Chapter Text
Tommy’s arms burned. It felt like his entire being was on fire, as he kicked and flailed his arms. The faceless creatures in the black coats watched him silently, holding clipboards and writing as he swam to another edge of the basin, trying desperately to grasp at the screws and seams of the walls with no luck. An exhausted whine escaped his throat as he kicked, his legs cramping and aching as he turned towards another edge.
He’d been in this basin several times before. He knew there was nothing for him to grab onto, yet he still scoured the edges and let out frustrated groans that almost sounded like whines when he couldn’t find any. He panted hard and could feel his legs slow involuntarily and watched as the black-coated figures spoke to one another. Their language was all sharp vowels and clicks, rolled r’s, and melodic o sounds. A burst of frustration and anger allowed him to kick a bit harder as he looked up at the faceless creatures. He let out a frustrated scream, watching as the creatures flinched, their conversation stopping as they halted in their note-taking.
“When I get out of here, I’m killing all you fuckers!” He screamed. The things didn’t react much besides another flinch from his yelling, frustrating him further. He began kicking a bit more frantically as he clawed at the sides of the basin, looking for something to grab onto. He had no such luck, as his little energy burst quickly drained, leaving him heaving for air and struggling more than before.
He tilted his head up and let out a choked noise as the water covered his ears, making it difficult to hear anything over the sound of his heartbeat. He watched the black-coats motion to each other again, their plated mouths moving jerkily as they spoke, turned to him and stared for several moments, then resumed speaking.
He sucked in as much air as he could before he could no longer kick hard enough to keep himself afloat, the water covering his eyes and mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force himself to move again, his legs and arms aching so terribly that he couldn’t think straight. He felt himself fall limp despite all efforts, his exhaustion catching up to him as the weighted shirt drug him down to the bottom of the basin. He’d been forced to wear the shirt after the black-coats had realized humans were buoyant enough to float.
He laid at the bottom, staring up as the light bent and refracted under the water. His head began to pound and ache as the need for oxygen became worse and worse, but he refused to open his mouth. He was going to last as long as fucking possible, or he’ll die trying. He probably would one of these days.
He bit the inside of his cheek as bubbles escaped his nose, watching the artificial waves move across the surface as shadows formed at his peripherals. Finally, only when it felt like his head was going to burst and that he was going to pass out, did he begin to cough and gasp for air, only for his nose and lungs to flood with water. His coughing and gasping became more frantic as he choked, his vision nearly fully blacking out as the sounds in his ears were fully replaced by high-pitched ringing.
Only then, did he feel the hook loop around a ring on the side of the weighted shirt and he was dragged to the surface onto the ground. He coughed as water spilled out of his lungs onto the ground. He felt a foot on his head as hands were quick to bind his wrists and legs, as he was moved onto a table. He felt a tube get shoved down his throat and coughed as a steady stream of oxygen was forced into his lungs, pushing the water out as he gagged and heaved. It was an old procedure he was all too familiar with, as he’d been doing it for nearly two weeks now. He coughed as he was rolled onto a cart thing and pulled back to the cell he was kept in. A cage.
He managed to blearily open his eyes and watch as the faceless thing punched in a code, the K-looking symbol, the upside-down 5 with lines through it, the wiggly slash symbol, the curved N, and the dotted, backward D. He closed his eyes again as he was rolled into the cell, the tube was pulled out, and he was left alone again. He could breathe now, but he almost wished he couldn’t. With as much effort as he could produce, he crawled over to the shoddy nest-like bed he was given. He dropped, heaving for air, and closed his eyes, unprepared for another day.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.
The next time Tommy opened his eyes was when he heard a loud metal clanging sound followed by a buzzer noise. He was sore as he pushed himself to an upright position and looked to where an opening in the white walls had appeared. He pulled himself to his feet and staggered a bit over to the opening, leaning against the walls, and peeked into the opening first. Inside was his daily rations, a plain white package, and a see-through package with a little resealable tube. He took both of the packages and tore the first one open.
