Twilight Before the Dawn

Their stomachs shook violently, anticipating the meal ahead. They screamed joyfully, elated as the sun set, pre-empting their feasting time. This would be their third night hunting. They tired with great effort and expected a rich reward. It won’t be long now, they thought collectively.

***

“What time is it?” she asked in a hushed voice, barely distinguishable from the crickets or the wind rustling the leaves.

“Just a few more minutes,” he replied, his voice as light as a spider floating through the sky on an invisible silken string. “It’s almost dawn—soon, the sun will rise, and we’ll make it out of here alive.”

She noticed he had not bothered to look at his watch, making her suspect he was lying. “You said that an hour ago,” she muttered as if to herself. He looked at her intensely, and she felt guilty for her remark. She noticed how his eyes shone brightly even in the deep shadows, as if they had their own light source hidden within them.

He looked around and gave her a few direct hand signals: crawl on your belly to the tall grass, crouch and walk on all fours through the field, and finally, make a beeline for the forest. She had become increasingly efficient at reading his non-verbal communication, a skill that she picked up more quickly than most due to the motivational factors involved. It might prove helpful to communicate with hand signals, she thought: we could have our own language that no one else can understand… if we survive this nightmare.

She crawled through the damp grass, cursing under her breath as the dead wood scratched at her bare arms. Please, God, don’t let them hear us, she thought. Her heart thundered in her ears; sweat stung her eyes, blurring her already dim vision. Deaf, blind, and about to become someone’s late-night snack. Please just let us get to the forest. We can sprint for the beach, and the sun will rise faster there. How is he so calm? She was angry with him, although this was in no way his fault—her eyes swelled with tears at the thought she would lose him soon if they didn’t find a way off the island.

Her legs were cramping. I can’t do this anymore; I’m no jungle adventurer! She berated herself—What was I thinking, coming to a place like this? But this was not the time for self-pity. He slowed his four-legged crawl to allow her to catch up to him, a quiet sign of compassion. He’s trying to encourage me, to show me that we’re in this together—I found myself a sweet man, too bad we’re going to die in this godforsaken place. The world was barely visible save for a sliver of the moon that lit their path like a light opened in another room, providing the faintest glow on the other side of a house. She pressed on and worked through her unintended exercise when her hand came down upon a smooth and silky branch that moved and hissed.

Her reflexes got the best of her; she lunged backward and yelled, kicking and contorting her body to keep the reptile off her. In a few seconds, she could no longer scream or move; he was sitting on top of her with his hand on her mouth. They froze, waiting. The moon spun around the Earth, the Earth rotated around their salvation, and they huddled in the tall grass momentarily. They did not breathe or move or blink—but listened. Her thoughts boomed across the halls of her mind, Please, please, don’t let them hear. I’ve killed us… fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did I—fucking snake. Oh my god… No, I hear them, no, no, no.

He sprang like a catapult, hauling her along. How could I be running if I’m not moving my feet? she thought to herself. He had developed an amazing method of making her move in a way that removed the need for her to conduct her limbs. My maestro… The sweet thought was interrupted by the melody of branches that attacked their face. The jungle rang and snapped and popped as they disturbed Nature’s sleep.

“I can hear them!” she cried desperately, as if her words could affect the direness of their current situation. “They’re coming!”

He did not respond but pushed harder through the thick overgrowth, bulldozing his way and clearing a path for her. The tangle of dense vegetation tore at their skin and clothes, providing a precursor for their fate once the voices behind them caught up.

“I can-I can’t run anymore,” she panted, wheezing. “Please, we need to—”

“Just a little more; we are almost at the beach,” he said confidently. “I can smell the salt in the air.”

She could smell the salt in the air, too. Just follow the smell. Almost there, just follow him and make it out of the woods. She lost herself in a trance-like state, focusing only on the immediate sensory triggers: smell, salt; taste, blood; feeling, pain; hearing, screams; sight—nothing.

