Forever Captive

Chapter 15

Just as I thought they would, they deserted the entire area around me even as I healed enough to shout incoherent insults at them, though I can't lift myself up enough to even try to dislodge the weapon. I'm only two inches away from the hilt. The rest is buried in the sand. 

I've been laying directly under the sun like they're trying to slowly roast me. I have no idea how long I've been stuck like this. Pain has a way of disrupting my ability to count days. The holes where the bullet went straight through are healed, that much I can tell. My vision and hearing are back, too, though they are a little dulled from the fact that I have been made into a human version of Swiss cheese. 

Human. At this point, I don't think I can convince myself to say that anymore. Not if this is what they are. Aska was right. God, Aska was so right. They've done nothing but hurt me or disregard my words. I've lived as long as the men they view as saints and leaders. I've seen more shit than any of those humans have, too, even if I was confined to a lab's white walls for much of it. 

I miss my father. He'd torture me, he'd sell my organs, he'd test drugs on me to see their effects, but at least he wouldn't impale me and leave me to stare directly at the sun. At least he'd occasionally throw a book at me to see if I still kept my awareness and memories after I healed or recovered from whatever drugs he'd use.

It's been longer than four days, I think, because the soldiers here are getting restless and jumping at every sound and movement. They don't come near me often, but I know they can feel my eyes on them as I lay like a shriveled piece of jerky held by a kebab skewer. 

Their words make no sense to me, which means its not Latin based in any way. They just look at me with resentment and fear, yelling at me every time I shout in frustration when I try to escape my position. I did, also, condemn them to death. I can't blame them, not really. 

I would do it again if I knew this is how I would spend the rest of eternity, at least until something comes along and digs me up. I haven't seen it rain. I wonder if hurricanes are common. Maybe I'll finally learn how those feel. I bet it feels better than the sun beaming down its own endless agony.

When did it get to be dusk, actually? The sun is setting, leaving the few clouds that float in the sky bathed in pink and yellow. I wonder if, when all of them die, if Aska or another naga will come out here and see me. I wonder if he would leave me here. I did leave him immobile and scared after he watched me kill a man and cut my own leg off. I wonder if he fears me now.

That'd be a twist of fate, wouldn't it? In stories that I don't remember my father telling me the origin of, they were exalted beings that lived in some sort of caves. They're something close to gods in some religions, aren't they? Imagine something like that being scared of a man who just wants to die.  

I wonder if any of them think humans are pitiful. I think they are. They search for proof that they are the strongest and smartest, even among each other. When they always find something or someone better than them, they're despised. When they find something they deem ugly or useless, that must be eradicated. Is that not an abysmal way to live? To fear something is to be alive. If there was something that was irrefutably the top of the chain in every ecosystem across the globe that it came across, it would be a rather boring existence.

So, too, is being stuck in the sand!

I try to move towards the sound of gunshots and ineligible shouts when they start, but my vision in that direction is decently restricted by the shining metal placed through me. There's a handful of fleshy sounds, too, which makes me wonder if they're being attacked. What, did a wild animal come charging through here from the forest? Maybe one of the nagas are hunting in that swamp and whatever it is just tried to blindly escape. 

Why are they so scared? It's almost more agonizing to just have to hear the random thuds and footfalls of my terrified captors while they shoot, run, and die. I can't even see what's got them so worked up. 

It was right at dusk, though. I imagine that the cause is at least related to a naga, though I don't know any of the animals native to this island other than them. Maybe they're all active at dusk. It'd make sense if the top predator evolved to be.

I close my eyes against the dying sunlight as I listen to the commotion as if it was music, unable to make the cause of the distress out. The gunshots are too loud. I'm sure whatever it is probably makes plenty of noise, but they're too busy being scared. If the first three didn't bring the damn thing down, why would three hundred? God, how many of these people have guns? 

The shouts and shots both continue for far longer than I would prefer, but they do end up falling silent when the sky darkens to almost pitch black. I haven't appreciated the stars, have I? With little to no lights or factories to pollute this part of the Earth's atmosphere, it's absolutely gorgeous. As far as I can crane my neck to see, thousands of little dots make vague shapes in the night sky. 

Now that it's quiet, I have little else to do. It's not like I can see the cause of that whole commotion, nor does it seem to be moving or making any noise. Almost on cue, I hear the gentle sifting of sand as whatever it is makes its way towards me in near complete silence.

I frown and quietly joke, "Well, hey, if you eat me in pieces, I'll be a decent kebab. I doubt I have much meat on me, but it's something."

There's a deep, familiar growl-like hiss that sends a shiver down my impaled spine. I'm keenly aware that my legs have no sensation, but it sounded like it came from on top of me.