Page 5 of Wild Life (STEAM-y #2)
True-Crime Stories – Episode 158: “Revenge of the Caveman”
Maris
They say when you’re caught in a current, the best way to avoid drowning is to go with the flow. To lean back and give in. To imagine your limbs are weightless like air and succumb to the strength of the water. To not fight it when it tries to pull you under.
As torrential as the waves were, my body was surprisingly still and at peace. Like I was resting on grass on a warm summer day.
My skin no longer registered the ocean wetness, even though I was certain I was drowning. Instead, I was wrapped in warmth and dryness. I had experienced this once before, except all of it had felt wrong. This time was different. This time, I was comfortable. Like I was at peace. I didn’t have the rock in my stomach that I’d had when I was in the hospital after the car accident. I was floating. I could also make out the muffled chirps of birds and the rustling of leaves overhead. A deep voice crooned a lullaby in the distance, the melody soothing me.
It was the freest I had been in a long time.
I scrunched my lids tighter, hoping to hold on to it all for a moment more. My physical body, ever the traitor, was already awake, and my nerves were buzzing.
The last thing I remembered was water. Lots of water. So much that it filled my nostrils and mouth.
The boat!
I blinked my eyes open, and they stung against the light.
What the fuck?
Overhead was a mosaic of dried leaves intertwined together.
Where the hell am I?
I pushed onto my forearms, but the throbbing in my neck sent me crashing back down. I patted my body, registering that it was swaddled tightly with…a blanket?
Attempt number two. I tried again to sit up, shutting my aching lids, moving slower this time as my neck protested. My hand rubbed the back of it to release some of the knots, and the blanket over me shifted. A light draft hit my chest, and my eyes flew open. My tits, bare in all their pointed glory, shone back at me like they were far too happy to be free in this new environment. What in the—
My heart stopped in my chest as I lifted the tattered sheet, and my stomach dropped. Where the fuck are my panties?
Panic rushed through my veins.
I clutched the fabric to my body, finally noticing my surroundings.
Wood…everywhere. A cottage?
A simply constructed table with one chair sat directly across from me, and shelves stuffed with odds and ends hung on the wall behind them. A slab of wood sat underneath, and if I squinted hard enough with one eye and covered the other, I could be fooled into thinking it was a counter. Random objects, like rubber tubing and glass trinkets—basically the equipment that could be found in a home meth lab—were strewn messily about the slab.
And the apparatus I was huddled on top of? It was a bed with posts that certainly wouldn’t have passed a quality-control check at the local furniture store. The material under me wasn’t as soft as a mattress, but it was still cushioned enough to pad my ass…my bare ass… resting on some strange bed where God knew what took place. I let out a squeak and quickly muffled it with my hand over my mouth.
This was how erotic horror books started. With some random chick waking up in the middle of nowhere, strapped to a bed, at the mercy of some reclusive freak who got his rocks off by rubbing his crotch on every part of her body while branding his initials into her skin with a hot iron. I swore I had read a book about it…and the idea had been sexy under the comfort of my own store-bought sheets, in my townhome in the suburbs at two in the morning. Here? Not so much.
I sank back against the wood headboard, lumpy pillows barely offering any lumbar support.
How the hell did I end up here?
At the foot of the bed, there was an ornate trunk fashioned from polished dark wood and metal locks and hinges, the kind that I’d imagine belonged at the bottom of the ocean with the Titanic or something.
My attention darted to the door to my left. It was the only one in this place, and judging by the intense light radiating through the window made of aged plastic next to the door, it led outside.
A tinge of green floated from behind the dirty window. Trees? Was I in the woods? The air was too heavy and thick to be temperate forest air. I was still in the South Pacific…I think.
Who had brought me here? Where were Eli and the rest of the team? I wasn’t much into religion, but for the briefest moment, my little black atheist heart offered up a silent prayer to the mythical dude who wore a toga and sat on clouds while stalking our every move.
Bro, hear my prayer. Pleeease!
My team needed to be alive, and I needed to find them.
I moved without thinking, body prepared to run, then I remembered that this sad blanket was the only cover I had for my naked body.
Maybe if I ran for it, I could escape whatever kind of fucked up cabin-in-the-woods holding cell this was—and whoever was keeping my clothes hostage.
A sound halted my movements. It was distant and hard to make out. Hoarse and grating. Like a chainsaw.
Oh God, this is it. A mad slasher man is about to mince my body into worm food, and no one will hear my screams.
Suddenly, the door flew open. A hairy mass of black and beige barreled toward me.
I screamed, and the creature screeched in response, its shrill tone puncturing my eardrums. I shuffled back as far as I could, until I hit the headboard.
The thing stomped on the ground, its hooves tapping violently as it skittered to the side of the bed. I screamed again and clutched at the items scattered on the crude nightstand, grabbing the closest object I could find. I had no idea what it was. It was made of something smooth like rock and had a sharp tip, like an arrowhead.
The creature lurched at me, propping its fat head on the edge of the bed, its flat nose vibrating a snort at me.
A pig is my kidnapper? What in the Animal Farm bullshit is this?
Before I could process how I had become a character on fucking Animal Crossing, heavy footsteps clonked on the floor. The bright light that had been streaming in from outside was eclipsed by the mammoth creature blocking the doorway.
I gulped down the lump in my throat.
Cryptids really do exist…
All I could see was muscle on muscle. The ridges had no beginning or end.
Yup. This is how I’m going to die. At the whim of that green giant from the frozen vegetable packages.
