Page 9 of Wild Life (STEAM-y #2)

Swallow the Mystery Meat

Maris

The last bits of sunlight in the sky were hanging on by a thread by the time I had found my way back to the hut. Unfortunately, my search for the beach would have to wait another day.

Since we had been close to shore on the boat, I assumed I was still near Fiji, which meant this island was somewhere in the South Pacific. I was certain because the nearest continent to our last vessel location had been a two-week boat ride away. Judging from the newly raised stubble on my legs, which I’d shaved the last night on the boat, I hadn’t been missing for more than two days, at best.

A deep heaviness filled my stomach. Perhaps it was too optimistic to assume that everyone had survived, but I couldn’t let my theories turn down that dark alley of dread. I had to keep faith alive that they were all safe and searching for each other—searching for me.

I filled my lungs with breath, recharging my hope. They are fine. I needed to make it to a beach. I could send a signal from shore for any boats or airplanes passing by. Smoke signal would be the best way since it could be spotted from far distances. Once rescued, I could contact the university to find out the whereabouts of Eli, Malcom, Fran, and the rest of the crew.

For all I knew, they were wandering this godforsaken place just as I was, hoping to make it to the coast, too.

Glowing embers flicked to life in front of me, igniting flames that climbed the air like vines, reaching for the sky. I watched the fire dance as Cryptid pushed wood about with a long metal rod. The pig was off to the side, happily chowing down on his dinner, scraps of unidentifiable fruit and vegetables flying in every direction around him.

A crawling sensation tickled the hairs on my arm. Slap. The local mosquitoes must have sent out a newsletter to inform each other that fresh meat was now available on the menu. My skin was covered in red welts, some from the bites themselves and others from my incessant lashes meant to murder the damn heathens.

Slap. Slap.

Cryptid turned his head in my direction, studying my fingernails scraping my forearm. Until now, he had refused to acknowledge my existence. He knew I had returned to the hut, but failed to spare me a side glance when I’d tripped over an uplifted root or offer me a disgruntled groan when I had accidentally spilled some of the rainwater from the barrel trying to pour myself a drink.

It amazed me how he could act like he hadn’t almost killed me in the jungle. Okay… killed sounded dramatic, but for a moment back there, I had been convinced he was going to skin me alive and feed me to the black-and-beige furball wheezing next to me that sounded like it had food lodged inside its nostrils.

I certainly couldn’t forget it. My skin heated when I remembered how he had looked at me like I was his for the taking. I had never experienced that type of fear. Not even when our car had skidded on the highway, killing my parents, had I been so scared. Perhaps the most confusing part was how that fear had morphed into excitement. Like a thrill I had wanted to continue. It must have been what cliff divers and rollercoaster junkies experienced when dopamine took over their brains.

He was angry, like he couldn’t stand me more than before. Earlier, I had caught him stealing glances at me when he assumed I wasn’t paying attention, but not anymore. One thing I knew for sure, he was like every other man in the world, sending mixed signals and confusing the hell out of women. However, if Eli had been here, he would have argued that I was the one who was an expert at sending out mixed signals.

Cryptid’s thick fingers, the same ones that had gripped me, picked up a lush frond of leaves and tossed it into the fire.

I broke the silence between us. “What was that?”

More cold shoulder.

A citrusy aroma filled the air. The leaves must’ve been something to ward off mosquitoes, because the little fuckers no longer helped themselves to my blood.

I bit back a victorious smile. He could play a badass all he wanted, but I was still visible to him.

A wet nose nudged my side, knocking me onto my haunches. The pig snorted playfully before rubbing his head on my lap, begging me to pet him.

Cryptid marched up to us and snapped his finger sharply. A sign for his companion to retreat.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” The mammoth pig had scared me at first, with his size and his screeching, but now, I realized he wasn’t a threat. In fact, he was kind of cute, like an oversized marshmallow with fur.

The brute stared at us, unsure if he should trust us together. I massaged one of the pig’s ears, and he burrowed his nose into my belly, clearly enjoying the affection. At least someone enjoys my company.

The big jerk exhaled a haughty breath and turned back to the fire. He extracted a knife and busied himself with whatever task was at hand. Over his shoulder, I saw a streak of blood on his knife. I quickly glanced away. My guess was, he was preparing dinner, but I didn’t have the stomach to see the carcass.

