Caveman Alien's Trap

by Calista Skye

I won’t say anything. Maybe these guys will walk right into it. Only Xark’on and I could find it now.

  “Xark’on forbade us from coming here again,” Roti’ax suddenly says, as if he knows what I’m thinking. “But we did. We didn’t want to anger him, so we stayed out of view. Just to see how far he’d come. The trap is of great importance to the entire tribe. We couldn’t leave all of it to just one man.”

  “He did all the work,” I say, trying to keep my voice from trembling. I should have known that the strange rustling sounds I heard sometimes was someone spying on us while we worked.

  “Yes, yes. He insisted that the sign had been given to him. Well, then he must do it all, we decided. That must be the Ancestors’ plan. And were we not right? He dug this hole with remarkable speed. Even for him.”

  Because of the shovel I showed him how to make.

  The men stop right at the edge of the trap.

  “Ah,” Roti’ax says. “That tree is perfectly placed. He really chose this spot extremely well.”

  They get out a rope and hang it from high up in the tree. The tree has branches almost all the way to the ground, and they will disguise the rope from the dragon. Only what hangs from it will be visible.

  “You can’t do this,” I try again, and now there are tears, too. “The dragon will burn me.”

  “She has burned so many of our tribesmen,” Roti’ax says, his eyes big and glassy with excitement. “You will be the last to be burned. And then the tribe gets the Treasure.”

  He unfolds the net he’s been carrying. “Put her in here. No, loosen her hands. We want her to be able to wave her arms. The monster must see that she’s alive.”

  They untie my hands, and one of them holds the net open. If I get in there, everything is over.

  I suddenly explode with kicks and writhing, flailing wildly with all my limbs and my head and everything. The panic gives me strength. And for a split second, nobody’s holding me.

  I duck under grabbing hands then sprint as fast as I can through the opening I spot. I narrowly avoid another arm then just run wildly, faster than I ever have.

  I know at the back of my mind that I have no chance. Their legs are long and powerful. They will catch me soon.

  I hear running feet behind me, but I don’t turn around. I’ll just run as fast as I can. It doesn’t matter where.

  Then, I’m over the ridge, and in front of me is Troga’s trench.

  Fuck these loser cavemen and their trap.

  I run right over the edge of the dragon’s glass trench. I immediately lose my footing on the slippery glass and slide on my butt down to the bottom. Then, I just keep sliding. My new dress feels like it has no friction at all against the glass, so I slide up the other side of the trench like a snowboarder in a halfpipe. And that side must be lower, because my speed carries me almost all the way up to the edge.

  In a flash, I realize that this is the only chance I’ll get. I throw my arms as high up as I can fling them, throwing my chest so hard against the glass, my teeth rattle. Both my hands are just able to catch the smooth edge of the trench. I can feel the rough surface of hard rock beyond with my fingertips.

  That’s all I have and all I’ll ever have. Nobody’s ever escaped the trench alive. If I let go now, I’m dead.

  Practicing with the throwing stars every day for weeks, at Xark’on’s insistence, has made my fingers strong. Very strong. And so are my arms after ten months on a Jurassic planet. I can do this.

  I mobilize all my strength in my shoulders and my back and my arms and my fingers. Then, I hoist myself up against the glass just to where I can throw one leg over the edge.

  My foot catches on the edge of the trench, and I painfully and slowly work the rest of my body up while all my muscles scream in protest.

  Then I’m up.

  I crawl fast away from the edge then collapse on the rocks, breathing hard.

  On the other side, the cavemen kidnappers are just staring in disbelief.

  “Fuck you,” I wheeze.

  But they’re thirty feet away. They can’t hear that.

  I get to my feet, still panting hard. I’m shot. But this has to be done.

  I breathe deeply a few times. Then I fill my lungs.

  “Fuuuck youuuuu!” I scream as loudly as I can. In English, of course. Cavemanese just won’t do here. I’m aware that I’m not really addressing the five confused caveman on the other side, but a different one, further away.

  I gradually catch my breath. I’m on the other side of the trench from the cavemen. They can’t get to me without risking their lives. If it was someone like Xark’on, I couldn’t have felt too safe. But these cowards? No chance.

  Full of contempt, I turn my back to those green-striped losers and walk into the jungle.

  - - -

  I walk fast, always being on guard like Xark’on was. I’m pretty satisfied about escaping from those kidnappers back there. The old Caroline wouldn’t have done any of those things. She would have let the hopelessness overwhelm her and just let things happen.

  Suicide was a constant shadow over my life back home during my depressions. Except it wasn’t a shadow. It was a bright opening, an emergency exit that I was sometimes tempted to take when the darkness got too dark. Twice, I was hospitalized after an attempt.

  But I just used all my willpower and all my physical strength to save my own life. Even now, even having been betrayed by the only man I’ve ever loved. And I know that I’ll never try to kill myself again. It would mean that those losers back there won.

  This planet is tough. It forces you to confront yourself. And it burns your issues out of you. It’s a tough cure that just might kill you. But if you make it, you’ll never struggle with the same things again.

