering herself a couple of feet away. Gene glanced back for a moment, saw Holly rolling her hips and biting her lip, then stepped back to his family, pulling the privacy curtain closed behind him.

- - -

Lauren's eyes felt heavy, sedated. Nothing made sense about that moment, or any of the moments that had followed Holly's arrival at their home. She'd left her phone, her lifeline to the world. Lauren glanced around the cabin. Her mom sat between her dad and Finch, a row ahead of her. The small plane had nine seats, two rows of three facing forward, a third row facing back toward the others. She and Logan were in the last row, the twelve-year old leaning into her, her arm still around him.

Lauren returned her eyes to the window, let the small, jelly-bean shaped clouds drift across her vision, wondering if she'd ever see her home again. If she'd ever fuck Lance again.

Logan's head rolled back a bit, then he was still. Lauren squeezed his shoulder, an automatic gesture that was as much to reassure herself as it was to comfort her younger brother. The endless greens and browns below the plane made her feel very distant from the world, separate, lost.

Logan shifted again, seemed to be shivering. Lauren started to pull the boy to her when she froze. His hand was in his shorts, moving in small jerks, rapid and stiff.

- - -

Logan couldn't help himself. He was scared, worried, feeling like nothing was in control. But the lull of the cabin, the frightening mix of emotions, roused in him the need for release. His little penis had been hard for several minutes before he decided to touch it.

Lauren's arm around him did nothing to slow him down, the warmth of her skin on his making him feel tingly all over. His hand slipped quickly over his cock, not thinking about anything but his climax. Logan tried to be quiet, tried to be still, shook a bit as the burn rose from his little balls.

He grunted, caught himself before he let forth another. Lauren's grip on his shoulder loosened a bit, but the warmth was still there. Logan's cock swelled, his hips jerked quickly, and he ejaculated into his underwear, trying his best not to make a noise. Several rapid spurts squirted out, splashed on his fingers, making them sticky.

- - -

Lauren couldn't believe her fucking brother was playing with himself. With me right here, holding him! Gross! She felt rather than watched his body stiffen and jerk. The small grunts from Logan's throat signaled his orgasm. Lauren felt sick, disgusted. When he seemed to settle and relax, she pulled back her arm and stood, sliding to the rear and into the lavatory. Lauren closed the door behind her, and sat down.

She was shaking. So many confusing things in her head right then. The fear of being killed, the flight to nowhere that seemed to have no connection to the rest of her life. Her brother jerking off beside her. Lauren felt overwhelmed, and instinctively, she did what she often did when facing uncertainty, stress, confusion.

Lauren unbuttoned her pants, slid them down along with her panties. A drop of blood in the crotch signaled the arrival of her period. The fifteen-year old masturbated quickly, silently, her mouth open, eyes closed. She imagined Lance's cock slipping inside her. Not that he'd fuck her on the rag. Lance had once told her 'hope you stop bleeding soon, can't put my dick in that mess.” Fucking asshole.

She doubled her efforts, tried to fall back to one of her other fantasies. What came unbidden instead was the way Logan had shivered, grunted. Her clit throbbed, reliving the way her brother had cum in his shorts. Lauren bit her lip, confused but aroused, circled her clit, throbbing, throbbing, wetness and blood dripping into the commode. Her legs closed halfway, tensed, her head rocked back, her mouth opened wider. She shuddered, twitched, and orgasmed.

Waves of pleasure washed away her fears for a while, her body humming, pulsing, letting go of all ills. Her mind pushed aside Logan and sank into her own climax. She sat breathing quietly a moment, a gentle knock on the door, followed by her dad's voice. “Lauren? You ok in there? Thought I heard crying.”

Lauren replied, scattered, “uh... fine, Dad... just fine, just... give me a minute, ok?” Fuck! I tried to be quiet. Fuck!

- - -

Gene had felt his daughter brush by and head to the rear. She'd been in there some time when he felt a strong desire to piss. Walking back to the lavatory, all he heard initially was the dull droning of the engines. He stood outside the door a moment, looked over the small rear of the cabin where a counter held a sink, several cabinets nearby.

He opened a couple, found plastic cups, plastic trays, packets of sugar and coffee. Gene spotted a coffee maker and started it. A small, tight cry sounded from the lavatory. He moved beside it, listened carefully. He wasn't certain he'd heard it at all until a second barely met his ears. One more, and another, in rhythm. Gene's mind made the connection, and he stood quietly listenening to his daughter masturbate.

