Caveman Alien’s Trick

by Calista Skye

  3

  - Phoebe -

  “Back on Earth, I was never a morning person,” Ashlynn muses and pours a boling infusion into my primitive mug. We call it not-tea because it’s hot and made from leaves, but it sure isn’t tea. “But now I’m up with the sunrise every damn day.”

  “It must be something in the water,” I mutter and flatten the large skin on the rock in front of me. “I’m the same way.”

  She takes a sip from her own mug. “I never thought I’d say this, but I am definitely more in tune with nature now. I read somewhere that back on Earth, before electrical light became common, people would sleep in two phases. Like, once from right after sunset to about midnight. And then again from about one at night until sunrise. And sure enough, that’s exactly what I’m doing. It just feels natural.”

  “Uh-huh. Don’t you end up tossing and turning if you wake up at one in the morning? I know I do. I remember where I am, and bam. Minor panic attack.”

  She puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Sometimes. But not as much now as before. I mean, in a way, we dragon girls had such a nightmarish experience with Troga that nothing will ever be as bad as that again. So even this village life seems like luxury. I mean, drinking not-tea at sunrise? From a mug? Totally decadent.”

  “It is better than being kept captive by a dragon,” I agree. “So. Plans for today?”

  “Totally. We’ll sketch the house we’ll build for the rest of the dragon girls. It’ll be three times the size of ours.” She slaps the side of the brick house she, Mia, and I built from scratch. “We’re the tribe’s designated house builders now.”

  I squint into the rising sun, feeling the heat on my face. “Builders? Feels like it should be something grander. I mean, we spent weeks figuring out how to do it right. How about we call ourselves designated civil engineers?”

  Ashlynn scratches her chin. “That has a better ring to it. Sure. We’re probably the most advanced constructors on this planet. We deserve it. Okay, so come over when you’re done waking up.”

  She sashays away, making for the other end of the clearing we’ve made. It’s easily the size of a football field. Probably bigger, even.

  I sigh and bend back over my map. Because of course, I’m not just making a star map at night. In the daytime, I’ve taken it upon myself to draw a map of the land around us, too. The cave is in the middle. Then there’s the village around it, there’s old Bune and the new location, there’s the trench Troga burned into the ground and where we were trapped for months, there’s Aurora’s lake, there’s Caroline’s tall tree and most of the other tribes. Still, a lot of it is blank. Heidi and Ar’ox used to ride not-dactyls up in the air, so they have given a lot of feedback about the terrain and the features. But it’s hard for them to see that much from above – it’s all just treetops. And they haven’t flown for a long time. Apparently, their dactyl had to be allowed to live in freedom, the way it was meant to. I’m fine with that. Having that thing land less than thirty feet away from me almost made me weep from fear, even if I could see that Heidi was riding it.

  I take the twig I use to sketch, dip it into the little pot of charcoal mixed with a little bit of water, and carefully make a small mark on the map where I think Tamara’s gold-obsessed tribe is located. I’ll ask her and her husband to confirm it—

  “So busy in the morning.” The voice is right in my ear.

  “What the fuck!” I jerk and drop the little twig, turning to look behind me.

  “Oh, did I startle you?”

  It’s a caveman. With purple stripes. The clown from last night.

  For a moment I just glare at him, hearing my heart thump fast in my chest and the unpleasant sensation of stress hormones rising. “You did.”

  He shrugs. “Your back was to the jungle. Never a good idea. Something could come out of there and snatch you.”

  “And instead I got you. Aren’t I lucky.” Hey, he didn’t want me in a snappish mood? Then he shouldn’t startle me at sunrise.

  “Perhaps.” He has an enigmatic smile on his face. Or maybe it’s a regular smile. Who can tell with his alien face.

  I keep staring, just to let him know I’m not appeased. Not that he’s tried to appease me. He meets my gaze without flinching, which disappoints me a little. This is my angriest glare.

