Superf***er Vol. 03

I swam over to her. I swam on my back, like a crawl, holding her above me and working to keep her head above water. I was no longer sure she was conscious. And this was not going to work—I could maybe take on one shark if I saw it coming, but I was not going to be able to hold off six or ten sharks by myself, keeping her afloat at the same time, with her trail of blood triggering their killer instinct. The only way I was going to get us out of here was to fly.

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As much as I like your Kent Clark, clearly the author has never thought the flying thing through very far. How exactly does he propel himself through the skies—fart power? Hovering, on the other hand, can be pretty easy if you have control over your magnetic properties. Although nowhere near as strong as ours, your planet has a magnetic field, too, only you don't notice it because you have no innate magnetic sensors and magnetic particles in your bodies are unaligned and thus exert no force. Just as positive and negative ions are naturally segregated between my fingers and thumb, so too I can naturally align the charged particles in my body, and if I put them at reverse polarity to the surface, I can levitate above it. It also makes airport metal detectors tickle like crazy, but that's another story.

I picked up the girl about the waist and aligned my magnetodes. We shot out of the water about two feet—and hung there. As you may know, magnetic fields weaken exponentially with distance, and bearing the extra weight of the girl, that was about as high as I could go. I shifted her so she was laying across my arms, almost like a bride is carried over a threshold. Below me, I saw the most confused sharks in the history of earth thrashing about in the blood-strained water, wondering where the dinner went. My amusement was short-lived. I had two problems. One, this girl needed medical attention. Two, the only way to get out of here and get that attention would be to use my super-human abilities. I had managed to hide my extra-terrestrial nature for over a century—I really didn't want to give myself away now by flying onto the beach. All of my worst nightmares about being locked up and studied by scientists flashed through my head. Sure, I could break out, but my face would be all over the news and I'd never be able to seduce enough women to save the world.

I looked around, using my infrared vision; there was some other land north of me. I vaguely recalled there being various islands near the bay; perhaps I could bring her ashore at one of those, unseen, and then get her the attention she needed. I slightly shifted my magnetic field, which sometimes can push you horizontally, but either it was too weak or the field was too uniformly vertical here; we merely sank back towards the water. I let us, though, then when I was just touching the water kicked against it while realigning my magnetodes. We slid a few inches over, levitating again. I sighed; if this were land, where I could get a good push-off, magnetic levitation would allow us to glide laterally for a long time. Here, where most of my energy simply pushed water aside, our lateral movements were painfully slow. Bit by bit I headed towards the shore, not so much flying as leapfrogging across the surface of the water in a series of tiny bounds.

As I neared the island, I could see a narrow sand beach, completely deserted. In fact, it showed no sign of human habitation at all; most likely part of a nature preserve, I thought. But that was good, because I was able to leap-step right onto the beach unseen. I lay her down on the sand near the edge of the a palm grove. She made a sound, half moan and half mumble, as I lay her down, then she fell silent again. Perhaps she wasn't completely unconscious, but she was bleeding badly. She needed a tourniquet to at least slow the blood loss, but I didn't have anything that I could use. The only cloth we had were my swim trunks and her tiny bikini.

Next to her one knee, I squinted to activate my infra-red vision and scanned around the island, looking for perhaps an emergency phone, or a path to a ranger station. I saw nothing. Sensing the need for urgent action, I risked flying again. Without the added weight, I now hovered easily just above tree level using magnetic repulsion—but I saw no signs of life. This was apparently a deserted island, this close to Tampa! Then I squinted towards the mainland, and realized I was a lot further out than I realized. Since I couldn't use my powers within sight of humans, it looked like we might be here for awhile.

I let myself drift back down to the sand. Along the way, some coconuts caught my eye; I picked one in each hand on the way down. All this water, none of it usable to drink or wash her wounds; some coconut water might at least help her replenish fluids. But first I had to stem the bleeding, or she would die anyway.

I went to her side. I needed something that I could tie tightly and securely around her upper thigh to slow the flow of blood. Palm fronds—they'd just tear. Rope? Yeah right. I looked at her, and saw exactly what I needed—only there was a slight problem. She was still wearing it. I looked around again, and nothing else I could see would do the job anywhere near as well as her bikini top.