It was full of the thick little brownish-grey chips. He returned to the pseudo-bed and sat down, still leaning against the wall for support, as he began to pick at the chips, eating them slowly. They had a chalky texture and a bitter, metallic taste. He cringed a bit but continued chewing, knowing this was all he would be getting for a while. After finishing the larger, intact chips, he funneled the rest into his mouth, cringing at the taste, and opened the second packet of water. He took a small sip, washing the dry crumbs down, before resealing it and taking a moment to stare at the container. He tilted it back and forth, watching as the water moved from one side to another, and felt his stomach tighten as he thought of the tests.
One of these days, the black-coats aren’t going to pull him out. They’re going to leave him in there. He’s sure of it. A bitter feeling rose in his gut as he bit the inside of his cheek. He had to escape before then. By this point, he had the code memorized, surely that had to be of some help to him. He tucked the package of water under a blanket, where he had two other packages hidden away.
The black-coats rarely came into the cage outside of taking him to and from the research stations, so he didn’t worry too much about them finding his stash. He thought about the pathway to the stations. There were always other cages occupied by more humans.
They all were much thinner than him, more scarred, more tired, and some watched him with bitter gazes. He wondered what they thought he was doing. He could tell at a glance, his cage was larger, he got better food, he was better off than them, and he wasn’t quite sure why. He had bedding and pillows, as torn and stained as they may be, it was more than these humans had. Maybe the aliens wanted to see what a human could do at peak performance, maybe they were comparing his data to others, maybe he was the control group. He tried not to think about it, but he could see it in the faces of the others every time he passed by. They despised him.
He stared down at his hands for several moments before seeing a flash and looking up to see the wall with the door had become transparent, and a black-coat was staring in. His stomach tightened with anxiety, usually, he’d at least be given a day to recover before he was dropped into the tank or onto a treadmill again. The faceless thing watched him. It was almost humanoid, bipedal with no tail, though it lacked eyes or a nose, and had holes in the side of its head which Tommy assumed were ears. Like the others, it stood a bit hunched over, flexible spines going down its back. It had ugly metallic-looking plates going down its arms and chest that slightly reflected light, like armor, though there were several slits along its torso that vaguely resembled ribs. He could almost imagine digging his fingers between those slits and pulling the plating off during an escape.
Its face was equally plated, its mouth resembling those of ventriloquist dolls, and moving similarly. It had two sets of horns, one larger, curvy set facing backward, and another smaller set that curved downwards under the ear. He watched the thing with a scowl as it approached, pressing its clawed hand against the glass. Despite his exhaustion, in a swift motion, he darted forward and slammed his fist against the glass, relishing in the way the thing stumbled back in alarm, its mouth opening in a deafened shriek.
Tommy grinned, all teeth, and watched the thing scramble a bit, hitting something on the wall, as the glass became opaque again. He let out a satisfied hum and stumbled back to his nest, reaching under the blanket to take another sip of his water. His mouth was still painfully dry, but he knew he had to ration his water. He could go a month without food, but he doubted he’d last two days without water. He settled down again.
He had at least one thing going for him, that these things were scared of him. They always jumped when he yelled, whenever they’d come to retrieve him they’d come in with these taser-staff things and they’d flinch whenever he charged towards them, and some days he could even scare them off. When they’d eventually grab ahold of him, they’d bind his hands and muzzle him, but even then, if he jerked too fast or twisted they’d immediately try to get away from him, before remembering they could tase him. It was almost funny how scared they were of him.
If he managed to escape, he reckoned he could get out on intimidation alone. He readjusted the blankets around him and leaned against the wall. It may be a cage, he may be locked up like a dog in a kennel, but at least it’s safe. For now at least.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Tommy jerked upright as the ship began to jerk suddenly, the room trembling as a low, buzzing sound filled the room, the tell-tale sign of the ship landing. He’d gone by a window once during a landing period, and he’d made himself remember every shutter and jump the ship made, just so he could reassure himself that this was just landing, not crashing. He listened carefully as the ship jerked one more time and the buzzing came to a stop. Touchdown.
He sighed and leaned against the wall and silently wondered what they were doing. Refueling the ship? Restocking on food? Medicine? Most likely some combination of those, though he still wondered. He sighed and leaned back, knowing he at least had until take off for the next tests. They never did tests while on the ground.
