by Tracy Lauren
But what I need now is my scanner. I take it out and bring it to my prey’s side.
“I am going to scan you for serious injuries,” I explain. She looks up at me with wide, empty eyes. She is simple, I realize, feeling annoyed and resentful. I am brought to shame when I think of my initial assessment of her. I had hoped she would be a warrior of a caliber equal to my own. By far, this is the worst error of judgment I have made in my life. I shake my head and run the scanner over her body, watching as the results come in.
Concussion. I knew that. There’s a gash on her head, bruising on her ribs and on some internal organs. Her tumble down the side of the cliff was a rough one. The muscles and tendons in her right wrist and the lower half of her left leg have been stretched in an awkward way, leaving inflammation in its wake. Though she still has use of them both, she is far from full health and likely cannot begin training anytime soon.
“I must now physically check the wound on your head to see if it has to be sewn,” I warn before reaching over to pull her hair back, trying to get a better look. She leans into me, blindly trusting. Not long ago her honey locks had looked wild to me. Now they make her look like a neglected house pet. Where it isn’t knotted and matted with blood, it’s knotted and matted with debris from the forest. I pick out some of the leaves and sticks and separate the hair, careful not to agitate her wound. She winces and sucks in her breath, but remains still, gazing up at me.
I hate that there is no longer fear in her eyes. She looks at me now as if she might beg me to keep her. “Do not get too comfortable,” I remind my prey. “I plan to kill you as soon as I have molded your feeble body into a passable opponent.”
I turn my attention back to the gash. It’s about four inches long, but the bleeding has stopped and the wound is already clotting over. “You will be glad to know it does not need sewing. It does, however, need to be cleaned soon.” I frown again at her hair and the smeared paint on her dirty face. “It is not the only thing that will need to be cleaned.”
She chatters back at me in her foreign tongue. Something tells me she does not yet comprehend my words. I will just have to keep talking so her translation processor begins to register my language. My captive will need to learn to take instruction as soon as possible.
“Rest,” I tell her. Her lids are already beginning to look heavy. “I will build this place up as our camp… It looks like we might be here a while.”
Chapter 10
Purity
After that, I’m in and out the rest of the day. But every time my eyes blink open, I see my hero working on something new. The first thing I notice is the fire pit he’s constructed near the entrance of the cave. It feels like the blink of an eye and suddenly there’s a fire crackling in it. I’m having a hard time staying awake and the pain in my head is leagues beyond any migraine I’ve ever had. I’m rubbing my temples when my hero enters the cave. My eyes struggle to focus on him, but when they do, I see he has brought with him the severed head of the beast that was chasing me.
“Oh Jesus Christ!” I exclaim, covering my face in horror. He responds in his language, sounding unperturbed. So, I peek between my fingers at him, desperate to understand something of what is going on through body language and hand gestures at the very least. But he only motions toward the head.
I force myself to look at it, knowing it’ll haunt my nightmares for years to come. To my dismay, it looks just as menacing as it did when alive. Though I do notice the lizard man has for some reason sheared all the hair off. He says a few quick words, then to my shock, he tosses the head on top of the fire.
I skitter back, startled, only to grimace in pain. Another wave of nausea washes over me. I still hurt too much to be moving. But my neck also hurts from lying flat on the hard ground. Silently, I wish I had a pillow. That gives me an idea. I reach down to start yanking at my leg warmers, but the simple task is harder than I expected. My head pounds and my stomach begins to weaken once more.
The lizard man watches me, his body frozen and eyes narrowed. I manage to get one of the leg warmers halfway off my foot before I have to lie still and bite back my nausea. He grunts at me then and stalks over to my feet, kneeling. With massive hands, he peels the band of clothing from my ankle, then moves to the next one.
