By the time I had bled out enough to feel a bit more clearheaded from the venom and sedative mixture— by that, I mean I bled until nothing more could come out of my leg— the light from the sun started illuminating the still dangling rope.
"Aska," I whisper as I stare at the lump of flesh that is slowly growing bones and ligaments under my knee, "I don't know if you can hear me. I know... your eyes are open, so I'm hoping that you can. He... is likely the one that makes the tranquilizer darts, but that doesn't mean that the soldiers don't know how to. I'll be leaving soon. Please, don't follow me. I don't know when you'll regain your mobility. I can't bleed you out like I can myself. If I don't... If I don't see you again, I'm sorry. You're a beautiful naga and I have nothing to complain about. You followed through on your promise. I... will try everything I can to ensure that you won't have to see another human for the rest of your life. I'm sorry."
I slowly find my strength and push myself up against the water, standing quietly in the mixture of my own blood and the salty liquid I killed my own assistant in. I should try to grieve him or at least resent myself, but I can't find it in myself to. It's a shame that he died from the water filling his lungs. I know how horrible it feels.
I hop to Aska's limp form slowly, falling to my knee and resting my ear against his chest to hear his achingly slow heart, once again whispering, "I'm sorry."
To my surprise, his arm weakly falls against my back and I ignore the tears that threaten to spring from my eyes. I smile and laugh drily against his chest, "I can't say anything other than that. In a way, this is all my fault."
I brought an assistant here who was endlessly searching for something stronger, wiser, and superior to humans just so he could prove that they weren't. I thought his anxiousness would make it easier to prove to him that even regular, though massive, animals are not ones to treat as specimens to kill and splice open in the name of science. He found what he was looking for and died because of a man-made version of his ideals. I wonder what his last thoughts were. Betrayal? Fear? Frustration?
Now, all that's left to deal with are those international soldiers. I don't know their names, nor do I care to. Honestly, this single expedition alone is enough to have me willing to remain in my cage for the rest of eternity. I don't want to see a living human again. I don't want to see a naga, really, either. Aska is frustrating, confusing, and more human than I expected him to be.
He's seen us before, I guess when he was much younger. They must have taught him this language and enough about us for him to have a hatred for our kind... perhaps worse than I do.
He still desperately clings to me in an effort to keep me in what I'm starting to believe is something close to a nest to him. Does he see me as some sort of hatchling, I wonder? A kindred soul to teach each other the ways of our different lives?
It doesn't matter. Nothing matters other than driving these assholes out of his home. I know what irked me about that leading soldier. He reminds me a lot of my father. He doesn't care about anything other than how much it could pay, and he looked at me with such hatred that I could almost believe he's had to deal with me before. Maybe he's religious. I can't imagine that allowing me to be the closest thing to a god does well for his image of whatever deity he believes in. I was forced to bite into a ridiculous, human-created Apple of Eden, after of all.
It's insulting to see people follow some strange immortal being's words and then turn around and call their "creations" monsters. I wonder if the soldier actually knows about my creation or just that I can't die. Either way, he needs to face his demons.
I let myself fall into the water once I detach Aska's arm from myself, finding relief in the fact that his breathing is steady. I grab the corpse of my assistant by his hair and hold onto it with my teeth, using my arms and good leg to slowly drag him to the rope. To be honest, I'm probably weaker than he was when he dangled from the rope. I also don't have a way to get my useless, boneless leg around the rope. The bones will form last, but damn is climbing without a limb more frustrating than I thought.
I have to get out this way, though; I have to unhook the rope from the ground so no others can find or use it. It means that I have to, quite literally, inch my way up and hold our joint weight with one hand while I adjust my hold on his body and wrap the course twine around my leg as many times as I can in the air before pressing it between my thighs and pushing myself up with that leverage. Tedious and exhausting would be selling this entire endeavor short. I'm slow enough that I can feel the burning and soreness from muscle growth before I'm even halfway up the twenty foot long rope.
When I do finally reach the edge, it takes every single muscle in my body to hoist myself up and somehow manage to drag Mr. Davis with me. I don't even know what direction I should be going in. It is, by no means, a small island. I guess I can walk along the coast. I wonder if I'll run into another naga and have to stare aggressively at it and ask it to let me lug this damn body back to where it belongs. I wonder if many of them even speak, though. If they do, I also doubt that there's a high chance they speak English. If I sound tired enough, maybe it'll get the point across.
Who knows, maybe I'll run into a soldier first. Now, do I drag myself or try to hop? Dragging is probably easier. Is it? Only one way to find out.
YOU ARE READING
Forever Captive
General Fiction****** Disclaimer! This book contains depictions of violence, gore, vulgar language, and *checks notes* the grammar and words of a man who has a habit of writing on his poor computer at 2 in the morning. That being said, it does also contain lemon...
