Well Beyond the World

"My brothers, to return you to the night of firsts. I may have gotten first claim, witch, but we still have a few more boys out there that need your assistance." While he was talking you found your pants, still smoldering.

The watch had lit up! It had burned a hole straight through your pants and now sat, steaming, on the floor. You pick it up by the chain, it is cool to the touch.

"Please, just take a look at this. I think it will help." You hand the watch to him. He pops open the face and the light floods out and into his eyes. He looks up with confusion. He blinks slowly.

"Orlando?" You ask. He shakes his head slowly.

"No, I think my name is Michael. And thank you. It has been a long long time since I remembered my name." Two men appear at the door, with grass skirts and bamboo spears.

They reach for you, grabbing your wrists. You look alarmed at Michael. He raises his hand.

"Please, I need her a little longer." They look confused but the fact that you both were naked seemed to be convincing. Once they step outside, Michael grabs a nearby bone knife and sets to cutting your wrists free from the vines. Only then does it dawn on him his state of undress.

"Now what the hell am I wearing?" He looks you up and down, still soaked with your earlier excitement. You give him a warm smile as you throw on the remains of your pants. He looks around frantically and finds some furs to wrap around his waist.

"Okay, I don't know how long those two guys are going to stay out there," he begins. "But thank you for freeing me. We should probably talk about how we both got here but I'm guessing that's a long story and we don't have that kind of time right now, so what's the next move? Where do we go next?"

"Okay, we need to get clear of this village. I don't know how much you remember . . ." he shakes his head. "But we can come back for Caroline. She can take care of herself." You pray that you are right.

You survey the hut - only one entrance and exit, and the guards are there, but the window? You push open the reed shutters. Yes. you could climb out here. You glance down and the world spins. Maybe Michael could climb out here.

He is there, at your side. "This could work." He hops up, grabbing one of the large branches near the window and leveraging himself up to the roof. He's standing on top of the thatch and wood, his grass skirt clinging to his hips, his arm stretched out to grab you. You desperately try to quiet your pounding heart, and climb out the window, and up onto the roof - his strong hands steadying your ascent.

From here, you can see the whole stretch of the jungle, swooping branches and vines, arching trees and interlocking roots. Through it all ropes, and huts, and lanterns.

"Take my hand. I think we can do this." Michael whispers, pointing towards the nearby trunk securing the hut. You follow it's twisty path up to another rope bridge twenty feet up. Oh god. Your stomach flipflops.

"Don't be afraid, I'm here." Shaky, moving slow, you put one foot in front of another, each twig making a deafening snap. Step by step, you make your way to a slender rope bridge, and then the two of you shuffle quickly into the jungle night air.

###

Neither of you spoke a word until your feet touched down on the soft mossy floor of the forest. Finally, free of the trees and far from those drums, it feels safe enough to speak.

"So, Michael . . . how did you come here?" He pushes aside a drooping leaf and takes a slow step forward.

"We're headed north, right? To the middle of the island?" Michael sets a slow pace, making your way by the silvery moonlight, careful where he places his feet, but avoiding your gaze.

"Michael, talk to me. We can figure this out!" You grab his arm - but he brushes you off.

"Look, I don't even know where to start, miss." You are taken aback.

"Miss? My name is Brenna. Don't you remember me?" He shakes his head.

"I'm not sure what I remember. It's all rattling around in my head like tin nickels in an empty can." The jungle floor starts to slope upwards as you inch your way up the mountain.

"Then start with what you do remember."

"What does it matter? Why do you care?" He shouts. "Look, don't you get it? We're dead. Wormfood, ash and dust." You shake your head.

"No, no, that's not it all. There's these creatures, see, they were in a meteorite and they were in the metal, or part of the metal. And they can make you have visions."

Michael turns around to face you, sitting heavily on a fallen tree.

"Visions? Hell no. This . . this must be purgatory. That's what I figure. It's too weird to be heaven and too nice to be hell."

You sit next to him, fitting your hand in his. "Please Michael, tell me how you got here."

He takes a deep breath and blows it out through those perfect lips of his, glancing your way. Seeing you undeterred, he begins.

"I was finishing up work one night, an install at a brand new hotel. I was packing up my tools when the client arrived to inspect the work. Tall, pale guy gave me the creeps but I showed him around. It was a custom job - he'd provided the metal, an iron alloy by the feel of it, and I had sculpted it into a . . ."

