“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 armsto 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?
Chapter 8
Adam
Mycreatureisclearlytrying to die. It doesn’t move away from dangerous animals, it doesn’t recognize dangerous plants, it doesn’t stay where I put it. It’s frustrating, and I think about eating it again, just to stop the trouble of keeping it alive. Him. Keeping him alive, because he’s clearly male and I don’t even know why that matters but somehow, it makes him even more alluring. I don’t know why. I know I can’t kill him, and that I will exhaust myself keeping him alive, because that is how it is supposed to be. I don’t know why, either.
It’s frustrating. My head has never been this full. There was always just the red fog and basic needs. Eat, drink, sleep. Hunt, kill. Touch my cock when it leaves the pouch. Now there is a blurred memory of someone else touching my cock, and I don’t know what it means.
My creature must have poisoned me. There is no other answer. He’s like a venomfang, only his venom doesn’t kill. It breaks the mind.
Even knowing that, I won’t hurt him. My Jaime. That’s what he calls himself. Jaime. I like that word. He has a word for me, too. Adam. I like that word, too, though something behind the red fog tells me it’s not right. That I once had a different word for myself.
I push it away. I like Jaime’s word for me. Adam. I like that when he says it, I know he’s talking to me. And he says it a lot.
After I rescued him from rubbing himself with angerleaves, I heeded his obvious wish for me to go away. I didn’t like it and something inside me ached when he sent me away, but he wanted it, so I obeyed. I didn’t go far, mindful that we’re still near venomfang territory and that my creature is prone to finding danger even where there’s none. Hearing him curse, I rush back and find him squirming on the ground, far from where he voided himself.
His second, gray skin lies on the ground beneath him, and he squirms as if trying to crawl back inside it. Is that what creatures do with shed skin?
