by Zaide Bishop
“And so does Whiskey,” India prompted again.
Realization dawned on Charlie. “Whiskey. Oh no...”
Sugar’s heart sank. “Whiskey has taken Fox prisoner, hasn’t he? To force him to have sex.”
“I had no idea,” Charlie said, looking at Sugar with worried hazel eyes. “Honestly, Sugar. If I’d realized, I would have stopped it.”
Sugar didn’t know if he should blame him or not. Whiskey had a history of ignoring the rules and forging his own path. Last time it had almost killed them all. But it didn’t matter if Charlie was guilty of poor leadership, Sugar couldn’t make himself be angry. Charlie looked so sad and worried, all Sugar wanted was to put an arm around him and tell him it would be okay.
“Do you have any idea where Whiskey might have taken him?”
Charlie chewed his lip. “None. Well, there are places we can look, and we will, but Whiskey has a lot of secrets. She keeps her favorite hunting grounds to herself. She has weapon caches and tools hidden in nooks all over the place. I’m sure she’s taken Fox somewhere she knows we won’t look. Somewhere difficult to get to or with a good view. Possibly a cave. Possibly a high hide.”
“How would he get Fox in a high hide?” Sugar pondered. Whiskey was fierce, but he wasn’t strong enough to carry an Elikai.
“At the point of a spear?” India suggested, arching an eyebrow.
Sugar blushed. “Ah. Right. So we’ll be looking for two sets of tracks, at least.”
“Fox was going to Pinnacle Island,” Tare said, slipping up beside Sugar. He was clearly addressing Sugar, but his eyes never left India. “Goats again. Him and goat meat. It’s becoming an addiction.”
Sugar nodded. They could look for his canoe, find where he’d been hunting, and maybe there would be a trail. The goats were easiest to hunt on the rocky cliff faces, it was no special trick to find them, and Fox wouldn’t have needed to hide himself. Even so, this was going to be a huge setback to peace between the tribes. Sugar was going to have to work extra hard to keep everyone calm now. He was getting a headache already.
“Wait,” Charlie said as he turned to leave. “This theory of India’s, you believe it? You’ve known about it for weeks?”
“Not weeks.” Suddenly Sugar found it hard to meet the Varekai’s gaze.
“And you think if a Varekai and Elikai have sex, the Elikai will be pregnant?”
“Actually, we had been acting under the assumption it was the other way around,” Sugar confessed.
Charlie turned to India. “And you’ve been having sex with this one for two months now?”
India nodded, and Tare put a possessive arm around the witchdoctor’s shoulders.
“Are you pregnant?” Charlie demanded.
“Not that I know of. I’ve been working on another theory. That fertility is linked with our moon blood. The bitches bleed for a week before the dogs get all worked up about them.”
“Chickens don’t,” Charlie mused.
“Chickens are birds. Dogs and Varekai are mammals,” India pointed out. “It may be we need the moon flow to be fertile. To be ‘in flower.’ And I haven’t had mine in several months.”
“Whiskey bleeds at the full moon like we gutted her,” Mike said, easing closer. He was looking over the Elikai with a wary kind of curiosity. He’d always reminded Sugar of a crocodile. He seemed slow, almost lazy. But he could move like the devil when he was provoked, and while he’d never struck Sugar as bright, he was cunning. Wily. Once, Sugar had seen him jam a spear straight through a boar’s skull without snapping the shaft, and he’d vowed never, ever to end up facing him in any sort of combat.
“Did you know that?” Mike’s eyes flickered to Tare.
“Uh, yeah.” He looked mildly confused. “I saw him at your horrid celebration. I thought he was bleeding to death.”
India’s eyebrows rose, catching on. “Did you tell Fox, Tare?”
“Yes, but I never told him your bleeding fertility theory.”
Sugar groaned. “He’s clever. Too clever. He might have theories of his own.”
“So.” Mike rubbed the shaft of his spear. “Why do we think Whiskey took Fox, and not the other way around?”
