Chapter 10 Retreat, Theft, and Confide
TEN
RETREAT, THEFT, AND CONFIDE
Sabrina
Darolus comes back deep into the night, long after I’ve fallen into a fitful, hungry sleep next to the gross pile of dead bugs I can’t bring myself to stomach yet.
I may still get there… I don’t want to die here. I just can’t bear it yet.
It’s pitch black when the sound of his return wakes me, and I immediately freeze, only to slowly relax as he moves the boulders.
He’s not going to do anything to me. If he wanted to do something, he would’ve by now, and he hasn’t.
The past few days have proven what I originally suspected: he doesn’t want to hurt me.
I snuggle deeper into the tattered hide on the floor, wishing I’d gone ahead and stolen one from his bed earlier.
But as much as I long for more cushion between my aching body and the cold, hard floor, I couldn’t muster the courage to do so.
I’m afraid of taking anything I haven’t been given, lest his passive mood change toward me.
He really didn't like the idea of being taken from.
But he told me I should tell him what I need…
He’s trying.
When I asked him about becoming friends, I’d done it to plead with him for real food, better food—anything other than the bugs—but after I said it, I realized… I think I meant it.
After all, I’ve had worse friends. And right now I need to survive.
Settling back into my blanket-mattress, I close my eyes, secure in the decision to stop fighting him. Hopefully there will be meat in my belly in the morning, and perhaps more for all the meals afterward. Anything, anything except the black beetles.
Shuddering against the buried memories of my starving past, I fall back asleep with the phantom sensation of crunching those beetles between my teeth.
I wake up to the smell of blood and sunlight in my eyes. Squinting around, I notice several small cuts of raw meat lying on a new, flat rock nearby.
And next to them…. one of my knives.
Rolling up onto my knees, I snatch it to me and hug it to my chest. Darolus must have found it and brought it back… no, given it back to me.
I feel so much safer, having it back. But I can’t tell if that makes me trust him more… or less.
Either way, I stick one of the meat slabs with the tip and bring it to my nose. It smells coppery and fresh—fresh enough for me to take the chance.
Glancing toward the beetles, I find them gone.
He must’ve gotten rid of them.
Dammit. I’ve lost my only other option.
I’m also completely alone again. Wondering where he went, I set the meat back down and get to work setting a small fire with some rocks, dirty hide, tattered cloth, and some metal piping I found.
I eventually get a small flame going, and blow on it gently to fan it higher.
Adding more cloth to the embers, it catches quickly, and I throw the chunks of meat in it.
I don’t have much fuel, but I keep the flames going as long as I can and manage to sear the outermost portion of the meat.
Without wanting to throw any more of Darolus’s bedding into the embers for fear he’ll miss something, I let the fire die and the meat cool down, willing it to cook through in the residual heat.
Lifting one of the pieces with my knife again, I bring it to my mouth and slowly chew off a bite of where it’s seared.
Wincing through the nearly raw bits in the center, I slowly swallow it down, trying my best not to gag.
By the time I’m through the third piece, I’m barely holding in the contents of my stomach. Shit, I hope I don’t get sick.
But I keep it down and I didn’t have to do it in front of the naga.
I’ll have to ask him for wood and tinder. Maybe a pot of some kind. With that, I can set up a small firepit from loose stones and use water to boil the meat in the future. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve cobbled together an ad hoc stove.
Then again… maybe today will be the day my crew comes to my rescue.
Shaking my head, I try to immediately temper down the hopeful thoughts before they get out of hand.
No one’s coming for me. Only Blat ever has, and that’s because it was his job as my partner. I haven’t been around twenty-nine cycles without gaining some common sense and rationality. At the end of the day, except for a lucky few with a lot of love and money, everyone is out for themselves.
Weston and the crew will be searching for me, sure, but only as they continue searching for something to trade with Mr. Whicker.
When they don’t find any trace of me, they’ll leave.
They’ll have to. It’s not like The Wreck has enough supplies to begin with.
If I’m hungry, they will soon be hungry too.
Three days. That’s how long I would look for a missing crewmate. It’s already been three days.
I rub my face wearily. My best chance now is making it out of here and getting to the forest where the rest of the ships have landed. Then trading my services for a spot on someone else’s crew. However long that takes…
With renewed energy and a plan in mind, feeling proud of myself for keeping the slimy meat down, I go about keeping busy.
