Caveman Alien's Rage

by Calista Skye

  Still I pick at my turkeypig, not really relishing the flavor of meat right now. Instead I chomp on the salad, making a note that not all of these innocent-looking leaves go that well together and that someone really should develop some kind of vinegar-y dressing for it.

  I point to Dar'ax's upper arm. “Why fabric around? Is special for Dar'ax tribe?”

  He glances at it. “No.”

  I'm not in the mood for his one-syllable replies, and I'm not going to give up here. “Then why?”

  He looks at me in that way he has, and most people would probably look away to avoid meeting that piercing gaze. But I can take it now. I've had some practice.

  He shrugs and loosens the knot and unwraps the cloth, and I have to catch myself to not gasp when I see the skin underneath. It's an angry, red splotch around a dark center that's clearly infected by something.

  I move around the fire and sit down beside him. He tries to pull the fabric back over the infested wound, but I can see that this needs something done to it, so I pull it back down.

  “You have for long?”

  He shrugs. “A while.”

  I can see that. It's not a pretty sight. “How much days?”

  He takes a long time answering. “Many.”

  I don't know if he's correcting my choice of words or just giving me another superficial answer. “Fine. How many days?”

  “Two hundred.”

  I hold on to his arm studying the wound in the flickering fire. It's nasty, but not hopeless. “You had wound for two hundred days?”

  “Yes.”

  “How you get?”

  “Nusin.”

  “Nusin spear?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is painful?”

  He doesn't answer.

  I put one finger on the hot, red skin and apply light pressure. Unhealthy-looking fluid seeps out of the cut, and Dar'ax groans.

  “Is painful?” I repeat unnecessarily, but come on. This is no time for misplaced male pride in not caring about obviously serious injuries.

  “Yes,” he admits.

  Hm. It looks to me as if that wound needs a good cleaning and some of the paste that the girls and I have often used against infections, with really good results. I doubt it's up to totally curing this, but it's worth a shot.

  I get up and place one hand on his shoulder. “Brave warrior sit. Heidi go collect something.”

  I don't want to go too far into the jungle, but with Gerk still close, I don't think any predators will try to attack me. In the light from the fire I can identify some of the bushes that carry those leaves. I've done this many times before, so I've got the leaves ground up into a fragrant, green paste in no time. It's a slightly different concoction than I used on his deadbite wounds, and I hope it's more potent.

  I kneel beside Dar'ax and study his injury closer. There's probably something lodged inside, and that's what's infecting it. A small piece of the spear, probably. Or maybe it was dipped in something nasty before the Nusin threw it. Well, it's not like I'm going to attempt surgery here in the jungle, although looking at his wound, something in me wants to cut it open and clean it properly. What can I say, I'm weird. Or maybe being on this harsh planet for so long has burned all the squickiness out of me.

  I gently take hold of Dar'ax's arm and apply the paste without touching it with my hand. I work carefully and slowly, talking a little with him at the same time. Since I'm not saying anything important, I might as well speak English.

  “Let's see about getting this fixed for you ... there, feel that?” I purr close to his ear as I work. “Don't worry, it's just this twig. Yeah, I removed the bark from it so it's really clean and fresh. It might sting a little, but I only use it to apply this nice paste. It's very fancy. Not touched by human hands. We'll bring it back to Earth and sell it. 'Alien wound cleaning paste'. From outer space. Three hundred bucks an ounce? Sounds about right to me. We'll be billionaires in no time. Then we'll just buy a jungle island somewhere and relive these days together. Sounds good, right? Just like here. Except we'll get coffee and tampons and I'm thinking maybe an airport and a branch of Wendy's? A Nordstroms might come in handy, too.”

  I'm just absentmindedly making up the nonsensical stuff, and it's probably more for my sake than for his. To him it must just sound like a soft babbling. Still, it seems a natural thing to do right now.

  The fire flickers and sends a warm light over us, the air is balmy and the stars are coming out above us. It's as nice an evening as I've ever had on this planet, and despite the action earlier, I'm feeling peaceful.