As big as he is, he’s been nothing but gentle with me. I think of Emily in that moment, and the warnings she would surely issue. My cautious friend would tell me to be skeptical…hesitant. But there are certain times that doesn’t apply. If there’s a fire or a natural disaster, you can lean on neighbors, members of your community, even people who might have been strangers. There are certain instances in life when you can just trust. There is more good out there than bad. I believe that with all my heart and this guy proved it when he saved my life. He’s continuing to prove it now, in his care of me. I love Emily, she’s my best friend, but right now, I push her voice from my mind. Whoever this guy is, whatever’s happening to us—it’s clear that we’re in this together.
“Can you help me with this too?” I ask, tugging feebly at my fanny pack. He pulls a blade from the holster strap things he wears crisscrossed over his chest.
“No, no, no! I know it’s just a stupid fanny pack, but I might need it. There’s a plastic buckle on the back,” I explain, trying to twist it around my waist without getting up. Still crouching, he moves to my side and twists the awful windbreaker fabric of my fanny pack until the buckle is exposed. He clicks his tongue, poking at it in dismay.
“Thanks, I can get it from here,” I tell him with a teasing smile. “I’d question your technological advancements, but I saw that tablet thing you had earlier.” He tosses the leg warmers to me and watches as I tuck them into my fanny pack. When I place it under my head he clicks again, rising to his feet. His purposeful strides take him to the fire and he uses his blade to turn the head of the beast, which, God help me, is actually starting to smell pretty good.
My stomach growls in response and I can’t help but feel a little embarrassed at being appetized by monster head over an open flame. But Lizard Man doesn’t seem to notice my shame, because he stalks out of the cave again, returning a second later. This time, he has a chunk of raw meat in hand.
“So you heard that, huh?” I ask, rubbing my stomach. But instead of adding the meat to the fire, he brings it to me. Using his knife to cut a thin slice, he holds it out so that I might take it.
“Oh…uh. Okay…” I try to push myself up again, but he presses me back down by the shoulder and clicks.
“That clicking…is that like a no?” I ask, trying to establish a verbal connection. He doesn’t acknowledge my words though, he just pushes the meat at me once more. I sigh. “This is how we’re doing it? Raw?” I ask hesitantly. I mean, I order my steak rare, but what the lizard is offering me here is a whole new level.
I realize the reality of the situation though. I’m hungry and in the wilderness, dependent on my lizard hero to care for me. I shouldn’t say no to food. Still, I ask one last time, “Can’t we cook it?” I motion toward the occupied fire. He looks at it for moment, then gets up and grabs onto the hot meat without regard to the flames licking at it. With his blade, he cuts off an indistinguishable chunk. Is it an ear? I grimace when he brings it to me.
“Oh man…okay, wait, wait, wait! I change my mind. I’ll take it raw,” I hurry to say. He tosses the cooked meat into his mouth and I notice a series of fangs that are reminiscent of a shark. He holds the raw stuff out to me again. I take it from him and put it into my mouth, trying to pretend it’s beef and not beast. I guess in the long run, the fact that it’s raw isn’t the worst thing about it. It’s the fact that it came from the fearsome thing that was chasing me through the forest.
He feeds me a few more pieces of meat and offers sips of cool, fresh water from his pouch. My stomach isn’t as welcoming as it should be to the reintroduction of food, though, and I can’t stomach much before I have to take a break, waving away what my lizard offers.
With a full belly, I fall back to sleep.
Chapter 11
He’Rokvska Naa
She is sleeping once again, a fact I find disconcerting. It almost seems as if she cannot keep her eyes open. I run my scanner over her head once more, ensuring her concussion is on the repair. The lights on the device flicker blue. Everything seems normal.
I puff out my breath and shake my head, feeling ill equipped for this aspect of my plan. I do not enjoy playing nursemaid. Gladiators take care of themselves, not others. Though, I suppose I am a master now, and when I return to my newly claimed house, I will begin filling my stables with a new generation of fighters. What I endure here will only help me become a better mentor to my slaves. I must think of this time as a lesson in patience. Otherwise I will go mad.
Recentered, I continue to work, my attention always returning to my sleeping prey. I scoff when I gaze upon the pillow she pieced together. To think of how poorly prepared she is for this world… The only thing she chose to bring with her was a pillow, of all things. That, paired with her eating habits, and one must wonder where she came from. A slave eats what they are given and is thankful for it. She, on the other hand, had two choices. Meat cooked or meat raw. Yet she wavered on her options as if she had a full menu to choose from.