"I trust you will understand," I said as I rolled her over slightly to untie her top, both at her back and her neck. Returning her to her back, I grabbed the bikini and tied it tightly around her upper thigh, right above the first tooth mark, with both strings. The flow of blood slowed. Good. I looked up at her; she was unconscious. I couldn't help but notice that her belly was flat and muscular and her breasts were firm and perky...she was exactly the kind of girl I'd come here hoping to find.

I forced myself to look away. Now let's get some fluids into her. I ripped the fibrous husk off one of the coconuts—a rather difficult task for most humans as I understand, but I had no such trouble. I placed the fibers in a pile, as they may come in handy for something. Now, how to open the inside without spilling the precious liquid—I did something no human could. I held it firmly in one hand, and simply poked a hole into its hard shell with two fingers.

Sitting behind her, I propped her head up on my lap. Gently pulling her lower jaw, I poured a little of the water into her mouth. It dribbled back out. I poured in a little more. She started to cough it out, but she also swallowed a little. I did it again, and she stirred and drank it; she seemed to be coming round to the fact that there was liquid in her mouth. She opened her eyes for the first time since her boat sank, blinking with puzzlement.

"It's coconut water," I announced, "drink." I poured a little more in, and now she thirstily gulped down the entire contents of the coconut.

"Wha....where..." she murmured, dazed.

"You're on dry land," I said, "You've been bitten by a shark. I'm on the lookout for a rescue boat."

"Unngghhh," she groaned and was out again.

I sat there and watched the fragile creature with her head nested on my lap. It was really my first chance to get a good look at her. I guessed she was in her early 20s, with sandy blonde hair made more so by being mottled with real sand. She was very fit, with well-defined biceps suggesting kayaking was familiar to her—it would have had to be, for her to be venturing as far out as she was in the open sea. Again my eyes were drawn to her breasts; I forced myself to focus on her wound instead.

I laid her head down gently on the sand again and went to kneel next to her and get a closer look at her thigh. The bleeding was slower, but she was still oozing, darkening the sand beneath her leg. It didn't look that bad, actually, in that there were deep punctures but not much evidence of tearing; assuming she didn't catch an infection, she would be unlikely to lose the leg. Unfortunately, the bite did sever some kind of major blood vessel, and was in danger of bleeding to death. I could easily pick her up and fly her to a hospital on the mainland, I thought. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew that really, I couldn't. If I were seen flying, my alien identity would immediately be "outed." I'd be placed in isolation, as scientists would ostensibly fear what germs I carried (even though I'd lived here for a century) but really just because they feared me.

Maybe I could fly somewhere towards shore and then walk her in, I thought. But that wasn't really feasible, either. We were by a major metropolitan area; there was no uninhabited area on the mainland shores, or if there was I'd be sure to be seen by boats. Maybe if it were nighttime...

The girl started stirring a little, twisting slightly. The good news was she was maybe coming around...the bad news was some of the clotting that had begun gave way, and she was starting to get sand into her wounds. Damn! If only I could wash the wounds, it might help prevent infection, but all that was around was salt water, and that obviously would make things worse. I poked the second coconut and poured some of the coconut water onto it, hoping it wouldn't sting and thinking it would have fewer microbes than the sand. If only I had some kind of dressing I could put over the wounds...

Frowning, I put my hands on my hips, looking around for something I might use to cover them. Scanning, I saw nothing, but as I looked a little bell was ringing in the back of my head. It was coming from my fingers. It took a while to register; when it did, I looked down at myself. Oh, man, could I... My trunks, I realized, might be a perfect dressing now that they had dried.

I got up and squinted to activate my infrared vision. Was there reallynobody anywhere near here? I searched high and low; I could see easily five miles in any direction with infrared, and there wasn't any sign of human life. I sighed and started to undo the drawstring on my swim trunks. It wasn't that I had any personal compunction against nudity; our kind are in general much less uptight about our bodies than you are, at least in this country. But it was going to be rather interesting to explain to whoever first found us why I was naked and she was topless.

