“Yes,” I admitted. “Those are all amounts of time. Some consistent, some… I don’t know… more arbitrary, I guess.”
“Time is good to know,” Nova said happily, turning to me and smiling, arms out as if inviting the noonday sun to worship her lovely, nude body, so inviting and beautiful. “We should always be aware when we have wasted too much time in a world that gives you so little.”
None of us saw it. It was waiting in a row of trees and bushes for us to pass, natural greens and browns masking its massive presence.
Before I even realized it was happening a giant mouth filled with teeth was opening around Nova, hot breath blowing her hair around her smiling face. I reacted quickly, and maybe too violently, yanking the chain that connected us, and pulling her out of the way before the monster’s gnashing teeth could slam closed into the softness of her bare flesh.
“I’m sorry,” I said, as she grabbed her neck, and fell into me.
My rash motion had jerked the prisoner just ahead of her into the path of danger, and faster than it takes to tell, the Tyrannosaur had re-opened its mouth and crushed the poor man to pieces, twisting it’s head sharply and spraying us all with blood, an arm flying loose and nearly hitting me in the face.
The T Rex lifted its neck, craned upward twenty, thirty feet, and opened its mouth to allow the pieces of its victim to be pulled by gravity into its gullet.
Appetizer devoured, it returned for more.
Our chain had been snapped by its clenching jaws, which meant we were free—but far from safe. The tyrannosaur strode from its hiding place and again lunged for the tasty Nova. She was still holding her neck where I’d nearly broken it, and I had to jerk her violently to my left once more to keep her from becoming the dinosaur’s second course. Grabbing a spear from a horrified and frozen Angara, I thrust it deeply into the Rex’s snout near an eye, which released a surprising flow of blood. It screeched and reared back, and after considering the situation for less than a second, changed its mind about Nova, turned abruptly aside and clamped onto two other prisoners and an Angara, the three having become tangled in some roots, vines, and one another.
While the thing was distracted the Angara I had disarmed was able to focus in on what had happened and grabbed me around the throat. The spear was too long for me to pull back and angle inward to defend myself, so though I struggled furiously, it wasn’t long before I felt the fugue state of unconsciousness creeping in and eating away the edges of my brain.
Crunch! The panther man’s grip suddenly loosened, he fell over, his head caved in, his throat gushing blood all over himself and me. He was dead and sprawling on me before I could blink. The Tyrannosaur dove quickly my way, I turned, and shoved the lifeless Angara corpse into its path. The bite snatched it, and not me.
Milton stood nearby, apparently having thrown the stone that saved my life, and Nova was pulling at my arm, a knife in her other hand, red to the elbow with Angara blood.
“We must go!” she yelled. “Now!”
We had been the end of the line of prisoners, most of our Angara guards had fled, and confusion reigned as the tyrannosaur took its time chewing through the easy pickings of exhausted men and women bound awkwardly together, so our escape would have been easy.
Would have been. If Milton hadn’t fallen.
Though keeping an eye on the still raging tyrannosaur, three Angara fell on the old man, and pinned him to the ground. They were too far away to reach Nova and I. But I still stopped.
“Go,” I told her, pulling the length of chain out of the band encircling her lovely neck. It hurt to see she was already red and bruising where I had jerked her. “I can’t leave my friend.”
She stared into my eyes, deeply horrified and momentarily lost. She turned and stared off into the distance, across the open plain we’d just traveled as prisoners, now beckoning us both to freedom. Slowly she turned back to me, her expression having fallen to one of deep sadness. Then she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms tightly—lovingly—around me.
“I can’t leave you,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Ever.”
I began to argue, intending to force her, but by then we'd been discovered, the tyrannosaur apparently having eaten its fill and moved on. Several Angara grabbed us roughly and shoved us back in line where we would once again be chained to the others.