Several minutes passed when suddenly the doorway’s wall turned transparent and he jerked upwards. On the other side were two black-coats, each carrying a taser-staff thing. He stared wide-eyed as they gestured to each other and then to him before one finally came to the door and punched in the code. The door hissed open and one came in, jerking the staff towards him. Tommy jumped to his feet and stared it down. It made a low growling noise and jerked the staff towards him again. He couldn’t help but grin. There were usually four or five of these things coming to get him at once, but now there were only two, where were the rest?
He didn’t know and didn’t care. It was two versus one, and Tommy was certain he could take them on. He yelled and charged the one in the room first, startling it. It tried to push the staff into Tommy’s side, but he easily ducked under it and slammed into the thing’s legs. It shrieked in a panic as he began pushing it out the door. The other one shrieked and jammed the staff into Tommy’s side and he cried out in pain before twisting and gripping the staff. He didn’t bother trying to figure out how it worked and simply swung it at the thing's head, clearly catching it off guard.
It brought up its arm to guard its head but still cried out in pain as the staff smashed against its arm. The taser bit shattered and Tommy grinned even more, ramming the now pointed stick into the slits of the thing’s torso. It screamed as watery blue-green blood began to pour from the wound. The other black-coat let out an equally distressed wail as the creature grasped around the shattered staff frantically, seeming unsure of what to do with the wound.
Tommy quickly turned his attention to the other black-coat and snarled, relishing in the way it stumbled back and let out frantic cries, lowering its head in what seemed to be a submissive gesture. But that didn’t matter. Tommy was pissed.
He lunged at the thing and started punching, it shrieked loudly and began clawing at his sides, tearing through the weighted shirt, but he kept punching, before grabbing ahold of the thin seam of the plating on its cheek and yanking. It shrieked in alarm and reached up, tearing at Tommy’s arm. He bit back a cry of pain as he began bleeding but kept yanking until a chunk of the plating tore off, leaving an open wound that blood poured out of. He stumbled back and watched as the creature shrieked and cupped the side of its face, wailing in distress as it bled.
He jumped to his feet, certain that the two were thoroughly occupied with themselves, and sprinted down the hall. He followed the familiar paths and paused when he heard yelling from the other humans. He looked up, they were all staring at him, screaming, shaking the cages desperately. Some spoke English, letting out hopeful cries of, “Let us out! Get the cage- please! Let us out!” He choked a bit, looking towards the door he just exited and the door he was moving towards, before running to the closest cage. The woman in the cage approached, speaking quickly in a language Tommy didn’t understand, and gesturing to the lock. It was different from the one on his cage, circular with a knob that turned revealing different shapes and symbols. He spent a moment frantically trying to figure out how it worked when he heard a shriek.
He looked up to see another black-coat enter the room. He looked between the lock and the black-coat for a moment, before charging the thing. It snarled in surprise, reaching up and clawing at Tommy’s neck. He yelled back, screaming nonsense as he punched and kicked, trying to get a grasp at the seams of the plating, seeming to be their weaknesses. This black-coat was stronger though, slamming him against the wall and digging its claws into his neck. Tommy yelled and kicked, before managing to angle his head and biting down on the thing's arm. It screamed and released his neck immediately, but he didn’t let go, biting down harder and scrambling for the seaming in the thing’s chest. Tommy cringed as he felt the plating crack between his teeth and the thing’s sour-tasting blood filled his mouth, dribbling down his chin.
Immediately he released it, spitting up what he could of the sour taste before turning and darting towards the door, blocking out the screams of the humans behind him and the things’ deafening shriek. He passed the door to the research chambers that he’d usually be led into and began running blindly down the halls. This ship couldn’t be that big, right? There had to be some way out.
He turned a corner and was met with two more of the black-coats. They both screeched in alarm at the sight of him free and his clothes drenched with their crewmates' blood. He grinned and watched them panic, turning and darting away. Tommy booked it down the hall, chasing after them, only for one of them to turn a corner and slam the door in the other face. It screamed and slammed its fist against the door, making pitiful, desperate noises as Tommy closed in. He slammed the thing into the ground and managed to pin it down, snarling in its face. “Where the fuck is the way out?”
