by Sam Herrera
I looked around the treehouse-like hut, held up by a network of branches, with a sense of wonder. It was like being back in the days of Robinson Crusoe. The floor was earth, the beds were hammocks pinned from wall-to-wall and the ovens here were metal, rounded, leaf-topped pots on campfires. I liked the roof especially. It was all palm fronds cunningly woven together in a triangle for the main body and an overhang on the face of the building. Chloe and I were invited, through gestures, to sit and share some of the boiled monkey and chunta. I blushed as I saw several of the women, mothers and otherwise, come in. They wore red face-paint around the eyes and black wavy lines all along their limbs. Otherwise they were as naked as the men.
“Sheesh, doesn’t anyone wear clothes around here?” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth.
“No, I don’t think so,” she shrugged. “Have you felt how hot it is?” Of course I had. I was surprised to see some of the kids were carrying parrots: scrawny, gray little fuzz balls. How they fed their pets was even weirder. I watched, fascinated, as a small boy of about four or five chewed up his leftover meal and let the chick he carried insert its beak in between his lips, feeding off what was in his mouth just as it would its natural mother. I took a bowlful of this porridge-like stuff, the same color as the fruit, from the cook and smiled my thanks. Chloe was tucking in gratefully but I wasn’t so sure. I took a fingerfull, as there were no utensils, and chewed thoughtfully. It was like booze. I remembered taking a small sip from Father’s liquor cabernet when I was seven. It was just like that. Chloe indicated the hammocks and pointed to herself and me. The tribal elder pointed out two vacant ones in the far corner. Needing no further urging, Chloe took one and shut her eyes, swaying gently from side to side.
“This is the life, huh?” she smiled, seeing me climb in next to her. “Did you enjoy the meal?”
“Uh, yeah. It was a little…boozy though.”
“It’s alcoholic, but the cook’s spittle takes care of that, dilutes it.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Yeah, she spits into it now and then so no one gets drunk.”
“Are you kidding me?” I recoiled, disgusted.
“No. Considerate of her, huh?”
“Grrrross!” I recoiled. “Don’t you get that these people are dangerous?”
“I’m dangerous as well and right now I’m trying to sleep, okay?”
“Okay,” I sighed. I looked through the open door of the hut at the sunset and listened to the caw, caw, caw of parrots in the distance. I also watched the pet parrot preening itself before bedtime. It cocked its head on one side, seeing me watching it, and gave a low cawing.
“Goodnight, birdie.” I smiled.
*
The next day, Chloe and I learned to hunt as they did. The poison, curare, was taken from tree vines. It was scraped off, wrapped in a leafy sieve, much like the grease-paper wraps Mom and I used to make to trickle icing onto a cake, which was then crushed, held over a pot and mixed with water to drain out the poison itself. It took a long time and I soon grew bored. Unlike Chloe. She watched with rapt attention as they sharpened small pieces of palm wood to make the darts, with knives, sharp stones – whatever came to hand. When the poison had cooled into a sticky paste it was used to tip these darts, which were left by the fire to dry, ready for action.
“Wanna come? I wanna see how they do this,” she asked me as the hunters selected their darts, loaded their pipes and began walking out of the hut door.
“Okay,” I frowned, very surprised. I avoided looking at their bare, tattooed asses and penises as we joined them. Chloe was dressed in a bra and thermal boxers while I wore my old, sweaty shirt, sticking to my back. One of the hunters looked up, puzzled, as she took a blowpipe for herself. The two looked at each other for a while, her eyes challenging him, until, with a shrug, he looked away. She followed him out of the village with me slowly trailing behind. We walked for hours through the thick forest and watched our leader raise his pipe to his lips, seeing a distant shape among the branches. Blowing out both cheeks, he fired. The thing, whatever it was, was hit dead-on. It fell through the leaves and hit the ground. Another monkey of some sort I saw, as one of them picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. Chloe stood beside him and raised her stolen pipe to her lips. She fired and was just as accurate as he was. The tribesmen actually cheered as her kill fell to the forest floor. She grinned and took a curtsy.
