Chapter 7
Jaime
I would have preferred to stay near the crashed ship, but my alien keeper has a different opinion. Ignoring all my attempts to steer him upstream, he takes off straight into the jungle, and my already slim hopes of ever leaving this moon plummet.
Yes, I probably shouldn’t have been so passive about letting him carry me off, but what was I supposed to do?
Kick his cock pouch and run? Ha ha ha. Being disabled sucks, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar.
Besides, I doubt even a non-disabled person could have escaped.
This alien is fast, strong, and decidedly determined to keep me.
Even my pathetic attempt to crawl away angered him.
Had I been able to run, he probably would have killed me on the spot.
Hence, I’m letting myself be carried to god knows where.
It’s not that I’m uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, actually.
Once I showed him where and how to support me, the alien has been carefully cradling me in his arms in a four-armed bridal carry.
Aaaand, that’s not a comparison I should be making.
I’m not sure if death by alien cock is better or worse than death by alien claws and teeth.
With my luck, I’m probably in for a combination of both.
“So, you from around here?” I ask, my mouth eager to fill the nervous silence between us.
Around us, the jungle is anything but silent.
As if aware that my new friend isn’t currently hunting, the other creatures of the forest don’t fall deathly silent upon his approach; they merely stay well out of his way.
There are more of those noisy dragon birds, other kinds of flying creatures, and I’m pretty sure I saw something resembling a monkey swinging from one tree branch to another. There are also bugs and reptiles and I don’t even want to know what else.
The place is teeming with both fauna and flora.
Massive trees stretch their red and black canopies over our heads, protecting us from the sun.
Creeping vines grow along the branches, dotted with amazingly colorful blossoms. There are thorny bushes, leafy bushes, bushes with odd, potato-like leaves, along with dozens of other kinds of bushes.
Some are in bloom, some are laden with fruit.
As we pass by, one snatches a flying reptile from the air with a snap of a branch and feeds it to the center of its trunk. Creepy, yes, but incredibly beautiful.
Taking in a deep breath, I let myself be grateful.
I survived a spaceship crash. I haven’t drowned.
I’m not injured. The gallons of water I swallowed during my struggle in the river haven’t made me violently sick.
I’m safe, at least for now. I’m being gently carried by something that could have bitten my head off but chose not to.
I’m unsure if that’s a positive yet, but I’ll count it as one for now.
Not everything is positive, of course. I have no clue how and if I’m ever going to get back to my brother.
My stomach is starting to remind me that the little I ate this morning ended up on the cockpit floor and the only thing sloshing around inside of it is river water.
Other bodily functions are also vying for attention.
All in all, though, I count myself lucky.
“I don’t think I introduced myself,” I tell my alien.
He mostly ignores me, focused on observing the surrounding jungle, but he doesn’t seem to mind my talking either, which is good.
I’m a big talker. “I’m Jaime. Hey.” Tapping on his chest gets his attention.
“Jaime,” I repeat, pointing at myself. “Jaime.” He tilts his head to the side, probably confused by the weird creature in his arms. “Yeah, buddy, we’re both confused here. So, I’m Jaime.”
This time, when I say my name, the alien looks straight at me, making me think he perhaps understood me after all.
Or he’s just getting annoyed with me. Since he makes no attempt at repeating my name, like any proper protagonist in a me-Tarzan-you-Jane scene should, I continue, “What about you? Do you have a name?”
I doubt it. The anxious chittering from when he thought he hurt me with his carrying attempt was probably the closest thing his kind can do to actual talking, and naming individuals requires abstract thinking I’m not sure my alien is capable of.
“I can’t keep calling you ‘the alien’ or ‘the creature’.
Murder-chameleon isn’t a bad name, but since you haven’t murdered me yet, I’d avoid that one as well.
You know, not to jinx it.” I still can’t imagine what such a creature could possibly want with me other than to eat me, but it looks like I’ll find out whether I want to or not, so I might as well stop worrying about it.
“You definitely need a name. Hmm, let’s see.
” I tap my lips, nearly jumping a few seconds later when my alien does the same.
But he doesn’t tap his own lips. He touches mine.
Gently, without a trace of those deadly claws, he presses a fingertip to my mouth, holds it briefly, then pulls away, all while still supporting my weight with his other three arms.
He watches me expectantly. Am I supposed to touch his lips now? Eyeing his two rows of sharp teeth, I decide that’s a hard no. He might be all friendly and curious, but even a house cat will bite you if you touch it the wrong way. This guy would probably bite my entire hand off.
“A name,” I remind myself as I clear my throat, trying to ignore how his simple touch made me feel.
“You need a name.” I should give him an animal name.
That might help me stop thinking about him in inappropriate ways.
Except he’s clearly not an animal. He might not be human-level intelligent or sentient—or whatever scientists call it—but he definitely isn’t an animal.
I don’t know why I’m so certain of it, but I am.
“Not a dog name, then,” I murmur, more to myself than to him, though he can’t understand me anyway.
“A human name. But what name?” I know so many names, but each is tied to a face from my past. Do I want to think about my PT instructor every time I see my alien?
Or that hot nurse who always carried me to the bathroom instead of using a wheelchair?
Or the annoying brat who bullied me in high school until Steven broke his cheekbone?
Damn, this is difficult. Is this how people feel when naming their children?
