Page 5 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Stars
I hobble around some more, collecting larger sticks until my bags are full. My ankle is certainly not feeling back to normal, but it does feel a tiny bit better. It’s taking a lot more effort than I’d like to gather wood, but I’m under no delusions—this is probably the most important thing I will do while I am here. When you’re out here, fire is life.
Fire isn’t just warmth, it’s safety, it’s drinkable water, and it’s morale. If I can get this fire going tonight, I’ll be off to a great start—extra special bonus points if I can get it started and then get myself back down to the river to get some water. The wind blows—hard—as if to remind me that even if I don’t get down to the water, it just might be bringing the water to me—how kind. The sky confirms it, the rain is coming and I am short on time. By this point, though, I’ve got a tidy little pile of wood inside the temple. In each arm, I drag a sizable log, mentally trying to calculate if I have enough.
The producers—okay, Cara—assured me that the wood would burn, that the water didn’t contain any contaminants that would hurt me after boiling, and provided me with information on the local flora and fauna. But, it’s not like they also provided me with a study on burn times. That sort of thing, I’ll need to figure out on my own. If I still believed in God, I’d be praying right now, but that ship sailed a long time ago. By the time I drag the logs back inside, I know I am out of time. The wind is really whipping the trees around out there, and even if it isn’t raining yet, I don’t want to get brained by a branch. I can just see the headlines now: “Abigail Jenkins, veteran of Bare Survival and first contestant on the newest season Deep Space, dead by branch.” Absolutely not.
The good news is that a lot of these branches have been knocked down by past storms, and split as a result of the fall. The wood I’m going to be burning is pretty dried out and weathered and I won’t need to do a lot of chopping. I drag the two bigger logs over to the fire, I’ll feed them into it over the course of the night from the side rather than chopping them, and pick out my first materials. Some shredded bark and dried “grass” will be good kindling, and I stack my usual setup next to the wall.
On early seasons, a fire starter wasn’t a given. Nor was a pot. They learned their lesson early on that watching people struggle to make a fire for a week and a half before they tapped was just not interesting television. Nor was those same people puking their brains out because they couldn’t boil their water. Now, they give up these few things because then we can do far more interesting things, like forage, trap and hunt.
When I’ve got my setup ready, I pull in a deep breath and grab my fire-starter. The wind howls outside, and it sends shivers straight through me. The temperature is dropping and even though I’m used to ignoring my discomfort when I’m out here, it’s a stark reminder of how much I’m up against. I know next to nothing about this planet in the grand scheme of things, and if I don’t get this fire going, I’m fucked.
It takes a few strikes, but the tinder lights and I am in business. A tendril of smoke rises from the little bundle I’ve created and I can feel everything getting just a little bit better. The hope and security that a fire brings can really not be understated. With it, everything seems more achievable, more possible, more solid. I would say it seems brighter, but somehow... it doesn’t. I can see the flames, and the smoke, feel the heat, and yet the light it gives off is not nearly what I expect. A small area around the fire is lit, but even my back, sitting immediately next to the fire, is likely in the dark.
Shaking my head, I dump out the rest of the tinder a little ways away from the fire and get the wood around the fire set up. With a groan, I pick up my pot and prepare myself for the trudge down to the river.
I’m not outside for two seconds before I feel drops of rain. I hobble a little faster, suppressing a hiss when my ankle protests. The cut on my knee isn’t happy either, but if I can only get water before the sky really opens up, I know I’ll be glad I made the trip. Waiting for enough rain to fill my pot is going to take half the night and I know how fast I can get dehydrated out here.
Halfway through the courtyard, I spy my statue and call out to him. “Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?”
I don’t know why I’m so drawn to him, but I’m glad he’s here. Somehow, he makes me feel less alone and honestly, I couldn’t be more grateful.
Normally, the river wouldn’t be far, only a few minutes walk, but between my ankle and the cut on my knee that I am studiously avoiding, it takes me longer than I’d like to admit. The mud on the banks is slippery and of course, I fall. I land on my bum—hard—and grunt. That’s going to bruise, for sure. This has got to be the most injured I’ve ever been on a single day on Bare Survival. But, as I try to remind myself anytime I’m messing up on the show, it’ll make for good TV.
I lever myself off the ground and finally make it down to the water. My hair is hanging damp around me now, and my ass is covered in mud. Finally, I am in my full “Bare Survival” costume.
The hike back up to the temple isn’t as bad, at least I don’t fall and hurt myself again, and I even swing my arm around to smack my stone man on the ass. Now that I’ve got my water, I’m in for the night, and I couldn’t be happier about it.
Near the entrance to the temple, I grab two rocks to set my pot on and see a sizable strip of that moss that might actually make a pretty good sleeping pad near the door. Ok, scratch that, I’m not quite in for the night, but despite my injuries, things are seriously looking up.
An hour or so later, my pot of water is cooling after boiling and I’ve got a nice little moss pad set up next to the fire. The storm outside is raging, and I am still pretty damp, but all in all, I’m not mad about my first day’s progress. It’s dark out, and though the network has calculated a way of telling time on this planet for the crew, I didn’t pay attention. My time will be determined by the sun and the weather, and that’s all that matters to me. So, I have no idea what time it actually is, but it’s certainly dark. I put a big log on the fire and decide to get some shut eye since I have nothing better to do.
When I wake, the fire has burned down, but it’s not out. I throw another log on and wonder what woke me. The rain and wind are whipping outside and that might be it... or so I think until I hear the scraping in the back of the temple. Before, it was the sound of small animals. Now, though? It’s decidedly larger. The scratches are followed by a growl and I know I’m right. I’m absolutely not alone and whatever is in here with me is not happy. Why didn’t the crew tell me? Sure, we like to play up the danger for television, but they usually keep a really keen eye on the local wildlife. If there was a predator around on Earth, there would be eyes on it constantly and security with tranquilizers ready to neutralize it and extract me at a moment’s notice. Instead, I’ve got nothing, as far as I can tell. The drone is flying, of course, and even swaying from side to side, like something is wrong.
“Abbie?” Cara calls from the radio in my bag.
“Here.” I whisper and turn down the volume because I don’t want her to piss off whatever is in here with me more than needed. “Something’s in here with me...”
“Yeah, we just realized that. Can you get out?”
“I think so, I?—”
A thunderous roar sounds from the darkness and I almost drop the radio in my haste to cover my ears. Fuck it. Cara can talk to me after I’m safe.
The fire is between me and the door, and so I move like molasses and skirt the edge. Perhaps if I am slow and steady, whatever it is won’t attack me. With each careful footstep, I inch closer to freedom, to the safety of my statue.
My statue? I’ve truly lost it if I think somehow my statue is going to be able to protect me from this very real, potentially very dangerous, threat. The scratching sound happens again, except this time it seems to be coming from above me. I lift my head to look at the ceiling and scream because while I can’t see much, I can see its eyeshine reflecting back at me.
Moving faster than seems possible, the thing dive bombs me, and while I duck, I’m not fast enough. Sharp claws slice across my face before I throw myself to the ground. I scramble on all fours toward the door, heedless of anything else except getting out. Unfortunately, I don’t get far, as I’m slammed flat on my face by something heavy on my back. Its claws dig in and I cry out again.
I’m shrieking and clawing at the ground, desperate to escape but the animal hooks its claws under me and flips me over. I still have no real idea what it looks like, because all I can see once I’m on my back is its gaping, dripping maw. Two rows of teeth line its jaws and a pair of tongues lash out of it.
There’s no way the crew is getting here in time to save me, but at least it will make good television, right?