*
Back at the village, she was given the honors of the tribe. One of the men sat beside her, holding what looked like cockleshells or something, and gave her the full war paint: red triangles around the eyes, black squiggly lines along her arms and the whole of her lower back painted a deep purple. She took off her shirt for that, not caring that her breasts were bared and seeming to enjoying herself. I was reminded of a kid getting her face painted at a funfair. Seeing her sitting with them, learning the simple phrases they used, I felt left out. I left them to it.
*
Chloe scared the hell out of me when she popped out of nowhere with her new facemask.
“Boo,” she grinned.
“Now look what you’ve done,” I scowled as Jaguar started crying. He was the chief’s two-year-old son and my constant shadow. My white skin was a fascination for him. The other kids in the crèche, his father and mother – in fact many of the tribe had never seen an albino before. I bounced him up and down on my knees to calm him. He was really cute: olive-skinned and dark-eyed, just like his parents, with a flat nose, full lips, elfin ears and the tribal tattoos all over his short, stubby arms and legs.
“Someday I’m gonna get me one of those headdresses,” Chloe remarked. I followed her gaze to see Jaguar’s father come towards us, wearing elaborate headgear consisting of feathers of many sorts. The crest was of long, gray plumage. The top of the hat was made of small, red feathers over a red band low on his forehead, just above his eyes. I didn’t get how he wasn’t sweating under that huge thing, how all these people weren’t sweating in this heat. I guessed that was why they went naked. Chloe and I didn’t; we wore underwear, T-shirts and bras as a compromise. But it still bothered me. Chloe seemed to find that funny.
“I think one of the hunters, Red Streak, has the hots for you; he gets a boner every time he sees ya.”
“Shut up,” I blushed.
*
It was a relief, at the end of the day, to slough off the dirty rags and wash ourselves in the stream.
“You were right: this is the life,” I grinned as I backstroked through the water. The two of us often came here to be alone, to just relax and paddle.
“I love this, these small moments when I can just cool off,” she grinned, her face the only visible part of her in the murky water.
“You’re always on the move, huh?”
“Always,” she nodded. I watched her as we got out and dried ourselves. Her scars covered her; her mauled face was just the tip of the iceberg. I saw claw marks, bruises, knife wounds, burns, everything.
“Who hurt you so badly?”
“Many people in many places,” she shrugged, putting her shirt back on.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I am jealous, though, of you and your family.”
“But you can have all these adventures, see all these things I never will,” I reminded her as I waded out and reached for my pants.
“You can see them in the Winter,” she reminded me, “and, anyway, I have long grown sick of adventures. Do you want to go home?”
“Yeah, sure but—”
“Then let’s call them.”
“With what?” I squinted.
“My cell phone.”
I froze, staring at the slim Nokia she was waving in front of my face.
“How long have you had that?”
“Oh, ages,” she grinned.
“You’re gonna die.” I chased her all t
he way to the village, her laughter pissing me right off.
SARAH
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I must be mad. So must he, come to that. The door opened and there he stood with a welcoming, and rather nice, smile. Nice shirt too. Kyle Thayer stood back to let me in. He’s so tall. I felt, at five nine, like a midget or a child.
“Can I take your coat?”
