2. Shot
7:30 AM day 1
"I get everybody rescued and what do they do? Is it: 'thank you, Gilligan', or 'good work, Gilligan'? Oh noo. It's: 'Gilligan, get this', 'Gilligan, pack that', 'hurry up, Gilligan'" The first mate grumbled to himself as he neared the supply hut.
The Professor had explained to everyone that it might take as long as a week for the owner of the device to follow its signal to the island. But packing for departure had began immediately, as it always did when a rescue was announced. Gilligan didn't understand how everyone could make packing such an ordeal. He just shoved his clothes in his duffle bag and he was done. But apparently it wasn't that easy for the others. There seemed to be no end to the preparation. Of course there was a lot of fetching to be done. Everyone seemed to be missing something or other they couldn't live without. And since Gilligan had finished his packing already he was the perfect candidate to draft into retrieval work. It seemed that no sooner did he deliver one item then he was sent for something else. He had already been down to the lagoon twice, once for the Skipper's toolbox and again to pick up the fishing net. Mr. Howell had sent him to the supply hut to get his extra suitcases. He had been to the far side of the island to retrieve an odd conglomeration of bamboo, coconuts and wires the Professor was using to study the volcano. Mrs. Howell's fan, Mary Ann's wooden spoon; it felt like he had been over every inch of the island looking for things that weren't his.
Now he was back in the supply hut again for Ginger's costume trunk. As he entered he couldn't help but stop and consider the strange device that was going to rescue them all. It took major self-control to keep his curious fingers from flipping a switch of pressing one of the many colorful buttons. But the Professor had given everyone strict orders not to touch it lest they accidentally deactivate the homing beacon. Gilligan knew that speech was meant mostly for him. So, against all his youthful curiosity he left it alone.
"Let's see, Ginger's costumes gotta be in here somewhere." He scanned all the crates and boxes stacked haphazardly around the hut. "Oh, there it is." The end of a blue trunk peeked out from beneath a precarious looking pile of boxes.
He reached down and took a hold of the trunk's leather handle and pulled. It barely budged. With a frown of determination he braced his feet as best he could and put his back into it. Inch by inch it began to slide out. One last yank and it finally pulled free.
Gilligan's jaw dropped as he helplessly watched the stack of crates, deprived of the support of the trunk, topple over in an avalanche of wooden cubes. One of the tumbling boxes slammed against the side of the machine upsetting innumerous buttons and switches. An angry hum rose to fill the hut as the strange device seemed to come to life.
"Uh, oh." The first mate knew exactly what that sound meant. The laser was warming up. It could shoot any second and there would be nothing left of him but a pile of ashes. His mind was screaming at him to run but his feet were glued to the sand and his eyes entranced by the streaks of colored light that were dancing along the length of the glass rod.
The Skipper whistled happily to himself as he headed toward the supply hut. He could hardly believe they were finally going to be rescued. It seemed too good to be true.
He paused as he neared the hut. A strange rising hum emanated from the crude building. He could see Gilligan through the window. His first mate appeared to be frozen stiff, his eyes fixed straight ahead. The Skipper frowned. What was he up to now?
Before he could so much as take another step a thin beam of blinding light shot out of nowhere hitting Gilligan square in the chest. Colored tendrils of electricity spread out from the beam and wrapped around him, dancing like lightning up and down his body. He let out a small, strangled yelp, swatting madly at the light swirling around him as if it was a swarm of killer bees, then fell backwards out of the Skipper's sight.
"Gilligan!" He was sure now that Gilligan was right. The strange machine was a laser. He threw open the hut door, his heart in his throat, terrified at what he would find. The light show had vanished and the machine was now silent. Gilligan lay on his back in the sand and for one horrible instant he was sure he had lost his Little Buddy.
Gilligan suddenly bolted upright, his eyes wide and frightened and his face drained of color. His hair was sticking out at all angles like he had stuck his finger in a light socket. "It shot me, Skipper! It shot me! Did I die? Am I dead?" Gilligan stared down at his chest, where the beam had made contact. He ran his hands franticly over the spot as if he expected to find a gaping hole there.
"Are you alright?" The Skipper was nearly beside himself. He kneeled next to his first mate, looking him over from head to toe, searching him for some kind of injury. As he put a hand on Gilligan's shoulder there was a small 'zap' as the contact gave him a slight shock. But he barely noticed. "Did it hurt you? What happened?"
"Oh, Skipper it was awful!" Gilligan's narrative was an incomprehensible jumble of half sentences, sound effects and wild gestures all at top speed.
The Skipper shook his head, frustrated and worried. He should have known better than expect an intelligible explanation from Gilligan when he was excited. He grabbed Gilligan by the arm and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, Little Buddy. I'm taking you to the Professor."
7:40 AM day 1
"It looked like lightning, you say?" The Professor asked as he pulled a thermometer from the first mate's mouth.
"But it was all different colors." Gilligan said from where he sat, half naked, on the table. He was much calmer now, if a little embarrassed.