Fluttering sounds overhead drew my attention to the purple sky. A flurry of black skittered across the haze.

“Bats!” I squealed, jumping to my feet. The pig screeched, protesting the loss of my lap.

With everything that had happened, I had completely forgotten about my research. Ordinarily, there wasn’t a day when I wasn’t thinking about the little critters. My insides vibrated with giddiness as I watched what must’ve been a hundred bats flapping through the sky. I must have witnessed this sight thousands of times, and the majesty of it had never waned.

He was peering at them with interest, his hands idle for probably the first time in the short while I had known him.

The pig grunted at us and stalked away, not happy that our attention had diverted from him.

I craned my neck, tracing their flight pattern. Their roost was most likely to my left, as they flew in hoards toward the opposite direction.

“The entire colony is awake,” I murmured, mostly to myself, and a little for Cryptid, too.

Like shadows, they moved with urgency, their lives depending on this one flight. “They’re searching for fresh water,” I continued. “After sleeping all day, they’re thirsty and will glide to the nearest source and swallow a mouthful before heading off to hunt for the night.”

If a body of water was to my right, then that would mean the jungle most likely thinned out on my left, and led to the shore. It made sense, the trees were lusher in the direction the bats were heading. I would know...I had been pinned up against one not long ago.

The warm shudder that happened so often now that it seemed to have become a habit traveled through my body, clenching my core. Really, Maris? Now is when you decide to reminisce about the wild man’s dick threatening to impale you?

I shook my head, clearing my brain of the caveman smut that it was addicted to. Maybe he hadn’t noticed anything.

His severe gaze was already on me, penetrating my skin.

Break the silence, Maris. My forced smile never reached my eyes. “I like bats.”

All he offered in return was a half-hearted nod.

I was starving for conversation, and I took that as my invitation to keep talking. Planting my butt back down on the ground, I took the lead. “I study them. That’s what I was doing before I ended up here. I was on my way to Fiji. Do you know where Fiji is?”

His bushy brows knitted together, as if I weren’t making any sense.

I persisted. I was so desperate to get home that I would figure out where I was even if I had to beat it out of him. Okay, maybe not beat him, because he’d probably roast me as a consequence—like the unidentifiable animal whose body had been dismembered and put over the fire.

“Do you know which way Fiji is?” If I had an approximate location, I could figure out where the hell I was.

Nothing. No semblance of recognition of what I was asking. No gesture of caring to help.

“Are you alone here? Do you have any family?” I assumed he was solo because there was no evidence of a partner or children in the hut. Aside from the minimal furniture and random junk that littered the shelves, it was bare, like he didn’t spend much time there himself.

I’d placed him around the same age as me, thirty-two, or maybe a few years older. To be in your thirties and have to spend it doing manual labor on a deserted island without a friend to call at the end of the day to vent to or family to embrace had to have been a far lonelier life than the one I lived back in Washington. At least I had friends, a rotating carousel of men, and Aunt Sherri, though none offered the kind of closeness I craved.

Cryptid’s expression deepened with something I couldn’t pinpoint. Whatever it was, it caused his focus to dart away from me and to the fire and then back to the pig, who had returned to his side for some petting. His large hands stroked the furry coat of the content animal, almost like he was comforting himself. They were an ironic sight to witness together—both exaggerated versions of their species.

The thick aroma of meat wafted into my nose, interrupting my train of thought, and my stomach growled. I was starving and had a hankering for barbecue. My gaze flashed to the pig, then guiltily away, catching the wild man’s knowing stare. I smiled awkwardly.

“So, what did you find while you were hunting earlier?” I forced my voice to remain casual, as if we hadn’t had that thing in the jungle.

He strode over to the fire. When he returned, he carried a stick with a chunk of meat speared on it. It was pale, almost like chicken or fish.

“What’s that?”

He shook it at me again. There was something off-putting about mystery meat. I wouldn’t let just anything in this mouth.

Okay, this wouldn’t have been the wildest thing to have passed my lips.

Before I could take it, a hand gripped my chin. His hold didn’t hurt, but it was firm. I tried to pull away and pushed against the stone wall that was his bare chest. “Let me go!”

