3
- Aurora -
The morning isn't a good time to be in the jungle. Things are waking up, and some are just as cranky as I am if I don't get my coffee. Tepid water drips on me from the trees that have collected dew through the humid night.
But of course, there's no such thing as a good time to be in a jurassic jungle anyway.
There are noises from the bushes. There are rustlings from the trees. There are screams and screeches from all around. Something is sniffing around in the underbrush, something big is passing in the woods just fifty feet in front of me, and something has made some deep tracks that show three-toed feet with claws. I can hear a buzzing sound like from a wasp the size of a hairdryer somewhere nearby.
All things that will kill me if they can. Even the butterflies can be dangerous.
I walk with the bow and arrow ready, half drawn back. I can loose a shot in just about one second. And then every two seconds until my quiver is empty.
Walking in the jungle is now very slightly less deadly than before. Firstly, because I have some experience now. Secondly, because our own cavemen have taught us a lot about the wildlife. I know which sounds to fear and which to ignore. I know which creatures will attack aggressively and which will prefer to escape.
And I know that the real danger is from that which you don't see until it's practically on top of you. I fear the not-dactyls and the not-raptors. They're both quick and they both have Earth girls listed pretty high on their dream menus.
Dactyls can be cowardly, and they don't like being hit with arrows. And I have only seen raptors pretty rarely in this part of the jungle. So what I really should fear is cavemen. But I'm walking quietly, and I have just as good a chance to spot them first as they have.
Or even smell them.
I walk fast, but carefully, stopping once a minute to listen for the more lethal noises. Once the ground shakes as a huge dino passes just a few feet away from me, but the foliage is so dense I can't even see it.
The day heats up as the sun rises further in the sky. But I've acclimatized pretty well, and I've made sure that my skirt is short, and my shirt has no sleeves. Dinosaur skin garments aren't that good at conducting moisture away from the skin, it turns out. But they're tough.
I hear a noise I don't like and crouch down. That sounded like a series of hard clicks, like a hundred huge drumsticks being banged together in quick succession. No dinosaur I know sounds like that.
I draw the arrow further back and look around at the trees and plants.
Nothing's moving and everything is quiet again.
Just as I'm going to straighten back up, the clicking returns. Much closer now. But it's hard to determine where it comes from.
I raise the bow, wishing I had something to aim at.
Then the bushes split right in front of me and I get the biggest, juiciest target I could ever wish for. Except nobody would wish for this under any circumstance.
It's a beetle. It has a bulging shell that glints in a metallic green. It has a myriad of short legs like a millipede. It has tentacles and antennae all around. It has four black, scissor-like jaw things in front like an immense earwig.
Oh, and it's the size of an Escalade.
Huge insects that tower over you aren't that common, but I've seen one or two before. This one is new to me, though. And it's what nightmares are made of.
A cold sweat breaks out on my back and I feel chilly. Those jaw things could snip me in half. They're at least six feet long.
Then the beetle closes and opens them very fast, creating the clicking noises I heard. The blades move so fast I can only see them as a grey blur.
It doesn't look as if the beetle has any eyes. But that's the only good thing I can say about it.
It stands still, moving its tentacles in the air. They're like long, waving fishing rods, and the tips are not too far from me.
There's another series of clicks. I get the feeling the beetle knows there's someone in front of it.
I look for a good spot to shoot it, if it comes to that. The whole creature is covered in a green shell that looks hard and thick.
Then I see the mouth. Right behind the jaw scissors, there's a round hole with concentric rows of mashing teeth like the Sarlacc from Star Wars. Except these rings of teeth are rotating against each other.
I'm frozen here, aiming the arrow beside that terrible mouth.
God, I wish I was home with a good book and a glass of chianti.
A wavy motion goes through the beetle's legs, and it moves towards me. Now the jaw scissors are just clicking all the time, constantly moving in a way that tells me that:
1. it knows I'm here and
2. it wants to eat me.