"Very odd." The Professor shook his head thoughtfully. "What did it feel like?"
Gilligan's eyebrows came together in a contemplative frown. "You know when you sit funny for a long time and your leg falls asleep?"
The Professor nodded.
"It was like that only all over." He shuddered slightly at the memory.
"It didn't hurt at all?"
"Not really. But it sure was creepy."
"I can imagine." The Professor said as he shined the flashlight into Gilligan's eyes. After doing a few more tests he put all his instruments away.
"Well?" The Skipper asked. He had been pacing anxiously throughout the entire examination.
The Professor shrugged. "He appears perfectly normal. There are no changes I can detect."
"Really? Are you sure?"
"As far as I can tell there was no effect at all. His temperature is normal. His blood pressure is normal. His reflexes are normal." He motioned to Gilligan's bare chest. "There are no burn marks where the beam made contact."
"That's a relief!" The Skipper finally relaxed. He clamped a hand on the young man's pale shoulder. "You hear that, Little Buddy? It didn't do anything!"
"Yeah," Gilligan sounded slightly disappointed. "I guess it's not a laser."
The Professor gave the first mate a wry smile. "You better be glad it wasn't or your atoms would be scattered all over the island by now."
"Oh...heh....right." He swallowed hard as that image impressed itself on his mind.
Mary Ann's head peeked in the door. "Hey, Professor, I was wondering..."
Gilligan gasped, leapt off the table and bolted behind the Skipper. "Don't girls know how to knock?" He asked indignantly, peeking around the captain's large frame.
Mary Ann's eyes widened slightly, not quite sure what she had done wrong.
"What is wrong with you?!" The Skipper asked irritably
"I don't have my shirt on!" He stabbed a finger toward the other side of the room where his red shirt was draped over the back of a chair.
The Skipper's eyes rolled heavenward. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Gilligan!"
"Here." The Professor tossed the shirt in Gilligan's direction.
It was the Skipper who caught it. With a swift movement he pulled it just out of his first mate's reach. "You are as shy as a schoolgirl on the beach!" He let out a big booming laugh that nearly shook the hut.
"It's not funny, Skipper!" He made a wild grab but the Skipper pulled it away.
"What's the matter, Little Buddy? Afraid she's going to see this little patch of hair?" He gave Gilligan's chest a playful poke.
Gilligan's ears turned a deep shade of red and his hand shot up instantly to hide aforementioned hair. "Please," His eyes flicked toward Mary Ann without actually looking at her, then back at the Skipper with a look of betrayal, complete humiliation and indignation. The latter rather unusual for the amiable first mate "Just give me my shirt."
"Oh, come on, Gilligan. Don't look at me that way." He handed the article in question back to the Gilligan, who donned it hastily. "What's the fun in having a little buddy if I can't tease him now and then." He grabbed the brim of Gilligan's hat and pulled it down over his eyes. When Gilligan pushed his hat back up he was smiling. He never could stay mad for long, especially at his best buddy.
The Professor finally turned to the young farm girl, still framed in the doorway. "What did you want, Mary Ann?"
"Huh? Oh, I was wondering if you had any dirty clothes. I was going to do the laundry after breakfast." She dismissed that subject with a wave of her hand. Something else had become much more important. "What's going on?" Mary Ann's voice had a note of concern as she addressed the three men but the Professor in particular. "Why do you have your medical bag out?"
"Gilligan had a little run in with that machine. It seems to have shot him with some kind of beam." The Professor explained as he closed his bag and put it back on the shelf.
"Shot him!" Mary Ann's eyes widened and she turned frantically to Gilligan who was just stepping out from behind the Skipper, his upper half now covered to his satisfaction. "Are you alright?"
"I guess so." He said with a small shrug. "The Professor said I'm fine. What's for breakfast?"
"Tuna and lobster casserole."
"Oh, boy! Can we have breakfast now?"
She laughed at the unintentional complement. "No. It's not finished yet."
"If I help will it be finished faster?" He said as he began to follow her out the door.
The Professor held up a warning hand. "Gilligan."
The first mate turned. "Huh?"
"Stay close to camp, will you?"
Gilligan frowned slightly. "How come?"
"I...uh..." The Professor stumbled over his words for a second. "I may need your help with something. So don't go far."
"Sure, Professor."
As soon as Gilligan and Mary Ann were out of hearing range the Skipper turned abruptly to the Professor. "Why do you want him to say close to camp? There is something wrong with him isn't there?"
"I don't know, Skipper." The Professor's voice was frustrated. "I told you before, there is no effect I can ascertain. But my instruments are crude. It could very well have done something to him, and I just don't have the tools to detect it. We just have to watch him closely." After a long moment of silence the Professor started for the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To the supply hut. I want to know what that machine does." He turned slightly in the doorway. "Tell everyone else to stay away from there. I don't want there to be another accident."
The Skipper swallowed hard. "Be careful."