I shake my head again and think back on my youth as a slave, before I became a gladiator. When Eriona won a fight, we would eat well. But if she was bested in a match, we were lucky to eat at all. And if we did, the meal would be a flavorless synth-carb gruel. It wasn’t until she became a star of the arena that life got better, that is when Sarran bought us. Sarran was a good master; he always treated his slaves with generosity. That is how I would like to be, I think. A good meal can get a gladiator through their next fight and even if it doesn’t, it is a parting gift for when they leave this life, a token of gratitude for their sacrifices and service.
I look back on the female once more, softening to her, if only slightly. It is not her fault she is here. Nor is it her fault that she is such a pathetic warrior. Perhaps I can scan the nearby flora for additional food sources. I might even find something to help heal her wounds.
It is hard to suppress my resentment, but it is foolish to hold her infirmity against her. The sooner I can make her healthy again, the sooner we can begin her training. Then I can kill her and return home—my honor preserved. For I will leave this world with my honor intact…and with the Ihasa’s head for my troubles.
My prey continues to rest as I clean our cave and she does not rouse over any of the noises I make. When I am done clearing out decaying leaves and abandoned nests, I go outside to butcher the rest of the beast. I scrape the hide, having already reserved the brains for tanning. We are in need of a blanket, preferably more than one, but this is all we have at the moment and it will still take a handful of days before we can utilize it. Even then, the final product will be rough.
I take everything I can from the animal so that I might turn it into something useful. I stack the bones near the fire, burning off any excess meat. Once cleaned I might carve them into tools. The female will need blades as well.
Butchering the beast takes longer than I would like and there is more meat than we can use. If only I had more time I could smoke what we cannot eat now, but the day wears thin. So, I keep what I can and the rest will need to be taken far from our new camp so that it will not attract scavengers or vermin.
Before I leave, I check in on the female. Her slumber is still heavy. Though I will not be gone long, I do not like the idea of leaving her here, vulnerable and alone. I frown at the wide-open entrance to our cave. I will have to build something to hide us better. I will be damned if some creatures sneaks in and kills my prey before I have the chance to.
I load the overabundance of meat into my arms and begin my trek away from our camp. I walk at a hurried pace, unwilling to leave the female unguarded for long. On my way, I pay close attention to the surrounding plant life, but the sun hangs low in the sky. There will be no time to analyze the plants’ properties today.
It is late when I return to camp, my arms laden with firewood. I am frustrated I did not have time to explore as I wished, having my ward to get back to. I discard my load at the mouth of the cave. The clatter it makes is loud and the female jerks awake.
Quietly, I am satisfied. Though my pleasure lessens once she begins spewing words at me in her foreign tongue. I know I should be listening, so that my translator can begin processing what she says, but I am still too annoyed and resentful of her. So instead I shove my water pouch to her lips, forcing her to drink.
Chapter 12
Purity
I wish I could say I feel better after sleeping for so long, yet somehow, I only feel more tired. My lizard friend gives me water, which I drink happily. But I try to refuse him when he offers me more raw meat. Only it doesn’t fly with him and the gruff words he issues makes me think if I don’t feed myself, he’ll do it for me. I take a few small bites, not wanting to seem ungrateful, and also knowing that my body needs this food to heal.
When he’s satisfied with the amount I’ve eaten he goes back over to the firepit, where the flames have died down and the beast’s head is nothing more than a skull now. I roll over onto my side to watch him.
“I think you might have burnt it,” I tease. He picks up the skull, seemingly unaffected by the temperature, and takes a seat on a log he dragged in and placed near the fire. Using a bit of fur, which I assume he got off of the beast, he wipes away charred remnants of flesh. I wonder if there is a purpose to what he is doing or if perhaps it’s some kind of culture-specific ritual, like a trophy of some sort.