He stopped suddenly, causing her to ram into his backside, nearly breaking her nose. Her pain and anger subsided quickly when she saw the color of the sky: light grey! We’re actually going to make it, she was encouraged but worried, why did he stop. She leaned around him to better understand what was in front of them, but he held her firmly at his side.

“I love you,” he said warmly.

“Now is not the time—”

He squeezed her head into his chest, suffocating her words and her desire to be anywhere else. She felt a rush of wind and intense adrenaline. Is this what it feels like to die—or to be in love? They hit the dunes below the forest with a jarring thud, their bodies tumbling towards the water, a whirlwind of limbs, sand, and broken dreams. That was the feeling of falling, she concluded, determined to remain as logical as possible about the whole affair; if she was going to die, it would be on her own terms.

They came to a stop at the shoreline, in a bed of seaweed caught adrift in the sand, awaiting the high-tide taxi back into the watery world. They lay motionless, bodies throbbing in agony, minds blurred and disoriented. She was dizzy; he was stunned from the fall and could not move his back. Screams and shouts could be heard from the ridge above—the sounds of deliberation. The world faded from sight and sound. The waves stilled; all they knew was the clamor of their hunters—all that existed was the palate of the sky.

“Is it blue?” she asked aloud, having lost the capacity to retain her inner monologue.

Her words cast a spell over the island, marking the break they desperately needed. The screams turned to shrieks, the sound of torment—the smell of burning flesh wafted like the incense she longed for. She slipped from the world to a land of timelessness, a worry-free realm where her pain evaporated like morning dew beneath the light. The acrid aroma carried her to sleep.

She jolted awake in a panic. The sun was intense and pierced her pupils like stone-tipped spears. She sat up, cradling her head, panting, searching for answers. “Relax, we’re safe for now,” he said caringly—she’d never heard a sweeter sound. He took her hands and placed a round, hairy object in them. She was confused, but only for a moment. She could smell the sweet water inside, and she drank deeply, like one savoring life before a trip to the guillotine.

She opened her eyes. Her hands were bandaged, and an ointment had been applied to her elbows and knees, easing the scars she earned the night before. She was under a tree a few dozen feet from the water. He crouched beside her, gazing at her lovingly. She noticed he was completely nude.

“What are you doing?” she asked, still shaken from the night before.

“I’ve been gathering food for us. Are you hungry?” he asked. She looked down shyly, and he caught her meaning. “I washed my clothes in a freshwater stream a few minutes’ walk that way,” he said, pointing to an area with a small cove where the jungle thinned. “They’re drying on a tree not far.” He helped her up. “I think you might need a wash, too.”

He helped her undress, delicately removing her blood-stained garb. She stepped into the sun, letting the warmth bathe her skin. The rays engulfed her, brilliantly shining off her wheat-colored suit of taut flesh. She looked skinny, he thought, cherishing the view, yet beautiful.

He had planned to guide her to the water, but she turned abruptly and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his head and neck, tugging slightly at his tangled hair. He held her close; he did not wish to let her go—nor have this moment end. They sank gently into the sand. Their limbs merged—arms tangled like vines, their legs kicking and digging into the sand like the deep roots of a mangrove. They weren’t hushed or discreet; the sun shone, and the world was theirs. This was their time, to spend how they wished—to burn it quickly like young honeymooners or to hold it near and dear, clutching the minutes, as does an inmate on death row.

***

They could hear the groans and moans drifting from the beach and the occasional shout. They covered their ears and burrowed deeper into the moist earth. What a wretched sound! They had been so close this time, just a few dozen feet away—if they hadn’t jumped off the damn ridge to the beach. They were nestled deep into the burrows and holes alongside the treeline, hiding from their sworn enemy: the all-consuming ball of magma. They were hungry and could smell their prey's flesh in the sunlight. Soon, it would be their time to shout and cry when the silver goddess won her evening battle—then they could hunt.