I had succeeded only partially because my jaw was free, yet his thumb rubbed at my lower lip, coaxing it to relax. The pad was rough, like sandpaper. My lips tingled, nerves firing wildly, almost as if I liked it.

His pupils trained on my mouth, as if it was his toy to play with, and I sucked in a shaky breath, unintentionally allowing my lips to part. He moved quickly, slipping a shred of meat inside, grazing my teeth with his fingers as he pushed it into my mouth. My tongue briefly swiped his index finger, tasting the charred essence of his offering and the salt of his skin.

Our eyes locked as I chewed the tender meat, its juices exploding in my mouth. The taste was mild, much like chicken. Then again, everything tasted like chicken at first bite.

Far too familiarly, his hand closed around my throat and stroked my sensitive flesh, urging me to swallow.

I obeyed, my throat working against his grip. In the silence between us, I realized I wasn’t the only one breathing heavily, loud enough to overshadow the crackling sounds of the fire.

His intense stare cast a shiver down my spine, despite the suffocatingly hot and humid air enveloping us.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

He moved to feed me another piece of meat, but I intercepted it before it met my lips. “I got it from here.” It was insane how the most mundane interactions between us became charged, and I was a freak for enjoying it. I might’ve been craving closeness more than ever on this desolate island, but I needed space. These emotions he brought out in me were far too strange for my liking.

The urge to pull away must’ve been contagious because the stranger went back to the fire, as far away from me as possible. We ate in silence, exchanging fleeting side glances yet pretending the other wasn’t peeking.

I wondered how long he had been here. From the state of his hut, it must have been a while. He knew how to survive out here like he had been doing it his whole life. Certain things about him were peculiar, like the length of his facial hair. I would’ve imagined if someone had been here for years, their beard would be overgrown and scraggly, except his wasn’t very long. Like it had been trimmed regularly. I could see his full lips through the fuzz, and the hair was neat and free of any dirt. Did he take a sharpened rock to his jaw every now and again, giving himself a good barber-style shave? One slip of the wrist, especially without a mirror, and the man would have been a goner if he had sliced his jugular.

I chuckled at the morbid thought, which earned me a tight glare from Mr. Almost-Naked Sweeney Todd.

Without warning, a deep yawn overtook my mouth. I set the empty meat skewer aside and stretched my arms overhead. It was late, and I could barely keep my eyes open any longer. I needed sleep.

He must’ve shared my feeling, because he rose to his feet and moved to the wood barrel next to the hut, reaching in and extracting a brown plastic container. The words butter spread were printed on the side. One man’s ocean litter is another man’s water cup.

I sat dumbfounded as he splashed the water onto his face. Tiny droplets dripped down his facial hair and neck. He swished some fresh water in his mouth and spit it out before reaching for a thin twig, one of many resting in another butter spread container on top of an old stump that he used as a table. He rubbed the stick against his teeth as if he were brushing them and then gave it a quick chew. He groomed himself like he had been doing it every night…as if it was part of a routine.

Who was this man? And why did he sometimes act like he was from another world—from my world?

I was suddenly aware of my own hygienic needs, but fuck if I was going to ask to borrow one of those stick thingies. I missed my toothbrush and face wash.

Finished with his bedtime routine, Mr. Dental Hygienist put the fire out, blanketing us in darkness. My vision took a minute to adjust to the lack of light. I could barely make out his massive frame trudging up the steps of the hut, his heavy footfalls creaking the wood underneath. The front door opened, and the pig went trotting merrily in, ready for slumber. His human didn’t move. He turned to me, as if waiting for me to come inside with them.

The pit of loneliness in my stomach begged me to get up and follow him, my desire for companionship battling with my logical brain.

This was weird. I didn’t know this man, yet too much questionable shit had already happened between us that shouldn’t happen between two strangers. His hands had already been all over me and inside my mouth. He had seen me naked when I was unconscious, as I was certain he was the one who had undressed me.

No.

Sharing a sleeping space with him wasn’t appropriate at all. But God, what I wouldn’t have given to share a bed with someone to quell my anxiety.

It took all my willpower to shake my head and decline his offer.

Oblivious to the deranged battle going on inside me, he shrugged and closed the door behind himself, leaving me to spend the night with my old friends: abandonment and loneliness.