Oh well...I took off my shorts, careful not to drag them in sand, brushed them off as completely as I could, and lay it over her oozing leg. She seemed to stiffen slightly for just a second. I watched her to see if she showed any other signs of coming to, but for the next five minutes she didn't. Then, very faintly, I noticed that she was beginning to shiver.

The sun was just starting to set, and the temperature was still in the 80s, but after losing that much blood she was having trouble temperature regulating. Since, to my surprise, it looked like we might still be here after dark, I decided I'd better see about starting a fire. Firewood wasn't hard to find; the beach was littered with dry driftwood, and the coconut husks made good kindling. I had no matches or anything, though. No problem—at least, not for me. I've told you before how males of our species have evolved an ionic imbalance in our fingers relative to our thumbs that can produce miniscule electrical currents that can help soothe and relax a our females, who might otherwise respond to our advances by putting us in the hospital. Turns out that if I snap my fingers quickly enough, a tiny spark will sometimes pass between my fingers—perhaps that explains why the practice is unheard of on my planet. I'm talking tiny; its barely discernible even in absolute darkness. But if it landed on the right kindling...

I made a bed of coconut husks and put my hand in it, like a nest. Then I snapped my fingers rapidly, over and over again. After a few hundred snaps, a faint glow appeared on one of the strands. I quickly bent over and blew softly on it, keeping it alive long enough to ignite one next to it. I gently coaxed that tiny spark until finally a tiny flame erupted and the mass of husk began to ignite. I now quickly thrust some sticks where my hand had been, then made a flat tepee of driftwood. Laying flat on my face, I looked in to the tiny flame and blew on it, from one angle then another, until it grew and the driftwood at length began to burn.

I sat on the sand, gripping my legs, waiting, feeding the fire from time to time. It was a beautiful sunset, but I watched it alone, as the girl didn't wake up. With the fire, though, at least she stopped shivering. I pricked up my ears, listening into the darkness; we were in a very exposed position, with the fire calling attention to us. I didn't know if there were any predators on the island, but I hadn't gone through all this trouble to save this girl only to be eaten by alligators. There was danger all right, but it turned out to be of an entirely different sort.

An hour or so after sundown, I heard the unmistakable sound of an outboard motor in the distance. Rescue! I thought at first. I stood up and squinted to activate my infrared vision; there was a distant speck that was getting closer. I couldn't tell yet what kind of craft it was because it appeared to be heading straight for us. It didn't look very big though—not like I thought a Coast Guard or forestry service boat should look. If anything, it looked like a cigarette boat. It was way too far out to begin trying to signal, but something gnawed at the back of my mind. All day long nothing even passed by this island, and now, after dark, a cigarette boat is heading straight for us? As I started to make out some details, I saw heat specks from maybe 3 or 4 people, and a bright spot from a hot motor—and it dawned on me I didn't see bright pinpoints generated by the heat of running lights. I stopped squinting; there was almost no moon, so the lights of a boat should have been visible from very far away, but I saw nothing.

Maybe I'd watched too much TV in the 80s, but a single boat racing at high speed in the dark with its running lights off—I suddenly became very concerned that these might be drug runners. I squinted again; without visible light I couldn't tell, but the way they seemed to be standing looked as if theymight be holding guns. Another big difference between real life and Kent Clark; bullets will not bounce off my chest. Sure, if it was a single bullet in broad daylight I might have a fighting chance to snag it out of the air with my reflexes, but I was as helpless as anyone against multiple machine guns in the dark. And I had to decide fast, for the boat was closing fast and might already be able to see my fire.

I cursed inwardly; as much as I wanted to save this girl, I had to make sure I survived first and foremost or the entire planet was doomed. I kicked waves of sand at the fire, squelching it in seconds. Then I picked up the girl, ran towards the tree line, and jumped. My magnetism might only hover me a few feet above the ground, but I was able to jump us both up to the tree canopy now that I was on firm ground. A palm tree canopy, however, is not an easy place to perch. I locked my legs around the trunk, half holding the girl while half-laying her against the fronds that would not alone support her weight. It was a good thing that this didn't take much energy for me. I watched as the boat drew near.

