by Susan Laine
The sea creature had disappeared under the waves, not so much as a fin or a flipper in sight.
“Well… that was interesting.” Marcus huffed out a breath, standing astride, hands on his hips, staring out to sea. His mind was blown away by all the wondrous things he’d seen over the past two days. Things he never would have believed could be possible or real.
“That’s one word for it.” Sam seemed to be short on eloquence too.
“We should get back to our room, for the time being anyway. Until the storm passes at least.”
Sam nodded his agreement, and they swiftly made their way back to their small room above the main hall, even Sam managing the jump effortlessly this time. They dried themselves off as best they could and put their jeans back on. But neither did more than that, as they sat on the stone bed, side by side, their shoulders and arms touching.
Every time thunder boomed loud or lightning struck, illuminating the night sky, Sam flinched, shuddered, and inched closer to Marcus. Surely he couldn’t be scared of some nasty weather?
“You know, you can’t go through life like that. Being afraid of everything,” Marcus said gently, hoping to convey strength to his friend. Sam’s reaction, however, surprised him.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Sam murmured, leaning away. He behaved as if Marcus was butting in where he had no business. Marcus had thought their trust issues were in the past. Then again, when had sex ever replaced a much-needed conversation? And wounded pride repeated.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sam sighed. “You’re rash and thoughtless. You leap before you think. You jump in the deep end before you even know how to paddle. You always seem to act before you consider the consequences.” Clearly Sam wanted to go on. Instead he snapped his mouth shut, his lips forming a thin white line—but his jaw quivered, as though he were sad, not angry.
Marcus felt rotten, partly out of guilt, partly at the sudden reproach, so he tried his best to explain. “My dad and granddad…. Did you know my granddad wanted to be a pilot in the Air Force or an astronaut for NASA? But instead he worked over forty years in a tiny gray cubicle in an office selling insurance. And my dad, he wanted to be an architect, like that famous guy who designed the pyramid in front of the Louvre, or the guy who built Fallingwater, that cool house over the river and the waterfalls.”
“I.M. Pei and Frank Lloyd Wright,” Sam cut in to supply the missing information, a small frown of confusion on his face.
Marcus chuckled shortly. “Figured you’d know them. Anyway, my dad works as a mechanic in an auto repair shop.” Marcus’s family history weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he slumped. “They’re my main influences in life, you know, my… male role models. But… neither of them pursued their desires. It wasn’t like they had no opportunities to do so, because they did. But they always decided against them, turning their backs on their dreams. They were both born in the same town, they’ve never been anywhere else, and they’ll more than likely die right there, in that same stinking town. It’s like… they never lived a day in their lives. When they die, nothing remains of them. No legacies of adventures. It’s like they never were.”
“Oh Marcus…,” Sam whispered. Marcus was surprised by the watery catch in Sam’s voice. He’d expected pity, not empathy. Sometimes the distinction was easy to miss.
“They’ve influenced me, but probably not the way they intended,” Marcus carried on, sighing. “I don’t want be like them. I don’t want to end up an old man full of nothing but regrets and unrealized dreams. I suppose that’s why I do what I do, the way I do. You say I’m thoughtless. That’s not true. Every time I do anything, I think about them. I want to try everything to figure out what I’m good at and what I want to do with my life, to follow my dreams. I try to see everything as an opportunity, something that challenges me. That’s why I leap before I think, as you say. I look around me, see all these wonderful, exciting windows of opportunity and chance, and I try to catch them before they fly away. Rash? Yeah, sure. But… I have to be. The alternative… sucks.”
Next to him, Marcus heard a sniffle. Stunned, he turned to see Sam wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Before Marcus could offer consolation or apologies, Sam shook his head.
“You carry around all that baggage, and you still let me give you such a hard time? Dammit.” Sam’s expression twisted with remorse and anguish, and Marcus felt bad. Then Sam added, “Fuck, Marcus. I’m so sorry for being such an asshole to you. You didn’t do anything to deserve it.”
Marcus scoffed softly. “You mean like getting us stranded on an alien planet without a means of escape? Sorry, I meant moon.”
