Cannibal...Creature

The small skiff was crowded with the last seven survivors aboard---crew members of the infamous galleon, the Catherine’s Blood.

We’d been at sea for sixty-nine days, according to Eli Upwind, the ship’s navigator, who read the skies day and night and had a head for numbers. Captain Avila nodded at Upwind’s latest decree, the nod went on until the captain’s unkempt, greying beard settled upon his chest. He appeared dead.

Spiney and Jewels stole a wicked glance at each other, and I swear when Spiney skirted his mutant grey slug-of-a-tongue around his peeling lips he was lapping up saliva. Jewels was also drooling but didn’t give a rat’s fart who saw him doing it. Suppressing a shudder, I scooped up some seawater and tossed it into the captain’s face knowing the briny water would sizzle the platoon of open sores there…the captain’s eyes did not fly open…but they did squeeze shut tighter, the roadmap of lines scrunching together between the man’s scraggly eyebrows.

The two frowned at me. They knew I’d been reading their thoughts. If chomping on an old sea dog of a man was appealing, I could only imagine what they must have thought my fifteen-year-old flesh would taste like. Basted by sweat, the skin browned like the crust of a delectable steak and kidney pie, the organs sweet gourmet treats. I shivered though the unforgiving sun continued baking us like poppuns in a woodstove.

We’d run out of water three days ago. Egbert----Eggy, who was not much older than me and the captain’s nephew, was the first to drink his own urine. Ebony Stick, whose skin was as dark as obsidian, followed suit … but spewed it back up immediately, his skin taking on a sickly olive tint.

The next day, Captain Avila raised his head and gargled out, “AAAAARGHHH GABBLESCAAAAbbbb!”

The rest of us jerked awake from our own nightmares or reminiscing, or wherever our minds chose to curl up to hibernate … all except one. Jewels was dead.

“Toldya to drink yer piss!” hissed Eggy, who appeared to have just as much vinegar in him as piss.

“Aye,” agreed Stick, who’d managed to keep his down at last.

The rest of us nodded. It really wasn’t too bad…if you plugged your nose and imagined it was some sort of exotic tea. I kept my mouth shut, half-feigning a plentitude of sickness.

“Ah Jewely … old buddy … I didna think it would be youse tago foist. But, that been said, I’m sure you ken the aftermath.” Spiney pulled his stiletto from his boot. Spiney was the ship’s surgeon, the blade was scalpel-sharp in his long bony fingers. Before any of us could stop him, he carved a sliver of flesh from his friend’s bicep as neat and tidy as slicing into a roast turkey’s breast---only it was red and raw, dropping pellets of blood onto Spiney’s ragged pants as it jiggled and flapped on the end of the knife.

I wanted to look away but was as hypnotized as the rest of them, ‘cepting for the captain who’d fallen back into his coma-sleep. I envied him. If I’d had anything in my stomach, it would have come up as Spiney gnawed on the strip of flesh. I was horrified to find not bile filling my mouth, but saliva. What sort of wretches had we become?

Stick and Eggy accepted peels of flesh from Spiney whose mouth was red. Blood trickled down his chin. They ate slowly at first, then once committed, drew their own blades and dug in.

Upwind didn’t stir. I wondered if he’d be next.

Spiney, Chief Cannibal, stuck Jewels in his carotid artery and pressed his tin cup to the wound. I wanted to jump overboard when I heard the slurping sounds that followed. Instead, I used their distraction to secretly chew the last of my dried goatmeat. As cabin boy, I’d been the cook’s assistant and had been able to pilfer a stash of biscuits and meat for such as emergency as this. How long before I became like them?

Eight or nine … or ten or fifteen … days later they ate Upwind. Captain Avila had not been roused from his coma since that peculiar outburst. He would be next.

Every once in awhile a mass of kelp floated by. It was disgusting but I ate it. The rest were addicted to human flesh. And indeed, they did look far more robust than I. I attempted to sleep with one eye open. It didn’t work. But I was not next.

One night, who knew how many days or weeks later, I was awakened by a high-pitched shriek of terror. By the light of the moon, I witnessed Spiney and Eggy eating Stick’s calve.

“I knew he’d be a tasty one,” slobbered Spiney.

“Aye.”

In the deep purple dawn, as the two cannibals were sleeping, a seagull drifted in the warm Caribbean currents overhead. It circled the boat, and I froze as it warily checked me out. It stared at me as it landed on the rail next to Stick’s head. It stared at me as it dug its sharp, hooked beak into Stick’s left eye socket.

It took its eyes off me as it went for eyeball two. I leapt like a skinny old tom cat and strangled it with both hands, landing in the gory pool where Stick’s left leg had been. Its last squawk woke the cannibals.

“Nice goin’ Salt!” cried Spiney.

Eggy said, “A bird. Where’s thar’s birds, thar’s land!”

Us three looked around … and around, straining our eyeballs until tears leaked down our cheeks.

“Hmf,” said Eggy. “Well, ain’t you gonna pluck it or what?”