  As I walk, the triumph fades, and the disappointment grows. There isn’t even any use in asking why. It’s too obvious. He thought I was sent by his gods to use for his trap. And he enjoyed himself a lot, fucking me every day after having worked for hours on building the machine of my execution.

  I shudder. Can he have been that evil? Is he insane? I mean, there has to be an element of psychopathy in anyone who could do that. Living with me like a happy couple while all the while quietly preparing to kill me in a way that would be pretty damn bad.

  His eyes when he held me. His nose in my hair. His shy little kisses. His gentle caresses at random times. Was it all an act?

  It must have been. Unless he had a seriously split personality. And I’m pretty sure he didn’t.

  I try to empty my head of thought as I walk along Troga’s trench, keeping a good distance from it. It shines like ghostly crystal in the light from the moon Yrf. I have a vague impression that it makes occasional tight turns through the terrain, but I have no idea where I am now or even in which direction I’m being led by the trench. I don’t even know where I’d want to go if I could choose.

  The cave, of course. But dammit, going home there and telling my story, which only ends with betrayal and failure… It wouldn’t be much fun. Sure, the girls would support me like they always do. Still, to talk about how I spent weeks with a man who was all the while plotting to kill me… It’s hard for anyone to know how to support me then. It’s a little too big for me to talk about yet.

  Of course, I have no idea if I can ever go back to the cave. There’s no chance I’m ever going down in that trench again, and as far as I know, it separates me from the cave now.

  So, I’m walking blindly through a jungle that’s full of huge dinosaurs, most of them very interested in tasting Earth chicks.

  Though I have a distinct impression that there are much fewer dinosaurs this close to the dragon’s trench. They probably have the sense to stay away from Troga. After all, she’s just as alien here as I am. And a lot more dangerous.

  I walk all night, letting the trench decide where. I sniffle a little once in a while, but the full weight of Xark’on’s betrayal hasn’t hit me yet. When it does, it’ll get bad. I know that much.

/>   The sun is rising, and I get the feeling I’ve walked here before. Very recently. Earlier tonight, in fact. Just a few hours ago.

  I’m walking in circles. The trench has made many turns, and I’ve been deep in thought.

  Ah. I must be in that star shape, the one I saw from the treehouse when the sun was the exact angle over the horizon to throw the shadows just so that the outline was visible for a few seconds. Yes, it makes sense that jumping over the trench right back at the cave would land me out on one of the thin points of the star. And now I’ve walked all around it many times, maybe.

  No, I decide after looking back from where I came. It’s only been once. It’s a big star. Because now, I’m right across from the trap site. That’s why I recognize it. But the cavemen are gone.

  So, here I am, stranded in the middle of the dragon’s trench system.

  In the place where there’s supposed to be a treasure.

  Fine. I might as well walk towards the middle of the star and see what there might be to discover. I can only hope there’s water and food somewhere here, because if not, I’m probably just as dead as if Troga had found me in the trench.

  I walk straight into the jungle from the trench, listening for running water.

  And it doesn’t take long before I hear it. A gentle clucking that turns out to be a babbling brook, glinting in the light from the rising sun.

  I squat down and drink, using one hand as a cup.

  Then, I see a moving shadow right next to me. I jerk from surprise and almost fall into the water before I whirl around, grabbing for a rock from the creek to defend myself with.

  I freeze.

  It’s a woman.

  She lifts her right hand nervously.

  “Hi,” she says.

  In English.

  29

  - Xark’on -

  I want to swim up from the sticky grayness. I must. There is something I have to do. Something of vital importance.

  Part of me wants to just sink back down, but I can’t. I’m needed.

  Then there’s light, and I try to get up. But I can’t move.

  I lie still for many heartbeats, just breathing.

  My head hurts, and thinking makes it hurt worse. But I’m needed. That’s all I know. I can’t stay here in the soft darkness.

  I open my eyes, and immediately my head is filled with more pain. The light is too bright.

  I close them again, then open them, braving the blinding pain. I’m needed.

  Ah. The treehouse. Dark. Just Yrf in the sky.

  I close my eyes once more, knowing that next time, they have to stay open.

  And they do, although it takes all the willpower I have to not give in to the pain and just sleep.

  The treehouse. Dark. Night. But moonlight.

  I’m on the floor. Caroline must be in the hammock.

  But no. The hammock is empty. Nobody there.

  I sit up and almost faint again from the pain and the dizziness.

  Where is Caroline?

  I know I can’t stand up. Something is holding my legs tight together. And my arms are behind my back. But I have to find Caroline. She’s not here.

  I turn over with my face to the floor and raise my hips, dragging my knees forward until I can bend my torso backwards and get up on my knees.

  I sway there, looking for Caroline.

  A feeling of deep concern starts to grow. Where is she?

  I get back on the floor and roll over onto my back. Then, I place my feet flat on the floor and push myself forwards. It’s slow, but it works.

  I make my way to the part of the house where I paint. The large picture of Bune is there complete with the blue color she got me.

  I want to smile, but now my worry is reaching a very high level. Something is very wrong. Caroline is not in her hammock.

  And, I realize, I’m tied by my hands and feet.

  I get the little painting knife that Caroline suggested I make, hold it behind my back, and easily cut through the rope.

