by Calista Skye
And here ... I look down at my feet.
And here is the puddle of blood, right by my sandal.
It's not really a puddle, because it has dried up and taken on a brownish color. It's very visible against the bright green grass around it, illuminated by the sun.
I get down on my knees and feel around with my hands, but there's no sign of my arrow. It must still be stuck to him. Or in him. It looks like he must have lost a lot of blood.
And there's a trail of blood drops leading away in the jungle. Just one or two dried drops every couple of feet.
I peer in among the trees, but he's nowhere to be seen. Either he was able to walk away on his own, or he's carried by his friends.
So this hasn't really changed anything. He could still be out there in the deadly jungle, slowly bleeding to death with nobody to help him. If so, I'm his only hope.
“Fuck.”
God, I really want to go home to the cave. Maybe hunt a not-sheep for Sophia's baby on the way. Be safe in the cave. Enjoy some of the stew Caroline makes, chat about Earth.
What would Xena do?
Well, she wouldn't have shot an innocent man in the first place. But if she did, she would make damn sure to help him in any way she could. She would do the right thing, and the cost to herself wouldn't matter to her.
I look up at the sun. Still many hours to go before it gets dark.
“Fuck,” I repeat with feeling, because there's nothing else to say and I really mean it.
Then I trundle off further into the woods, following the trail of blood drops.
- - -
After about an hour I stop and lean my butt against a convenient tree. I have to think.
Okay. He made it this far without dying, so he can't be that badly injured. The blood drops are smaller and further apart. So either he's bleeding out, or he's getting better. I think it's the latter. It's not like he's bled gallons. Maybe a quart? But blood always looks like more than it really is.
I'm no tracker, but I've lived in this jungle for months now and I've gained some experience. From what I can tell, he's alone. There's no band of raiders, no tribe. It's just him. And he's not as badly wounded as I feared.
I can probably turn around here and go back with a conscience that can be much less guilty than before. I've done everything anyone could reasonably expect. I don't think he's dying, and the blood trail isn't getting fresher, so he must have walked here at least as fast as me, several hours ago.
I take a sip of water from the pouch and chomp on a slice of tough, but tasty dinosaur meat, smoked and salty.
I lean my head back on the tree's rough bark. I don't have to continue. But now I kind of want to. Because his blood trail is leading me straight to Bune. The terrain is sloping upwards, and I can see the peak of the mountain slash spaceship dead ahead.
Now, why is a caveman going to Bune? That's taboo for them, off limits, forbidden. They really don't like going there.
It makes me curious. What does this guy know about Bune that I don't? Something useful for getting off this planet, perhaps?
Also, I've been tracking him for a good while now. He's filled my mind, and I haven't been able to help create an image of him. He's big, of course. Striped and muscular. His eyes are a bright, luminous blue. I know that. I think his hair is blond and long. His voice is powerful and deep. His touch is soft and gentle, in contrast with his power. And under his loincloth ...
“Calm down there, girl,” I say under my breath. “Let's not get silly ideas that will get us killed.”
Still, I'd like to meet him. Or at least see him from a distance. Individual cavemen have actually been pretty good for us so far. Jax'zan and Ar'ox and Dar'ax have done a lot to help us. What if I can recruit another one for our tribe?
I take a bite out of the salen fruit I've brought. I'd originally wanted to feed the injured caveman with it, but now I don't think he needs it. The fresh flavor immediately makes me feel better and more optimistic. Didn't I want to go to Bune and check it out more? Well, this is my chance. Another two hours to the top, still five or six hours to get home before dark. And I just need three or so.
It'll be fine.
- - -
It takes me much longer than two hours to get to the plateau on the top of Bune. But I'm determined now. Worst comes to worst, I can always spend the night inside the old corridors of the spaceship. It won't be pleasant, but it'll be safer than walking through the jungle at night.
It's the first time I'm here alone, and I make sure to keep a steady lookout up in the air. Dactyls like to come here.