"A brazier?" You answer, hoping you pronounced it correctly. He nods.

"Yes. He was exacting on every detail, so I wasn't surprised that he wanted to see it fixed into place, attached with iron wires to the walls, it was a piece of work. After he had seen every nook and corner, he told me that he was pleased with my work. I thanked him but to be honest, I just wanted to get home to . . ." he looked down ashamed.

"Anyway, I turned around to grab my tools and I felt a punch in my side. I looked down and there was a knife sticking out of my stomach and blood, oh there was so much blood." Michael's hands are shaking as he rubs his side in memory of it.

"The client, he pushed me towards the brazier, pinning my arm so the blood soaked. The metal just soaked it up like a sponge. That's when I passed out."

Michael stood, clapping his hands together.

"And that's it." You shake your head.

"No, there's more. You said that you knew my face. What else do you remember?" He blushes.

"Ah . . um. I remember you and I . . . in a garden somewhere warm. You were in a dress, or partially in a dress and we . . . we made love on the grass. Then again, in a dark room, an office?"

"A trailer." you admit. He nods.

"I don't remember much else of those times and places, I just remember the feel of you, white and shining like a lighthouse in a storm. Last thing I remember, we are in the hut and I . .. and you . . . we were finishing up and you asked me to look at the watch. Now, I know who I am. And that's something at least."

You hop up and tangle your hands in his dark curly hair. "Pleased to finally know you, Michael Garcia." You reach up and kiss him, soft and sweet. He returns your kiss for a moment and then breaks away.

"But, I . . . I can't. Brenna, I'm sorry. Now that I know who I am, now that I have my memories, we can't."

"Why not?" you retort.

"Because I'm married." You laugh, a sudden bark that you immediately stifle as he looks at you impatiently.

"Oh no, Michael, no. It's okay. I'm married too."

"Oh, then we definitely can not . ."

"I'm married and my husband is okay with it." You explain.

"But how can he be . . . Suzanne would never allow me to be with another woman." You look into his eyes, those big brown puppy dog eyes and realize you need to break his heart.

"I'm so sorry Michael, but you need to ask me something."

"What?"

"Ask me when I was born." He laughs, still holding you in his arms and swaying back and forth.

"A gentleman never asks a lady his age. Growing up, I knew enough to know that got you hit."

"Not how old I am, ask me when I was born." He sees the earnest look in your eyes.

"Okay, when were you born?"

"August 25th, 1988." He stumbles back, tripping over a branch and steading himself on the foliage.

"1988?! 1988!!" He runs his hands through his hair, eyes wild.

"Breathe, Michael, breath."

"But that means, oh god, Suzanne! Oh hell, Pappa and Aunt Melissa? Cousin Jack" He doubles over, tears streaming down his cheeks.

You grab his arm, holding him steady. "I don't know all the rules about how this place works, okay? Just because I jumped in here in 2023 doesn't mean that you can't go back to your time, to your place - we just have to figure out how to get out of here!"

He looks up at you with tear streamed cheeks, the jaguar reflected in his dark pupils.

"LOOK OUT!" He shoves you aside as the large cat crashes into him. The two of them go tumbling into the night, blinding fury of black and yellow fur and your Michael, with far too much exposed skin.

"NOOO!" You shout, crashing after them into the underbrush. With a surge of adrenaline, you burst into a clearing next to the rushing river. The Jaguar has him pinned, jaws open wide - pinning Michael with one dinner table sized paw. You fling yourself at the creature, plowing into it with a shoulder tackle. It leaps back in surprise . . .and tumbles right into the surging water. It yowls, almost comically as the fast moving rapids sweep it down the river.

You help Michael up, he's bleeding from the leg and his grass skirt has finally given up and fallen to pieces, leaving him standing naked in front of you.

He takes your hand and the two of you dash up the river, scrambling over rocks, trying to put as many feet between you and the jaguar as possible.

###

The adrenaline finally wearing off and the meek light of sunrise is just beginning to splash the river rocks with grey light. Michael's leg is still bleeding despite the makeshift bandage of your left pant leg, but you certainly didn't mind following his firm naked body in the moonlight.

"There, Brenna, see those bubbles?" He points to a simmering pool in the shallows and sniffs the air.

