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  MATED TO A MONSTER

  Diana Sheridan

  Mated to a Monster

  Copyright © 2014

  Published by Dark Hollows Press

  About the eBook You Have Purchased

  All rights reserved. Without reserving the rights under copyright, reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, is forbidden. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.

  Mated to a Monster

  Copyright © 2014 Diana Sheridan

  ISBN 10: 194075643X

  ISBN 13: 978-1-940756-43-1

  Original Publication Date: May 2014

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2014 by Dark Hollows Press

  Cover Design by 3 Rusted Spoons

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Chapter One

  The sun was bright and the sea calm as Evan, his plane freshly refueled, took off again and headed southwest. Oahu rapidly diminished in size beneath and behind him as the plane headed upward toward a lone puffy cloud. The blazing sun glinted off the silver wings and sparkled on the Pacific, below. Evan exhaled an “Ahhh” of satisfaction. This was where he most loved to be: at the controls of his plane, soaring through the blue sky.

  It was something Fred had never understood. In every other way they had seemed most compatible, Fred and Evan, and Evan had even asked Fred to move in with him, but Fred had answered, “On one condition,” and when Evan asked, “What?” Fred had answered, “That you give up flying that damn plane.”

  It was not just the hours Evan spent away from Fred that rankled the pilot’s boyfriend. In fact, Evan had made it plain that he would have preferred it if Fred had come along with him. But Fred had lost his closest buddy in the crash of a small plane, and he simply didn’t trust that type of aircraft at all. He was even a nervous flyer on big commercial jets, but the smaller planes scared him particularly badly.

  Once—just once—Fred had consented to go up with Evan, but it had been a white-knuckle flight all the way on Fred’s part, despite ideal flying conditions. After that, Fred swore he would never repeat the fear-fraught adventure. He was keeping his feet planted solidly on terra firma.

  If that had been all there was to it, the relationship might well have survived, but Fred not only wanted no part of flying, he wanted Evan to give it up too. “I already lost one person who was important to me, thanks to a plane like this. I don’t want to make it two,” he said. “Can’t you understand that?”

  Evan could understand, all right, but he couldn’t accept the restriction. He loved flying too much to give it up. It proved to be a deal-breaker, and when Fred said, “Maybe we should break up before we get in any deeper if you won’t give up flying,” Evan knew their relationship was at an impasse.

  As far as Fred was concerned, it was a non-negotiable demand, and as far as Evan was concerned it was an unpalatable and untenable one. So with much regret, the couple broke up. That had been over three months ago, and so far Evan had not met anyone else who appealed to him.

  Continuing to fly over serene seas, Evan let his mind wander to happier days with Fred, but he didn’t let his thoughts stray too far from the cockpit. Daydreaming and piloting don’t mix well.

  As he approached a small group of islands, his engine began to sputter. Naturally Evan checked his fuel gauge, but it was apparent he was not low on fuel. The engine coughed, and the plane bucked. Evan tried everything he could think of to get the engine to perform properly and resume its normal roar, but he had no luck. The sputtering and coughing became worse, and the plane started losing altitude.

  Evan cast an appraising eye at the islands below him, looking for a place to land, but there was no strip of welcoming ground discernible. Palm trees were everywhere, making landing on one of the islands out of the question. There was nothing for it, he realized, but to ditch in the water, try to radio for help, and swim to shore on the nearest island.

  Evan’s first mayday call went unanswered. So did his second. Then he had to focus his full attention on a difficult landing. If Captain Sullenberger could land a jumbo jet safely in the Hudson, I certainly ought to be able to put this baby down in the water successfully, he thought.

  The plane’s nose skimmed just above the water’s surface, and then the belly of the plane came in contact with the gentle waves below. Although the waves were gentle, however, the landing was not so. The plane began taking on water immediately, and Evan knew he needed to abandon the aircraft quickly and swim for shore.

  The nearest island was some distance away but seemed reachable. Evan was a reasonably strong swimmer, and he had every hope of gaining the shore successfully. What he would find there, however, was a big question mark in his mind. Would there be suitable food to sustain him, fresh water to drink, and either a cave to take shelter in or suitable materials to construct a primitive hut? And how long would it be before he might be rescued—if ever? He knew his flight path had taken him away from the usual path of commercial aircraft. Would anybody see him? He had not filed a flight plan before takeoff, either, as it was not required, but now nobody would know where in the vast blue ocean to look for him when he failed to return.

  These and a host of related concerns filled his mind as, having extricated himself from the sinking plane, he swam steadily toward the nearest island.

  Most of the time he kept his head down in order to swim in a standard crawl stroke, but every now and again he raised his head to make sure he was still on course for the island and to see if he had gotten close yet. He began to grow discouraged at how long it was taking him. He also began to grow tired.

  Wearying rapidly, Evan finally rolled over onto his back and floated for a few minutes, letting the currents carry him where they would. He simply could not go on for the moment and needed the rest. After a few minutes of this, however, and concerned that he might be drifting off course, he rolled back over again and resumed his slow but steady crawl stroke.