“Sure,” I smiled, shedding it and giving it to him. He hung it up and we walked into the living room. It was rather small and homely. And it was clean-ish. I liked the color of the sofa: a rich, dark red, the leather cool to the touch. I sat while Kyle fetched drinks from the kitchen. This is nuts, I told myself yet again. I was scared, and excited, and nervous, and disbelieving, and… everything. He came back in with two glasses of the amber fluid. As he handed one over, I admired his hard, muscular arm. His thin, black, collared shirt clung to him like a second skin and his hair, blond like mine but with a darker, more honeyed tone, gleamed under the lights. I blushed at my own thoughts. Instead of taking a seat himself, Kyle reached out to me. I took a huge gulp of my beer, put it down and, taking his hand, stood. Whoa! He picked me up by my hips, nearly hitting my head on the ceiling and, just like that, kissed me soundly.. He was clean-shaven and, for such a tall, fearsome-looking man, his lips were incredibly soft and yummy. I pulled back to melt away to nothing in the emerald flames shooting from Kyle’s eyes. Fuck it. I dove in to return the kisses, my hands in his longish, blond hair, and, when we were both completely out of breath, he set me down and began removing my clothes.
KYLE
Ho-ly shit! She was stunning. Every curve and contour perfectly proportioned to her lean body. She looked at the pile of clothes around her feet and smiled up at me. Radiant. Perfectly relaxed. Perfect, period.
“You’re beautiful.” The words just came out of me of their own accord. She fell into my arms, all softness and warmth. I scooped her up and flung her onto the sofa. She giggled, a childish peal of laughter, at the sight of my obvious excitement.
“My, my, my,” she murmured, as I stripped, making it even more obvious. I gorged myself on the sight of milk-white skin against the faded, red leather background. An idea suddenly occurred to me and, promising her I’d be back in a second, I went into the kitchen and took out a little something from the fridge.
“Hey. Sorry,” I said as I stood over her. She sat up, her back against the sofa, and looked curiously at the small bottle in my hand.
“Oh,” she grinned wickedly, raising her dark brows, as I showed her. It was squeezy honey. Putting it down, I beckoned her. She stood, the evening light turning her skin rosy, and lay on her back on the floor. She tilted her head back, spread her arms and stuck out her tongue as I knelt beside her and tipped the bottle downwards. Nothing happened. Oh, right. I unscrewed the lid and peeled off the plastic. I poured it into my hands and trickled and lathered it all over her. I began by taking one shapely calf in my hand and pouring a line down her gleaming shin, then giving equal attention to the other. Then I poured it into her open mouth, on her tongue and lips. Leaning forward, she licked it off my hands and forearms, turning my physical condition into a torture. I poured it onto her forehead, trickling it down between, and onto, her perfect breasts and shoulders. I made circles around both her nipples and then halved them down the middle. Then made an amber line down her stomach, pooling it in her belly button, then lower to where we both wanted it.
SARAH
Oh. My. God! What is happening? How is this happening? My mind was blown. I couldn’t think. I felt his tongue all over me, licking away the honey from my lips, nipples and between my clenched thighs.
“Please, Kyle. Please!” I gasped. He mercifully entered. He was huge, but my body made room for him. We moved in tandem. I matched him, thrust for thrust, until finally we climaxed together, the room echoing with our cries. We collapsed against each other, exhausted and covered in sweat. I’d needed this. I hadn’t realized how much I had needed this. I’d been alone, and miserable, and so consumed with worry about Mara, for so long. Was that his reason as well? I kissed him, long and deep. Of course it was. I’d seen it. I kissed him again. We fell asleep in each other’s arms.
KYLE
I watched her sleep, breathing softly and quietly, her hair splayed out in all directions and her face the picture of peace and calm. Thinking of all the knife fights and other shit I’d had to break up most evenings, I felt envious. But then, I thought to myself, smirking, she would sleep peacefully: I’d worked her until she’d dropped.
“Morning,” I smiled, seeing her eyes slowly open. They were very clear and bright. And I noticed again they were a shade of violet I’d never encountered before. I wondered if you could signal ships with them.
“Umm, morning. What?” she asked, seeing my smile.
“Nothin’,’ just you have beautiful eyes.”
“So do you.” She kissed me on the lips, soft and deep. “What’s your name?” I asked. I still didn’t know. Mara had never given me a name, just Auntie. She grinned as she slowly shook her head.
“Sarah.”
“Nice to meet you,” I smirked, offering a hand. Amid sniggers we shook. “I’m Kyle.”