  I've had some time to come to terms with what I saw back there, too. I don't know what might have happened in Dar'ax's life. He might have good reason for his anger issues.

  Right now, I have a probably pretty feminine need to nurture this huge, honorable warrior who's saved my life so many times that the abduction itself seems unimportant and small by comparison. Hey, I am a woman, and sometimes it can be good to go with the flow.

  When I'm done, his arm has a thick layer of drying, green paste, and it smells pretty good. Fresh and wholesome. And even if it won't cure him, at least it can't hurt.

  “There you go,” I say and apply the last of the paste. “We'll just see how that works. If there's any improvement, I'll just keep applying it every day.”

  I clean my hands and sit down beside him.

  He looks at me for a long time, clearly pondering something.

  Then, to my astonishment, he slowly takes my hand in his.

  “The Nusin,” he says in a voice that's more hoarse than usual. “The Nusin ...” He goes quiet again.

  “Yes?” I prompt softly, squeezing his hand so he knows I'm here and that I support him.

  “The Nusin killed my tribe. The whole tribe. They only left me.”

  I squeeze his callused hand, hard. He's about to tell me something important. And I'll be right here for him. “Two hundred days ago?”

  “No. Longer ago.”

  Shit. He's been alone in the jungle for a long time. “How long?”

  He holds up all his fingers.

  “Ten months?”

  He curls one finger.

  “Nine months?”

  “Years.”

  This time, I can't stop the gasp. “You been alone in jungle for nine years?!”

  “Yes.”

  I'm stunned. He has to be in his mid-twenties now, so that means he's must have only been a teen back then. And still he's stayed alive. In this insanely brutal jungle. I can't quite wrap my mind around it. It shouldn't be possible.

  But I don't want him to clam up again, so I take his hand with both of mine and squeeze. “You tell Heidi,” I whisper right into his ear. “Is safe. Heidi listen.”

  He takes a deep breath. “My tribe was good. We had large caves and eight Lifegivers. Many hunters. Many boys who would continue the tribe. Big stores of food, for many seasons. No Bigs nearby. A wise chief and a kind and conscientious shaman who carefully tended to the Lifegivers and made sure the young boys were well cared for.”

  He's quiet as he thinks, and I lean my head on his shoulder to get him to continue.

  “It was the rainy season, just like now. Rain for many days. Swamps will form, rivers will run wide and full. Hunting can be hard. But our tribe – the Bykri tribe – always prepared for it and filled the food stores so we didn't have to hunt at all while the rains lasted. It was a time for doing other things. Making new weapons, repairing the old, making garments, brewing nice drinks that would cool the blood when the weather got warmer. It was my favorite season when the rains would start. Not so dangerous, no need to go out into the jungle to hunt Bigs and Smalls.”

  He leans forward to rearrange the fire and put more dry branches on it.

  It's just the two of us. Gerk has gone into the jungle again, and Dar'ax looks around to check for predators before he sits down.

  “We always had guards, of course. We knew that not all the tribes were our friends. But we also
knew our neighboring villages. They were all respectful, all mostly friendly. The Nusin lived not far away, and we tended to pretend we didn't see them if we met them in the jungle. They also ignored us. They have yellow stripes, like us. But not quite like us. We were not friendly, but also not enemies.”

  He sighs. “Then one night it was getting dark. One guard shouted the alarm signal, but it was too late. Men came out of the jungle and cut down everyone who defended us. They had put soot all over themselves to be hard to see in the night. There were very many of them. We had more tribesmen, but most of them didn't carry their swords with them at all times during the rainy season, which was much calmer than other times. I woke up right before shaman Sai'ex came into the cave where we boys were sleeping. We woke everyone up, and Sai'ex quietly led us to the edge of the jungle. He must have realized what was about to happen.”

  Dar'ax stares into the fire, lost in memories that can't be pleasant. I squeeze his hand again, but I'm not going to make him rush this. If he's been alone for so long, then this is probably the first time he tells anyone about this. He'll do it the way he wants.