Except this giant was neither green nor jolly. This beast was brown-skinned and…furious.
I let out a blood-curdling shriek that triggered the pig to join in.
The man stayed still. Wild dark hair and an overgrown beard obscured most of his face, except for his hard eyes that were focused on me. I dropped my gaze, and they landed on a flap of material between his legs. Based on the way it tented, the package underneath must have been considerably sized.
On a random one-night stand, what lay behind that loin cloth would have been more intriguing, but on a kidnapper, not so much.
“Who are you?” I pressed the blanket to my chest and pointed the stone blade in his direction. I had no idea how to fight with a weapon, but I was confident I could learn on the fly.
His expression remained stern. Perhaps he was one of those untouchable tribesmen...the ones who hadn’t had contact with the outside world for their entire existence. The type that killed intruders.
I swallowed another pool of saliva that had settled in the back of my mouth.
I flinched when he leaned forward, his dense body crowding the space between us. “Don’t come closer or I’ll cut your dick off.” My eyes flashed from his glare to the loincloth and then, much slower than intended, back to his face. Enough with his dick, Maris.
Angular jaw and stone expression remained frozen, as if I hadn’t just threatened his manhood. Shit. Maybe he didn’t understand English.
“Why. Did. You. Bring. Me. Here?” I slowed my speech, enunciating each word in hopes that he’d understand at least one of them. His prominent brows only drew closer. I huffed out a breath, sending my bangs flying up. He’s not hard of hearing, Maris! I couldn’t have been less politically correct if I’d tried.
Maybe if I used a normal cadence, I’d somehow get through to him. “Where are my clothes? And why am I here?”
Without warning, the giant marched forward, the distance between us shortening quicker than I could measure. Jesus. This is how I die .
I listened to way too many true crime podcasts not to know how this shit ended. Possible episode titles would include but weren’t limited to: “The Curious Case of the Missing Reclusive Scientist,” “When No One Could Save Bat Girl,” and the potential fan favorite, “Revenge of the Caveman.”
The shadow of his heavy torso descended over me. My brain blipped, and I swung the shard in my hand.
Please let the judgy cloud dude in the sky take pity on my soul and protect me from the hot-but-scary naked lumberjack about to eat me. Amen.
I couldn’t imagine that God had ever heard a prayer where a woman didn’t want a ripped lumberjack to touch her, but hey, there was a first time for everything.
A sharp hiss seared my ears, yet my skin never registered his touch. I blinked one eye open and found Cryptid clutching his shoulder. When he moved his hand, I could see a light tinge of red through a thin slit of flesh. It was quite a ways from needing stitches, but it was still a wound.
Hot damn! I wounded him! My insides fluttered with pride. This was probably how boxers felt when they landed their first punch in a match.
Unfortunately, before I could dart to freedom, his hand caught my neck, pinning me to the headboard. The pig squealed from the commotion.
The stranger’s grasp wasn’t painful, yet it was tight enough to partially compress my vessels, depriving me of sufficient blood flow to my brain. I clawed at him, trying to pry him off, as my limbs tingled woozily like my head.
My vision clouded. The stranger bent over, picking something up from the nook between the bed and the nightstand while his other hand still held me in place. Wavy locks of onyx hair covered part of his face as he righted himself. Phantom helium filled my head. The lack of blood had a hypnotizing effect, and all I could see was him in my trance. Thick lips, the rosy color of redwood bark, parted and a huge whoosh of air blew hair out of his line of vision. I was transfixed by his mouth now, the way the flesh joined together at the corners, forming the most perfectly wet and supple—
With a jolt, he released my neck, sending blood rushing up my neck to be greedily absorbed by my brain. I coughed as too much air rushed to my lungs at once.
A heap of neatly folded cloth was now in front of my face. My clothes.
I examined the pile of expertly folded items and wondered how the fuck this guy knew how to fold like he was the manager at a clothing store. Furthermore, this was proof he had understood my words because he had retrieved my clothes after I asked for them.
My train of thought crashed when I realized what was staring at me from the top of the stack. My cotton panties were perfectly folded, like they were on display in the lingerie section, with my bra draped over them. Heat flamed my face.
I clutched the garments to me, hiding my underwear. Cryptid continued to stare at me, not moving a muscle.
“Um…thanks,” I muttered, desperate for the burn to leave my cheeks.
Perhaps he wasn’t a kidnapper. He would’ve tried to assault me by now, right? He’d had ample opportunity to, especially while I’d been unconscious, but although I was naked, nothing felt different and there were no new marks marring my skin.
My hoarse voice scraped my throat. “Can you go so I can put my clothes on?”
He let out an exasperated sigh and turned on his feet, trudging toward the door. At least he was respectful enough to listen this time, despite crossing a line by stripping me while I was out cold.
Assuming it was him who did it?
Or fuck…maybe he had help from another one of his scary friends.
The pig batted the side of the bed with his hooves, preparing to jump up onto the mattress.
“And take him, too,” I called out. As a biologist, I loved animals, but not when they seemed eager to eat me alive.
Cryptid stared back at me, irritation wrinkling his golden forehead, like I had demanded one too many things.
Perhaps a little sugar would make the creeper and his sidekick go away faster. I swallowed my pride and offered a fake smile. “Please?”
The man whistled, and the pig trotted merrily to him on command. He turned around, and I was greeted by a perfectly sculpted ass. Lord, have mercy on me. The man was ripped.
The door creaked closed, and I finally let out the breath I had been holding, before collapsing onto my back.
Where the fuck am I?