Of course, Cal could be completely off about that, given that Rufus was an alien dog. Though for that, he did act quite a lot like Cal would expect an Earth dog to.
Cal saw the trough was nearly empty. “You girls drink, I’ll get some more from the stream.”
“Using your brilliant contraption?” Mirabelle asked, coming over to the trough.
“Of course.”
Once they’d all slaked their thirst, and Cal had refilled Rufus’s trough, they sat down for a quiet dinner.
“Tomorrow we’ll get more supplies. Gather up foodstores to keep here. We also need to make more baskets.” He glanced at the work they’d done so far, a section of netting about twenty feet square.
Even with the wide spacing, it had taken them a lot longer to make than he’d expected it to. A lot of that was having to weave the new cordage into rope, then attach it to the old.
“How are the extra bows coming?” he asked Mirabelle.
She nodded. “Good. I would have been able to finish today, but…” She nodded at the netting.
“Work on that tomorrow. We’re almost done with the net anyway, and I want more weapons. We need more arrows as well.”
“As long as I can sleep first.” She sleepily took a bite of one of the few remaining prickly green fruits.
Cal nodded and took a bite of his tuber. They hadn’t bothered to cook them tonight: they were too hungry. “We also need to practice with the bow and arrow. We won’t get as good as you are, but it’s better than nothing.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve shot one,” Imogen agreed.
Mirabelle yawned. “Who’s taking first watch?”
They all looked at each other.
They’d worked hard and were all exhausted. First the monster attack early this morning, then Imogen disappearing and having to go on a track-and-rescue mission to bring her back, then finally spending the rest of the day building up their defenses. Or rather, building what they needed to build up their defenses.
Not to mention Eliza exhausting herself running away from the kidnapping aliens, and the hike back here for Cal and Mirabelle.
“Too bad Rufus can’t be our guard dog,” Cal mused, looking at the sleeping animal.
“He didn’t even wake up right away when we got attacked,” Imogen observed.
Cal sighed. “I’ll do it. Imogen needs sleep. She didn’t get enough since we got attacked.”
“I can do it,” Mirabelle said, her eyes drooping. “I took a nap earlier.”
Cal chuckled. “It’s fine. I’ll wake one of you up in a few hours.”
None of them protested this. They all finished their meal and the three women went to their beds of moss, falling asleep at once.
41
About an hour later Rufus woke up, urinated off the side of the hilltop, rolled around in the dirt, then came to join Cal as he stood looking over the rear gate, peering out into the dark forest, wondering what other trials and tribulations were out there waiting for them.
At least the natives hadn’t followed them back.
He reached down and absently scratched behind one of Rufus’s large ears.
The dog’s mouth did that thing it sometimes did, where it looked like he was grinning even wider than usual.
Cal scanned the forest, looking for any signs of movement.
He was still amazed at how good his vision was on this planet.
He wasn’t sure if it was something about the light, or what, but he could see much better than he’d expect to in this low light. Everything was sharp and clear.
At least in his vision. His mind was growing hazy from a lack of sleep.
But he had a while to go yet before he woke up one of the girls. He wanted to let them sleep. They needed it.
He patrolled with Rufus, going from the front gate to the back, to standing on the sides of the hilltop and looking out, again lamenting a lack of fencing. But it didn’t make much sense to build a fence if they were just going to put a palisade up.
He thought back to almost falling off the cliff when the monsters attacked this morning and reconsidered. If he or one of the girls—or even Rufus—were to fall off, he’d certainly think fencing would have been worthwhile.
He looked at their netting.
Maybe they could string some along the edge as a temporary measure.
Of course, first priority was getting one up above them to prevent the flying monsters from divebombing them, and to slow the other ones getting in.
But after that they could stretch a couple between the two sides of the incomplete palisade they had up, forming a rope guardrail on the edges. It would cut into their usable space on the hilltop due to its curve, but at least it would be something.
He spent the next hour walking the perimeter and running through all the things they needed to get done: Tie ropes around the palisade to make what they did have of it up stronger, gather more food, make more netting, practice with the bow and arrow. Make more bows and arrows. Finish making armor from the alien carapaces.
Cal wondered if the aliens had guts Mirabelle could use as a bowstring.
They also needed to make way more baskets. Or backpacks. Things to carry other things in.
And there was still the tree house which he’d promised Eliza. Though he had a feeling that would come much later. It would be nice not to sleep on the ground.
Finally he grew tired enough that he was more of a danger than a lookout and decided to wake one of the girls.
He looked at them all sleeping, deciding which to wake.
Not Imogen, she needed her sleep after having her shift interrupted and then being kidnapped.
Mirabelle was the one who had gotten the most sleep recently, Eliza’s sleep having been interrupted after her first shift when the monsters attacked, so he went over and knelt beside her.
She was on her stomach, moss wadded up under her head, her loincloth hiked up to reveal the smooth curve of her bottom and her shapely thighs.
