The operation into the jungle against the enemy stronghold had been a cluster from the git-go. We were pinned down, no way to retreat. The flanking units were in the same situation or worse. We had repulsed two frontal attacks, taking heavy causalities. It was doubtful we would survive a third. The Lieutenant belatedly called for air support. After what seemed like a gut wrenching eternity, we heard the screaming of approaching jets, and then the whistling of the bombs and explosions, explosions much too close, one after another. I heard a particularly loud whistling, and just before the blast wave hit me, I remember thinking, “Someone really f*** up the coordinates.”
When I became aware again I found myself prone on bare, pebbly ground, naked and cold. A brisk breeze was aggravating the situation, kicking sand into my face, chilling my bones. I sat up, feeling like something was not quite right, feeling like someone had dialed the gravity way down. Scanning the sky, I found the sun, close to the horizon, appearing small with a strong reddish tint. The landscape was barren, devoid of any trees or large rocks, a series of rolling hills like large ocean swells frozen in place. I was just below the crest of one of the larger hills.
The ground started shaking. I realized quickly that it was the rumble of approaching animals. Cresting the hill I had found myself on, there appeared a troop or caravan, a group of 75 or so mounted riders. Their mounts appeared to be a cross between a dromedary and a Clydesdale, having heads and snouts reminiscence of skinks, their hides shimmering in the waning sun. Mounted on each was a humanoid figure, but if human, the ugliest I have ever seen. They had two legs, two arms, a trunk, capped with a head that was mammalian in shape, but reptilian in detail. Their size was on a scale to match the beast they were riding.
Having unthinkingly stood up at the disturbance, I was conspicuous against the skyline. Two riders detached themselves from the troop, and begin loping my way. Fear overcame me, without goal or plan, I began to run. Run to where, there was not the hint of cover anywhere, I could not outpace the riders, but run I did. Glancing behind me, I saw one of the riders twirling what must have been a sling, and then releasing its projectile in my direction. A moment of sharp pain, a thought – what are those things and all became black.
When I became aware again I discovered myself, still naked and cold, on a platform raised a meter or so above the ground. On the back side was a crude building with no windows but two doors. Beyond the building I could see a great wall with an open gate a few meters beyond where I stood. Surrounding the platform was a throng of the same beings that I had seen riding. I was conscious that I could understand their language, a guttural series of sharp vocalizations with an occasional whistling tone. I gathered this was a slave market and I was to be auctioned.
A hard hand with nails like talons shoved me, causing me to stumble to the front of the platform. I had stood there but a minute when another being was led to the front and positioned next to me. I glanced over, and there was a vision, a female, nude as I was naked, seemingly as human as myself. I have only read of the great beauty of the incomparable Dejah Thoris, but I knew instantly she would pale next to my sudden companion.
One of our captors began the auction. I gathered that we were to be sold as a pair, for a purpose cryptic to me, but one that had the mob stomping the ground in appreciation, laughter, I was not sure what. In the midst of this stomping, at the back of the crowd, a disturbance occurred, drawing all attention from the platform to the commotion. Completely by instinct I grabbed the wrist of my companion, and said in yet another language that I understood but I did not recognize, “Hurry, now is our chance.” I rushed us towards the city wall and the open gate. As more and more of the creatures became involved in the melee, we slipped unnoticed through the gate. Finding ourselves beyond the wall, we began to run, but again to where? The only feature visible in this sea of sameness was the city. But run we did, as we had no other choice, no other hope. Disastrously I tripped, falling, hitting my head hard against the ground. As consciousness fled, the thought flashed through my brain, “No, not now, not when I have found a woman that eclipses even the incomparable Dejah Thoris.”
When I became aware again I realized there was pressure on my chest, a weight. Struggling from sleep, I opened my eyes. I was met by The Wee Dog, aka Princess Lily, posed on my chest like Simba on a promontory, her nose but inches from my nose. Knowing what she probably wanted I mumbled, “Do you need to go outside?” Upon hearing the word, outside, Princess Lily leaped from my chest, eliminating the last of my paltry chest hairs in her rush. She began running frantically in circles between the bed and the top of the stairs.
Dream goddesses will have to wait for another night or until Little Bunny Foo Foo bops me in the head one more time, again.
If you have read this far, thank you and congratulations!
Even a casual reader of science fiction will recognize that I am unabashedly, unashamedly, blatantly ripping off Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Barsoom series. Those books detail the adventures of a Civil War era earthman, John Carter, who was supernaturally transported to Mars, and eventually married the incomparable Dejah Thoris.
Or perhaps I am poking a little fun at those books.
Or perhaps I am just riffing on Burroughs.
Or perhaps it was just fun to write even if not to read.
And so it goes.
very good