Into the Void

Chapter 19

Nate awoke the next morning curled up in his thin one man tent, shivering in the damp morning chill. Stepping outside, he was greeted with a tangerine sunrise and the warbling calls of birds taking flight. He packed up his camp and set off into the forest, following the gentle curve of the fast flowing river. By the time the sun had risen fully, filling the forest with its soft orange light, he was famished. He doubted he would make it back to camp without food or water. Rummaging through his pack he grinned as his fingers closed around a wide plastic tube with a rubber straw at one end. The tube was filled with the best filtration technology on the market, he laid down on the river bank, putting the bottom of the tube into the water and taking a long drink. As he packed the filter straw away he heard a scrabbling noise off to his right, like an animal pawing at the dirt. Fearing the worst, he clumsily shouldered his repeater, his damaged arm making holding the weapon awkward, and slowly crept forward to investigate.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he discovered the source of the noise. A large bullfrog-like amphibian the size of a housecat had spotted him and was struggling furiously to squeeze its slimy bulk under a log. Nate made sure the repeater was loaded and sighted in on the small animal. “Sorry little guy,” he said, “but you’re breakfast now.” He fired, the sharp screaming report of the repeater sending birds wheeling away in all directions. The shot went high, slicing a chunk out the animal's back and splattering the rocks behind it with pale pink gore. The big frog struggled for a moment, its lifeblood leaking away onto the riverbank and then went limp. Nate hauled the long bodied amphibian out of its hole and inspected the creature. It had long heavily muscled hind legs, stubby arms with webbed fingers and a pair of thin translucent fins extending back from its midsection. He glanced skyward, praying that the signs for poisonous frogs were the same here as they were back home.

Retreating back into the forest, he set up another small fire, skinned and field dressed the frog and stuck a long stick through a strip of meat he’d cut from the frog's thigh. Holding the frogs hide up to the light he could think of no immediate use for the thick slimy skin, and tossed it over onto the pile of guts he’d removed from the frog. The organs were already starting to draw flies and he watched with a morbid fascination as the steaming pile of viscera was slowly engulfed by a swarm of white six winged beetles the size of his thumbnail. Turning back to the fire he sat staring into the small orange flames, the crackling of the fire, buzz of the beetles and sizzling grease of the frog's leg blending into a hissing white noise. He was drawn back to memories of cool autumn days on Caldania, stalking through the woods with his father, grandfather and his uncle. The long winters were hard but the deep woods had always provided an ample supply of fresh game for them during the leaner months. Of course most people would have paid for a hunting license but his grandfather had been a firm believer that they weren't doing anything illegal so long as they didn't get caught. The old man had been tough with no patience for whiners or quitters. He had never allowed anyone in the family to give up or quit early while there was still work to be done. It was a lesson that had stuck with Nate and whenever he thought of giving up he pictured his grandfather walking up behind him and giving him a slap.

He started the camera again as the frog leg started blackening at the edges. He pulled it from the fire, cutting into the greasy meat with his knife, he was pleased to see it had turned a nice shade of white all the way through. He found a flat rock to use as a plate and set the steaming frog haunch on it to cool for a minute while he cut another strip and put it in the fire. Bringing the cooked meat up to his nose cautiously, he sniffed at the charred piece of meat.

“It doesn’t smell like poison,” he said into the camera. “It does smell a little fishy though, let’s hope it tastes okay.” He popped the chunk of meat into his mouth and chewed cautiously.

“It’s greasy and rubbery, but it tastes fine, a little bland with a fishy aftertaste, not the best meal I’ve eaten but infinitely better than going hungry.” he said, pushing more meat into the flames. “I think we need to make a note for the colonists who end up settling here, a little barbeque sauce would go a long way towards making these frogs more edible.”