He trailed his finger up the bare, smooth skin, traced his finger up her spine to her neck, stroked her hair as he leaned down and kissed her cheek, pressed his lips against her ear. “Mirabelle,” he whispered softly, and despite his tiredness felt himself growing hard.
He brushed the hair away from her face, his fingers scraping against one of her little horns, kissed her again. “Wake up beautiful.”
She licked her lips, swallowed, and fluttered open her eyes, rolling over onto her back and looking up at him sleepily.
Upon seeing him she smiled, then let her eyes drift shut.
“It’s time for your shift.”
She let out a quiet little groan. It was adorable.
“Come on,” he gently urged, taking her hands and leaning back to pull her up.
She groaned a little louder, this time opening her eyes. “Do I have to?”
“I’m about to pass out.”
She stretched and yawned, and Cal’s eyes were drawn to her heavy breasts under the thin fabric top she wore. He wanted to reach out and touch them, free them from their covering.
Desire warred with sleep in his brain, but ultimately he was too tired to act on the impulse.
She nodded when she was done yawning. “All right.” She blinked several times and wiped her eyes, looking around, spotting Rufus sitting a few feet away, staring at them. “At least I’ve got him for company.”
She got up and Cal took her place immediately falling back onto their double-wide bed of moss.
“Haven’t even slept yet and you’re already like that?” he heard her say with a grin in her voice.
He popped open one eye to look at her. “What?” he asked groggily.
She pointed and he looked down to see his erection poking up in the air past his loincloth.
“Morning wood and it’s not even morning.”
He let his eyes shut. “What can I say? You have that effect on me.”
He heard her move, felt her plant a kiss on his forehead, then
on his lips. “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
He grinned a closed-mouth grin, but was too tired to make a response.
He felt her move away, and then he was pulled down from the waking world and into sleep.
42
When he woke again it was daytime and hot, and it was to the sounds of the others talking.
He sat up and saw that they were already at work, Imogen and Eliza on the net, while Mirabelle worked on making more arrows.
“How long did you let me sleep?” he asked.
They all paused their work to look at him.
“As long as you needed,” Mirabelle said.
“Good morning Sleeping Beauty,” Eliza said. “Feeling rested?”
He nodded and stood, adjusting his loincloth so nothing poked out. At this point they’d all seen everything there was to see of each other, but that was no reason to flaunt it.
Well, maybe to Mirabelle.
He went over to the trough and splashed some water on his face, then grabbed his “toothbrush”. It wasn’t actually a toothbrush, but something Mirabelle had made from a soft wood by peeling the bark off the end, slicing into it with flint, then grinding it against a rock until something like bristles formed. It was soft for wood, but not exactly soft, and had made Cal’s gums bleed the first time he’d used it.
They’d toughened up now, and he actually looked forward to the twice-daily habit.
He brushed for a few minutes, standing on the edge of the hilltop and looking out over the vast forest.
This done he rinsed, spit it out over the edge, then took a long, refreshing gulp of water before heading over to what he saw was a now-full basket of fruit.
He grabbed a banana-apple. “You guys went out and got more fruit?”
“Don’t worry,” Mirabelle said, “we were safe.”
“I’m not worried. I know you know what you’re doing.” He looked at the net Imogen and Eliza were working on. “Made good progress while I was out. How long did you let me sleep?”
“Few hours extra,” Imogen answered. She glanced at him, giving him a once-over. “Your wounds are healing really fast.”
He looked down at himself. “Yeah, guess they are.”
He shoved the rest of the banana-apple in his mouth and joined them in weaving the cords together into a net.
It took several hours, but they finally got the net large enough that they could stretch it from the rear gate to the tree.
Cal stood in the tree along with Imogen while the other two threw up the ends so they could fasten them to the branches.
This done, they secured the other ends to the palisade, then pulled it taut.
This still left a gap between the taller logs of the palisade and the shorter gate. It was only about two feet, but that would be enough for one of those monsters to squeeze through. They would have to make another, smaller net that they could attach to the larger one and secure on the inside of the gate, for when they were inside their base.
They stood under the net, looking up at their handiwork.
At its lowest point it was about eight feet off the ground, which was the height of the palisade, and stretched back and up to the tree and a maximum height of maybe twelve feet.
“Good,” Cal said. “This’ll make it harder for them to attack us while still allowing us to shoot at them.
“Speaking of, Mirabelle, I was thinking, can you use the aliens’ guts to make a bowstring? Would that be better than cordage?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Do they even have intestines?”
They all looked to Eliza.
“Really?” she asked. “I’m the only one who’s looked? Yes, they do. In fact, their insides are disturbingly similar to what you’d find in a human or animal, just with a lot of hemolymph everywhere.”
“Okay teacher,” Mirabelle said slowly, her look of disgust not abated, “thanks for that.”
“Will that work?” Cal asked.
Mirabelle shrugged. “I have no idea. When would I have ever made a bow from something’s intestines?”
“Do you want to try?”
Her face scrunched up even more. “Not really.”