He holds the skull up for me to peer at. I stare for a long while. “It wouldn’t be so scary if it weren’t for those teeth,” I say. My lizard man grunts and it almost sounds like a question. “Teeth, you know. These things…” I say, pointing at my own. He bares his teeth at me in response and I can’t help but laugh. His eyes widen when I do and his inhuman pupils become even larger.
“Don’t worry, just because you have sharp teeth doesn’t mean you scare me,” I tell him. “I know you’re a good guy.”
I want to beam him a warm smile to offer a little reassurance, but laughing caused my head to spin so I press my eyes lids shut. Reaching up to put pressure on my temples, I feel a stabbing pain when my fingers touch my head and I hiss in response to it.
The lizard man is by my side in an instant. He has that little tablet device in his hand again and he’s waving it over my head. He makes that clicking noise I’m so curious about, then jumps to his feet, grabs the skull and disappears out the mouth of the cave.
I have no clue what that was about, nor do I have the chance to wonder for long. I’m still gingerly trying to rub my temples when he returns. Though my eyes are still clenched shut, I hear water splashing onto the ground as he approaches. Then he’s letting loose a long string of words. His language is a harsh one, I think, as he speaks. Or maybe it’s just the baritone of his voice. I want to focus on his words and hand gestures, but nausea hits me again and I can’t bear to keep my eyes open.
“Sorry, if you could just give me a second—” I begin. But he doesn’t. He pulls my hands away from my face and I can feel him gently assessing the wound on my head. He’s not going easy on me, that’s for sure. But he has my best interest in mind and I’m thankful for it. Then, I’m hissing in pain again as I feel cold water pouring over my wound. My eyes shoot open.
“Hey! You could have at least warned me!” I complain. His response is short and curt and I imagine he said something like “I did warn you.”
“Yeah, maybe you did,” I concede. He puts the skull over the fire again. It looks like he gave it a good rinse in a stream or something and he’s turned it over so it resembles a trough-like bowl. He’s heating the water, likely bringing it to a boil so he can clean my wound better.
I whimper in anticipation. “Is this going to hurt?”
He just stares at me a
nd a thin, membrane-like eyelid blinks over his eyes a couple of times before he looks away. “Is that alien for ‘obviously’?”
We sit in silence for a moment and fear solidifies in the pit of my stomach. It isn’t from the looming wound cleaning I’m about to receive, but instead because I put words to my fear.
“You’re an alien, right? That’s what’s going on. I’ve been abducted?” I can’t think of anything else this could be. “I guess I won’t know for sure until we can learn each other’s languages. It’s just… I wouldn’t have thought an alien abduction would be like this.” I look around the cave before my gaze lands on my near primitive lizard companion and his half-naked, muscled body. He sits up straighter under my assessing gaze.
“I mean, I thought there was supposed to be a bright light from the sky and…I don’t know, medical experiments or something. Not that I’m complaining, I just don’t even remember seeing a ship.”
He says nothing, but picks up the skull bowl from the fire and returns to my side. He takes a wad of fur and dips it in the water. When he brings it to my wound my vision tunnels and the cries of pain that follow are entirely involuntary. It isn’t until they fade away that I notice he uses one strong arm, pinned over my chest, to restrain me. I grip onto it, willing him to lend me his strength. He pauses, waiting for my permission to proceed.
“Okay.” I nod. “I’m ready. Do what you have to do.” I tighten my hold on his arm. His eyes are narrowed and he gives me a short nod before rinsing the fur and repeating the process. I nearly throw up twice before he’s finished and I’m panting by the time he’s done.
“Thank you,” I tell him. I’d probably die from infection if he weren’t helping me. I expect him to leave my side once he’s finished with my wound, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shifts his attention to my face. I’m shocked when he takes the rough little pad of fur and scrubs it across my forehead, where just yesterday I had drawn on an iridescent lightning bolt, a hodgepodge of Jem and the Holograms-inspired makeup. At least, I think that was yesterday. I cringe to imagine what my face must look like in this moment, smeared with hot pink and purple 80s makeup, dirt, and blood. Not to mention my poor, teased and crimped hair.