“He wouldn’t,” Sugar said, narrowing his eyes. “It’s against our rules. We have a code for things like that. We don’t force ourselves on each other.”
“He was pretty vocal about you having sex with Romeo,” Tare muttered. “He’s been pissy you refused.”
“Whiskey is the loose cannon. Whiskey is the one always ready to start a war,” Sugar said, feeling defensive. Fox was difficult, but he wouldn’t have endangered the peace like this. Whiskey had a history of violence. He looked to Charlie, searching his face for support.
The Varekai was sucking on the inside of his cheek, frowning at the horizon. “I don’t think it matters much, who took who. Someone took someone, it seems, and it’s two someones we don’t want alone together for any length of time. They’re more likely to kill each other than breed, and that doesn’t help anyone.”
Sugar wanted Charlie to take his side. It was irrational, but it hurt his feelings that he didn’t see the sense in his position. “Why would we need to kidnap a Varekai? We have Romeo.”
“Does Romeo bleed?” India asked. He said it with an air of innocence, but Sugar could tell he was trying to provoke him.
“No! I don’t know.”
Mike laughed. “Well, maybe you do need a Varekai, hmm? Yours seems to be broken.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Romeo,” he said through gritted teeth.
Charlie sighed. “It’s okay, Sugar. We’ll look for them. Or maybe they’ll come back. They can’t hide forever. How long does it take an Elikai and Varekai to have sex anyway?”
No one seemed willing to give him an answer.
Frustrated, Sugar turned back toward the canoes. He was almost there when he realized he was still carrying the backpack. He motioned for the others to wait and then trotted after Charlie and his brothers.
“Here,” he said.
Charlie stopped, though the other Varekai continued, giving them a moment alone on the path. He accepted the bag, looking it over then shrugging it on. Sugar adjusted it. It fit perfectly.
He met the Varekai’s gaze, and for a long moment they were silent, studying one another in the fading light.
“It’s going to be okay,” Charlie said softly. “We’re going to be okay.”
Tentatively, Sugar brushed back one of his curls and let his fingertips trail down the Varekai’s painted cheek.
“I hope so. I’d miss you.”
* * *
The camp was set up and night was falling. Fox was bound. Whiskey had tied him to a tree so he was sitting up, feet toward the fire pit. He had readjusted the twine so Fox’s hands were at the front, but the rope was bound to a higher tree branch, so Fox was forced to sit with his hands over his head. Whiskey was keeping an eye on Fox, and he, in turn, was waiting for the Varekai to be distracted. If he had a few moments, he would be able to chew through the twine and run.
The fire pit was wide, ringed with stones and packed with bigger logs to make coals. Much of the goat meat was on a spit, sizzling and dripping. “What do you think they were going to do with us?” Whiskey prodded another log into the fire, and the glade lit up with a bright orange glow.
“Who?” Fox asked, sullen.
“The teachers, in Eden. They bred us somehow. Perhaps in Eden, like they said, or maybe we had parents once. They taught us to farm and slaughter animals, they taught us to hunt and weave, to use compasses and read and do science. They schooled us in math. What do you think they intended for us? Why did they tell us we were too different to be kept together? Do you think they didn’t want us to have little sisters? Or were they going to force us together
one day and tell us what needed to be done?”
“The latter seems cruel, after keeping us apart for so long,” he said.
“It was all cruel.” Whiskey’s eyes were narrowed. “All of it. They lied to us about the world. They said there was nothing outside Eden. We were unprepared, and they planned it that way. I remember seeing into the Elikai bubble once, when they took us for our exams. Your little toy village, just a wall away from our little toy village. There were no differences between the Varekai and the Elikai then. We all looked just the same. I couldn’t understand what was so different about you.”