  His eyes are purple, too. So freaking weird. For a caveman, he’s not bad looking. The proportions of his body are less massive and a little more human. He doesn’t have a sword in his belt, just a knife that would easily pass for a cavalry saber on Earth. Over his shoulder he carries a huge sack that looks pretty empty.

  He casually looks around, then focuses on the house right beside me as if it’s the first building he’s ever seen.

  Seconds pass.

  I pick the twig up from the ground and resume my old position, making sure my back is squarely to the jungle. “Was there anything you wanted, or should I just call for help?”

  “Do you need help?”

  “You tell me. A strange man came out of the jungle and startled me. Do I need help to get him to leave?” Huh. Anger seems to make my cavemanese flow really well.

  He looks around innocently. “Which man is this? Sounds like a real pest. I’ll make him go away.”

  I place an unnecessary dot on the map. He has a glint in his eye the size of Bune. I want to say ‘are you for real’, but in cavemanese it translates to ‘are you a real man’, and that just doesn’t sound right. So I’ll have to be more coarse. “I mean you, of course.”

  “Of course. I’ll help. But I can’t see this strange man you’re talking about. I’ll be on the lookout for him, though. What is it that you’re doing?” He squats down, making the fabric of his pants creak, and points at the map.

  “I’m making a map.” I don’t even know if they have that word in cavemanese. Certainly, the cavemen in our tribe have shown no interest in the map.

  “A mepp. It is a very fine thing. Are you a mepp-maker?”

  “I am a mepp-maker,” I admit. “I enjoy making mepps. Or maps, as we aliens call them.”

  “Maps,” the man repeats very carefully. “I see. Very similar to our mepps.”

  I look at him from the corner of my eye. “Is that really a word in your language?”

  “It is. A mepp. Yes.”

  “So, what does it mean?”

  “Oh, it can mean many things,” he says airily. “But mostly it is the name of decorated skins much like that.” He nods towards the map.

  I frown. “So you know what this is?”

  “Certainly. I am looking right at it.” He’s either very confused or a pretty slick dude.

  The slick ones were never my type. The confused ones even less.

  “So what is it?”

  He waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s much what it looks like. Your house is very alien-looking.”

  I’m fine with his abrupt changing of the subject. “I guess it is. It’s built from what we call bricks. You have to first make the bricks, then build the house from them. They’re made from clay.”

  He takes in the house behind me. “Breeks. I’m learning so much today.”

  I peer up at him. He’s just as tall as any other caveman, but like I noticed last night, he’s not quite as bulky as most of them. He’s more on the lean side, while still looking impossibly strong. He has an energy to him that’s not as serene as the other guys. Yet he doesn’t seem nervous.

  “Why don’t you have a sword like every other man?”

  He shrugs. “Swords are for those who need them. I have never needed one.”

  I bend over the map and pretend to draw on it. “You have never needed a sword in the jungle? What do you do if you meet a Big that wants to eat you?”

  “Then I convince it that I don’t taste good. It’s not very difficult. I mean, look at me.”

  I look up again and study him more closely, now that he insists. Those stripes are a vivid purple and disappear down into his black pants in a way
that’s just on the right side of obscene. Like they’re pointing out the bulge right there, something that seems to me entirely unnecessary. It’s hard to miss. And certainly that part looks good enough to eat.

  His purple eyes are making it look as if he’s wearing fancy contact lenses. But there’s a light in them that no lenses can produce. And there’s a mischievous glint that’s considerably strengthened by the hint of an alien smirk around his mouth.

  He’s carrying a large sack made from sturdy dinosaur skins, but it looks empty.

  I realize I’ve been staring at him for too long. I look back down at the map. “I see what you mean.”

  “Right? Even you would never think of eating me, although you’re more dangerous than any Big. And more angry.”

  “I can be pretty fierce,” I agree, not wanting him to think I’m harmless. “But I’m normally more mellow than this. I’m never nice to deal with in the morning. And you did startle me. Sorry, I’ve been impolite. My name is Phoebe. Won’t you sit down?”