Sam snarled in anger, most likely aimed inward. “I did blame you for that, but the truth is, I’m as much to blame as you, perhaps more so. I’m the one who just had to get that damn beanie back. I’m so stupid. I’m sorry.”
Marcus smiled. “It’s okay. I forgive you. No harm done.”
Sam started crying in earnest, visibly falling apart. Marcus raised his arm over Sam’s shoulders and pulled him near, hugging him. Sam clung to him hard, his hands fisting in Marcus’s jeans around his waist. He trembled as he wept almost silently.
Marcus offered him as much support and comfort as he could. Because that was what a man did. That was what a friend did. That was what a lover and a boyfriend did.
“It’s okay, bae. I promise we’re going to get home. One day all this will be nothing more than a distant memory.” Marcus kissed the top of Sam’s head, ruffling his damp hair, the scent of fresh water strong but not overpowering Sam’s natural body odor. Marcus liked it.
“These are man tears, by the way. Why didn’t you ever tell me that’s why you do things the way you do?” Sam asked, still wetting Marcus’s neck with hot moisture.
Marcus smiled though Sam couldn’t see it. “I had to catch you first.”
Sam half chuckled, half sobbed and hugged Marcus tighter. “I’ve been such a fool.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“I used to worry you were following me around to… to kick my ass.”
“What?” Marcus was aghast at hearing that. He’d joked about that being Sam’s reason, but he’d never believed it was true. “I’d never do anything like—”
“I know.” Sam sighed, his crying diminishing. “I know that. I knew it earlier too, but I was afraid, mostly of shadows, things a violent, abusive, cruel world has taught me to dread—even though I think I believed all along I had absolutely nothing to fear from you. But before… I thought you could somehow see that I was… gay.”
“And what? I’d give you a gay bashing you’d never forget? That I’d be upset you had feelings for me?” Marcus stifled the anger boiling inside him because he understood Sam’s motives. Fear was a powerful emotion that could silence all the positive voices within.
“It was just senseless fear, irrational. I’m so, so sorry, Marcus.” Sam breathed against Marcus’s neck, the sensation ticklish. A moist warmth fanned over Marcus’s skin.
“No, you have nothing to be sorry for. Sam, I get it. Being afraid of the unknown and being scared of what seems to be an everyday thing these days. Jocks and bullies beating up nerds and geeks and gays.” He held Sam tighter, his arms wound around the scared boy. “I just want you to know that I’d never throw shade at you or hurt you. I’m in love with you. And even if I wasn’t… I don’t beat up on people, gay or otherwise.”
Sam’s labored breathing slowly returned to normal and his eyes no longer welled. “I used to have the biggest crush on you,” he admitted quietly. “I was so nervous, all the time, that you could see it just looking at me.”
“Used to?” Marcus teased softly.
Sam barked out a hoarse laugh. “It has evolved to love. Not just a crush anymore.”
“Good. I’m happy to hear that.” Marcus rocked Sam gently and rubbed his back up and down, soothing him, grounding them both.
Sam took a deep breath and seemed to straigh
ten up even though he was still firmly in Marcus’s embrace. “I’m tired of being afraid. Sure, we’re on an alien world, and that thunder and lightning could be really different and more dangerous than the storms back home. But… I was thinking….”
“About?” Marcus coaxed, intrigued.
“It’s night now. It’s raining and thundering and flashing. Best distractions nature can buy. Best we can hope for, anyway, in order to… to gather the liana from the carnivorous plant. We should do it tonight.”
Marcus pulled back to see Sam’s expression and judge if he was actually serious. “But…. Are you crazy? We’re half-naked, we have no blades, weapons, or cutting tools of any kind, and we haven’t even measured the distance between the towers and the chamber to know how much liana we will ultimately need.”
Sam nodded, his jaw set, his now dry eyes steadfast. “I know. But we should at least try and see how easy or hard it will be. The storm’s the perfect opportunity. Either the flower will be asleep or it’ll be practically blind and deaf from the noise and flashes.”