  Then, I free my legs.

  I try to stand up, but I have to settle for holding onto the railing, bent over like an old man. My head is not in good shape.

  Roti’ax.

  In a flash, I remember. Roti’ax was here. And Yru’zan and Eser’ex and Opi’ax.

  And Caroline was down on the ground. Alone! Holy Ancestors, maybe she’s there still!

  No. All the tribesmen are gone.

  Why were they here and Caroline not?

  I went up the rope. She waited.

  I frown, trying to remember.

  And then I came up here, and Roti’ax was here with his friends. And they asked me about the trap. And I said that it was finished. And they said that I had only to bait it, and then it would be complete.

  I got worried, and I said that I didn’t have bait yet.

  They laughed and said that I did.

  I grabbed my hammer and said that I really didn’t.

  And Roti’ax told me that of course Caroline was the bait that had been given to me.

  I said that there was no way on Xren I’d ever use Caroline for anything that would get within a mile of causing her the slightest little harm, and if they thought she was the bait, then they were completely and dangerously mistaken.

  But they held onto their opinion that Caroline should be used as bait for Troga. And if I wouldn’t do it, then they would. And they would do it now.

  And then there was a fight, but they were four, and they were prepared. Someone hit my head from behind, and then I was out of it.

  Until now.

  I briefly panic and stagger around the whole treehouse, hoping to see her. Caroline!

  But no. There’s only me here. She waited on the ground. And I got the impression from Roti’ax that there were more men down there.

  Well, that makes it simple enough. I will go to the trap site and find her. And then I will murder Roti’ax. I don’t care if the tribe will cast me out. If they took Caroline, then they must die.

  My hammer is on the floor, and I attach it to my belt.

  There’s a gleam of light on the horizon. The day is about to start. Troga may not be in this part of the trench now. It might take a while for them to find her.

  There may yet be time.

  30

  - Caroline -

  I stare at the girl for a long moment. She’s about my age. But she’s not Sophia. Or Heidi or Delyah or Emilia or Aurora. And certainly not Alesya.

  Still, there’s something familiar about her. She has long, straggly, dark hair and dark shadows under her eyes. She’s pale, and she looks skinny under her rags that seem to once have been a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. She’s clearly from Earth.

  “Hi,” I finally respond. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Tamara. You?”

  “Caroline.”

  “One of those lab coat girls, right?”

  I nod slowly. “That’s right.” We were wearing white coats when the Plood abducted us from the linguistics lab at the university. And now I know where I remember her from. “You were abducted, too? About ten months ago? I think I remember you. Weren’t you taken by a dactyl?”

  She nods jerkily. “I was taken by one of those giant bird things. It dropped me here. Along with a few others.”

  The world spins around me. “How many?”

  “Twelve. Including me.”

  My jaw drops. “Twelve? And you’ve been living here the whole time?”

  She shrugs with bony shoulders. She looks like she’s one step away from a nervous breakdown.

  “Okay. Do you guys have, like, a cave or a camp or something?”

  “Yes.” She studies me carefully. “That’s not your lab coat.”

  I look down myself. The dress might be new and white, but it’s not a lab coat. At all. “That’s right. We’ve made some new clothes here.”

  “We haven’t.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Huh.” This is the weird
est conversation I’ve ever had.

  “Where do you live?”

  “I live in a cave. With five other girls. The lab coat girls. Way over there.” I wave in the general direction of the cave.

  “Do you have food and things?”

  “Yes. Do you guys need that?”

  “We really need it.” She reaches out one thin hand and touches mine and then grabs it, hard. “We really need it,” she says again and breaks down in tears.

  I go in closer and embrace her. She’s not too clean, but right now I don’t care. It’s not like I just came out of a shower, either. Her skinny frame shakes with sobs as I hold her.

  “It’s okay,” I lie soothingly. “You’ll be fine.”

  She calms down and disengages, wiping her eyes. “You have to meet the others. Come on. Do you have any food on you right now?”

  I do the classic ‘looking for money’ thing, patting myself down. All I have are the three throwing stars in my chest pocket. “No, not right now. Let me just drink a little more. Is this water safe?”

  “I think so. We never got sick from it.”

  I drink my fill and then follow Tamara into the woods.

  After thirty minutes, we get to a rocky cliff with primitive lean-to huts built next to it. A bunch of girls are sitting huddled around a spluttering little fire.

  They stare at me when I enter the clearing behind Tamara.

  But nobody says anything. They seem like they’re paralyzed by some kind of apathy.

  I walk over to them. “Hi.”

  They look terrible. They’re thin and dirty, and their clothes are probably the same ones they wore when they were abducted. The lucky ones are wearing jeans and old, dirty sweaters, while some of them have tops or skirts that they’ve clearly fashioned from leaves and bark. One of them is in a pink onesie with kitty ears, now unspeakably dirty and with holes for her feet. She must have been taken straight from her dorm room.

  “She’s one of the lab coat girls,” Tamara explains.

  “Does she have food? Do you have food?” one of them asks, a girl in pajama pants and a t-shirt. Yeah, we were abducted pretty late at night. Some of them must have been in bed.