Lost At Sea

They didn't talk much the next morning, not even when Chris took the gag from her mouth and made her eat some packages of leaves for breakfast. She chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed.

"If I didn't want these anymore", she asked him at one point.

"Yes?"

"Would you accept it?"

"You don't have to eat them anymore once we are out of here."

"But as long as we are here - would you accept it if I wanted to eat other things?"

He sighed and brushed through her hair. He smiled as if she was a child asking silly questions.

"The leaves are easy to transport and even if they were not, these bushes grow everywhere. It's just the best choice to feed them to you, because it's healthy food, nutrient-rich and good for you, available at every bend of the path."

"But if I didn't want..."

"No." His eyes were gleaming a little now, he seemed to be slightly annoyed. "I don't know why you are forcing me to say this, Scarlett. But you'll have to eat them for the time being. Maybe if you stop making me feel like an asshole you can also have an orange."

"Well, maybe I'm not the one making you feel like an asshole", she snapped. "Maybe that's you."

Breakfast was over at that point: He gagged her again, pulling the straps cruelly tight and not caring that she complained. Of course not, Scarlett's inner voice said sarcastically as the hood was pulled over her head again. He knows you are filled with leaves to the very top. Jesus Christ, you have never recovered so fast from exhaustion, you have never before healed minor injuries so quickly and you can stand a treatment that no person could take for more than a few hours under normal circumstances. For him it's the perfect deal: He knows he's not really harming you, he can tell himself he's just being stern, playing his role. That was already bad enough, but Inner Scarlett didn't hesitate to add another hint: And since he raped you yesterday and you essentially showed him that you liked it and it was all okay for you, now you will have him feel more reconfirmed than ever before.

This time Chris took Scarlett with her as he went to search for another message from his friends. So she followed him on the leash wherever he went and for the first time, in spite of her vision being narrowed by the hood, got an impression of the size of the place. It was in fact pretty impressive: The city had been largeonce and was still big today, even with many of the smaller buildings overgrown by vegetation or fallen so much into disrepair that only their fundaments were left.Many bBrightly colored flowers - even very large versions of the beautiful violet ones that Scarlett had also seen at the lake and in the forest during their journey - where growing everywhere. Glittering clouds of pollen hovered above them and around them, filling the air everywhere with a dreamlike shine.

The streets had been paved with round stones; the larger buildings had the size of palaces and were supported by formidable pillars that had been carved from a nearly white kind of granite.

The contrast between the stone monuments and the plants that had taken over the place was quite sad: For once, the bushes with Scerlett's new favorite food where everywhere.

And whoever had built this place, it had not been one of the Natives' culture: To her astonishment Scarlett saw many carvings and ornaments on walls that were not yet overgrown, which showed scenes from the cities' past. Those scenes showed bare-breasted queens or priestesses on high thrones, dancing women with animal masks and young girls holding the hands of young men in what looked essentially like a society that was civilized enough to grant both genders their freedom and rights. It was weird seeing these carvings and being led past them on a leash, arms strapped tightly on her back, drool dripping from her chin.

Scarlett's interest in the ruins and their history diminished with time, but Chris just kept leading her around, from overgrown yard to overgrown yard, from one of the old streets to the next one, from ruin to ruin. They passed what might have been fountains a long time ago, they climbed over century-old statues that had fallen to the ground and broken apart, the blind stone heads of Queens and Leaders, Mistresses and Animal Gods staring at them as they passed by. Monkeys screamed and fled as they came near them, birds fluttered away from some of those columns that still stood.

Scarlett followed Chris, drooling and sometimes moaning or grunting when she couldn't keep up with his pace or when the strap between her hobbled ankles got caught and had to be tugged free again. In these moments he helped her with a smile and a sort of dedication that she found quite sweet, even though her general mood was not that good. They exchanged short glances in those moments, and in these glances Scarlett thought she noticed a weird new sort of complicity between them. The angry exchange they had had in the morning seemed to be forgotten.

Maybe that was the case because they both had other things to worry about: More than once Scarlett thought she heard something that wasn't the sound of an animal moving - something that sounded more like a human. Two or three times she was sure that Chris had seen things she had not, most possibly because he wasn't collared or half-blindfolded: His head would quickly dart to the left or the right and he would look worried for a moment, his eyes narrow and the muscles in his neck taught like ropes.

"Hrgnh...?", she asked under her breath, her own heart beating a bit faster. But she knew what he would say even before he spoke.

"They are here", he murmured. "I saw two of them on the roof over there... and at least one other Native just disappeared into those bushes as I turned my head. And the screams we heard a minute ago were no monkey screams either, more likely some sort of code...these guys have already surrounded us." Was Chris worried about the danger they had gotten themselves into? Maybe that was still the fact, but he definitely seemed less worried than before to Scarlett. She gave a surprised yelp as he suddenly pulled her leash, causing her to stumble against him. She wasn't even that angry anymore when he checked on her harness and adjusted it here and there, seemingly trying to prove to any dangerous Natives watching them what a tough guy he was. It was a miracle that her arms still accepted the bondage, again a little crueler than it had been before, when he was done.