No Nova and I were thrown roughly to the ground and told to stay there as the remainder of the slave chain was brought back down along the path to re-link with us. The two men at the other end were thrown to the turf on our right, Milton and the older woman shoved down beside us on our left. Then the Angara hammered recklessly on the chains and collars to open links, fasten, and pound them closed again. As we lie there, grimacing against the rough hands and disgusting breath of our captors while they pounded on our necks furiously, and thoughtlessly, brutally fastening us back together again with the rest into a single line, Nova reached out to take my hand, and held it tightly.
I saw a tear in her eyes, and felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and shame that I will never forget.
Their work done, the panther men stood, argued amongst themselves about how angry the Grigori would be at the loss of slaves, and whose fault it was for not seeing the tyrannosaur in time, then moved away to check the rest of their captives, and deal with any additional damage.
Nova and I lie on our backs, breathing heavily, the weight of what had just happened hitting us both extremely hard. We'd nearly died, survived, saved one another, nearly died again, then been given a gift—a golden opportunity to take back our freedom. But now we were—once again, possibly forever more—slaves.
Suddenly she rolled over on top of me, staring deeply into my eyes, studying me with a fearful intensity—as if she expected me to vanish, terrified that I’d never really been there, at all. Without waiting for invitation she kissed me, fierce and hot. Lust and longing, joy and fear, hope and love and concern all pulsed powerfully through her and into me. She pulled her mouth off mine, and began to move her hips and furry bottom back and forth against my already swelling member.
I saw that we were being watched with interest, though not by Milton, whose face was hidden in his hands as he most likely prayed. Nova grasped my face in her hands and moved my eyes back to hers, the insistent message coming through powerfully: don’t remove them from her again.
Her breathing deepened as she stared at me—into me—and I felt her opening grow slick, wet and hot against the underside of my shaft. With a slight shift of her hips she maneuvered my tip so it fit neatly against her moist channel, and with a sudden move, I was filling her tightness, and she was moaning, I was moaning, we were moving, savoring, hands reaching around to caress needful flesh, her back, my arms, her soft, round ass, my hair, her hair. She fought to keep her eyes open, and her concentration on me, as I fought to keep mine on her.
“No babies,” she said, sensing my thoughts.
“No babies,” I answered.
“Grigori eat babies.”
For a moment my horror overcame my lust, but I shoved it—and all this world’s monstrosities—away, and down, deep into the recesses of my mind, burying my face against her neck, nibbling and licking her with the same, restrained intensity she used to claw my back. Her hips were moving furiously, now, pressing her sensitive spot hard against me, her moans growing louder, and then she came, her head flinging back, her cries sending birds into the sky, and I—too—had reached my end. I shoved her up and thrust into her madly, rolling her onto her back as I drove deeper and deeper into her, pushing myself right to the limit, then yanking myself free to release any potential babies into the grass and roots and twigs that formed our bed.
We were smiling at one another, holding each other tightly, kissing in quick bursts of love and passion, breathing deeply, happy, satisfied, lost in the moment, when suddenly my neck was being jerked upward with a wrenching pain that had me on my feet in seconds. The Angara who’d manhandled me off of Nova laughed and m
oved on, as my lover lifted herself gently and sadly to her feet, and just like that, we were done, moving once more in a single file line toward a life of captivity and slavery.
Without looking, she reached a hand back, I took it in mine, and held it gratefully.
I said nothing for a long time, walking with my head down, lost in a million different competing thoughts. I could easily understand the lack of concern for privacy in a world where death might literally eat and digest you before you even knew it was there, where slavery was the norm, and where the time for love and tenderness was impossibly limited. How did people manage to survive in this world? They were clearly not the dominant species. In truth they were really nothing more than a part of the food chain. I considered that I really hadn't seen any older people, Milton being an anomaly. I had to believe that life expectancy was so severely limited that death by old age was a rarity—or even an impossibility—and that fact defined the culture.
In a land with no time, there was no time to waste.