The thing squirmed and wailed under him, clearly not understanding what he was saying. Tommy yelled in frustration, standing up and taking care to step on the things arm as he ran. He couldn’t stand around and play charades to get directions. He bolted down another hallway when a new smell touched his nose, something sweet. Fresh air.
He quickly turned, looking for the source of the smell, and began running towards it. All the hallways looked the same, fluorescent whites with black tiled floors. He had to get out of here, and this was his only shot.
He turned a corner as another new smell touched his nose, some smell that he couldn’t quite place. He turned another corner and stopped when he came upon a large door, the size of a two-car garage door. He looked it up and down, a bit frantic before his eyes landed on a keypad on the side. He darted to the keypad and stared for a moment before realizing it had the same symbols like the one to his cage. He quickly recalled the code and punched it in, before feeling his stomach drop as it made an angry buzzing noise and nothing changed.
He punched in the code a second time, praying he’d just put it in wrong, only for the keypad to make the noise again.
His eyes burned with tears, this couldn’t be it, this couldn’t be where he lost, he was so close. He could practically taste the air outside, he was almost there, this couldn’t be it.
As if a miracle, the door buzzed, a lighter tone, and opened. It had barely gotten a meter off the ground when Tommy slid under it, ignoring the alarmed shrieks of the black-coats reentering the ship. With a quick sideways glance, he realized that the guards were there too. They were very similar to the black-coats, though they were much larger. Their horns were larger, they wore white uniforms with multi-colored stains, that he couldn’t help but imagine were bloodstains. They were also heavily armed.
He didn’t hesitate to start running, ignoring the yelling behind him. He descended the ramp, into a secluded forested area. He could see upturned ground dug, a deep pit, a grave. He paid it no mind, he wouldn’t be added to it.
With no other choices, he began sprinting. His bare feet hardly touched the ground as he sprinted, his breaths coming in sharp heaves as he ran. He could hear yelling behind him in that sharp whistling language. His feet and legs were quickly covered in cuts from debris as he moved through the undergrowth, pushing past tyrian colored bramble-like plants, ignoring the stinging in his legs and lungs that both begged him to slow down. He didn’t have a choice here. He had to keep running.
He bit down a choked noise as he ran, leaping over debris too large to simply step over and ducking under anything too tall. The shouting behind him became more distant as he ran, but he didn’t stop until he couldn’t hear a thing outside his own heart pounding in his ears. He slowed to a stop in the foliage, taking a moment to catch his breath.
As his heart slowed to a more reasonable pace, the whistle-like shriek of the bird-like creatures on the planet became more obvious. They were incredibly high-pitched, almost hurting his ears. He let out a sigh of relief as the sounds of the forest grew louder, covering up his panting. Despite this, he turned and began making his way further from where he came. The further, the better. He didn’t want the freaks that abducted him to catch up. So he walked, limping with every step as the adrenaline wore off, leaving him to deal with the pain his legs and feet experienced.
After a long while of walking, he began to hear a high-pitched melodic sound, like some kind of music. He slowed his pace a bit as the tree-like plants began to become less frequent, a sure sign he was approaching civilization. He broke the treeline and paused as they revealed high, pale grey brick walls and lavender rooftops that stuck out like sore thumbs against the greyish-red sky. He watched the roofs for several moments before glancing back at the walls again and freezing when he saw one of the inhabitants, a startlingly tall gangly creature with bright green colorings watching him from along the wall. He locked eyes with the creature for several moments before turning on his heel and darting back into the forest, out of sight.
He didn’t move too far, deciding the civilization might be of some use to him, but made sure he was relatively far away, at least a 40-minute walk. He found a small clearing and sat down, finally taking a moment to assess his damages. His legs and feet were covered in cuts that left droplets of blood under him. His arms and neck were bleeding with injuries that looked worse than they felt. The rest of him was scarred and bruised, and he could only imagine how bad his face must look. He sighed before taking a good look at his surroundings. The tree-like plants were more like large flowers, somewhat resembling alliums and echinops. He watched the seemingly thousands of blooms sway slowly in the wind, some releasing a green pollen-like substance.
