Boneca [Doll]

Chapter 15: Escape Hatch

With a dramatic groan, Luuk allowed Dr. John to tend to his wounded ankle as if he were an injured prima donna awaiting a royal treatment. "This wretched creature might just be the end of me. I highly doubt the government will bother with a grand eulogy for my untimely demise."

If only the sensei were around, he'd probably rescue me, Luuk snarked internally, nursing a bitter undercurrent. Jona had embarked on his research escapade a fortnight ago, and clearly, his absence was turning Luuk into a temporary curmudgeon.

Dr. John casually laughed off Luuk's concerns while tending to a mere scrape on Luuk's knee. "Let's not overreact. These monkeys are practically civilized pets. You didn't really need to embrace your inner Tarzan by scaling that tree. Not exactly the pinnacle of logical thinking, was it?"

"The blasted creature gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Dr. John's eyes briefly flicked toward the modest tree that Luuk had attempted to conquer, only to be pursued by the monkeys with the enthusiasm of hounds on a scent. "All sorted," the doctor proclaimed with a dismissive pat to Luuk's sprained ankle. Apparently, it was nothing too dire—just a minor footnote in the annals of medical history.

"Good lord! That hurt!" Luuk yelped, wincing. "By the way, Doctor, would it be preposterous to ponder a potential prescription? Perhaps a tetanus booster? Maybe a rabies shot, just for kicks?"

"You know what? Instead of lingering in your hypochondriac agony, I might just have to send you over to Chen for a session of psychosomatic counseling."

However, before Luuk could stage his next verbal counterattack, John's trusty medical assistant chimed in with a dose of unapologetic reality: "No offense, Professor, but your fall was a solo act. Those monkeys didn't get anywhere near you." Grinning like a mischievous imp, the assistant followed Dr. John's exit, leaving Luuk to stew in his indignation.

"Look at these jokers. Ignoring a wounded martyr, are they?" Luuk seethed inwardly, channeling his inner drama queen. "Heartless ruffians!"

Hobbling with an ankle that was now twitching more from indignation than pain, Luuk stood in contemplation. How audacious of them to brush aside his completely rational concerns! Hypochondriac? Ha! A doctor had the audacity to label him paranoid for merely caring about his own survival. The irony was nothing short of spectacular.

Surveying the village through the entrance of the tent, Luuk allowed the warmth of the setting sun to grace his sweat-drenched face. The sun was preparing for its evening bow, an hour away from its grand finale. As the temperature dipped, the air took on a soothing quality. Nearby, a cluster of au naturel ladies artfully wove each other's hair beneath the same roof used for culinary endeavors. Meanwhile, the village men lounged around the chief's residence, engaged in a round of smoke and locally brewed manioc beer, as if they were at a backyard barbecue. Just beyond the tree that Luuk had famously—and embarrassingly—failed to climb at the village's perimeter, a quintet of kids pelted mangoes at a hornet's nest. Predictably, the fruit lobbing was about as accurate as a politician's promises. Ear-piercing screams followed the fruit-flinging fiasco, creating a symphony of chaos. If those hornets ever decided to stage a coup, those kids would look like they got the losing end of a toad's brawl, Luuk mused, painting a vivid mental image of the potential aftermath.

As the familiar croak of a voice reached his ears, Luuk's attention shifted. It was William. Apparently, he was spewing words faster than a malfunctioning fountain somewhere close by. "Numerous studies have been conducted on this tribe's social dynamics. Not exactly news to me. But I'll concede, firsthand experience does have its own charm."

Surreptitiously peeking around the corner of the hut, Luuk spotted William passionately delivering his speech to the forestry students. Waving his arms like an overzealous semaphore operator, William stood with his back pressed against the hut's exterior, effectively creating an impromptu lecture setting around a central fire. It resembled a rustic campfire story circle. While William hadn't personally committed any atrocious offense against Luuk, his very existence felt akin to a persistent itch on Luuk's palm. It was the sort of itch that defied pinpoint scratching, leaving Luuk irritated and vexed, unsure of how to alleviate the lingering annoyance.