Page 31 of Fall
11
We still have tonight.
And then she’s gone.
The rope bridges wobble as we cross, moving from one to another on our descent. I let her take the lead so I can catch her if she slips between the knotted planks. I’m well used to the motion of swaying above the earth. This is my life. Iris, on the other hand, grips the coiled fibers like her life depends on it.
With my T-shirt on her back and a waterfall of springy curls bouncing, my stomach burns with all the chaotic reasons for pushing her away. I’ve never had the privilege of saying goodbye before. That simple word with a million complexities attached to it was always irrelevant when the people in my life were snatched away before it could leave my lips. They disappeared from my world like the cruelest form of magic whisked them away. They were by my side one day and completely erased the next. Only the memories keep them alive. And even those fade.
Iris will most likely board the aircraft with a sigh of relief. She’ll find contentment in the flight path soaring over her old prison. Her goodbye will be a simple good riddance, not a fond farewell. It’s my fault. I’m not proud of how I’ve treated her. That’s a fact. Even if the sex we shared was the only worthwhile event in my sorry state of depravity, I don’t regret it. Not one single second of it.
She asked to stay at the Oasis to extend her adventure and gather essential research on a biodiverse habitat. I saw through her flimsy plan. Perhaps she hoped the sparks flaring between us would light up the universe. That we’d earn a happily ever after. We won’t. It’s impossible for me to believe in such a whimsical notion when death finds each of us eventually. I’d rather not love than endure the aftermath without her. Moments of pleasure have fooled me with possibilities and just as quickly buried me beneath a rotten layer of decay.
Death is an unhallowed heathen who follows my every move.
I don’t have the authority to twist fate in my favor. This isn’t an existence where flowers thrive for decoration. They serve a purpose. To nourish the insects that feed the creatures. It’s the circle of life. And that loop ends in a dark crypt. Fatality hunted out every soul I’ve ever cared for, and Iris is no exception to the decree. It’s coming for her, and if she stays here, it will catch her sooner rather than later. She’ll be robbed of a long life like Gabriela. Cheated of the chance to have her own family and lowered into the darkness in a casket fit for one.
Some might say I’m running scared of the inevitable. And I’d tell them to fuck right off. I’m painfully aware of the emptiness loss creates. Years of torment have taken their toll and forced me to take a stand. The element of my control hangs in the gallows. Stretched to capacity and hoisted high. Straining to survive. One simple fuck up has the harsh ability to detach the final thread and unleash the worst chaos.
That’s what I believe. That single slip from humanity will dominate my life for eternity. The transformation will be ugly and fast. I’ll hand over credence and switch to the wildest savage in every sense of the word. Therefore, it’s better to free the bird than watch it die.
Reaching the solid walkway, Iris canters off the elevated platform and scampers over the leafy path. “What’s that noise? Can you hear it?” She stills, scanning the leaves.
She’s invested in the sounds of the jungle with a quizzical expression and a cute furrow denting her forehead. I guess I’m used to the wonders of the rainforest these days. Not much surprises me anymore––except for her.
I stay silent, attuning my senses to the humidity and usual insect harmony. While she scampers, searching for fuck knows what, I watch from the shade. The perversion of my unique situation pulsates in every cell of my body, including my dick. I’m bizarrely turned on by her narrow waist accentuated by a knot and the fact she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. The chemistry I’ve tried so hard to stamp out has contorted my character. I could be perceived as a menace. A fucking pervert. Or perhaps this is the true nature of lust. All red hair and soft curves of intoxicating lust. A crippling sensation where a man would do anything to glimpse at the creature feeding his soul with nectar.
“Dante!” She hunkers down near a tree trunk. “It’s a jaguar cub. He’s bleeding.”
I reach for my gun. The very weapon I despise, but feel justified in carrying. “Be careful, beija flor. If it’s on the wrong side of the electric wire, the mother won't be too hospitable if she finds a way in to rescue it.”
Hair spills over her shoulders as she investigates, ignoring the fact she’s tampering with nature. “He’s shaking. We have to help him.”
That’s when I hear the cub’s whine. The defenseless critter will die out here without a mother to teach it the rules of the jungle. If it has open wounds, it won’t survive the night, let alone the next few hours. Runts are automatic victims. They’re bullied and ripped apart as prey.
On occasions like this, cruelty is the kindest answer. A swift end for a wretched soul who can’t be saved. Jaguars hunt and perish in the wild, always on high alert for danger. Even they understand death is never too far away.
Joining her, I fold over the mass of speckled fur tainted with crimson. “Step away, beija flor.” I point the weapon at the cowering animal, no bigger than a domestic cat. This terminal outcome is for the best.
“What the hell are you doing?” Iris jerks her torso in front of the cub, thinking she’s a human shield. “Stop!” My muscles brace. The barrel lines up with her forehead. Aimed at the only thing I secretly treasure in this sad existence I call life. Chills scurry down my spine as a wash of heat breaks over my skin. The hand brandishing my piece in her face quakes. Her skin drains of color. “They’re endangered, Dante.” Inky pupils flare encompassing mahogany tones of glossy brown. “Let me help him, and then I’ll set it free beyond the border before I leave.”
I catch a tight breath and drop my aim, lowering the weapon with an arm heavier than lead. Fucking hell. My veins run cold, and my legs weaken. I try to speak, but it takes a moment to talk myself out of the shock. “Do not put yourself in the way of a bullet ever again.” My voice spears her with a javelin and tips hot oil over her thoughtless act. “Do you fucking hear me?” I close in on her, getting up in her face. “I could have killed you.”
She flinches when I grab her jaw and squeeze in desperation. I shouldn’t be so rough with her, especially after almost blowing a hole in her precious skull, but I’m far removed from calm.
“Dante,” she whispers, bringing her palm up to cover my hand. It’s soft, and warm and needed.
I straighten and shrug my hand away, looking down to my white knuckles wrapping the gun. “That was a stupid fucking move,” I snip, scraping at my neck to help regulate my breathing. “I get you want to save the rainforest, Iris, but not at the cost of your life.”
Rosy lips pout, and she trails her gaze from the gun, to the cowering cub, and back to me. “You were going to shoot it. Why?”
“To spare it from days of misery and suffering.” Aware of the weight of steel in my hand, I position it snugly under the waistband of my shorts. “Why would you value its life over your own?” I say on a growl with a mouth drier than the desert.
“I…” She looks away. “I knew you wouldn’t shoot me.”
She trusted the monster with a gun. Fuck, even I’m not sure I would trust myself. I swallow down my anger before it escalates. “I’d never intentionally harm you, but accidents happen.” My lungs shrink, and my stomach folds in on itself until I’m numb. “I was about to pull the damn trigger, Iris.”
“Dante,” she says my name on a breath, almost like an apology. “You’re right. It was a dumb thing to do.”