Not that he was aroused right then. Not even close. The events of the day were crushing everything that didn't involve protecting his family. But he couldn't not listen. Gene's voyeuristic tendencies, his love of the sound of a woman cumming, left him no option but to take in Lauren's grunts and light cries.

She peaked, a tight whine followed by silence. The engine roar drowned anything further, and after a few moments, Gene knocked.

Lauren took a couple of minutes before opening the door. She didn't meet his eyes, was sweating. “All yours...”

Gene watched her head back to her seat, couldn't help wondering if his daughter's pussy was dripping juices into her panties, remembered the odors in her soiled underwear he'd smelled just days before. He shuddered, slipped into the lav, and closed the door behind him.

- - -

Tamara's stomach turned over and threatened to make her sick. Her fears trumped everything except her weariness, the two combining to make her feel awful. She needed to talk to Gene, but she hoped to do that without the children hearing. Something terrible was going on, and she needed to know what.

Finch was leaning into her, her arm over his shoulder as Lauren returned from the bathroom and settled in a seat behind her. She offered her daughter a tight smile before pulling Finch closer. His arm settled in her lap, nestled between her legs and thighs. His elbow was cradled by her crotch. Despite her nausea, Tamara's body reacted by swelling her clit, slick juices forming in her vagina.

She wasn't horny, certainly not with her son so close, but the touch made her respond unwillingly. She shifted, tried to make Finch's arm move, succeeded only in forcing his elbow tighter against her Mons, which made her throb harder.

Tamara tried her best to dismiss the conflicting sensations, and waited quietly for her husband to return.

- - -

Finch could feel her warmth on his skin. His arm was held by her thighs, his mother's sex only inches from where his elbow rested. For a few moments, his fear was lessened, his penis growing hard. Finch wanted desperately to masturbate, to give himself release.

His mother shifted, driving his elbow deeper into her folds. She felt hot, the part in her thighs a small furnace that radiated into his skin all the way to his rising cock. Finch decided to just enjoy the moment, let his mother's warm sex heat his flesh, dreamed about what it might be like to touch her there.

- - -

Gene pushed past the seats and moved to the cockpit, pulling the curtain aside then closing it after he passed beyond. He knelt beside where Holly sat lounging, her ass pushed forward. She seemed to be sleeping.

The smell of wet pussy hung in the cockpit. Gene tried to ignore it as he put his hand on Holly's shoulder. She turned slowly, sat up even more slowly. He said, “I can't figure out why.”

“I thought we went over that already, Gene.”

“No, I mean, why did you rescue me? Why did you rescue my family?”

Holly drew her lips tight. “No Limits wants you dead, and we want to know why.”

“So you saved me because I have something you want.”

“Of course. Why else would we risk our lives for you? Listen, Gene. This war... we're all soldiers in it. All of us, even them.” She nodded toward the rear of the plane. “Whether you like or not, you're in this now. We rescued you because we believe you may have a key to help us win. Can you think of nothing?”

Gene shook his head slowly, “nothing.”

Holly nodded tightly, said, “well... we'll work on that. Gonna be landing soon. Keep everyone on. Just taking on fuel, in the air again quickly. Hopefully no one is waiting for us.”

“Ok...” Gene's mind turned over, he said, “why me, Holly?”

“Jesus, Gene. Memory going downhill? Because of what you might know.”

“No, I mean... why did you fuck me? Why that?”

She smiled, “a girl can't just want to fuck?”

“You're dodging my question.”

“I am. Gene, believe me when I say I like you. Really, I think you're a great man, and I'm attracted to you. The more I've learned about you, the more I like you. You're good to your family. You and Tamara have a unique relationship. Did she tell you about Giovanni and the size of his cock?”

Gene nodded absently.

“Good, because she really enjoyed it up her ass.” Gene's face turned sour at the discussion, Holly moved on. “The point is, I wanted to fuck you. Victor and Theresa... you'll see them again soon enough, maybe they can explain fully why you. But for me, the opportunity was there and I wanted it. Anything else is just details.”

Harvey spoke for the first time in hours, said, “Five minutes out. Seats.”

Gene said nothing, returned to sit next to Tamara, and pulled her close to him as the plane descended.