I quickly move backwards and to the side, wanting to give that terror room to pass by.
But it turns to follow. Yes, it definitely knows I'm here. And it's coming for me.
Okay. This is the jungle. It's kill or be killed.
I aim for what I hope is a soft part and shoot the arrow at full force. Even with the iron tip that Ar'ox has made for me, it bounces off the beetle's shell with a metallic ping. It doesn't even leave a scratch.
The beetle stops, and I back off further. Going backwards in the jungle is extremely ill-advised. You could crawl right into the mouth of something. But here and now, my urge to get the hell away from this murderbeetle totally overshadows any common sense.
The second arrow drops to the ground and leaves only a tiny notch in the beetle's armor.
That was the best I could do.
Fuck this.
I bounce to my feet and run. This is also fantastically stupid. Every creature within two miles now know there's a curvy chick barging crazily through the woods.
I turn my head to see if the beetle is following. It's not. And the clicking noises are fading behind me.
I run for two more minutes for good measure.
Then I stop and support my hands on my knees and just breathe.
“Fuck, I have to get a better bow.”
It's been on my mind for some time. My arrows are fine. But the bow isn't powerful enough. Its power is limited by my strength in drawing it back. This one, I can just about draw it to about two thirds of the arrow's length. It's not enough.
Well, at least it's powerful enough to get me into the trouble I'm in right now.
The realization hits me and I snap upright.
This is the place! There's the hill Caroline and I were on. There's the bush.
And here ... I look down at my feet.
And here is the puddle of blood, right by my sandal.
It's not really a puddle, because it has dried up and taken on a brownish color. It's very visible against the bright green grass around it, illuminated by the sun.
I get down on my knees and feel around with my hands, but there's no sign of my arrow. It must still be stuck to him. Or in him. It looks like he must have lost a lot of blood.
And there's a trail of blood drops leading away in the jungle. Just one or two dried drops every couple of feet.
I peer in among the trees, but he's nowhere to be seen. Either he was able to walk away on his own, or he's carried by his friends.
So this hasn't really changed anything. He could still be out there in the deadly jungle, slowly bleeding to death with nobody to help him. If so, I'm his only hope.
“Fuck.”
God, I really want to go home to the cave. Maybe hunt a not-sheep for Sophia's baby on the way. Be safe in the cave. Enjoy some of the stew Caroline makes, chat about Earth.
What would Xena do?
Well, she wouldn't have shot an innocent man in the first place. But if she did, she would make damn sure to help him in any way she could. She would do the right thing, and the cost to herself wouldn't matter to her.
I look up at the sun. Still many hours to go before it gets dark.
“Fuck,” I repeat with feeling, because there's nothing else to say and I really mean it.
Then I trundle off further into the woods, following the trail of blood drops.
- - -
After about an hour I stop and lean my butt against a convenient tree. I have to think.
Okay. He made it this far without dying, so he can't be that badly injured. The blood drops are smaller and further apart. So either he's bleeding out, or he's getting better. I think it's the latter. It's not like he's bled gallons. Maybe a quart? But blood always looks like more than it really is.
I'm no tracker, but I've lived in this jungle for months now and I've gained some experience. From what I can tell, he's alone. There's no band of raiders, no tribe. It's just him. And he's not as badly wounded as I feared.
I can probably turn around here and go back with a conscience that can be much less guilty than before. I've done everything anyone could reasonably expect. I don't think he's dying, and the blood trail isn't getting fresher, so he must have walked here at least as fast as me, several hours ago.
I take a sip of water from the pouch and chomp on a slice of tough, but tasty dinosaur meat, smoked and salty.
I lean my head back on the tree's rough bark. I don't have to continue. But now I kind of want to. Because his blood trail is leading me straight to Bune. The terrain is sloping upwards, and I can see the peak of the mountain slash spaceship dead ahead.
Now, why is a caveman going to Bune? That's taboo for them, off limits, forbidden. They really don't like going there.