  At last the shore seemed to be reasonably close. Evan was much relieved, as he had been beginning to seriously question how much longer he could go on swimming. It took every last ounce of strength he possessed, but finally he was close enough that he thought to try standing up and seeing if he could walk the rest of the way to shore. Cautiously he put his feet down and discovered that, indeed, the water was shallow enough that he could stand upright and walk.

  When he emerged from the water, Evan was too exhausted to take another step. He stayed on his feet only long enough to look in the general direction of where the plane had been but could not see a trace of it. Then, thoroughly exhausted, he collapsed onto the sand and almost immediately fell asleep.

  He awakened some time later having no idea how long he’d slept but immediately recalling his circumstances. The sun had baked his soaked clothes dry again. Even the front of his clothes, which were facing into the sand and out of the sun’s reach, had dried in the heat while he slept.

  He was thirsty. He would have to make finding some fresh water his first priority, even before seeking shelter. Evan contemplated getting up and exploring the island for a stream, pond, or other source of non-saline water, and
he stirred as he lay there. He was on his stomach, with his head cradled in his hands and turned facing the ocean. But as he moved, he heard a sound coming from behind him.

  It sounded like a grunt, followed by a heavy exhale. Then there was the sound of movement. Evan didn’t know what sort of creatures might live on this uncharted island, but clearly some type of animal was behind him. Fear iced his blood as he very slowly rolled over to see what it was that he was about to deal with, and whether it looked menacing. Perhaps finding water was not his first priority after all. Perhaps he had to worry about survival first. Evan slowly opened his eyes to see just what it was he was about to deal with.

  Chapter Two

  Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. Looming above him was a creature that he could only think of as a cross between a man and an animal. And he used the word “man” advisedly, as this was obviously the male of the species, whatever the species was. The creature’s dick was long and thin and slightly curved, with a bulbous tip. Still, it appeared small in comparison to the creature’s overall size, although it was about average for a typical male human.

  Evan estimated that the creature was close to seven feet tall. It had a face that in some ways resembled that of a gorilla, although this was no ape. For one thing, it lacked any kind of a tail, even a rudimentary stump. Its eyes were coal black and piercing. Its nose was thin and very human-like, although its lips were thick. It had short, acorn-colored hair all over its body. Even the tops of its feet were covered with downy fur.

  Despite the covering of hair or fur—Evan wasn’t sure just which term was applicable—the creature’s bulging arm and thigh muscles were readily discernible. It looked strong enough to break Evan in two with a quick snap. Evan only hoped that wasn’t this monster’s intention.

  The monster looked at Evan intently, and Evan felt that it was somehow trying to communicate with him. A peculiar fuzziness took possession of Evan’s mind, and Evan had the strange thought that the monster was attempting to converse with him telepathically. Despite the fact that this notion struck Evan as far-fetched to say the least, was it any more so than the idea that such a creature existed at all?

  Evan summoned up a mental picture of himself in his plane, of the plane going down in the ocean, and of him swimming to shore. He tried his best to beam this mental movie toward the monster, wondering if the creature could really read his thoughts.

  The monster leaned down toward Evan. It got so close that Evan could smell its breath, which was fruity. Evan deduced that there were fruits to eat somewhere on the island. Well, whatever it was that the monster ate, clearly there was life-sustaining food of some sort on the island.

  Evan pictured a lake, then pictured cupping his hands in the water and bringing them up to his mouth to drink. Again he tried to send this mental movie toward the creature, wondering if the monster could really read his thoughts. As he did this, he tried to sit up. He moved cautiously, still uncertain what the creature’s intentions toward him were.

  But the long, exhausting swim had taken its toll, and despite his nap, Evan found that sitting up was a more difficult proposition than he had expected. His muscles ached and protested at his attempt to use them. Wearily he sank back to the sand.

  The monster slipped a hand under Evan’s butt, then another hand under his shoulders, then lifted him up in the air. Evan’s heartbeat accelerated wildly as he wondered what the monster planned to do with him. Suddenly he got a fuzzy but discernible mental image of a river. Was the monster “broadcasting” to him mentally? Was this creature going to take him to a source of fresh water? Had the creature understood his mental image of drinking from a lake?

  The monster cradled him tenderly in its arms, holding Evan as if he weighed no more than a scrap of paper. And then, looking down at Evan intently, the monster smiled. There was no mistaking the facial expression. It wasn’t a grimace or anything else but a smile. Evan instinctively smiled back. The monster’s smile grew broader.

  The monster lifted Evan higher while at the same time lowering its face toward Evan’s face. Then its tongue emerged from its mouth, scarlet and bumpy. Eagerly it began to lick Evan’s face. The tongue was dry and not at all repulsive. In fact, to the contrary, the lick felt like a caress. Evan wondered if the lick was some sort of greeting in the creature’s culture—or, for that matter, if it might even be comparable to a kiss. Well, Evan wasn’t ready to kiss the monster, but if this was merely a form of greeting, he certainly didn’t want to offend the creature by not greeting it back. Hesitantly Evan thrust out his tongue and licked the monster’s furry cheek.