"Sulphur, there's hot springs here, they smell just like the ones out in Montana where I grew up. Let's see if they are cool enough to swim in."

The simmering water is surrounded by stacks and stacks of river rocks, forming a surprisingly deep pool. Each pile of stones had several small white rocks balanced on top.

Not rocks, you note as you strip off your top and the remains of your pants, pearls. Little pearls atop each cairn.

Michael eases himself into the water, the warm bathwater coming up to his arms when seated. He beckons you over. You curl up tucking your head under his, your arms around his chest.

"I'm sorry Brenna." He begins. "I don't know how people do marriage in 2023, but if your husband is okay with this, and my wife is probably long gone from this world, then I see no harm in us . . . continuing. You have been nothing but kind to me and I, I have enjoyed it immensely."

He leans in and kisses you, full and deep, without reservation.

"Will you make love to me?" He asks. You reach down, your fingertips brushing against his thighs as you find your mark. He gasps as you encircle his cock with your palm, slowly stroking up and down.

You pat the rocks where he is resting his arms. "Sit up here on the edge of the pool." You ask. He hops up, his throbbing cock bobbing in front of you. You look up into his dark, intense features as you slowly stroke him again, from root to tip and back down again. With the other hand, you pull at his sack, gently, and press underneath for that special spot.

He utters a startled groan. "Oh fuck!" You move your hands faster and faster, one hand pumping the other pulling at the balls. They tighten in your grasp, he is close.

You climb up to the edge of the pool, planting a knee on either side of his hips. You line him up and sink down onto him, slow and languid, enjoying each thick, satisfying inch.

"Ugghhhhh." His eyes roll back in his head as his hips convulse. You grab his face and kiss him, hard and demanding. Rocking back and forth, you glide effortlessly on his cock as it slides in and out, the rhythm building with your own passion. You reach down and stroke yourself, so close, your clit like an oiled marble, rolling this way and that.

He grabs your hips and pulls you down on him, deeper than before. Demanding, urging!

"YES!" you cry out. "YES YES YES!" as he works you up and down, faster and faster.

"UUGGGHHHHH!!!" He gives a deep guttural moan and for the second time that day, unleashes a torrent of cum inside you. Spurt after spurt dumps inside your quivering pussy. The simulation sets you off as you clench, the orgasm sweeping through your body like a shivering blinding light.

You release and go limp, slumped over him, the only sound the bubbling of the water and his ragged breathing. And the soft footfalls from behind you. You look back as the first dart buries itself in your exposed butt.

"Oh fuck," you mumble as the world folds into darkness.

###

The crash of waves on rocks. That's the first thing you hear. Smash and then the draining of the sea returning to itself, and the crash again. You shake your head, everything appearing double. You are laying on some sort of mesh netting, fishing nets? Thicker. They rock slightly in the breeze as you sit up.

Your face feels numb, after effects of the dart? You fumble in the blinding light, trying to get your bearings. Slowly, painfully, the world comes into focus.

You crouch in a room with no walls, made of net floors and sturdy beams wedged into crevasses in the rock face behind you. Before you, a sweeping vista of tropical sea extending out to the horizon. You see hundreds of other rooms like this, affixed into the rockface around a bay. Down below, bamboo ships float in the surf, lithe figures working the sails.

Cloth mats hang from the ceiling, providing some shade and privacy as you realize you are completely naked, having shed the last of your clothing while making love to Michael.

Michael! You look around but he is nowhere to be found in this room. You bounce your way along the ropes to a stone walkway, carved into the bluff. You take your first steps along the path wrapping down to the beach as a short, muscular woman walks up the path towards you. She wears nothing but a string of sea shells around her waist, jangling with each turn of her dark hips. She looks Hawaiian? Samoan? It's hard to tell but her lips are full and her nipples as dark as the deepest chocolate.

"Hello traveler!" She greets you. You pause, unsure whether to run or fight, but her voice is light and friendly.

"It's good to see you are awake. Are you hungry?"

Are you? You think back to the fearful flight from the men's village, the jaguar and the attack. It had been many many hours since you and Caroline shared fruit in that little cave.

"Yes, actually."

"Come with me, I'll get you taken care of. My name is Kai."

"Hello Kai, I'm Brenna." She nods. "We know."

As you make your way down the path, you see others moving in and out of the cliff villages, all women.