The 'tuna can', the old alien cargo container that the evil Plood aliens dumped us here in, is overgrown and hard to spot. But here and there it still glints in the sun. It's useless now, because the dactyls hacked it to pieces when we were hiding inside it.
The sight of it kind of kills my good mood. We came here in that. How will we ever get home?
I've lost track of the caveman. I don't think he was bleeding anymore when he came here.
But his trail was as straight as a ruler towards Bune, so I'm pretty sure he's been here. I'll try to find some evidence of what he did.
I locate the entrance into the old, crashed spaceship. It's just a hole with an obviously artificial corridor beyond it. Last time we were here, we triggered something that tried to suck all the air out of the corridors further in. This time, I'll be careful.
I take the first steps onto the floor of the corridor. It has a soft quality to it, and my steps make no sound. It quickly gets dark further inside, but the walls give off a soft glow that reminds me of the luminous numbers on my alarm clock back home when I'd turn off the light in my bedroom.
The first door is open, and I sneak through it and place a rock on the floor so it can't close.
Now I'm inside the spaceship for real.
And it creeps me out. This is a fucking alien spaceship, as huge as a mountain. I'm here alone for the first time, and the hairs are standing up on the back of my neck. We've only explored a tiny fraction of it. There just might be aliens here. And not nice cavemen aliens, but maybe something like those vicious Plood. Or aliens from any of the sci-fi movies I've seen. Or something even worse.
There's a smell in here. It's not bad or unpleasant, just a little musty and alien. It's hard to place. Spaceship smell, I suppose. It adds to the creepiness.
The door I snuck through is still open. I half expected it to slam shut and break the rock, but apart from the light in the walls, everything seems dead in here. As in, dead quiet. I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears, but that's all. There are no other sounds, so different from the jungle where I've lived for nine months now. There's always a noise somewhere out there. Here, nothing.
I keep going and reach the furthest we got the last time. About here the spaceship started to suck the air out, so we had to scramble to escape. This time, nothing happens. I stand still for a minute to just listen, ready to sprint out.
There was a room here back then, with all kinds of equipment in it. Now I can't find it.
The way further into the ship is obvious – there's a wide, open door a little further ahead. Beyond it there's still light, and the corridor curves away to the left. I really don't want to go there. It feels like there could be nasty aliens around any corner.
But I'm convinced that this spaceship is our only chance to get home to Earth. If I don't explore it now, then it means I'm giving up hope.
I take a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”
4
- Aurora -
I squeeze the bow and arrow in my hand and slowly make my way further inside, moving like detectives on crime shows when they search a building for a suspect. I keep close to the wall and aim the bow in front of me, arrow pulled fully back, ready to shoot at a moment's notice. I even remember to look behind me every few seconds. I don't want an Alien monster to sneak up on me.
The thought alone makes me tense up. Think of something else.
&
nbsp; Okay, I'll stay positive. Maybe I'll make some vital discovery that'll give us an easy way home. A control room or an instruction manual for this ship or just about anything else. A decent bathroom, maybe. A coffee machine. Heck, I'd relish just a paper cup.
Now there are doors in the walls. They have no obvious opening mechanism and they don't react when I go close to them, but at least it tells me this ship isn't all corridor.
That Alien monster sure liked to hang out in spaceship corridors, all slimy and deadly ...
Pull yourself together!
No sign of life yet. You'd think I'd start to feel more confident, but I'm getting more and more on edge as I inch my way into the spaceship. Every foot further inside with no surprises makes it more probable that anything that happens will be bad.
I frown. Is that even a logical thought? Or is it nonsense?
I'm too highly strung to even tell.
“Nothing to it,” I whisper. “Just exploring an ancient spaceship all on my ow-”
I have a heart attack as a door I'm tiptoeing past suddenly slides open. I trip over my feet and land silently on the floor, barely avoiding skewering myself on the arrow.