Fox was silent a moment. It seemed like an impossible coincidence, but he had seen Whiskey that day, before the world was born. Two children, on different sides of the glass. Fox had been digging for potatoes, but he had looked up and seen a red-haired stranger walking behind a teacher. He had walked over to the window, and for a long moment they had looked at one another through the glass. Whiskey had put his hand on it, and he had placed his over the top, leaving a streak of mud.
Then the teacher had grabbed Whiskey’s shoulder and led him away, but his handprint had remained, outlined in condensation.
He had told his brothers, and Zebra had come up with a terrifying story, saying that now the Varekai knew they were there, they would sneak through the air ducts at night and kill them in their beds, sucking out all their blood and leaving them just empty husks of skin and bones.
Fox had barely slept for a week, and Love had been scolded for stuffing mud and leaves into the air ducts. That was before they knew about the metal bars, just a little way into the ducts, which stopped anything larger than a mouse from passing through. Of course, they hadn’t known about them until the tribes had been dying slowly of dehydration, trapped in the dark and desperately seeking some escape.
“Maybe we were their food,” Fox said. “Maybe they bred us like we keep chickens.”
“Why teach us then?”
He shrugged. He didn’t really believe the teachers had been breeding them to eat them. The teachers had been huge, but in form and shape they were very similar to the Elikai. They were just giant brothers and sisters; whatever the truth was, it was beyond their knowing for now.
He shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me. I want to know how deeply I should despise them.”
“You despise everything.”
“Is that how I seem to you?” Whiskey turned his attention back to the meat, lost in thought.
Fox studied the Varekai in the firelight. He wished he’d slough off all that ink and clay. It was too like a mask, a violent, animal face. It made the Varekai seem inhuman. He supposed that was the point, but now they were being forced to consider they might be the same species, the paints only made the reality harder to grasp.
Whiskey was lightly armored. On the front of his shins and the side of his thighs, leather, paperbark, salvaged metal and buckles made defensive plates that would ward against snakebite or cutting plants. On his forearms too, these defenses formed a shield, but not in a way that would interfere with archery.
His waist and belly were narrow, much more so than an Elikai, but the narrowness was accentuated by broad, boxy hips. His breasts were small and upthrust, with delicate pink nipples peeping out between the strips of leather that bound them flat to his chest.
It was strange, Fox realized, to see him without a weapon. This was the first time he had really taken the time to look at the Varekai, because this was the first time he hadn’t been wholly distracted by the spear in his hand.
“I’ve never had a chance to see you any other way,” Fox said. “You’re always snarling. Always ready to kill one of us. How else would we see you?”
Whiskey gave a snort. “Fair enough. But I want to protect my people. I kill food for the tribe, I hunt down threats and destroy them, and now—” his gaze flickered up to meet Fox’s, “—I am doing what it takes to swell our numbers.”
“Our numbers? Or your numbers?”
“My numbers,” he corrected.
“You don’t want our people to work together,” Fox accused.
“After all that’s passed between us, I don’t think we can. I think it is better if you are...bred out.”
“We have Romeo.”
“Good luck with that.”
Fox closed his eyes, resting his head against the bark of the tree. The position was not entirely comfortable, but he thought he might as well get some sleep. He could not escape Whiskey while he was awake; later, perhaps, when the Varekai was resting, he would be able to chew free of his bonds. He did not relish the idea of trying to navigate the islands at night. It was better than being part of the Varekai’s dangerous experiments.
He didn’t realize he’d dozed off until the rope tightened around his feet. He tried to kick, but he was already bound and the movement only banged his shoulder against the tree.
“Stop it.” Whiskey rose to his feet, starting to untie the long rope that kept Fox upright against the trunk.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“It’s time.”
The fire had burned down to low coals, and Fox could barely see the edges of the clearing; the world was an inky black dome, held at bay by the faint orange light. Whiskey was an indistinct mass, with patches of skin or metal that caught the light in strange ways.
“Let me go.” Fox fought the ropes, struggling as hard as he could.
“You’re going to hurt yourself. Just lie still. I know what I’m doing.”