Marcus had to admit Sam had a point. They had no idea when another storm might roll in to aid them in disorienting the flower. Could be hours, days, or longer. It was time they didn’t have to waste.
They did, however, require tools. “What are we supposed to cut the liana with? Your pocketknife will hardly do the trick. And if we start yanking the liana in the hopes some will break loose, that thing will wake up and eat us. Slowly. Digest us really fucking slowly.”
Sam smiled. “While I was down in the library, I noticed some of the imagery on the walls depicted warrior types, perhaps for some sort of… heroic sexual fantasy, or whatever. Now if we found a statue like that—”
“It might come with a weapon,” Marcus finished for him, excitement starting to buzz inside him.
“Yes, that was my thinking. Plus if they are shown with rudimentary weapons, they’ll likely be… um, you know… phallic in shape. Like, uh… spears or knives.” Sam blushed cutely and blinked, and Marcus tried hard not to laugh, biting into his bottom lip.
“Check.” Marcus stood and gave his partner a chin lift. “Let’s go and see if we can get something useful from statues.”
For the next ten minutes or so, Marcus and Sam scoured the two levels of the temple’s underground, at least the sections that weren’t crumbled or collapsed into ruins. The majority of the art, both reliefs and statues, showed only sexual positions and acts.
It wasn’t until they combed the area adjacent to the library that they discovered a few warrior types who stood astride, holding long lances in their hands—while being orally pleasured. So not exactly warriors per se.
“You think we can remove those without destroying the statues?” Sam asked, his brow furrowed with worry.
Marcus thought Sam’s concern was endearing, if impractical. The circumstances were less than optimal, and they might have to do some serious property damage to get the ball rolling. At least it looked like the owners wouldn’t be around to lodge a complaint. “C’mon, Sam. They’re stone. We’re not. And we really need those spears. They don’t.”
Sam bowed his head. “I know that. I just… don’t want to vandalize a place that’s so close to vanishing off the face of the… the moon already.” Then he shrugged, as if he didn’t care, but he also looked away, perhaps to hide his telltale expression. “Do what you have to do.”
Marcus rested a hand over his companion’s shoulder. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
A flicker of a smile graced Sam’s lips, as much as Marcus could tell from his profile alone. “Thanks.”
Marcus inspected the artwork. If the javelins, made of reddish metal, were part of the statues themselves, then there would be no way to avoid hacking the statues to pieces to retrieve them—if that even worked. But the sculptures appeared to be carved from stone, not metal, so Marcus dared to hope the weapons had simply been slotted into the figure’s hands.
The tip of the lance looked ragged but sharp, so Marcus figured it would require a little work with a whetstone to get it shiny and new. He gripped the rod with both hands, braced one foot on the pedestal, and pulled. His muscles grew taut and bulged as he strained with the effort. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead, and his arms and fingers, not to mention his thighs, soon felt the stress of exertion.
“Is it working? Can I help?” Sam asked in a small, hesitant voice. Clearly the comic-book geek didn’t feel confident about his physical abilities.
“Sure. Grab my waist and help me.” Sam followed Marcus’s instructions, wound his arms tightly around Marcus’s waist, and began to tug. “Easy does it. Don’t yank. Just one long pull, okay?”
Sam murmured something along the lines of understanding, so Marcus grinned. Then he resumed dragging, using all his strength and body mass to pry the spear loose.
A grinding sound echoed in the empty hallway as the metal started to chafe free from the stone’s grip. Flakes of dust danced in the air, falling like gray rain on the floor, as the statue’s hand began to crack.
The stony fingers broke with one loud boom, shattering into rubble. Marcus and Sam fell backward hard, with Marcus landing on top of his smaller friend.
“Sorry, Sam.” Marcus quickly rolled aside, stood in a hurry, and helped Sam onto his feet. “You okay?” He scanned Sam’s backside purely out of concern. Mostly.