He curled up and watched them sway for several more minutes before sighing and standing up. He began uprooting the plants in the clearing, deciding it best to at least make a camp, as the red sun began to set. He pulled all he could, piling the soft plants into the middle of the clearing, and tossing the thorned plants into a corner at the edge, sticking a few sticks in the ground around them as a mini barrier so he wouldn’t lose track of the thorned plants. He stared at the depressing pile of leaves in the middle before sighing heavily. It was going to be a long night.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.
It was startlingly easy to forget he was on an alien planet. The sun still shone, though in a different color, the wind still blew, there were flying animals that bore a striking resemblance to birds, flying similarly and perching as such. It reminded him of the biology class he hadn’t paid enough attention to when his teacher had talked about convergent evolution. Something about how things evolve the same if they have the same job, like bird wings, or trees.
He returned his gaze up to the flower-trees. The air was stuffy with their pollen, though he imagined it could be worse. At least it wasn’t poisonous. At least, not that he could tell. He had taken the time to become familiar with the surroundings of his camp, first not daring to leave his camp out of sight before taking note of any landmarks, and if there were none, creating them with rock piles or letters carved into the permeable trunks of trees. He’d created reliable paths and had taken note of several effective hiding spots, should he ever need to hide.
In his camp, he’d made a rudimentary shelter with large branches leaned against each other and tied with a shoddy plant-fiber rope he’d made. He’d found some of the fallen flowers and used their petals as mediocre roofing. They were larger than he’d thought, each petal being a bit larger than his hand, and with a few sticks piled on top, they didn’t blow off in the wind. It was surprisingly effective, as on the second night it had rained and the inside had stayed dry, outside of a couple of leaks.
He’d also kept a close eye on the nearby town. It was settled in a clearing that he believed was made by the inhabitants. Most of them were of the same species, gangly, semi-bipedal creatures with long, wiry tails and four eyes, all coming in a large array of colors from neon greens and blues to muted reds and oranges. They had black and white horns that went around the backs of their skulls before twisting forward and resembling bull horns. To Tommy’s observations, they only stood up when greeting each other or to reach things they couldn’t before, and typically had baskets looped over hooks on their shirts and pants to carry things. He hadn’t seen them up close, but he could imagine when they stood up fully, they were about 9 or 10 feet tall. Though, if it came down to it, he figured he could take them in a fight, as they lacked much muscle from what he could tell. They mostly seemed to carry around fruit, so he’d assumed they were vegetarians, though it’s not like he’d been inside their walls to check.
Now, as he followed along the edge of the tree line and watched the town, did he realize just how small it really was. It took less than two hours to fully circle the treeline, but that left the tightly packed town less than a full square mile. Guards patrolled the tops of the walls constantly, though he couldn’t imagine what they were watching for, in the past week he hadn’t seen anything dangerous.
He’d found that the local fauna hadn’t been very afraid of him, and he’d remembered a lesson one of his biology classes taught about invasive species, and that they were so dangerous because the animals that fell victim to them didn’t realize they were a threat in the first place, and he guessed that was him. He’d made a makeshift spear and, despite the gnawing guilt, he found himself spearing them and taking them back to the camp, cutting rudimentary strips of meat with a flint-like rock he’d spent nearly an hour sharpening, and drying them in the sun. He hadn’t cooked them over a fire, as the first time he lit a fire with dried flower-tree stems and the bramble, it had burned a weird blue-green color.
He’d also found a small creek nearby, though, after the fire incident, he wasn’t sure if it was water or not. He vaguely remembered a chemistry teacher of his bringing up how several chemicals look and smell just like water, but drinking them could be deadly, so he avoided drinking from it. With no access to water, he came up with the next best solution, and the only option he could see from his standpoint. While he was carving up whatever he’d managed to catch, he’d blood-let the animal and drink whatever he managed to get.
He remembered the first time he’d done it, he’d been so thirsty he felt like he was going to pass out. Hunting was difficult, as though the animals on this planet didn’t fear him, his stumbling movements had set them off and they’d run. He’d managed to catch an already injured rabbit-sized creature with short pointed ears and a flat face. He’d watched as it bled green onto its brown and white fur before, in a moment of either genius or mania, he collected what he could in his hands and drank it down.
