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look at the result—a lineage of screw-ups. Even George, bless him, wasn't immune. He was. . . one of us, if you get my drift. But he was troubled.”

Gerald Green took a deep sip of his beer. His eyes focused on a point beyond Dane's shoulder, looking back to the past.

He'd only been in the service for a year when he'd been injured in battle. Gunshot to the leg that left him with a limp to this day. A good soldier, he was offered a position back in the States. A place called Wonderland; a quiet neighborhood of Victorian houses sitting high atop a bluff overlooking the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. At the edge of that cliff was a military observation post.

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Dane. “There isn't any military post on Eldon Court.”

“Not now. The war's over.”

Dane motioned for the bartender. He ordered another drink, something stronger, as Gerald Green continued his strange tale.

In 1942, the SS Coast Trader, a Navy ship masquerading as a merchant vehicle, was sunk near San Francisco Bay. Another was attacked only a mile from the Oregon coast. Seemed the Japs had a new kind of weapon, the I-26. A small but eminently deadly Type-B class submarine. They were fast, could hit a target from a distance and even carried a tiny float plane that could be launched by catapult from the foredeck for fast escapes. Or efficient invasions. That thought sent shivers through the top brass.

As quietly as possible, the U.S. established observation sites up and down the western seaboard.

“My job was to watch. As much as anyone can. We used Number One Eldon Court as a sort of barracks. Nicest digs I ever saw. Two of us at any one time; one man would watch, the other would sleep. Twenty-four hour surveillance. Should we see anything suspicious, we'd radio down to the port where the Navy sat on constant alert.” Green looked around and whispered, “Want to hear a secret? Even Albert Einstein stayed with us for a short time when he was working on the plans for a new bomb. The atomic bomb. Strange fellow. Kept very much to himself in that room at the top of the stairs.”

My video studio, realized Dane. A cool breeze wafted over the patio making him shiver. The evening was beginning to set in but neither man seemed to notice.

“Anyway, I'm at the lookout one day... sitting as comfortably as anyone can in the hard metal seat of that large periscope, looking down at the water. . . and this family wanders by on a constitutional of the cul-de-sac. A couple pushing a stroller.” Green shrugged. “They introduced themselves as the Saunders. Nathaniel and wife JoAnne. And baby—”

“George.”

Green blushed. “I was eighteen at the time, a kid myself. The Saunders kind of took me under their wing. JoAnne would bring me hot food on cold days. And as he got older, little Georgie would stop by to visit now and again. We'd talk. And watch the water.” The old man smiled. “Those were very good days.”

He explained that when the war eventually ended, he was allowed to purchase Number One Eldon Court from the U.S. military at a discount as a reward for. . . well, an incident that happened. Green smiled wryly, “I was commended for a job well done, let's just say that.”

At age fourteen, George Saunders would visit Green after school and ask if he could do work around the house for a few dollars. Mow the lawn. That sort of stuff. Over time, their friendship grew.

“But the photo. . .”

Green looked away, sadly. “Spring/Winter relationships are an odd thing, Mr. Walters. Often, it's a matter of perspective. You wouldn't think twice about an eighty-six-year-old man marrying a seventy-year-old woman. I was sixteen when Georgie was born. In my thirties when he, as a teenager, helped out around the yard as a good neighbor. Time just flew by. One day, I was thirty five. . . he was nineteen. . .”

Old habits died hard for Gerald Green. Every morning he passed by the former observation site at the edge of the cliff, even though the rusted periscope had long since been removed. But early one winter day, in 1960, as he approached the bluff, wind whipping everything it touched, he spotted a figure. Someone was already standing there, looking down at the water. Dangerously close to the edge. Green sprinted forward and caught the young man, just as it seemed he was about to jump. Shock punched him in the gut as he realized it was Georgie Saunders from across the street. Tears streaked the boy's anguished face. Saunders went limp in his arms, shivering from the cold.

“I brought him back to my place. Made him take a hot shower. Gave him some soup. And then asked what in God's name he thought he was doing.”

“Let me guess,” Dane offered. “His father found out he was gay.”

“No, he was afraid for what would happen IF his father found out. Seems Nathaniel had sentenced an innocent man to prison. All because he was gay. Judge was proud enough to tell his son about it. Told Georgie that all homosexuals should be killed.”

Dane shook his head.

“He—he looked up at me,” Green stammered, “with all the love in the world. And. . . I don't know, I got lost in those eyes. We kissed. Lord help me, we kissed. And we never wanted to stop.”

Gerald led George by the hand to his bedroom. With the glorious morning light spilling onto them, they made love. Nothing wild, just an earnest expression of affection. When Gerry first tried to penetrate George, the young man yelped in pain. Gerry stopped and kissed him, gently running his fingertips along the length of the young man's naked body. George relaxed and, at his own volition, sat atop Green, straddling his hairy torso. Then, he gently lowered himself onto Gerry's cock. It slipped in without discomfort. That emboldened the

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