I used my dagger to cut the bird up and tossed each man a section of gull. “Pluck it yourself.” I cut-twisted off a thigh, plucked it, and tore into the flesh and tough skin like an animal.

Spiney said as he plucked, “Youse know…youse bein’ just a whelp of a lad, we ought to get---”

“Shut it Heathen,” I growled.

Spiney’s eyes narrowed. I knew that he knew I was stronger---and bigger---than I had made myself out to be. He also knew that eating another man, especially a crewmate, was a cardinal sin, punishable by hanging. Oh, and murder too. Then he smirked. I could see in his eyes he also knew I’d not live long enough tell anyone what I had witnessed.

Eggy watched our silent exchange as he gnawed on the gull with his dull fishy eyes, not understanding any of it. He had the brain of a pigeon. His eyes sparked suddenly with a brief and rare light. The chewed up pink flesh and white feather mash fell from his lips as he pointed. Land! On the horizon! It was just a dark dot, little more than a hallucination. The torn-up bird in our hands momentarily forgotten as we stared. Eggy was sobbing.

We put the oars to the sea and side by side, Spiney and I rowed. We were weak and he tired out first, nearly fainting from the effort. Eggy took his place. Two days later---I’d started the count again, dawn to dusk, dawn to dusk---we rowed into the shallows of the sandy-beached cove of an island. While Eggy and Spiney lolled on the soft warm land I crawled on hands and knees towards the tree line, towards shade. I crawled through dense cool foliage then peeked between wide leaves at the two on the beach.

They sat up and looked around, paying special attention to the tree line.

Spiney got to his feet, stumbled, then swayed in place, legs spread wide and bare feet anchored in sand. He gestured angrily at Eggy who reluctantly got up as well. But couldn’t stay up. As sand sprayed over Eggy like fine drizzle, Spiney gave him the universal sign for ‘fuck you’ and started walking up the beach. He entered the jungle fifty feet or so to my left. While crouching low, I sprinted through the greenery, dodging trees and avoiding dried leaves and twigs upon the ground. It wasn’t long before the heavy stompings of pursuit faded, then petered out altogether. I kept on though, more carefully now, stopping occasionally to pick sweet-smelling pink and orange fruits from low hanging branches and stuffing them into my pockets and rucksack.

I pushed through dense palm fronds and found, curiously, they were damp. I came upon a most glorious sight---a waterfall nearly opaque like a white linen curtain. With tears in my eyes, I dove into the clear green pool beneath the falls. The heavenly water sluiced away stink, grime, layers of salt, and a king’s platoon of lice. I swam under the curtain of falls and crawled up to a flat rock ledge, panting, and shaking water from my hair like a hairy dog. The motion made me dizzy suddenly and I toppled backwards.

I fell not to the rock … but down and down into pitch blackness.

At last I hit hard ground … and the light in my world snuffed out.

The weak blueish light emitting down from the hole in the cavern high above me gave me a sense of ‘morning’. I’d been out for quite some hours. In a daze I heard the soft pattering sound of water boiling in a cook pot. ‘Huh?’

Before me ten feet was a pond, roughly fifteen feet in a round diameter. The water was bubbling gently. I crawled to it, fascinated. Tentatively, I poked the surface with a finger. It was not boiling, but pleasantly warm. I stripped and sank my bruised and scraped up body into it. “Aaaahhhhh.” The curious bubbles tickled my nakedness like tiny fishies nibbling at me. An odd sensation, but not at all unpleasant. In fact, it was a very addictive feeling. Before I fell asleep and drowned, I crawled out and lay on the cool polished stone floor.

When I awoke, it was lighter in the cave. My skin didn’t itch anymore, and I wanted a shave. As best I could, I scraped the scraggly few hairs off with my knife, leaving what I hoped would eventually blossom into a nice full goatee. I looked around and made out an alcove on the other side of the miraculous bath. In it I discovered a soft linen mattress, a circle of sones for a cookfire and pot, and a small bookcase filled with books. Someone lived here. Someone intelligent. As I perused the titles, I realized there was no light source but the small hole in the ceiling I’d fallen through. It was as if my eyes had adapted to the dark in a most fantasmical way.

Previously, the sound of the falls had deafened everything else. Now, I heard birds singing and squawking in the jungle. I heard tree frogs and chirping insects. I put a hand to my ear…and gasped. It felt longer. ‘Rubbish. Just tired.’ I lay upon the sweet-grass smelling mattress and slept.

On and off I slept and bathed and ate the jungle fruit.

I worried about how I would get out.

Dusk to dawn, dusk to dawn…on my second day of sleeping, reading, and bathing I could see clearly as if it were day. I felt my face, hoping to have something to shave there and found a nice thick goatee on my chin. I lifted my knife, preparing to shave whatever stubble had sprouted since my last shave…and… “Aaaaahhhhh!”

Not stubble. Fur. A fine soft pelt covered my face! It took the rest of the afternoon to shave it all off.