After his thirst had been somewhat sated, he’d nearly thrown up at the thought of drinking alien animal blood, what was he, a cultist? But as he carried the rabbit-thing back, he thought about it more. What other choice did he have? Humans lasted, what, three days without water? He couldn’t wait weeks to find a reliable source, he had to take what he could. But as the sun set on his first week there, he knew he couldn’t keep going like this. He needed more advanced tools, and the only way he knew how to get them was from the town.
He’d stocked up on meat and put everything he could together, preparing to run if need be, and once the sun set on the 8th day, he made his way towards the village.
He circled the treeline towards the gate of the village, swallowing down any anxiety that threatened to crawl up. He just needed to get in and out, grab a bowl, a knife, and anything else that might be useful. That’s all he needed. He could do that. In and out.
He glanced up at the three-mooned sky. Even though it was night, the red moons shone brightly, lighting the ground up nearly as much as the daytime. Nonetheless, he watched the guards make another lap around the top of the wall before they turned their backs to him as they circled. At that moment, Tommy made a mad dash towards the gate, stumbling briefly on holes and rocks on the ground.
He made it to the base of the wall and pressed against it, holding his breath as he waited for any sign that he’d been seen. After several moments, he heard a guard pass overhead. Its’ footfalls were soft but uniform, two of its’ four feet stepping nearly in sync as it passed over. He waited until the footfalls were out of earshot before turning his attention to the gate.
It was a thick greenish wood-like material that was stark against the blacks and greys of the walls. It had symbols, or maybe words, carved neatly into the wood, and deep grooves that looked like pocket door handles, except they had a little wooden overhang. He grabbed the handle and pulled towards him gently, frowning when the door didn’t budge. After a few more attempts, he let out a soft, irritated noise. Of course, they’d lock the door. Why fucking not! It’s not like anything's trying to get in at any other time. Except him.
With a bit of frustration, he kicked the door and froze as it swung in lightly. Oh.
He put his hand against it and pushed, opening the door wide enough for him to get in. Oh.
He didn’t dwell on it, instead quickly sliding into the town. He paused and stared up at the architecture, his breath catching in his throat. They were all short buildings and narrow walkways, empty stalls lined the paths and behind them were doorways into the buildings. There were no windows that he could tell, much to his relief. He didn’t want anyone peeking out and seeing him. The path was a smooth stone with colored rocks of some kind following the pathways. The main one had an array of colors, greens, yellows, blacks, and reds, all in some intricate pattern before they broke off into different paths of their own color. He stayed against the side of the path, hoping the guards weren’t looking into the village, before peeking into one of the stalls.
The front was empty, but on the inside were covered boxes. He glanced over his shoulder before carefully climbing into the stall and crouching down. He pulled the cloth cover off the first one and frowned. In it was some kind of red berries. He opened the next one to see blue ones with yellow spots and opened the third one to see white berries. He let out a soft sigh before climbing out of the stall and into the next one. Again, there were just covered boxes. He opened one and brightened up to see layers of dark green and black cloths. He pulled some out and admired it for a moment before folding it up and grabbing a few other bits all whites and reds, hauling them under his arm and opening the next box. In this box were spools of thread of all kinds of colors. He eagerly grabbed several spools and wrapped them in the fabric, returning them under his arm and moving onto the next stall.
He went through many of the stalls, finding all sorts of berries and plants, jewelry, cloths, metals, woods, rocks, and anything else he could imagine. He’d taken a handful of the metals and wrapped them up in the cloths before finally coming upon a stall that had weaponry. There were long spears, knives, helmets, and maces of all kinds. He wanted all of it, he really did, but he couldn’t carry much, so he grabbed two knives, one wide and sharp, like a dagger, and another smaller, curved one. They both had sheathes, much to Tommy’s relief, so it was easy to hold onto them both without accidentally cutting himself.
He began searching the stalls again before finally finding one with a bowl, a rather large one too. He reached in and grabbed it, setting the knives inside the bowl, and turning, quickly making his way towards the exit as quietly as possible. As he passed the berry stand, he paused. He glanced at the so-close gate, and the stand he’d already explored once, and then at his bowl. He let out a soft sigh and climbed in, much more carefully with his fuller load, and set the knives aside, before grabbing handfuls of the berries and setting them in the bowl. He grabbed a few handfuls from each box and dropped them in the bowl, before setting his knives on top.