“I know.” She slowly got up, yawning and stretching. I lightly stroked her back, running a finger down the dips and bumps of her spine as she reached for her bra and panties. She shivered. “Stop it,” she grinned over her shoulder.
“Sorry, sweetie, I can’t stop.” She dressed and bent over to give me one last kiss.
“Hmm, nice.”
“Wanna get breakfast?”
“Um, sure.”
We walked, arm-in-arm, to a small coffee shop around the corner. It was very small, but it was quick, efficient, tasty and family-owned. And it was one of my favorite places. I often went there when the job had become even more shit than ever and I just needed to be alone, far from the madding crowd. We sat awkwardly across from each other, neither of us quite knowing what to say. I still marveled that I’d managed to nail her at all. She lowered her eyes to her phone to answer a text, which gave me the chance to gaze upon her. God, she was beautiful. She put it away, visibly deflated.
“No news?”
“No news.”
“Shit,” I muttered, my jaw tight.
“You’re as worried as we are?”
“She’s my friend, one of the very few I have. Who’s we, by the way? According to her, dear Daddy doesn’t give a shit about her?”
SARAH
He was right. I was the one who’d called the police station until they’d told me to get lost. I was the one always putting up leaflets and sleeping by the phone. What had my brother done? Nothing. I grew angrier and angrier just thinking about it.
“Have I offended you?” he asked, seeing my eyes flash and my jaw clench.
“No,” I assured him. “It’s just,” she sighed, “you’re right, he doesn’t.”
“Dick.”
I nodded. “Well, guess what: she called.” My mouth fell open.
“What?”
“Oh, yeah,” he grinned. “She called this morning, while you were asleep, wanting to tell me something.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” I demanded, pissed yet high-fiving Jesus.
“Here you go.” He slid his phone across the table. “The number is listed as unknown.”I quickly called.
“Hello,” a strange female voice answered.
“Hello,” I frowned. “Who is this?”
“You called. Who are you?” I glanced over at Kyle. He shrugged.
“This is Sarah Hale.”
“Oh, as in Mara Hale?”
“Yes,” I frowned, “is she there?”
“Yeah, hold on, I’ll put you through.”
“Hey, Auntie.”
“Stop calling me that,” I said, grinning at hearing her voice.
“Are you alright? Who was that who just answered?”
“Chloe? Don’t worry, she’s fine.”
“Just tell us where to meet you.”
“Um, I’m actually in Borneo.”
“You’re where?!” I squinted.“Have you—?”
“Pass me to Kyle.” Blinking and mouthing, “Borneo?!” I passed the phone. He turned away from me and muttered something that sounded like “solo flight”. I frowned. What’s going on? Borneo?
“Okay, okay, okay. Whatever,” he laughed, looking as confused as I felt. “Yeah, I’ll come get ya. Bye. Weird,” he remarked, hanging up. “I’m gonna go get her.”
“I’ll come with you,” I said, reaching for my handbag.
“No, I’ll go. It’s no trouble.” I hesitated.
“Kyle, what is this? I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I really. I’ll get her to call you once she’s on her way over, alright?” He gave me one peck on the lips and practically ran out the door. I watched through the window, confused, as he crossed the road to his apartment block. Going home? That will get Mara back?
MARA
“Where is he?” I scowled, pacing up and down for the umpteenth time.
“For God’s sake,” Chloe scowled from her seat at the foot of a tree, “sit down.”
“I wanna get out of this dump.”
“This dump,” she protested indignantly, “is one the wonders of nature. I would challenge you to find anywhere more beautiful.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I’m going to sleep. Don’t bother me.”I’m so sorry, your Highness. I wondered, not for the first time, how she could be so cool about everything. I let her rest for a while and then began pacing again.
“I asked him to meet us in the village. If we’re not there—”
“When we see the shimmering, I’ll send up a flare.”
“A flare?”
“Yes, a flare.”