  “Everyone in the jungle are fierce, Fibi. One way or the other.” He sits down on the rock beside me, and his scent wafts over to me. Exotic spice, and something aquatic that reminds me of the ocean. The total impression is fresh and alien.

  “Fee-bee,” I say slowly and clearly. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Rax’tar.”

  For a moment, my confused and still not entirely awake brain thinks it’s a joke. But surely nobody on Xren has ever heard of rockstars. “Ah. Rackstar. Nice.”

  “Rax-tar,” he says the same way I said ’Fee-bee’, helping me hear the alien glottal stop in the middle of the name.

  “Rax’tar,” I repeat. “Of which tribe?”

  “The best tribe, Phoebe the alien woman. I will soon be leaving.”

  “Oh. Will you not stay and train to fight the dragons?”

  He scratches his chin. “I have to admit that I have never seen a dragon. And I wouldn’t know how to deal with one. Like you pointed out, I don’t have a sword. But I have something else.” He lifts the sack.

  It still looks empty to me. “What?”

  “Something that just might change everything. Want to see?”

  I eye the sack with some suspicion. “Is it something that’s alive?”

  He opens the sack then leans forward and holds it out as if he wants me to look inside. “Not yet. Take a look.”

  He’s so eager, just beaming. And I have been pretty rude to him. At least nothing appears to be moving in there. I should do him the courtesy of looking at whatever that treasure is he wants me to see.

  I stretch my neck and lean forward. The sack is lined with thick not-sheep fur. “I can’t see anything.”

  He shakes the bag more open. “At the bottom.”

  I lean forward even more, lifting my butt from the rock. “So dark in there— aiieeeeeee!”

  In one swift movement, he puts one large hand under my hip and tips me forwards. I half roll, half dive into the sack, stretching my arms out in a reflex to break my fall.

  I land softly inside the sack, and in the same moment I feel Rax’tar stand up and shake me deeper into the sack so I’m doubled up and held very firmly in its soft fur.

  Rax’tar peers in through the opening, then grins and closes it. And then I feel him put the sack over his shoulder and start to walk.

  Only then does panic strike me. I kick and twist and scream and yell. “Hey! Heyyyy! Let me out! Heeeelp! Someone!”

  It’s hard to move inside here, and with the thick fur I’m sure my screaming is being muffled pretty effectively.

  Shit. He must have planned this.

  I kick and punch the inside of the fur with all my might, then start throwing my weight around in here as much as I can. But my freedom of movement is badly impeded.

  I keep screaming and yelling. If he gets into the jungle before anyone hears me, then he will succeed in carrying me away. And we were so close to the trees...

  My throat is raw from the yelling and the panic, and I suddenly realize that I might well suffocate in here.

  I launch a last desparate bout of kicking and punching and screaming, and one or two of my kicks connect with something firm on the outside of the sack. I hope it’s Rax’tar’s back.

  The rhythm of his walking changes, and I’m shaken around worse than before. Yep, he’s running.

  That has to mean that we’re in the jungle now and he has no need to look innocent.

  I gasp for air while bitter tears of terror burn my eyes. “Stop,” I try. “Take me back!”

  But it’s like yelling into a ball of cotton. I’m not even sure if he can hear me.

  And I have to face it: I’ve been abducted.

  4

  - Rax’tar -

  One of the alien women sees me before I can get in among the trees. I smile and call out a happy “goodbye for now!” She gives me a reserved wave and goes about her business, not realizing that the large sack I’m carrying contains her friend.

  Phoebe is kicking hard in there, and I can just about hear her thin voice protesting furiously. But the sack is made from thick bobont skin and lined with two layers of fine fur that the men of this tribe gave me last night. I told them I wanted to catch a young crut, and they even spent hours helping me make the sack for that purpose. They are extremely hospitable here. Especially to warriors they hope will help them against the dragons.

