by Lizzy Bequin
Before that idea has a chance to sink in, a loud plop in the middle of the river startles me out of my thoughts.
I freeze, eyes scanning the rippling surface, palm resting on the warm handle of my little zapper which is still tucked into my bikini.
A moment later, something breaks the surface, leaping high in the air. It looks like a cross between a fish and a squid with pink, iridescent scales that wink in the sun. It lands back in the water with a loud splash. Another one jumps, and another.
So there are things living in that river. These squidfish don’t look too dangerous. They might even be edible, but I think I’ll hold out for a piece of alien fruit if I can find some.
I continue following the river. Not far downstream, I come upon a set of rapids where the water crashes and foams over a series of large oblong stones like a giant natural stairway.
There are even more of the pink squidfish here. They are jumping and flopping like crazy, leaping up the little waterfalls just like salmon swimming upstream. I stand transfixed by the display.
It’s amazing to think that this is the first time human eyes have ever witnessed anything like this.
But a rustling in the jungle across the river gets my attention.
Something big is descending the far slope, swaying the trees as it comes down.
As quickly and quietly as possible, I lower myself into a little inlet of still, knee-deep water and crouch behind a big chunk of stone to hide. Peeking my eyes over the edge of the stone, I watch.
When I see what emerges from the forest, I clap one hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp.
The monster that slinks out of the shade is enormous, as tall as a Kodiak bear at its withers and just as powerfully built. Its body, however, is twice as long, and instead of four legs, it has eight aligned in two rows on both sides of its sleek, elongated body. Its movements are fluid and stealthy, like a prowling cat, and its orange and black coloration is almost like a tiger, only instead of soft fur, its coat is made of hard, pointy bristles like a porcupine.
I shudder and stifle a whimper of fear. I’ve never seen such a terrifying creature in all my life. It’s like something out of a nightmare.
Perhaps the worst part is its head, which seems oversized in proportion to its body. It resembles a gigantic bat, with a pair of large ears that turn independently, scanning for sound, and an ugly, leaf-shaped nose that twitches as it searches for a scent. Thick, leathery lips pull back to reveal a Cheshire Cat grin of glistening white fangs. A pair of beady eyes, almost comically small, glint in the sun.
My heart is thudding in my chest as I watch the giant perch atop a crag on the far bank of the rapids. It watches the jumping squidfish for a moment, then it opens its powerful jaws, flashing the shockingly pink interior of its mouth. It emits a high-pitched keening sound that turns my blood into sleet.
Its ears swivel like a pair of satellite dishes that home in on one particular leaping squidfish. It seems to be hunting by echolocation. But what happens next is almost too quick to process.
A long tongue like a frog’s or a chameleon’s, but a hundred times bigger, whips out and snags the squidfish mid-air before yanking it back into the spiny predator’s mouth which snaps shut like a steel trap.
After two or three chews, the beast’s throat works up and down as it swallows its prey.
Right away, its ears go back to scanning the flopping squidfish that are arcing their way up the rapids. It opens its insanely big mouth and emits that awful sound again. This time, when the tongue pops out, I’m ready for it, and I catch a glimpse of how it works.
It’s actually not like a frog’s tongue at all. A frog’s tongue works by sticking to bugs with a natural adhesive. The mechanism of this creature’s tongue, however, is quite different. The bulbous tip of the tongue sports an extra pair of jaws lined with razor-sharp teeth that snap shut on the squidfish before pulling it back.
It has an extra mouth on its tongue.
And I thought nature on my home planet was scary.
For several minutes, the big spiny, eight-legged tiger-porcupine monster feeds. All I can do is keep still and watch it with a combination of awe and pure terror. I dare not try to move away for fear of attracting its attention.
As I watch the beast fishing, my eyes stray over the water spilling down the rapids.
That’s when I realize. Those stones in the rapids don’t just look like stairs.
They are stairs. A literal giant staircase.
I didn’t realize it at first, because the millennia of flowing water have worn and warped the stone into smoother, more natural looking shapes. But around the edges, where the flow is not so strong, the lines of the carved stones are too straight, too perfect, to be purely random.
The same goes for the stone that the giant creature is perched on top of. It looks like it was once the base of a massive stone column.
I’m hiding amid the ruins of an ancient civilization.
And whatever beings built these structures, they were much taller than humans. Based on the size of those stairs, I’d say they were at least three times as tall as us.
I notice that even the big stone I’m hiding behind shows the signs of ancient workmanship. Although it has been weathered over time, its surface still shows indications of an intricate, convoluted pattern. I trace my fingers lightly over the engraved lines, following them down to the still pool of water that I’m crouching in.
However, as I dip my hand beneath the surface, my fingers touch something that is not hard stone. It is soft and slightly furry like wet moss.
And it moves.
Instinctively, I pull back, and I watch in surprised disgust as the little thing climbs out of the water and crawls up the surface of the stone. It’s about the size of a large slug, and it moves in the same squishy manner, but its back is covered in black follicles.
Something moves over my skin. I squeal involuntarily as I realize another one of the hairy slugs is crawling over my foot underwater. One more has attached itself to my bare shin where the mud as been washed away.