  “It turned out later that the Nusin tribe's village had been flooded by a nearby river,” he finally goes on. “The river changed its course after all the rain and took with it all their huts and their Lifegivers. They never had any caves. So instead of seeking refuge with their neighboring tribes, they decided to take over someone else's village. And ours was the best one.”

  A sound from the jungle makes Dar'ax raise his head and look around the clearing. He's tense for longer than necessary. He's trying to avoid something in his story.

  His silence drags on, but I think I know where this needs to go now. “The shaman woke you up?”

  “Our priest. The shaman. Sai'ex. He woke us up and we knew something was terribly wrong. There was such an urgency to his moves. He led us out of the cave. All around us there was fighting and screaming and dying. Black shapes with black spears in the night ... And I noticed that there was a strange light coming from the Lifegiver enclosure, as if they were on fire. But I thought, that would mean someone had set fire to them, and that would be impossible. Too evil. The Lifegivers were sacred. I was young and had no idea what the Nusin could be like. But they would rob even the unborn of their lives ...”

  His voice has changed a little, and when I glance up at his face, his cheeks are wet. The emotion in his voice and the mental imagery in my mind are sending tears to my eyes, too. I squeeze his hand again. “Go on.”

  19

  - Heidi -

  “Sai'ex was shocked and he trembled all over. Still he managed to get us boys to the edge of the jungle. He instructed us to run to the Dereken tribe and tell them what had happened. But before we could get anywhere, we were surrounded by Nusin. Some of them had been careless in applying the soot, and their yellow stripes were clearly visible. I had gone through the stripening, and I was as tall as they were. Still it seemed like they towered over us, dark and evil presences with their spears. They ...”

  His voice cracks and his breathing is shallow. “They said mocking words to shaman Sai'ex. I remember them well, but I will not repeat them. He responded with fiery anger and accusations at their cruel misdeeds. He condemned them on behalf of their own Ancestors, naming many of their former legendary warriors as disgusted witnesses to this terrible action. He spoke forcefully and convincingly. Some of them wavered and lowered their weapons. Then ... one Nusin plunged his spear into the heart of the youngest boy, little Trener'ox, who was only ... four ...”

  He's gives in to his grief, and at that moment I love him very deeply. I wipe my own eyes and sniffle so that he knows he's not alone with his emotions. I sense that he feels no shame in crying, like an Earth man might. This is natural to him, and he's not ashamed. It makes me admire him even more.

  He takes a deep, shaking breath. “The other boys tried to run, but were murdered before they could get far. Shaman Sai'ex had his sword and was able to fight off two Nusin. I had no weapon, and a large enemy was coming towards me with his spear ready to throw. Sai'ex then tossed his sword to me. Disarming himself. It's unheard of. No warrior ever gives his sword away. But our shaman did. For the tiny chance that I might be able to defend myself against the one Nusin who was preparing to throw his spear at me. While Sai'ex was surrounded by enemies himself. 'Stay alive', he urged me. Those were his last words.”

  He wipes his tears. “Of course it meant his own death. Probably in vain. He knew it. And the Nusin laughed at him before they killed him.”

  He stares into the fire for a long time before he goes on. I just hold him.

  “Their laughter made me ... angry. The world turned red around me. Then the next thing I remember is that the big Nusin was dead on the ground and I was still hacking at him, seeing everything through a red mist. I chopped him into pieces. The other Nusin kept their distance and just looked at me with horror. Then I ran into the jungle.”

  We sit in silence while the fire burns itself lower. I'm grateful that he's told me all this. And I feel honored, too. I think I may be the first to hear this tale.

  “I ran for a long time,” he finally continues. “Mostly I wanted to go back and kill a couple of more Nusin before they'd kill me. But I felt that it would have been useless and that it would make Sai'ex's last sacrifice meaningless. So I didn't go back. I also didn't go to the Dereken tribe. I feared that they would ask why I had survived while everyone else was dead. I felt like a traitor. Why had I not died like everyone else? Am I a coward? I'm the last and only of my tribe, and that's the worst fate I can imagine. So I didn't go there. I didn't go to any tribe. I am last and only. I have no tribe.”