He chuckled. “Okay. It was just a suggestion.”
“A truly gross one.”
“Now that you bring it up,” Eliza said, “I could probably use that instead of cordage to attach the armor with.”
“Good.” Cal nodded.
“Do you have to?” Mirabelle asked.
“It will save us cordage,” Cal said. “We might as well not let it go to waste. I wonder how long we have before it starts to rot.”
Mirabelle looked vaguely ill. “Can we like, not test that out?”
43
Cal wanted to get himself and Imogen up to speed on using a bow and arrow, so he had Mirabelle teach her while he and Eliza worked on the smaller net for the gap above the rear gate.
Mirabelle had carved some target circles on the tree and while Imogen hit the tree itself on her first try, it was far from a bullseye.
But after a few tries she was soon hitting at least near the bullseye every time.
“Well,” Mirabelle said, “I think you’re ready. You weren’t kidding about being good. You were downplaying how good you were, actually.”
Imogen shrugged noncommittally.
Mirabelle looked at Cal and smiled. “Looks like it’s your turn.”
“Looks like it.”
He and Imogen switched places while Mirabelle instructed him on how to shoot.
It was rather comical to him. She stood behind him and put her arms on his, like any number of scenes in romantic comedies, though usually with the roles reversed.
Cal had only been in one romantic comedy—during a break between the Leviathan movies. He’d only agreed because the studio, his agent, and Bradley all thought it would boost his star power among a key demographic.
But in it, there had been a scene much like this where he was teaching a girl how to sculpt clay.
He was pretty sure the scene was cribbed from Ghost, but that didn’t stop people from liking it. There were numerous gifs of the scene floating around with #relationshipgoals or any number of breathless expressions of longing and desire for a relationship like theirs.
But now Mirabelle, who was a good foot shorter than Cal, was behind him, barely able to wrap her arms around to reach the bow and still see, trying to guide him on how to shoot.
Finally she gave up, breaking down in laughter as she moved away. “Just go ahead and shoot. I’ll correct you if you do anything wrong.”
Cal’s first shot missed entirely and the arrow sailed past the tree.
It would have gone off the edge had it not been for the palisade which it thunked solidly into.
Mirabelle whistled. “Wow,” she said appreciatively. She walked over to get it. “You have bad aim, but you’re incredibly strong.”
“I like the way you say that.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“I thought you liked cocky?”
Her eyes flicked down to his crotch. When she caught herself and looked up again, she couldn’t stop the faint blush from coming into her cheeks.
He smiled at her.
“Ass,” she muttered as she yanked on the arrow. “Stupid… thing.” Her hand slipped off and she cursed, shaking it out.
“You okay?”
She glared at him.
He chuckled, walked up to the palisade, wrapped one hand around the arrow, and pulled.
At first it wouldn’t come and Mirabelle grinned, but then he pulled harder and it came free.
She rolled her eyes. “Showoff.” She grabbed the arrow from him. “Come on, we’ve got a lot of work to do. You’re a terrible shot.”
44
It wasn’t something that came naturally to him, but after a while he was able to at least hit the tree and land his shots in the outer ring of the target most of the time.
Getting an idea, he altered his aim for the ve
ry edge of the tree and in so doing managed to land a bullseye.
“Yes!” he exclaimed in joy, grinning confidently at Mirabelle.
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, let’s see you do it again.”
“No problem.” This would be easy now that he’d figured it out.
It was just like adjusting your aim sideways to hit the toilet the morning after sex.
Still grinning, he nocked another arrow, drew back, and took aim once more at the side of the tree, and let loose.
The arrow soared through the air and… right past the tree, just missing the palisade, and flew off into the forest below.
“Oh,” he said, lowering the bow. “Damn. Thought I’d got it figured out.”
“Thanks Buster. Each of those takes me like a half-hour to make. So you owe me a half-hour of your time.”
Cal grinned at her, looked up and down her gorgeous, mostly exposed body. “I’m happy to give you a half-hour anytime you like.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Focus.”
He did, and she drilled him on shooting like a hardcore drill instructor.
At one point Rufus woke up from one of his countless naps, watching the arrows fly into the tree with great interest.
Eventually one of the countless arrows Cal sent at the tree bounced off and Rufus dashed for it grabbing it with manic glee before he could be stopped.
Eliza chased him around the hilltop, scolding him and telling him to drop it, while he seemed to be having the time of his life.
When she finally did wrest it from him, it wasn’t quite broken in half.
“Guess he owes you a half-hour too,” Cal said to Mirabelle.
She punched his arm. “Show’s over. Get back to practicing. You need it.”
45
A little while later, as Cal’s hands and fingers began to ache, the skin on his wrist practically rubbed raw from where the bowstring had repeatedly scraped over it, Mirabelle finally relented. “I guess we’re done for today.”
“Really?” he asked, and felt like slapping himself. You took a gift horse, not questioned it.
Survivor- World of Monsters 2 Page 12