  The monster smiled broadly at that and held Evan more tightly to its body. Then it began taking great galumphing strides inland, away from the shoreline and toward the thick gathering of palm trees that shrouded the mysteries of how large the island was and what it held in its interior. As the monster jounced along, Evan looked around himself at his new surroundings.

  When they had traveled a short distance through the jungle, they came to a clearing. In it Evan saw some primitive structures that were certainly housing of some sort. The monster must live in one of them, Evan thought, and apparently he was not the only one of his kind on the island. Although Evan had yet to see another of its ilk, the multiple structures persuaded him that there were other such creatures living here. Leaving the clearing, the monster carried Evan deeper inland through the jungle.

  Abruptly the creature stopped walking and began to crouch down slowly and carefully. Then it lowered Evan to the ground. Evan saw now that they were on the bank of a small stream. Had the creature really understood his thoughts? He had mentally “asked” for fresh water to drink, and the monster had brought him to this stream. “Thank you,” Evan said aloud.

  In return, he received a mental question mark—a sense of puzzlement. The monster didn’t understand his words. Not knowing how to mentally depict a translation or explanation of “Thank you,” Evan settled for another smile. As he smiled at the monster, the monster smiled back and then pointed to the stream. Evan crouched at the water’s edge, cupped his hands, and availed himself of the sweet, fresh, surprisingly cool water.

  After a half a minute or so, the monster crouched beside him and drank also. Evan drank copiously, surprising himself with just how thirsty he was. When they both had partaken of all the water they wished, they sat down on the bank together, facing each other with their legs crossed tailor-style.

  Evan now broadcast his name to the creature. “Evan,” he thought, pointing to himself as he sent the thought toward the monster. “Evan,” he repeated aloud. “Evan.”

  The monster didn’t repeat the name aloud, but he sent it back mentally. “Evan.”

  “You?” Evan asked telepathically, while pointing at the creature. “You? Name? You who?”

  The name “Moob” popped into his mind. He wasn’t sure if the thought was coming from the creature or from somewhere in his own head, but it would do for now, at any rate. “Okay. You Moob,” he said, repeating “Moob” and pointing to the creature. Then he repeated aloud, “Moob,” and pointed again.

  Now his head buzzed again, and this time he was certain Moob was trying to communicate. Suddenly a picture emerged, fuzzy but discernible, of Evan and Moob eating some sort of meat. Evan nodded his head, hoping the gesture was universal, and smiled. Then he broadcast the same picture back to Moob.

  Moob stood up and scooped Evan up again, this time putting a hand under each armpit and lifting him up as one might a child. He carefully positioned Evan over his shoulder and began striding back toward the agglomeration of huts, with one hand on Evan’s back to hold him securely in place.

  There were still no other creatures of Moob’s species visible anywhere when they reached what Evan was now starting to think of as “the village,” but when Moob gently lifted Evan off his shoulder and set him down on the ground, Evan assumed they had arrived at Moob’s home. It was a thatched hut, similar to the eight others in the gr
ouping, and now Evan noticed that each hut had a fire pit outside it. Moob had set Evan down at the edge of the pit.

  Standing on wobbly legs, Evan surveyed the scene. He could see now more clearly that the village was in a clearing but surrounded by the jungle. Some of the trees bore bananas, others plantains, still others mangos, and some coconuts. Moob was trying to send him a mental message again. Evan decided Moob was saying, “You stay. I will be back.” Moob lumbered into the hut, returning immediately with a handmade bow and arrow. Then he took off into the forest.

  Evan debated going into the hut but decided that would be impolite as he hadn’t been invited. He was still tired, so he stretched out on the ground, this time on his back, and closed his eyes. As he lay there, he wondered how on earth to enable rescuers to find him. Surely his plane would be reported as missing if it hadn’t been already, but given that he hadn’t filed a flight plan, how would searchers know where to look?

  At length he settled on a plan. The plane had carried flares, but they had gone down when the plane sank. The island’s shore, however, had plenty of rocks and large shells. He would spell out “SOS” using the rocks and shells and write it in very large lettering. Perhaps some passing plane would spot the message and radio for a rescue party to come by boat and retrieve him. Although he knew he was not along the flight path of commercial routes, some smaller craft might be in the vicinity, just as he had been. Being smaller, the plane would be flying lower and would be more likely to see his message.

  He would go and spell out his distress signal as soon as possible, but right now he had better stay put and wait for Moob.

  Another of Moob’s species showed up first, however. At first Evan thought it was Moob returning, but on closer inspection Evan could see that it was not Moob after all but rather another of his kind. This one bent down and looked him over at close range without touching him, then emitted a shrill, high-pitched, piercing whistle, followed by a series of grunts that were not monotone but rather ranged up and down the scale.