FOR A LONG WHILE the excitement of the dinosaur attack kept us all awake; but the tiresome monotony of the long march across that perpetually sun baked plain brought out the agonies of long-denied sleep. On and on we stumbled beneath that hateful, constant, scorching star. If anyone fell they were jabbed with the business end of a spear until they either caught up, or died from the ‘incentive’. It had its intended effect. It became rarer and rarer that anyone ever stumbled.
The people ahead of us strode proudly, and tall; a noble collection of men and women despite their situation, lean and tan with perfect physiques. There wasn’t a face among them that could be called unattractive. The men were all heavily bearded, lean, and muscular; the women lithe, strong and graceful, with great masses of raven hair tied loosely in tails, or piled carelessly up on their heads. Even as exhausted as they were, all of them seemed regal and proud, with a confidence born of survival in the toughest of circumstances. They wore no clothing, no jewelry, mostly because they had been stripped of everything valuable, just as we had. A few still wore strapped sandals, but nothing more.
In spite of their situation, they remained happy, and upbeat, which surprised me.
Angara were—as I’ve said—panther-like, though thinner and more human in build. Their hands were clawed, but more human than animal, their legs back turned like the cat they had descended from. For clothing they wore a simple loincloth of white, their feet minimally protected by the same basic, crude, rope sandals some of their captives wore, and their arms and necks were wrapped in layers and layers of chains and bulky medallions of varying colors and metals—predominantly silver.
They talked amongst themselves as they marched or rode along on either side of us, but in a language slightly different than the one we used. When they addressed us it was as though they were speaking down, using smaller words and oversimplified sentences. Their foreheads may have appeared to slope lower than ours, but they were obviously no less intelligent.
How far they marched us I have no idea, nor had Milton, or Nova. All I know is that it exhausted us, none of us had the energy for anything other than sleep during rest breaks, and I had begun to wonder if our journey would ever end.
* * *
HAJAH THE WILY
* * *
OUR GUARDS WOKE US ROUGHLY from our most recent sleep, and we were all surprised to find that we felt considerably better. I’m not sure how long we slept—I’m not sure how long anything is in Pangea—but mine and Milton’s beards were beginning to look more and more like the locals. Nova laughingly played with my ever-developing face-fuzz, one thing led quickly to another, and before long Milton was again turning away to pray.
Afterward, as Nova and I lie as contended as any two chained slaves can, side-by-side on the flattened grasses, an Angara came by and gave us food; strips of dried fish and a few pieces of fruit. It wasn’t much, but it helped. Then they detoured us down to a river where we were all commanded to bathe quickly, and drink our fill. Apparently offended by the smell many of us were giving off, most of us still covered in blood from the dinosaur attack, they let us enjoy the cooling waters for quite a while. I watched Nova lecherously as she leaned over in front of me to bathe, bending down to wash the caked red, dried dirt and tree sap from her chest and arms. I marveled at her beauty, her indescribable sexiness, and found myself hardening again.
“Milton,” I whispered, “Now might be a good time to pray.”
He rolled his eyes, and turned away. I don’t know if he actually prayed, or not, but it didn’t matter. I slid up behind the woman I was falling in love with, aimed myself carefully, and entered her from behind. She squealed rather loudly, then laughed when every eye turned toward us. Most of them just shook their heads, and I could almost hear them thinking, ‘not those two again.’
We moved together easily, almost musically for a few moments, my river soaked hands gliding easily across her wet, smooth, brown skin with sensual ease, her hips rolling in rhythm with mine. I slid my hands up along the curves of her rounded belly, her sloping ribs, her soft, pliant breasts and erect nipples, massaging deeply with heat and pressure. I was just about to pull myself free and climax when my neck was jerked by an Angara with the worst possible timing.
I fell backward into the water, and arose quickly to panther man laughter. Gripping the chain I glared at the Angara still pulling his end taut.
“I’m getting a little tired of that,” I said, angrily.
His only response was to chuckle, darkly, then jerk harder, pulling me face first into the river. Leaping free of the gently flowing waters, I heard the Angara, and a captive further up the chain from Nova, both laughing hysterically.