"Um. . . not that I'm ungrateful, but I was brought here with a friend.Dark curly hair, about this tall?"

Kai rounds to you, fast as a viper. "If you are referring to one of the unclean," she whispers forcefully, "then you should best keep silent. Their kind are not welcome here." She takes a breath, smoothing the anger from her face.

"Now, come this way. The queen will want to see you after you've been fed."

###

You downed the meal - some nuts, a piece of melon and a steamed white root of some sort flavored with seaweed - you politely declined the fish and oysters - in relative ease. Kai is eager to share details about her life. She is a fish singer - she stands at the front of the boat and calls the fish forth with nothing more than her voice.

"Well, that's not entirely true. I do toss in the scrum and make sure Lelani and Nana don't crash the boat while their eyes are on the nets." She's young, maybe twenty, and reminds you of a bubbly WWU student from Ridgeway skipping out of her first 101 class.

Once closer, you see her skin glows with that same radiance as yours, full of life, perfectly formed. You catch yourself staring at her as she reenacts her Aunt nearly tumbling from the boat.

"How many of you live here?" Kai flops down crosslegged next to you.

"10 war canoes." The way she said it, 'war canoes' caused her lips to go slightly out of sink. You to cock your head. A translation. But just that word.

"How many can fit in a war canoe?" Kai looked thoughtful for a moment.

"About eight to ten, depending on how many spears we need."

"Have you needed to sail any war canoes recently?" You wonder if the translation works backwards, but Kai didn't pause.

"We do drills when the tide is low, and sometimes, when the raiding party comes, but I have never been part of a full war armada."

"And you are all women? Is that what the raiding parties are for - the other tribe comes and tries to steal you?" Kai suddenly looks frightened and you regret the outburst.

"I . . . uh . . . I think it is time for you to talk to the Queen." Kai begins gathering the wide flat shells that held your meal.

"I'm sorry." You don't know what else to say. She looks over at you with an apologetic smile.

"It's okay. I really enjoyed talking to you. Maybe we can talk some more after you talk to the Queen?" You nod.

"Oh yes. Of course!"

"Good." And with that she leads you up the stone steps, the winding path to a long bridge over the deep watery crevasse.

The Queen's . . .perch, you decide, is a thick collection of driftwood, mats and bamboo forming a rounded bulge from the corner of the bluff - sticking out like an eagle's head. You enter below, taking the steps up into her enclosed room.

Relieved to be out of the sun and the wind, you squint, blinking rapidly to brush the sunspots from your eyes.

"Good day, Queen Ona." Kai intones next to you. "I brought you Brenna."

From a wicker chair facing the sea, the response comes.

"Thank you Kai, I appreciate it." You steel yourself, ready for a familiar face but the woman who turns to face you is a stranger.

You would guess she was in her late thirties - easily a good half a foot taller than you with graceful Polynesian curls falling about her shoulders. As with Kai, she was naked except for the chain of incandescent shells around her neck and a loose rope belt around her waist but with full womanly curves instead of Kai's lithe form.

"Hello Brenna, my name is Queen Ona. Welcome to my village." She waves you over to a bench with soft matts thrown over it, she sits and pats the spot next to her. Kai gives you a friendly wave and departs.

"I apologize for the manner in which you came here but I cannot be too careful."

You try to be polite.

"Well, I have to say, it was a little disconcerting."

"The spider venom does that, you should be fine in a few more hours. But you are here now, and that's all that matters. It has been so long since we had someone new join us, tell me, where do you come from?"

Unsure of how to answer,

"I . . . uh . . . from Bellingham?" She gives you a blank look. "I'm not really sure to be honest."

The Queen nods. "It is hard to put in words. Many of those when they arrive struggle to adapt to our life but they come to appreciate it. We are excited to have you here. Tell me, what did you do in your past life, in this Bellingham?"

"I am a mother and an artist." You say with relative confidence. "But tell me, how did you know my name? How did you know I was on the island?"

The Queen makes a face like tasting something foul. "Your friend, he calls your name when he is in distress." Oh no! The thought of Michael being tortured sends you to a panic but you try to remain calm.

"But enough of the unclean ones, I cannot wait for you to meet the rest of our people. Since we knew you were on the island, we already began construction of a place for you to live - it should be complete in the next couple of days."