I scramble to my knees and fumble with the bow and arrow, aiming for the open door with hands that shake.
I stay like that for two minutes, just aiming and trembling and hearing my own rapid heartbeat like thunder in my ears.
Nothing. No sound or movement.
Hey, some of these doors still work. That has to be a good sign. Right?
I'm not sure. Logic isn't my strong suit here and now. Shit, I wish I hadn't thought of that monster from Alien. Because that's all I can imagine.
I steel myself for getting my face bitten off, sneak closer to the door and peek inside.
That's not a corridor. That's an actual room. And it's dark.
I take a deep, trembling breath. I'm about to enter a dark room in a crashed alien spaceship. If I see leathery eggs, I'm going to run out as fast as I can and the vital secrets in here can go screw themselves.
The dim light from the corridor lights up the parts of the room closest to the door. I take a quick step inside so I'm standing beside the door.
There's stuff in here. Very alien things. There are round, transparent objects as big as old-fashioned phone booths, tall and narrow. There are round consoles with no obvious function; there are pipes and hoses and cables hanging from the ceiling and a whole lot of stuff I have no hope of ever identifying.
The whole place gives me a vaguely laboratory feel.
There's more light further in. This room has to be huge.
I'll explore this room and then I'll take a break to consider what to do next. I've made progress now. Something I can proudly tell the girls back at the cave. My day hasn't been wasted, even if this is all I discover.
I slowly walk into the room, trying to stay close to the wall. The mysterious equipment in here doesn't allow me to walk in a straight line, but I do my best.
I reach the lit section of the room. There are 'phone booths' here too, round and oval and made of something very much like glass.
I go up to one. It's very sophisticated. The glass has all kinds of embedded metallic threads in it, and the whole thing is suspended from the very high ceiling with white tubes.
It looks like it should contain something. Something big. Something about the size of a large human ... or an alien monster.
I reflexively draw the arrow further back.
Suddenly a shadow moves over by the wall. At the same moment, my foot slips on something and there's a crunching sound of stepping on broken glass.
I yelp and lose my balance, and I reflexively let go of the arrow to support myself with my hand as I land on my butt.
I stay down and try to not move or make a sound.
Two second goes by. Then I hear a now familiar sound.
“AAAARRRRRRGGGGHH!”
Shit! I shot another caveman!
Suddenly there's an explosion of movement and sound, coming closer fast.
I try to ready another arrow, but before I can notch it, there's a huge shadow towering over me.
I freeze and hardly dare look up. The breath sticks in my throat.
Ah. Those are legs. Human legs. Very, very powerful legs, so muscular and stringy they'd put any bodybuilder to shame.
I raise my gaze a little more
That's a loincloth. Made of black, scaly dinosaur skin, tied around narrow, but plainly strong hips. I can't help noticing the bulge. There's something behind that. Something pretty big.
I swallow in a dry throat.
That's a stomach. Or rather, a collection of very powerful muscles in that classic eight pack. All over them there are stripes. White ones, making it look as if he's been painting a fence and not been too careful with the brush.
That's a chest. The strongest, most perfectly sculpted chest I've seen, except that on the right side there's a strip of dirty fabric covering up something that has to be a wound.
My breath comes out like a hiccup. I think maybe I made that wound. Like, yesterday.
Okay. Now the face ...
Yeah. Caveman. Their faces have the wrong proportions to be downright beautiful or classically handsome, but they're characterful and striking. And this one is more striking than most. Strong chin, fangs up and down, darkly golden stubble and eyes so blue I swear they light up this whole room.
Well, I can't meet that gaze for too long. It's like being shot right in the face with a double-barreled laser. Yeah, he has every reason to give me a hard stare.
I have to do something.
“Good evening,” I say in the cavemanese I know, glancing quickly up at him “I hit you with arrow? I truly not mean to aiiiieeeee!”
Quick as a flash he bends over and lifts me onto his shoulder, squeezing my wrist so I have to let go of the arrow I was going to notch. All the arrows in my quiver spill out on the floor, I drop the food packs and my little knife falls out of its sheath.