It was barely 200 yards from shore when a spotlight suddenly switched on in the boat, shining right on the beach we had just vacated. I was temporarily blinded, but the boat suddenly swerved to the left. As my eyes re-adjusted to the darkness, the spotlight swung south. After a few minutes, the motor slowed, then cut out. Pricking up my ears, I could hear men coming ashore.

"Luis, you stand guard. Flash the beacon twice if the Coast Guard comes. If its anyone else, deal with them," said a voice. I didn't hear anything for a bit, then I heard quite a bit of rustling from the middle of the island. From time to time a stray flashlight beam showed through the trees on the south end of the island. I heard some grunting and what I imagined were machetes cutting something.

"Come on, hurry up. One more kilo is all we need for now," said the voice again. My imagination was painting a vivid picture of what may or may have been going on. Just then the girl began to moan and stir. If I ever make it back home, I'm going to introduce my people to this Murphy fellow whose law you like to cite at times when everything seems to go wrong. We have a similar concept, although our phrase isn't as prosaic. I suppose it would translate into something along the lines of "the loudest farts happen in church," but it seems to lose something from the original.

I clasped my hand over her mouth. Her eyes snapped open in response. "Shh," I whispered. "You're balanced in a tree canopy, and there are men with guns down there." She glanced around, her eyes confirming that she was indeed precariously perched 30 feet above the ground. Wide-eyed, she looked at me. I moved my hand off her mouth and put a finger to my lips, then pointed in the direction of the flashes of light. She looked that way, but not able to see or hear as much as I, she looked to me instead. Suddenly she patted her chest, sensing that her bikini was missing.

"Sorry," I hissed, "I had to use your top to wrap up your leg and slow the bleeding. You were bitten by a shark," I added, in case she didn't remember. All of a sudden she winced; by mentioning her leg, she had attended to it, and now it hurt. She bit her lip in pain. "Sorry," I whispered.

There was rustling again. "Start it up Luis," said the voice. The motor cut in again, and the beacon turned on in the distance. I imagined the men wading out to the boat, and then I heard the throttle punch in as the light went out. The boat roared away towards the mainland.

We sat quietly, listening, both of us, to the motor fade. "What's going on?" she whispered.

"I'm thinking that maybe someone is doing a little growing on this island," I whispered back, "and it was harvest time."

"How do we get down?" she whispered.

Hmm. Good question. I hadn't counted on her being awake. I could carry her down, but I would bump her repeatedly, to great pain. I would rather just glide down using magnetic repulsion. I'd have to take my chances that she wasn't alert enough to figure out what happened. I let go of the tree; she tensed up as she felt us fall, but instead of accelerating the magnetic repulsion slowed us as we approached the ground. I touched the ground gently and put her down.

"What? How did you do that?" she said, stunned.

"Hmm? I don't know what you're talking about," I said absently, walking down the beach for more firewood to avoid further questions. I built up a new fire, but blocked her view so that she couldn't see my start the fire just by snapping my fingers. That meant I was sticking my butt in her face, though, and she probably first realized I was buck naked. The tinder started to glow.

"I...see you used your swimsuit as a dressing on my leg. How bad does it look?" She started to reach to look under the bloody fabric.

"Don't," I whirled around, "I'm afraid it will start bleeding again. It doesn't look like there's any damage to the bone, but some major blood vessels were severed."

She sucked in "it hurts like a son of a bitch."

"I'm sorry. I tried to get all the salt off my shorts before I used them..."

"I have no idea if that matters or not. It's just one, massive, undifferentiated pain." I saw her eyes suddenly widen, then she quickly diverted them; in spite of herself, she had seen my naked penis, and had been amazed at its size I guess. Really, I'm just average among my species, but I have to admit it feels good when humans react to it with such amazement. I was in a deep crouch with my butt resting on the back of my calves; I wasn't hard, yet my dick still dragged in the sand. There's a reason why I never wear tight pants. "Where are we?" she asked.