Yet another squirms up my bent kneecap.
These aren’t slugs. They are leeches.
I spring to my feet, and hop out of the water, screaming and trying unsuccessfully to swipe the nasty little things off my skin.
I freeze.
That keening sound of the fishing predator has stopped. Struggling to keep myself completely still, I turn my head to where it is squatting atop the broken column.
Its massive jaw works distractedly as it chews and swallows its latest catch. Black, beady eyes are glaring at me where I stand. Enormous ears pivot toward me as the sound of my scream echoes away down the river.
“Good monster,” I whisper under my breath.
Trying not to panic, I remind myself that there is an entire river between me and the creature.
That changes in a matter of seconds.
Despite its enormous size, the beast is nimble and lightning quick. It finds a path across the rapids, leaping with fluid, arcing movements from one jutting stone to the next until it’s on the same side as me.
My next scream catches in my throat, and all that comes out is a frightened wheeze. I try to backpedal away, but my heel catches on a tangled root and I plop backwards on my butt. Something clatters on the wet stones beside me.
The zapper.
Had it bounced a few inches over, it would be swept away in the river.
Like an elongated, eight-legged cat, the monster hops atop the stone behind which I was hiding a moment before. Its mouth opens, and I see my death in that huge, pink maw.
The keening sounds starts, and this time I can actually feel it vibrating through my body, all the way into the marrow of my bones.
The monster’s ears focus in on me. I know what’s coming next.
Pure instinct moves my hands.
I snatch up the zapper, raise it, and squeeze the trigger. There isn’t even time to aim.
Besides, the mon
ster is too big to miss.
Outside in the bright sunshine, the lightning from the tiny pistol is barely visible, but the crackle of electricity is just as loud as when I zapped Rogar in the ship.
Something lands between my spraddled legs with a wet, heavy smack.
The tongue.
It must have been springing toward me right as I fired.
Now the bulbous, pink lump is lying in front of me, its weird jaws hanging open. The rest of the slimy appendage stretches back loosely to the predator’s open mouth.
The beast grunts with confusion, and jerks its head, trying to yank its lifeless tongue back into its mouth.
When that doesn’t work, the animal’s confusion starts to morph into anger. It lumbers toward me, a wet, gurgling growl coming from its open mouth. Its beady eyes are full of hate.
Apparently this little zap gun isn’t strong enough to take out the whole monster.
I kick my legs, frantically scrambling backward away from the advancing beast. I fire the gun again, and this time the bolt zaps the monster’s left shoulder.
Its leg buckles, and the spiny giant trips. Its bulky head hits the ground with a heavy thud.
But it’s only a temporary hindrance. This thing’s still got seven more working legs.
Aiming at its head, I squeeze the trigger again. This time all that comes out is a weak fizzle of sparks.
I try once more. Nothing.
Shit. I’m out of juice.
The creature snarls as it raises itself back up, tongue and front paw hanging limp. Its spines bristle aggressively.
I do the only thing my panicked brain can think of.
I throw the tiny gun straight at its face, and somehow I manage to strike it right in its left eye, making it squint and grunt with pain. I could try a hundred more times and not make that shot.
But I don’t have time to bask in my little victory. Yeah, I may have partially disabled this thing, but I’ve also pissed it off something awful, and I know that the effects of the zapper will wear off before long.
I clamber to my feet and start to run, leaping down the slope of stones and sand that form the bank of the rapids. Behind me the creature lets out a blood-curdling roar that echoes down the river.
When I reach the level ground at the bottom of the slope, I take off in a full sprint. I try to scream, but it’s impossible to get any sound out between my ragged, labored breaths. The only noise is the rush of the river and the wet slap of my bare feet against the silt of the riverbank.
I skid around a bend, nearly slipping and busting my ass in the process, but somehow I manage to stay upright. I run with all of my might, pumping my legs until the muscles of my thighs burn like acid and my lungs are so hot I could breathe fire.
There is no sound behind me.
I turn back to check for my pursuer, but there’s no sign of the spikey monstrosity.
But I know it’s back there, and it’s only a matter of time before it closes in.
Suddenly, there is a loud clap as my muddy body impacts something smooth and hard, sprawling me backward onto my butt again and knocking the air from my blazing lungs.
At first I think it must be one of those stone pillars. But I as I raise my eyes up to the massive form that is blocking out the sun and casting its big shadow over me, my heart flutters with astonishment.
“Rogar!” I wheeze, as my breath returns. “You’re alive!”
CHAPTER 11: ROGAR
The patter of tiny feet catches my attention, and I lift my gaze from the silty beach where I have been scanning for tracks. It takes me a few moments before I recognize the animal rushing toward me.
Her skin is caked in thick, black mud, but I can tell by the costume that it’s her.
It’s Clare. She’s alive.
My heart thumps with happiness and a wave of relief washes over me.
Earlier, when I finally came to, I wasn’t sure how long I had been unconscious. I was pretty battered, but thanks to my armor and scales, I didn’t sustain any serious injuries. It did, however, take me almost an hour to crawl my way out of the ship’s wreckage.