Rising, I scan for anything else Darolus might have left out. Nothing more looks out of the ordinary. Except for a small stain of blood by the water behind his bed, the space appears the same as it had last night.
I finish throwing the rest of the mid-sized rocks into the pool, using the curved edge of a broken metal pipe to sweep the smaller pebbles and dirt next.
After that’s done, I comb the room for any leftover rocks that I might have missed.
There aren’t any, but I do come upon the white orb where it’s sat out of sight on the first step of the blocked staircase for the past few days, and pick it up.
I try to turn it on again with no luck. Putting it down with a sigh, I get back to work.
Darolus is gone all day.
By the time the shadows lengthen and the light dims to a golden-green hue, I’ve given up seeing him today. Hungry once more, I pace, eyeing the boulder-choked tunnel and the fading shafts of light, wondering which will come first: Darolus or the darkness.
Chewing on my nails, hating the prolonged silence, I debate shouting out and seeing if I get a response from him.
But… Do I want him to return?
Where is he?
Questions flutter through my head as I continue to pace, bored.
I’ve already cleaned the entire room—except for his bed—as thoroughly as possible, as well as sharpened my knife on the whetstone by his old weapon stash, rinsed my dirty clothes in the pool, and scrubbed the worst of the grime off my own skin.
Kicking myself for eating all the meat at once, I shuffle over to the basin my fresh water is in and cup my hands, drinking down the last of it to disrupt the yawning in my stomach.
Finally settling back on the hide, I pull off my boots, only to sprawl onto the rough fur with a groan. I’m not looking forward to another hungry night of tossing and turning.
Cursing, restless, I rise again and head to Darolus’s bed to glare down at it.
Nearly as large as him, the circular mass stretches several of my body lengths across.
Heaped with hides and different types of materials, it has been deeply appealing every time I’ve let my eyes roam over it.
My aching, exhausted body longs to climb in for some much-needed warmth and comfort.
The only problem? It smells. And it isn’t the type of smell a human man gives off, it’s different, and not exactly pleasant. Bitter and stifling, the scent of the bed is thicker than the scent of his body, almost overwhelming my senses when I get too close to it.
But as the days have gone by I’ve constantly gotten whiffs of it, and the scent has bothered me less and less. I’m now more bothered by the smells my own body is giving off.
Darolus might not sweat, but I do. And it’s not like there’s a shower around here.
I don’t trust the water in the pool enough to bathe in it, not when I have no idea where it’s coming from.
Even if I did… I can’t swim. A shiver courses through me once more and I eye Darolus’s empty hide pile with renewed lust.
Deciding both the smell and the risk are worth it, I grab the thickest, biggest hide I can get my hands on and drag it off the heap. Gathering the musky material in my arms, I carry it to the water and shake it out until my arms shudder from exhaustion.
Of course, as I’m spreading it out over my original thinner and smaller hide—all while celebrating my daring theft—I hear the boulders being moved.
I reach for my boots but pause, choosing to stand barefoot instead. The last thing I need is him thinking I was trying to escape again.
Our eyes catch as Darolus moves the last rock aside.
Beautiful and blue in the deepening shadows, I find it unfair how appealing they are. I could look into them all day, wondering if it’s the amazing Earthly sky I’m seeing or the legendary color of oceans.
My fingers twitch as I watch him turn and heave the final boulder back into place. His muscles flex and shift with the effort of replacing the huge chunk of solid rock; I’d be weightless to him in comparison.
Suddenly I imagine how high he could lift me if he were lifting both of us on his tail at the same time. Glancing at the vaulted ceiling above, I bet I’d be able to touch it. Though reminded of the cracks, my lips flatten.
I don’t want to be here the day it all falls. And it’s going to fall someday.
Turning around, Darolus recatches my attention as he reaches for something behind him.
Producing a dead animal and a makeshift blue plastic satchel of some kind, he carries both into the room, directly toward me.
His eyes streak around, cataloging the changes I’ve made—going from my fire pile to my castoff boots to the clear floor and the few pipes I gathered against the pillar.
To my left and down to the second hide on the ground, haphazardly placed above the other, his eyes miss nothing.