  Maybe not, but he has tons of survivor's guilt. I want to do something about that. Shit, I have to get my cavemanese up to scratch pretty damn fast. I've been resisting speaking it because he abducted me. But now I understand him better, and I want to talk to him for real.

  “I found my way in the jungle,” he continues. “And I managed to stay alive. Just about. I would spy on the Nusin who had taken over our village. They had a grand time in the beginning, enjoying our copious food stores and the safety away from any Bigs. Once in a while I'd sneak into the village by a secret passage and take food that was rightly mine. But then the rainy season ended and I noticed the Nusin didn't go out to hunt. Or only rarely. And they didn't have Lifegivers. Ours had indeed been burned and the unborn baby boys inside them killed. A tribe without babies has no future. The Nusin have no future. They started to attack other tribes, too. But they didn't have the strength to take over another village again. They became fewer and fewer. Now they've abandoned our caves and the few that are left are only roaming the jungle and trying to steal food and other things from the tribes.”

  He takes a sip of water. “I learned the jungle and I found a small cave of my own. I hunted and stayed alive. And I vowed to get revenge. On the Nusin. That's my mission. I have sought them out over the years. And I have killed some of them. But I will kill them until they're all gone. Or until they kill me. It doesn't matter which one comes to pass.”

  He takes a deep breath, and his story is over.

  Stars, he's had it tough. Alone in this deadly jungle from an early age. And a ton of survivor's guilt on top of it. I don't blame him for having revenge as his mission. But I still feel it's unworthy of him. He's too great for that. I squeeze his hand again. “It matters to me.”

  He turns his head to look down at me with a frown. “It matters to you? I took you from your friends and carried you far away. You didn't want it. You saw me today, hacking a dead man into pieces. Losing control in the most shameful way.”

  I get up on my knees and face him so I can look him in the eyes from close up. “I not want you take me,” I agree. “But back then, I not know you. Now I know you.” I place a hand on his thigh. “And I really like what I see.”

  Then I do the thing I've been wanting to do for a long time: I lean in and kiss him. Right on the mou
th. It's a little salty from the tears he shed for his dead friends and the children that were murdered, but all the better for it.

  His jaw drops and he just stares at me. It breaks my heart. He's never had anyone accept him. Or at least not since that shaman was alive. And he most certainly doesn't accept himself. But I do. Sure, he has to work on that rage of his. But I'll help him. He's worth it. A thousand times over.

  He gently places a hand behind my head and pulls me closer, and then he kisses me back. It's not the most elegant kiss in the history of the universe, but there's so much emotion in it, it takes my breath away. I respond, and then we're frenching, as clumsily as teenagers. Hey, I'll teach him how to do this in time. But right now, I'm not going to correct it.

  His scent fills my nose and his presence fills my world. My heart beats faster and my breath is going shallow. I'm about to open my heart for this man, and it feels too wonderful for words. I understand him now. He's complete.

  I knew he was great. But he's lived through things that would have killed anybody else and come out on the other side with a big heart and an obvious need for being loved. If he needed his mission to give him the purpose and the strength to stay alive, then I get that. Totally. But maybe that mission can be replaced by another one.

  His overwhelming, male presence, my own bravery in leaning in to kiss him, the physical closeness and the immense trust he just showed me by telling me about his life has a very clear effect right now: it's turning me on like I can't believe.

  I check his loincloth for readiness, and the hardness my hand meets there tells a very arousing tale.

  I pull my dress over my head. Then I flick up his loincloth and take his hard, alien, ridged cock into my hand, looking into his eyes, where the fire is now burning bright.

  I get into position to straddle him, and he gets the point and holds around my shoulders with his strong hands. The time for being coy has long passed, I'm wet and ready, so I take his steel hard rod in my hand and place it at my opening. Then I lower myself gently onto his magnificent manhood.