I sprattle and writhe as much as I can. “Heyyy! Let me down, you brute!”
He walks through the room, crunching over broken glass. I'm pretty helpless here, carried caveman style. And his sheer strength scares me. He just lifted me from the floor as if I was made of eiderdown. Which I'm not. At all.
Then his scent fills my nose. It's a pleasant scent. Manly and spicy and clean. Musky, too, like a sweet tropical evening ...
Fuck! I'm being carried by a caveman who will very probably kill me, and here I am trying to determine what his smell reminds me of?
I renew my kicking and slapping and screaming. “Let go of me! You no honor! Bad caveman!”
He bends down to pick something up, and then he walks towards the exit, taking no notice of my efforts to get loose. Like I'm an object.
Real, cold fear rises in me. He can clearly snap my spine as easily as I could break a match.
The fear makes me angry, as usual. Where was that wound in his chest? If I kick hard with my knee right there ...
“Aaaarrrggh!”
He jerks and stops, and for a moment I think he's going to throw me off him. Then he bends forward and deposit me onto the floor, not too gently. His eyes are flashing bright blue with anger and pain.
“See, you can be reasonable,” I pant as I try to draw away from him. “Now just let me just get my arrows and no no no, don't!”
He grabs my ankles and pulls me to him, then quickly ties a thin length of twine around them and finishes with a small, hard knot.
Then he takes my hands and does the same, tying them together so tightly it makes me worry about the circulation.
“No, stop!” I squeal as he hoists me onto his shoulder again. “You don't have to! Can't we talk? I speak speech of caveman! You talk now! I talk!”
It's like he can't even hear me. He tramples out of the alien lab and back down the corridor I came from, holding firmly onto my legs.
I can't kick or slap him anymore. Trussing me up like this work
ed just the way he wanted.
Dangling over his shoulder I have a good view of his butt. And now I notice there is something sticking out from the loincloth, a little to the side.
It's my arrow. Yeah, that last one hit him right in the ass. I kind of understand why he might be a little bit miffed. I pretty much had this coming.
But the fact remains: I'm being abducted.
I keep writhing and screaming, but all it accomplishes is to tire me out. There's nobody here to hear me if I were to call for help. I'm completely at his mercy.
I can easily reach the arrow still stuck in his butt and jerk it around. That would get his attention fine. But it might also make him kill me. Almost certainly.
Suddenly it gets dark. We're out of the spaceship, and the sun has set. Ten seconds later we're deep inside the pitch black jungle. Here, I know I have to be quiet so I don't attract predators. I don't want him to gag me, too.
“We talk,” I try one last time, and now my voice cracks from fear. I sniffle. “Please.”
He doesn't reply.
5
- Trak'zor -
I think she wants to talk. Her speech is strange and reminds me of other tribes. It also has a melodic quality to it that I've heard from no other tribe. It's because she's a woman, of course.
I realized it as soon as I laid eyes on her. She's human, but at the same time not. Her hips are wide and round. She has a chest so meaty and soft-looking that it makes my crotch swell just thinking about it. Her hair is long and shiny in its darkness. Her skin is smooth and fine. Her face is delicate, her eyes large and dark, her ears small.
She's not as tiny as I'd thought she would be. But of course she is still small. Round and soft and small. Just like the Woman should be.
It is The Woman, of course. The Ancestors have given Her to me, just like I always knew they would. Am I not the only man who has dared enter the depths of sacred Bune?
But we were never told she would be dangerous. She has wounded me twice now, once in the chest and once in the rear. As if she was hunting me with that terrible weapon of hers.
I feel the warmth from her body on my shoulder, and I yearn to place her on the ground, rip her garments off her and just Worship her here and now. The man who finds The Woman is supposed to Worship her immediately. The shaman showed us in detail how that is to be done, using his wooden figure of a woman.