He hauled himself over the stall once more and onto the path before grabbing the bowl. This was all he needed. He turned and began making his way out before going rigid as he heard a click and creak. He turned to see one of the creatures in the open doorway and staring at him.
The two stared for several moments at each other, before the orange and white creature screamed. Tommy nearly dropped the bowl before turning and sprinting out. He heard shrieks from the creature behind him and the ones on the walls, but he didn’t dare turn to face them as he threw open the gate and ran for his life.
He tried to ignore the way the creature’s shrieks became louder as more joined in. He exited the village and ran to the treeline, where he could effectively hide, and once he was behind it, he kept going to where his rudimentary camp was. It was nearly a 30-minute run, and he was almost certain they weren’t following him, but he still gathered his stuff in the little clearing and waited with the unsheathed dagger. If they were coming, he was going to be awake when they got here, and he was going to run much further than they could follow. He waited for hours, he didn’t dare relax as the sun rose, and the tension in his muscles only began to leave when the sun was at its peak.
Only then did he start going through what he’d found, admiring the softness of the cloths and the way they somewhat shimmered in the light. He’d used the knives he had to cut areas of the cloths out to make clothing for himself, using the same style he had back on earth of his red and white t-shirts, except making long-sleeved shirts. The nights were chilly on this planet.
He spent the rest of the day making a new shirt, reveling in how unbelievably soft the fabric was. It was also a great relief to get off the stupid dark-grey weighted shirt. He forgot how light he actually felt once it was off. He also used the dark green and black fabric to make a cape with a little hood, hopefully, to camouflage a bit more. It didn’t drag on the ground, but it did hide his face.
Later that night, he tried the berries. He ate some of the red ones first before going to sleep. Upon waking up, he found that he didn’t feel bad, so he dubbed them safe to eat, before getting a small fistful of the blue and yellow ones before going out to hunt. Again, after a few hours and a few small animals hunted, he came back to camp feeling alright and dubbed them safe. He dumped out the bowl carefully onto a mat of scrap fabric that he’d sewn together before setting the bowl down under one of the animals. He cringed to himself before cutting along where he’d found the largest vein to be, along the back of its' neck, and let the blood trickle into the bowl.
He turned away from the animal as the blood drained into the large bowl before returning to the scrap fabric mat and picking out a small handful of the white berries before eating them. He cringed and coughed hard. They were sour, very sour. He nearly spat them out but forced himself to swallow. Food was food, he couldn’t afford to be picky. Not now.
He returned to the animal once the steady stream had turned to a light drip-drip. He began carving it up with the curved knife and hanging thin strips to dry in the sun when he felt his stomach begin to ache. Whenever he turned or moved too fast his stomach would turn in response, so much so that he had to sit down for a while to keep from retching. Despite this, his stomach churned and he ended up doubling over as bile escaped his throat. He heaved and coughed as he puked again, his throat burning. “Note taken, don’t eat the white berries,” He heaved to himself.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.
It was a few hours before the nausea passed and he was able to function properly again. He’d returned to the animal he’d caught and finished slicing off strips of meat. It was much easier now that he had a knife to do so. He’d occasionally pause to drink gulps from the bowl of blood he’d collected, and once he got past the thought of, fucking hell he was drinking blood, he found it had a surprisingly pleasant taste, like citrus. At least the universe made it easy to not think about what he had to do to survive.
He’d also started circling the treeline again. He was surprised to see that, in the village, nothing had really changed. Though the guards seemed to take notice of him more as he circled the treeline. Once he realized one was watching him, he was quick to turn back into the forest.
It was almost two weeks like this, just surviving and getting by, when he’d been woken up fairly early to a loud, loud, rumbling noise. He’d stumbled out of his camp and towards the village, and went rigid when he saw a grey and silver ship landing. Christ it was huge. He stared for several moments as the guards approached the ship, seeming to be speaking when the ship doors opened, and three figures exited, approaching the guards. He watched for several moments when one of the guards pointed at him. He went rigid as the three figures turned to him. With that, he turned tail and sprinted back into the forest. He didn’t know who these guys were, but he had a feeling they were after him. And like hell was he gonna get kidnapped by aliens again. Not again.