4:07 P.M., Monday, July 13, 2015

PLUR-MAkKikM, just outside Honolulu, HI

Long leaves and plastic grocery bags covered the little shelter the two children had built in secret, far away from Child Protective Services. Of course, it was even further away than that from California, where local, state, and federal agencies were looking for them. The children had no idea that they had made CNN and FOX and were mentioned briefly on MSNBC.

Paul’s foot felt fine now, and while Paula fussed at him some to take it easy, the truth was the boy was as strong as ever. Still, they did worry, occasionally, what they would do if one of them really did suffer an injury or an illness. Each had decided, without telling the other, that if the other were in desperate straits a grown-up would be contacted, and they would just have to hope that they were not separated. Each had also decided that if they ever were separated, they would, somehow, find each other again. Exactly how this could be done they did not know, but there would be a way, somehow.

Both children were actually in the best health of their lives so far: they got oodles of fresh air and sunshine, they walked a lot, swam every day, climbed trees, and were eating mostly fruit and coconuts, with a bit of lost groceries and left over fast food thrown in. Despite quite reasonable fears, they were mostly happy.

And there was lovemaking. Since arriving at PLUR-MAkKikM not one day had gone by that they didn’t make love at least once, and most days it was more than once. They had done it in the water, under the trees, in the hut, and once in a tree, standing up and nearly twenty feet (six metres) above the ground. They had done it by moonlight, sunlight, and in the rain, the impact of raindrops adding a new sensation to all the others. Even now, as the sun blazed overhead, REDACTED.

Rosi, working in the kitchen, sought out her cousin’s attention. “Hey Ted! I’m trying to make mango chutney, and we’re out of mangos. Could you grab me one? Or maybe even three?”

Ted knew it was only fair that she not both cook and have to pick the fruit. John was trying to figure out what to make for dessert, so he shouldn’t have to run around getting fruit either. So, Ted offered to go out and get a couple from the trees which supported the treehouse.

John interjected an idea here. “Grab a couple of figs and I’ll make newtons ... maybe even ice cream. Well, maybe grab a dozen.”

John’s fig newtons were well worth the extra effort of picking some figs, and his fig ice cream even more so, since you almost never found such a thing at the grocery store. But there were no fig trees near the treehouse. There were three places on his property with mango trees and two with fig trees, but only one spot where they grew close together, and that was near the stream.

“I’m going to be passing the damaged spot,” Ted pointed out. “I’ll wear clothes.”

Rosi chuckled at this. “If you’re getting dressed, then it must be serious.”

Ted spent all of five minutes dressing himself, and then he headed for the spot he knew well enough, though he hadn’t been there in several months.

After playing so long, Paula Akron was ready to take a break, though in truth she’d be raring to go again in less than half an hour. They were nine years old; they recovered quickly.

Well, maybe a little more and then take a break.

Ted Michaels had passed the clothes-requiring break in fencing when he heard a yelp, followed by a moan. Since there wasn’t supposed to be anybody here, but there clearly was, he sneaked closer to inspect things.

“I love you so much!”

“I’ll always love you!”

Ted stopped short. The sounds were those of sex; he knew those sounds well. But the voices ... they sounded like children. Maybe these were a couple of really young teenagers?

Well, if they were really young teenagers maybe he should just go on his way; they were there for love or horniness, and not to cause trouble. Hey, young people have to have someplace for sex, and their own bedrooms are usually off limits to them for that use.

Then again, this was trespassing. Also, it might be a fun thing to watch. Of course, he wasn’t invited to watch, and young lovers probably didn’t care to be watched. But then, he hadn’t invited whoever it was onto his land.

“I want to be with you forever!”

“Forever and ever!”

It was curiosity which finally sent Ted walking into that particular patch of woods. Yes, there was a voyeuristic urge, and even a desire to tell whoever it was to get off his property. There was even the fact that the voices were coming from where the mango tree was. But those voices! They sounded younger than his youngest lover, and she was only fourteen. Were twelve-year-olds sneaking onto his land for sexytime?

They weren’t really all that loud, and if it had been a particularly windy day or they were nearer the road, Ted might not have heard them at all. However, he would have heard, and seen, the kids eventually, because they were directly under the mango tree he was headed for.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps he would have made noise, and the two lovers would have vanished from sight before he was upon them. But the world is full of “if” and “perhaps” and “maybe.” The fact was, Ted saw the lovers and they did not see him.

They were not teenagers. They weren’t even twelve. Ted wasn’t sure they were even ten,

REDACTED (well what do you THINK they were doing?)

What to do? Just standing there and watching didn’t seem decent; it would be like watching child pornography. Suddenly the thought occurred to Ted that this might actually be child pornography, and he looked around to see if there was any cameraman, any director, any naked adults about to join in. If that were the case, Ted was going to kick them off his property, call the cops, file lawsuits, hire detectives if the police didn’t do enough on their own.