“Hajah!” said another man, next in line to the laughing captive, a large, hairy gentleman I hadn’t yet bothered to speak to.
He seemed to be warning the other man off, but it didn’t have any effect. The asshole just kept on.
As I slowly stood, water streaming over my naked skin, something about it all made me furious to the point of blindness, I set myself, gripped the links dangling from my neck, and pulled with all my might.
The surprised Angara was immediately yanked off balance, and though he let go of the chain, he still stumbled forward, landing in the river near my feet—just as I had—face-first. And that’s when I went a little nuts. Instead of letting my moment of revenge end there, I dropped on all fours and held the Angara under the surface, pressing his face into the sand. He struggled and fought, the waters roiling and seething around me, until his movements slowed, his effort weakened, and he began to let go of his life. At that point I realized that whatever this world had made me, whatever my actions with Jessica's boyfriend, I was not a conscious murderer.
I lifted the panther man up by the shoulders, and held him above the rippling waters until he finally, urgently, sucked air back into his lungs. Then I grabbed him by some of the many dangling chains around his neck and dragged him back to shore, tossing his limp body onto the rocky sand.
Leaving him where he lie, I walked over to ‘Hajah’ and stood staring into his unctuous, faux-charming face. He had one of those smiles that appeared bright and sincere, but from underneath peered a hint of loathsome contempt for you and everything you cared for. He’d stopped laughing, finally, and I saw his muscles tensing to escape if I made any sudden moves.
Without a word, I walked past him toward the hairy man who had tried to control him, and opened my hand in what I’d learned was the Pangean gesture of friendly greeting.
“I’m Brandon Mack,” I said.
“Bruk, the Hairy,” he said, returning my gesture, with a smile. “You’re not from around here.”
“No. I’m not from around anywhere.”
“Only the bravest man alive, or a complete idiot picks a fight with people who have him chained and can kill him in his sleep.”
“I’m not all that brave,” I said, smiling, and watched him slowly roll into one of the most joyous laughs I’ve ever se
en.
“I’m not sure I believe you.” He said, then gestured to the other man, the one who had enjoyed my face-plant into the river just a little too much. “This is Hajah, the Wily. We’re from the same tribe. But we are not friends.”
I laughed, looked at Hajah, and didn’t offer him the same gesture I’d made to Bruk. The panther man I’d nearly drowned suddenly stood, grabbed a spear, and charged my way. He stood at my toes, his face only inches from mine, his tiny, dark eyes boring into mine. I didn’t move, didn’t flinch. I simply returned his gaze, unblinking eye to unblinking eye.
“We’re both slaves,” I said, not knowing exactly why, and his expression changed very slightly, “which makes us more alike than you are to your masters. And that’s why I let you live.”
He said nothing, but after a few more seconds of silent staring, he backed away a pace or two, then turned and walked toward the front of the line without looking back.
“You’ve shamed him,” Bruk said. “The others will make fun of him, and he will one day repay your… ‘kindness’ in ‘letting’ him live.”
“I guess I’d better be ready, then.”
“A man can build a fortress, and still die.”
“Is that a local saying?” I asked, and he only smiled. “Upbeat. Positive. I’ll have to remember it.”
The chains tightened, and as one, we all began to move again along the trail.
MILTON WAS FAR FROM ATHLETIC. I’d teased him once for wanting to take my car to go the five blocks downtown for pizza—and he was paying for it now, though he held up much better than I would have expected. He couldn’t talk much due to heavy breathing, but since we’d begun our march he’d become fit enough to stay with us easily, and that was something.
The country began to change at last. We finally left the level plain and threaded our way up through mighty mountains of virgin granite. The tropical abundance of the lowlands was quickly replaced by hardier shrubs and bushes, as well as sparser, coarser grasses; but even here the effects of the constant heat, frequent, short cloudbursts, and unceasing light were obvious in the immensity of the trees, the constant greenery, and the explosion of flowers and blossoms.
The Hollow World: (Pangea, Book 1) Page 9