Looking up at the alien’s face, I decide I can’t name him after anyone mean. He’s just too nice for that. He hasn’t tried to eat me even once. No, it must be a good name.
“Hmm, let’s see. I’ve met so many nice people over the years.
” I really did. A few of the doctors I ran into were arrogant assholes but most were deeply caring people who truly wanted to help others.
Same with nurses. The kids at school were…
well, they were kids. Stupid and impressionable.
Except— “How about Adam?” I never really got to know him, his family moved and he transferred to another school before we even had a proper conversation, but I always had a little crush on him.
Okay, perhaps naming my alien after a boy I had a crush on isn’t the best idea.
But now that the name is in my mind, it’s impossible to get it out, and all the others sound stupid.
“Fine,” I sigh. “I guess you’ll be Adam from now on. Any protests?”
To no one’s surprise, there are none.
“Alright, Adam.”
Looking at me, the alien does that curious head tilt again.
“Yes. That’s you.” I point at him. “Adam.” I point at myself.
“Jaime.” No reaction. “Tough crowd, huh? Whatever. Look, Adam, what’s the plan here?
We’ve been walking for hours. Well, you’ve been walking, but you know what I mean.
I’ll need a restroom break soon.” Something I’m absolutely not looking forward to.
“Maybe some water, too? Food would be nice, but let’s not push it.
For now, I’m just happy I’m not on the menu.
But water? Yeah, I’ll need some water soon. ”
The humidity is even worse here in the jungle than it was out by the river, and all the sweat soaking into my jumpsuit is draining what I drank earlier pretty fast. Other matters, however, are becoming more pressing.
When Adam still shows no signs of stopping anytime soon, I squirm in his arms. “Okay, buddy, you have to put me down. Now,” I add in a sharper voice that stops him in his tracks.
Alright, that seems to work. “Down.” I point to the ground.
Adam chitters nervously, his hands patting me up and down as if he’s searching for an injury, but when I point to the ground again, he gets the message and gently sets me down.
“Thank you.” Under his watchful gaze, I stretch my arms and back as much as I can, then lift myself up on my arms to look around.
The surrounding jungle looks much like what we’ve been traversing for hours, full of those gigantic trees with protruding roots.
I crawl toward one when I spot a holy grail, a root about a foot above the ground, shaped like a bench.
Another runs perpendicular to it at a slightly higher level and should serve well as a handrail.
It’s not ideal, but anything—literally anything—beats lying down for what I’m about to do.
If you think shitting in the woods sucks, try doing it when you’re disabled.
To my relief, Adam leaves me alone and stalks around, inspecting the surrounding jungle like a guard on patrol.
Stopping by a nearby bush, I gather a handful of soft leaves.
They’re round, dark red with brighter red veins, and look like they’ll do the job just fine.
Taking off the top of my jumpsuit—why did I ever agree to wear that thing?
—is simple, but pulling it down over my hips proves surprisingly difficult.
Huffing and puffing, I squirm on the ground like a worm until I finally get it down to my knees.
Then comes the grueling task of dragging myself up and balancing on the root.
I swear that if I get out of here, I will never take a toilet with nice handrails for granted again. Never.
When the leaves on my right rustle and move, I shriek and flinch so hard I nearly fall off my improvised throne.
“Fuck!” I shout as Adam’s head peeks out from between them, his skin mimicking their pattern so flawlessly it’s really only his eyes and teeth I can see.
“I nearly had a heart attack, you stupid creep! You don’t sneak up on a man doing his business in the woods, for Christ’s sake.
Go away. Shoo! I really don’t need an audience for this. ” Does anyone?
Adam moves even closer, his clicking noises almost resembling speech as he chitters.
“No!” I shout. “Go away. You can be curious when my pants aren’t by my ankles. Shoo!”
Hissing, Adam bursts through the foliage. My heart jumps into my throat as he leans over me, making me feel more vulnerable than ever. It’s ridiculous because being clothed wouldn’t have helped, but being naked in front of an angry predator makes it worse.
Adam whines but doesn’t back off this time. Instead, he yanks the stack of leaves out of my hand and tosses it away. Only after that does he retreat a few steps.
“No! Give them back!” I shout, angry, embarrassed, and so frustrated I might just start laughing hysterically. “I need those. Come on. I know you might not understand why, but give them back, please.”
I point at the leaves. Adam points at the leaves. Then he viciously scratches himself.
“I don’t care if you have alien fleas,” I growl. “Give those leaves back!”
I point at the leaves again. Adam points at the leaves again. Then he scratches himself again. At this point, it’s like a Laurel and Hardy comedy, and I might just lose my mind.
Adam snarls before disappearing between the trees.
“Yeah, sure, run off! Stupid lizard,” I grumble, my eyes widening when Adam returns carrying a bunch of fresh leaves.
These don’t look as soft as the ones I picked, and the color is very different, but they’re leaves.
I asked for leaves and he brought me leaves.
After snatching away the first ones. The ones he pointed at before scratching himself.
“Oh. My. God.” It suddenly dawns on me. “The leaves. They make you itch?” Raising my hand, I’m alarmed to see my palm bright red.
It doesn’t itch, but I haven’t touched the leaves themselves, only their stalks.
“Fucking hell. Had I been about to wipe my ass with the local version of poison ivy?” Adam saved me.
Again. What am I supposed to think about this?