"Only one other direction to go", he whispered into Scarlett's ear. "Keep playing the act, keep your calm, trust me... and I swear to God, if we don't find a message or a sign on that side of the ruins we'll get back to the beach."

Scarlett's hope was limited though: She had believed Chris for a long time and trusted him so much, but she began to understand more and more how a real beast of burden had to feel: Humans talked to it and made promises, used a soothing tone, stroked and petted the animal... but in the end they just did these things so that it would fulfill its purpose. Keep following orders, keep walking, keep working. Scarlett wasn't sure if Chris realized that the tone in which he talked to her had become pretty similar to the tone a human would use when talking to his sumpter horse.

This last part of the old city, that they hadn't yet been too, somehow seemed even more overgrown than the rest: Plants had climbed every wall and rooted in every crack which the ancient stonework had offered them, to the effect that Chris and Scarlett now made their way through an exotic green labyrinth. Only in a few places there were still some spaces through which the old masonry and the outdated carvings of Queens and Goddesses were still visible.

Trotting after Chris, Scarlett allowed herself to hope at least for a few blissful minutes that they wouldn't find anything and that he would inevitably give up and turn around. Part of her tired mind dreamt of being back at the beach, bathing in the warm sea, washing sweat, dust and pollen off her skin. She would never complain again about the hot air and the relentless sun and she would happily cope with all the austerity of a life in what Chris had called 'the Wasteland'.

But then Chris stopped and audibly rejoiced... a sound that should have been a good sign but now only filled Scarlett with unease. As she raised her head she first couldn't see anything, because sweat instantly dripped into her eyes from her forehead. She moaned and blinked it away and finally saw the stairs. The sight was impressive and scary at the same time.

Right in front of them, at the brink of the old city, began the highlands: Sharp hills, overgrown with vegetation, ascended further and further into the mists. A flight of wide stairs had been carved into the flank of the hill right in front of Chris and Scarlett. That path was leading far upwards in serpentines, sometimes disappearing behind trees or bushes, then reappearing again. Sometimes, for a while, the stairs seemed to transform into a horizontal path before they emerged once more, ascending further upwards. Where those stairs finally would lead to was impossible to make out: The top of the small mountain was hidden in mists.

At the foot of the stairs had been erected what could only be described as totem poles: Several polished trunks of trees had been adorned with artful ornaments and painted in red, green and blue colors. Wooden faces stared at Scarlett. Wooden animals spread their wings and bared their fangs. Whoever had created them had put an impressive amount of creativity into the monuments. And whatever was going on here had obviously been going on for generations: Some of the poles were so old that wind and weather would soon knock over the rotten wood. Others had been placed here only a short time ago.

But what really caught Scarlett's - and, as she could see, also Chris' - attention were not the poles themselves but the items that the totem poles had been furnished with: Pieces of leather that seemed to have served their wearers as waistcloths were hanging next to bracelets, amulets and necklaces. Also there were some adorned belts, several primitive combs, two or three small sandals that would fit well on a woman's feet and other similar items. Seeing those poles and the things that had been left here like offerings to unknown gods reinforced the impression that this place had a deep meaning to the Natives.

An item with too much color - too much in comparison to all the other items that had been made of mostly wood, leather and copper - hung from the newest of the poles: It took Scarlett a moment to recognize a pink Swatch chronometer. Next to the Swatch she saw a flip-flop with neon green and white flower pattern, moving gently in the breeze. Both items had been added to the collection of as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Seeing them there made her shudder.

"The watch belonged to Zoe", Chris said with a dry throat. "The flip-flop was Swantje's. I remember she wore the silly thing when we were washed ashore. She kept it like a talisman because it reminded her of her life back in civilization."

Knowing this was already bad enough. But what really filled Scarlett with unspeakable dread was what she saw when she looked to the left: On a flattened rock, right next to the first few of the stairs, someone had placed several items that did not look like former possessions of any female victims. Instead, Scarlett recognized a set of leather straps that looked a lot like those that the Natives' females were forced to wear as bondage. A thick collar and a corset-like vest had been included. There was a pair of pouches for the hands and there was a strap that could be used to hobble its wearer. There as even the headgear with the cruel, u-shaped bit-gag that the 'cattle' was forced to live with. Only one thing was lacking.

The hood. There was no hood, because - as Scarlett understood with cold, insane logic - they already had given Chris the hood, and he had already used it on Scarlett.

"Do you think they left this for us?" Chris was baffled, but he just didn't seem insecure or disgusted anymore. That part of him had somehow disappeared. Curious, he took the heavy harness from the rock and studied how the primitive buckles and breeches worked. It took him a moment to realize that Scarlett didn't answer him.

When he turned he saw that Scarlett had gotten a pretty good head start: Even though her feet were hobbled she was still moving impressively fast, arms weirdly bouncing in the bondage on her back. It took Chris a moment before he fully understood that she was fleeing, screaming at the top of her lungs, hurrying to get away from him. Only a few meters more and she would reach a mazelike set of overgrown alleys in which she might actually have a chance to shake him off and hide from him.

She was not even trying to cast a glance back at him anymore.