So the question is do I stay in and wait for people to find me, or do I trudge the two miles to Sonya’s house and ask for help?
A baby rat scurries across the floor and it’s decided. I’ll walk the walk.
The sun is blinding. My trainers haven’t seen this much dirt since I went on a nature walk with Gay Soldier. He’s been heavy on the activities and I’d tried not to burst an artery when with him. I’m not athletic in the least which concerns me about my chances of survival in a death chase.
Sonya had mentioned animals throughout the move and even Diesel had been insistent that I not leave my home after nightfall. But I hadn’t seen any animals, only redheaded handsome creeps who came in to your house and demanded you let them borrow it for a few days.
He was handsome. There was something about men and scars that had always been my weakness. Gay Soldier had a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. It had been super sexy till he had up and left on his rainbow unicorn.
I have to admit it had been very erotic, the pushing and pulling, the intimidations and the close proximity of his body as he stifled my screams. Okay, fine, I’ll admit I have a bit of a BDSM fantasy. Not too much. Just a little bit of dominance from the man is always nice.
The trail to Sonya’s house is obviously disused. There are patches where grass has reclaimed the area and stones litter the path. The bushes in the woods are massive and unkempt. They’re practically as big as trees.
One of the bushes rustle and I freeze, my guts turning to solid ice. I hope it’s a rabbit, or a deer, any animal that doesn’t possess sharp teeth and claws. The bush rustles some more and I can’t seem to make my feet move. There is a low growl and a tiger leaps out.
I’m running then. I wheel back to the house, my lungs on fire, my legs protesting at the exercise, adrenaline kicking in so the legs don’t mind so much now. The heavy thuds of the tiger are getting closer behind me; I dodge behind trees so it can’t lunge and topple me over. The ground is getting steep now and my feet are losing control over their own movements, gravity pulling me down. I can’t find a firm footing and I know I’m going to go toppling in the ravine headfirst.
The tiger leaps at me. I scream and duck down, rolling like an armadillo. There’s a thud then a crash and I look up from my pillowed landing in the dirt to find Stranger Danger from last night sprawled naked, his right leg popping out at an odd angle.
He isn’t screaming. He’s grunting against the pain he’s obviously feeling. I would have been screaming if I were him. Luckily I’m not.
But where did the tiger go?
I walk towards him, hesitant on my feet. I’m sure the tiger is just around that boulder, ready to strike. What’s Stranger Danger doing here? My heart is pounding, my head is aching and I can’t seem to make any sense of what’s just happened. Who ever heard of tigers in the woods of Maine? Maybe it escaped from a zoo?
“Are you alright?” I ask but he just grunts. “I can fix that for you,” I say. I’m getting the full view of his junk, he isn’t even bothering to hide it. He’s very well endowed. “I’m going to help you, okay?”
He growls but I’ve just been chased down by a tiger so he doesn’t scare me… that much.
I lay a hand on his distorted leg and he slaps my hand away. I’m not deterred. I place my hand firmly on his leg and he whimpers in pain.
“This will hurt a bit,” I say. “Here,” I give him my useless cell phone. “Bite into it.”
He looks at me with contempt so I shrug and put the phone back in my pocket. I set my hands around the dislocated leg and without warning wrench it back in to place with a satisfying pop. He howls like an animal and I quickly place my hand on his mouth.
“Shhh,” I hiss, “there’s a tiger here somewhere? Did it hurt you?”
He looks at me in bewilderment like I’m mad or something. Maybe he’s traumatized.
“Wait here,” I whisper, “I’ll go and get help. You shouldn’t put any weight on that leg just yet.”
He doesn’t protest which I find odd because if a tiger had just pummeled me to the ground and dislocated my leg I’d be blubbering not to be left alone.