It makes me curious. What does this guy know about Bune that I don't? Something useful for getting off this planet, perhaps?
Also, I've been tracking him for a good while now. He's filled my mind, and I haven't been able to help create an image of him. He's big, of course. Striped and muscular. His eyes are a bright, luminous blue. I know that. I think his hair is blond and long. His voice is powerful and deep. His touch is soft and gentle, in contrast with his power. And under his loincloth ...
“Calm down there, girl,” I say under my breath. “Let's not get silly ideas that will get us killed.”
Still, I'd like to meet him. Or at least see him from a distance. Individual cavemen have actually been pretty good for us so far. Jax'zan and Ar'ox and Dar'ax have done a lot to help us. What if I can recruit another one for our tribe?
I take a bite out of the salen fruit I've brought. I'd originally wanted to feed the injured caveman with it, but now I don't think he needs it. The fresh flavor immediately makes me feel better and more optimistic. Didn't I want to go to Bune and check it out more? Well, this is my chance. Another two hours to the top, still five or six hours to get home before dark. And I just need three or so.
It'll be fine.
- - -
It takes me much longer than two hours to get to the plateau on the top of Bune. But I'm determined now. Worst comes to worst, I can always spend the night inside the old corridors of the spaceship. It won't be pleasant, but it'll be safer than walking through the jungle at night.
It's the first time I'm here alone, and I make sure to keep a steady lookout up in the air. Dactyls like to come here.
The 'tuna can', the old alien cargo container that the evil Plood aliens dumped us here in, is overgrown and hard to spot. But here and there it still glints in the sun. It's useless now, because the dactyls hacked it to pieces when we were hiding inside it.
The sight of it kind of kills my good mood. We came here in that. How will we ever get home?
I've lost track of the caveman. I don't think he was bleeding anymore when he came here.
But his trail was as straight as a ruler towards Bune, so I'm pretty sure he's been here. I'll try to find some evidence of what he did.
I locate the entrance into the old, crashed spaceship. It's just a hole with an obviously artificial corridor beyond it. Last time we were here, we triggered something that tried to suck all the air out of the corridors further in. This time, I'll be careful.
I take the first steps onto the floor of the corridor. It has a soft quality to it, and my steps make no sound. It quickly gets dark further inside, but the walls give off a soft glow that reminds me of the luminous numbers on my alarm clock back home when I'd turn off the light in my bedroom.
The first door is open, and I sneak through it and place a rock on the floor so it can't close.
Now I'm inside the spaceship for real.
And it creeps me out. This is a fucking alien spaceship, as huge as a mountain. I'm here alone for the first time, and the hairs are standing up on the back of my neck. We've only explored a tiny fraction of it. There just might be aliens here. And not nice cavemen aliens, but maybe something like those vicious Plood. Or aliens from any of the sci-fi movies I've seen. Or something even worse.
There's a smell in here. It's not bad or unpleasant, just a little musty and alien. It's hard to place. Spaceship smell, I suppose. It adds to the creepiness.
The door I snuck through is still open. I half expected it to slam shut and break the rock, but apart from the light in the walls, everything seems dead in here. As in, dead quiet. I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears, but that's all. There are no other sounds, so different from the jungle where I've lived for nine months now. There's always a noise somewhere out there. Here, nothing.
I keep going and reach the furthest we got the last time. About here the spaceship started to suck the air out, so we had to scramble to escape. This time, nothing happens. I stand still for a minute to just listen, ready to sprint out.
There was a room here back then, with all kinds of equipment in it. Now I can't find it.
The way further into the ship is obvious – there's a wide, open door a little further ahead. Beyond it there's still light, and the corridor curves away to the left. I really don't want to go there. It feels like there could be nasty aliens around any corner.
But I'm convinced that this spaceship is our only chance to get home to Earth. If I don't explore it now, then it means I'm giving up hope.
I take a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”