  As soon as I can no longer be seen from the alien village, I start to run. Not because I’m in a hurry, but because the excitement of having an actual, live woman in my possession gives me an energy that needs an outlet. And not just any woman, but the most alluring one.

  The grin on my face turns into a happy laugh as I run. This is a catch that will astound the others.

  My mind is in turmoil. A woman! With dimples on the back of her knees! With long hair and dark eyes and a chest so soft and heavy that my crotch swells dangerously when I think about it. And further down…

  The jungle spins around me, and I slow down to a walk again. I’ve never before tried to run with my manhood as hard as now, and it’s quite difficult.

  I swing the sack off my shoulder and carefully open it.

  “Let me out of here, you damned outcast shit!” Phoebe’s face is red and very angry. And yet her feet are small and too soft to do any damage when she tries to kick upwards from the sack.

  I take the dagger out of my belt and punch a couple of holes in the upper part of the sack so she can get air to breathe. While I can’t be sure, the way her chest moved while we talked seemed to indicate that the aliens do need to breathe, same as everyone else.

  I put the sack back over my shoulder and keep walking.

  Outcast? Is that what she thinks I am? She’s not far wrong, I suppose. I was never cast out, as far as I know. I just left the confines of the tribe when it became too suffocating.

  Phoebe has a compact weight to her, but I feel like I can carry her forever. Or at least until this evening, when I’ll be at a safe distance from her tribe.

  And then…

  The breath catches in my throat again when I think back to the lesson in female anatomy that old Shaman Tug’rax gave us boys back at my old tribe.

  I tremble with anticipation. The possibilities!

  5

  - Phoebe -

  Rax’tan finally opens the sack and lets me have air. I glare up at him, but it’s hard to look intimidating when you’re staring up at someone from the bottom of a sack, doubled up with your feet closer to him than your face.

  He makes air holes in the thick fabric, making me feel even more captive than before, like a cricket in a jar. Then he keeps walking. I can’t hear much inside this freaking thing, which must be very heavily insulated. It gets hot in here, too.

  Fine. So I’m not the first girl from the village to be abducted by a caveman. Though the other ones weren’t actually abducted so much as saved from something dangerous. I am being straight-up kidnapped from our own village. Put in
a sack and everything.

  For the other girls, it ended pretty well. If you call getting married to one of these alien freaks a happy ending. Married and knocked up. Okay, their guys are pretty great by any standard. They’re all the best men from their respective tribes. They’re calm and competent and cheerful and insanely good lovers, if the rumors are to be believed.

  This one? This Rax’tan dude? He has a different vibe to him. I wonder now if that excess energy I sensed in him wasn’t some kind of craziness. And I honestly have no interest in knowing how good a lover he might be.

  Well, at least I breathe easier now. But I have no idea which direction he’s taking me. I remember enough of the map to be able to make a guess at where we’re heading, if I could only see out. In many directions, especially towards the north and the three stars I use as a Polaris, there are many of the tribes we already know. Not all of them are good. And none of them have purple stripes.

  We’ve also explored a lot of the east, towards where the sun rises in the morning. That’s where Aurora’s lake is. To the west, there are many blank spots on the map, even pretty close to the village. And further out, there’s nothing except jungle. Real ‘here be dragons’ territory, like they used to write on maps in the old days when they didn’t know what the hell they were doing.

  Of course, here on Xren there might actually be dragons. Like Troga. Except adults, much larger and more lethal. Like that Berezar who Tamara killed.

  I’ve gotten into the rhythm now, swinging back and forth with each step Rax’tar takes.

  I curl up and time my kicks for when the sack is the closest to his back. I do hit something, but with the thick padding I think I’m just wasting my time.

  Fuck. This isn’t just scary and terrible, it’s also pretty damn degrading. Just carried away like a piece of meat…

  Why the fuck have those insane cavemen from our own tribe allowed total strangers like this guy into our village? And why have they not been keeping an eye on them?