The only weapon that I was able to recover was my trusty power spear. The rest got damaged.
Lucky for me, the spear doubles as a walking stick. I need that, because my whole body is still sore from when the ship went over.
The girl—the bounty I mean—was nowhere to be seen. Part of me was relieved by that. If she had been in the ship when it fell over the cliff, she would most certainly have died. However, I was also afraid I would never find her again in all of this wilderness.
But now, somehow, she has managed to find me.
However, she’s not looking where she is going. Before I manage to shout a warning to her, she slams right into my torso and falls back onto the beach, her mud-caked body sprawled in my shadow.
Her eyes are bright circles amid the dark mud painted on her face.
“Rogar! You’re alive!” she says breathlessly.
Steadying my aching body with my spear, I lean down and grab hold of her slender arm in my much bigger fist and stand her back on her feet.
“So are you,” I grunt under my dented helmet. I scan her muddy body. “You look—“
Before I can finish, she cuts me off.
“Monster!” she gasps.
I shake my head.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” I chuckle. “You don’t look that bad. But how did you—“
Again, she interrupts, gesturing wildly behind her toward the bend in the riverbank where she just came from.
Angry huffing sounds and the scrambling of multiple feet clues me in on her meaning.
A moment later, an enormous beast charges into view. Its massive, spiny body moves with an almost serpentine fluidity as its legs rush over the ground.
Bright fangs tell me this creature must be a predator. At first, I think its gaping mouth is open as a kind of threat.
Then I see the long, pink tongue lolling out and dragging alongside it on the ground. One eye appears to be squeezed shut, as if in pain, and one of its front paws is flopping limply.
Something put a hurting on this monster. Did the girl do this?
I remember how she got the better of me on board the ship. I underestimated her abilities, and it seems that this predator did the same.
Still, the creature is out for blood, and with seven good legs, it is barreling toward us with frightening speed.
I level my pulse spear at its head and fire.
My aim is perfect. The blue bolt of energy strikes the charging creature right between its beady eyes, stopping its advance. A streak of dark skin appears along the creature’s cranium where my shot blasts away several of its orange spines.
But the beast doesn’t fall as it should. It seems that those hard spines acted as armor, absorbing the brunt of the blast.
The monster shakes its head and lets out a chilling roar. The sound is born half from pain, half from rage, and entirely from bloodlust.
Shit. I just shot that thing with the full force of my spear. By the time the weapon recharges for another attack, the beast will be on top of us.
“Rogar,” Clare whimpers fearfully beside me.
“Come on,” I growl. “Time to go.”
In one motion, I fling the strap of my spear over my shoulder and whisk the human female’s small body into my arms. Her tiny legs make her far too slow, and her delicate frame is too fragile.
It’s up to me to protect her.
The monster snarls and begins charging toward us again. Even with my speed and agility, there’s no way I can outrun this thing on land.
There’s only one option left.
The human screams as the giant predator pounces. Its spiny form draws a dreadful orange arc against the blue sky. I spring sideways, narrowly escaping its flashing white fangs and dark claws.
A loud splash, and Clare’s screams turn to muffled gurgles as we go under the surface of the river.
I can onl
y hope that monster isn’t a swimmer.
My helm automatically switches to underwater mode, the visor acting as a set of diving goggles to give me a clear view.
I hold the human close, protecting her against the river rocks as the deep current carries us swiftly along. I keep us under as long as I think the female will be able.
When we finally break the surface again, we are far downstream. I see the massive, orange form of the predator where we left it behind on the riverbank, its bulky head and large ears swiveling from side to side as it scans the water for us. Luckily, we are far enough away that the stupid creature doesn’t spot us.
“Rogar,” Clare gasps, squirming in my tight, protective grasp. “Look out!”
We’re heading straight into a stretch of rapids.
Before I can steer us away, the current pulls us into a broad chunk of stone. I turn my body so that my armored shoulders absorb the impact, shielding the fragile human.
“Oh God, we’re gonna die!” Clare shouts.
“Save your breath,” I tell her. “You’ll need it.”
I squeeze her tightly as we are thrown into a churning chaos of whitewater. The current sucks us under, then spits us back to the surface. We crest the high peak of a standing wave, and slide smoothly down the other side.
“Oh no! Look!” the Clare cries.
I know what she’s worried about before I even turn around. I can hear its deep, incessant roar over the splashing of the rapids.
We’re coming up on a waterfall. A big one.
I glance over my shoulder and see the line where the water drops off into empty space. Plumes of mist are drifting up from below, forming a faint rainbow.
The current is too strong here. It’s dragging us along too swiftly. There’s no time to reach the bank.
If I tried to hug the fragile human to my body as we go over the falls, I’m worried I would end up hurting her, so I let her out of my embrace but keep her small hand in mine.
“Hold on to me,” I shout over the din of the crashing water.
“Rogar!” she cries out as we go over the edge.
A rush of water envelops us as we plummet toward the pool below. I pray that it’s deep.