On my third day I awoke to find the fur had grown back, soft it was, like a ferret’s coat. My ears were definitely longer now, and pointed like a wolf’s. My arms---they were longer too, the tips of my fingers nearly touched the floor. My legs felt shorter. And my tail…

‘Wait. What?...TAIL?’ I fainted.

Dusk to dawn. I ran out of fruit the third day. I craved fowl or fish. Oddly, not rabbit or shrew. By now I was fascinated by what would happen to me next. Oh yeah, my teeth were longer and so sharp I wondered if I’d need my dagger any longer. I gave up shaving. The fur grew back within hours.

I looked up at the concave ceiling that funneled to the opening, studying the roots and tough-looking lichens in crevices up the walls. Crevices like handholds. Testing my new shorter but more muscular legs, I jumped straight up. ‘Holy-mother-of-Christ!’ I could jump nearly the twenty feet to the top! I jumped again, this time deftly latching onto a thick root near the top. From there, an easy swing---like a monkey---out the hole.

“Woah,” I said out loud.

“Indeed.”

“GAAAAHHHHHH!”

“Sorry,” purred the feminine voice behind me.

I spun around and saw a creature like no other. The arms and legs…and tail… of a monkey, the ears of a wolf, the back and chest scales of an alligator, and a short soft pelt of fur over her entire face. And yet, she was very feminine, her face was beautiful with large luminous green cat’s eyes. The small swells of her breasts were covered in the same pale tawny-yellow fur, but her privates were covered by a soft leather loin cloth.

I was looking at the female version of me.

Dawning struck and I swiftly covered my own genitalia with my hands.

Her laugh was musical. “Here. I made you this.” She held out a loincloth similar to hers.

When I looked at it quizzically, she said, “Let me.” She showed me how to fasten the simple but effective garment about my hips. “Oh my!” she said, placing a furry hand to her lovely brown lips.

I looked down and realized that though the loincloth provided adequate cover, it was not so effective when a man was aroused. I was thankful then for the fur that covered my blush.

She said, “I am Rena.”

“I-I’m SaltyDog. My real name was Thomas a long time ago.”

“I’m going to call you TomCat.”

I liked it.

We talked as we hunted for food. I heard rabbits shivering in their burrows and smelled the opossums fear as they froze in the leafy branches. She said, “I do not care to eat them either. Let’s have fish.”

Fish were easy to catch and plentiful and delicious raw. The large grouse she caught we roasted in the cave. We talked all night. She’d been there two years and was seventeen. Though not quite an orphan like me, her mother married a sea trader who didn’t want children. She’d been abandoned here, and I found that sort of betrayal worse.

On the second night, as we lay together, her musky, in-heat scent was driving me insane. We gave in to our desires and I was happier than I’d ever been in my life. I had not thought of Spiney once that entire day. I had told her of my own perilous journey of course, and of my fear of that man. Of what he’d become.

“Come,” she said, as dawn pinked the sky. “It’s time you met the locals.”

She’d mentioned them before. A tribe of gentle brown people who lived not far from the falls. They actually considered the falls sacred. I was about to find out why.

The village was bustling with early morning activity, cookfires wafted exotically spiced aromas into the air---a new scent every time the breeze changed direction. Even the smallest child happily pulled husks from corn while the older children went off into the jungle with baskets. Young and old, male and female, went about their chores with pleasant smiles and chit-chat in their odd sounding language, punctuated by chirps and the clicking of tongues.

Rena stood and I followed her lead. As she stepped into the villagers’ midst, all voices hushed, all hands stilled, and those sitting stood and came forward along with the ones who’d been standing. In a large semi-circle, they bowed as one, then knelt upon their knees. A small child came running to us on pudgy legs with a basket of flowers in her arms. Other children followed with berries and bundled herbs. When the villagers stood, their faces were filled with glory. For us.

Rena spoke in their language, introducing me. They bowed again.

Back in the cave as Rena sorted the herbs and other gifts, she explained that we were sacred to them. Their protectors. Then she said, “Now you understand why we have to kill that man. That Spiney.”

Oh yes. I did see it clear as day. I knew he’d killed and eaten Eggbert. I didn’t need my newfound senses to know. Humans were easy prey. Vulnerable. Weaker than jungle animals. Fish were harder to catch. Rabbits were harder to catch. Spiney would prey upon the villagers, most likely the children first---the ones sent off with their baskets to collect fruits and berries and nuts.

The cannibal-murderer had built himself a platform in a kapok tree. He was easy to find. He stank of body odor, gum disease, and crazy. In the dark, we came upon his cookfire stones under the tree. We climbed easily. I loved my new tail. I’d never felt freer leaping high into the starry sky, then swinging from branches.

He didn’t stir as we alit upon the platform of branches tied together like a raft even though it creaked and swayed.

“Mercy?” asked Rena.

I shook my head. “No.”

I placed a clawed foot on his shoulder and shoved. He awoke groggily and looked around.

“Light it,” I said.

He calmed after hearing my familiar voice and lit the torch by his side. “AAAAHHH! What the feckin’ Godless---”

I peered down into his face.

“Salty? SaltyDog?”

“Was. TomCat now. Your jury and judge.”