A burble of hysterical laughter escaped. “How? How could you know?”
“I watched India and Tare.”
“India and Tare are having sex?” He stilled a moment, distracted by this terrible information.
Whiskey pulled his hands up over his head, securing the rope to the base of a tree. He did the same with the rope binding Fox’s feet, so he was pulled long and straight. It only hurt when he struggled, but being restrained like this made him feel like a piglet strung up to be gutted.
“Yes. Regularly, I assume.” Whiskey began to untie the strips of hide that held Fox’s skirt in place.
“Stop it! You can’t do this. All Elikai have the right to choose who they have sex with.”
“I don’t care about your rules. We are not the same. I would not do this to you if you were a Varekai.”
“There will be repercussions!” he snarled. “You’re going to start another war.”
“Then I’ll be sure to keep at least one of you alive at the end.” Whiskey yanked the skirt away, and Fox was fully exposed to the night air. The Varekai scrutinized his flaccid member. Perhaps if it had been some other Varekai, one less prone to murder and dismemberment, he wouldn’t have felt quite so intimidated. As it was, his testicles were trying to crawl up inside him and hide behind his kidneys.
“Why is it so small?” Whiskey demanded.
“What?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“Tare’s was bigger.”
“Tare was probably erect.”
“Never mind. Smaller will make this easier.”
He could have told Whiskey that a soft penis wasn’t going to get him anywhere, but he held his tongue. There was no way he was going to let the Varekai succeed at this atrocity and wasn’t going to have any trouble staying soft.
There was rarely any appeal in sex for Fox. His brothers did not arouse him. Most of his release came alone, struggling to come up with the imagery that would take him over the edge.
This Varekai could only be worse.
“I will attempt not to hurt you,” Whiskey said, as if it were a great charity on his part. “But that will be easier if you don’t resist.”
“And how are you going to know when it’s done?” he demanded, then instantly regretted it.
&n
bsp; Whiskey paused, the look on his face clearly betraying he had not thought that far ahead. “I guess, I... It didn’t take India and Tare all that long. Ten minutes, perhaps, once they were coupled together.”
Ten minutes. He could survive ten minutes of this.
Whiskey knelt beside him and took Fox’s cock in his mouth. The sudden wet warmth of it surprised him, and he jerked, trying to sit up and pull away.
“Stop!” he demanded, but Whiskey simply shot him an annoyed look.
He could feel the Varekai begin to suck, his tongue sliding back and forth across Fox’s flaccid penis, tasting, swirling, pulling, softly but insistently. A little clumsier than his brothers, but still wet and gentle. Fox’s breathing deepened. Whiskey’s mouth seemed too hot. He still expected, at any instant, for the Varekai to bite down, to end this horror in the worst possible way.
He could smell the Varekai this close. It was overwhelming, like breathing deep in a bloom of honeysuckle. That was what Whiskey smelled like: wattle. The puffy yellow flowers, sweet and tangy at the same time. Some nights the trees would all bloom at once, and in the muggy heat the scent was so strong Fox could scarcely breathe.
His cock started to thicken against his will.
“No,” he moaned, the hot lips and tongue beginning to draw rigidity into his form.
Whiskey stopped, looking down at the half-mast erection with confusion. “Is that normal?”
Fox hissed at him, wanting to curse but not finding the words.
After a moment of contemplation, the Varekai stripped off his own clothes, even the armor, and straddled Fox’s hips. His panic rose again and he tried to buck, to throw Whiskey loose, but he grabbed his belly and glared.
“Don’t do that, or I will be forced to hurt you.”
Fox stilled, and Whiskey reached between them, trying to guide his semi-hard cock into the opening that Tare had called “the shell.” The Varekai’s skin down there was soft, but not wet like his mouth. Tare had told the other Elikai the Varekai shell was self-lubricating, thick and slick, sweet and glossy. There was nothing slick about Whiskey, and when he tried to jam Fox into the opening, they both winced.