Sam kept nodding, brushing his hands over the rumpled seat of his jeans. “Yeah. No worse for wear. Did you get it?” He did sound a bit breathless, as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
Marcus lifted the metallic lance between them triumphantly. “Uh-huh. Did you ever doubt me?” Sam chuckled, and Marcus scrutinized the tip of the spear. “Needs a bit of polishing, but then it’ll be good as new. So… let’s get another one for you.”
Fifteen minutes later as the storm continued to rage outside, darkness still enveloping the temple, Marcus and Sam both sported smooth spears, the tips once again virtually razor-sharp, and without further discussion, they proceeded to put on their boots and sneak into the jungle and close to the flower that had almost made a meal out of Marcus.
As they skulked their way toward the carnivorous plant, Marcus asked, “When we cut the vines, won’t the bioelectrical charge inside dissipate?”
Sam shrugged. “Yes, probably. Some of it more than likely. But I’m hoping the saline solution’s properties remain and that the liquid retains its conductivity.”
Marcus chuckled, more than a little impressed. “Geez, Sam, baby. You sound like a bona fide scientist already.”
Sam blushed and ducked his head. “My math scores—”
Marcus waved his hand about dismissively. “Pfft. There’s more to physics than math. You’ll make an excellent physicist. No, scratch that. An amazing astrophysicist. Or astrobiologist, or whatever the title is for someone researching alien worlds. I know it.”
Sam didn’t reply, but his shy smile glowed. Marcus really liked the look on his new boyfriend. No. My first, last, and only boyfriend.
A few minutes later they could see their target. Like before, the flower appeared huge and bloodred in the near dark, all the blossoms and buds glimmering wet with rain. The sounds of drops landing on the leaf-covered jungle floor created soft little thumps Sam and Marcus could only hear thanks to their proximity. Nonetheless, nauseatingly sweet odors floated everywhere, emanating from the depths of the flower.
The terrain was covered in vines. None of them were moving. Even the flower itself looked like it was drooping. It seemed to be asleep. Marcus had seen flowers that had a sort of night mode, closing their petals at night. But an actually sleeping plant? That was new.
Could it… dream?
“I’ll make the first cut,” Marcus whispered into Sam’s ear. “You get ready to yank the vine and run if that thing starts moving.”
Sam nodded several times, his eyes wide, his breathing shallow, and his skin pale. He was clearly having second thoughts about their plan and
its chances of success. Fear was a common response to an unknown threat, but they couldn’t afford to get distracted or intimidated.
Marcus decided to get Sam’s brain back on track and his nerves under control as fast as he could. “How many volts do you think is running inside the liana? Won’t the liana burst apart, or burn up, or at least tear into a million pieces? I mean, so much raw power running through it. It’s a violent current of electricity, after all.”
“Amps,” Sam corrected Marcus seemingly on autopilot, his gaze a million miles away. “Amperes describe electric current, volts measure electric tension, and joules are units of energy. They’re not the same thing. But… all can be used to describe the energy in lightning.”
“Right.” Marcus smiled. His tactic had succeeded. He’d taken physics too, so it wasn’t like he didn’t know the difference between the three terms, even if physics wasn’t his first choice of subjects.
“A single lightning bolt can develop an electric current of about ten to thirty kiloamperes, carry five hundred megajoules of energy, and have a buildup of anywhere between ten and one hundred twenty million volts, thus exceeding fifty thousand degrees Kelvin,” Sam muttered absentmindedly, as if he didn’t need to put that much focus on what he was saying. “If the voltage differential between the lightning rods and the portal’s frame is too great, however… then you’re right: The vines might explode before the current even makes it there.” Sam sounded worried again. “The ionic radii ratio—”
Marcus harrumphed as quietly as he could. “Let’s worry about that later. For all we know, we might get eaten in a few minutes anyway.”
Sam snorted. “That’s reassuring.” But his stiff shoulders relaxed, and a small shy smile graced his lips.
“C’mon, bae. Let’s do this.”
Marcus stepped on the balls of his feet, trying to find a safe place to set his feet where he wouldn’t be stepping on extensions of a plant that liked to eat meat. Once he’d found a good spot, he nodded back to Sam, who gently gripped one of the liana. The second Marcus cut it, they’d both take off running.
