Any Port in a Storm: Chapter 8 (Patreon)

Ash's Story

In the first moments of contact I saw stunned surprise in those vibrant green eyes, along with some fear as well, but as the gaze continued I watch it transform into a cautious curiosity.  As the shock of the chance encounter ebbed the mystery person started to look us over anew, looking us up and down.

“Hello?”  Tony says cautiously.

“Hi.”  I follow in a much more friendly tone.

Silence greets us.  I watch the figure shift and can see enough of the face to make out that it was a woman.  She looks back over her shoulder then back at us.  She seemed unsure of what she should do.

“Hi.”  I say again.  “We were washed ashore.  Our ship was wrecked.  Can you help us?”

Without even waiting for a response Tony presses.  “Do you speak English?  Can you get us to a town or a phone?”

The woman still looked torn.

“Hello!?”  Tony says, impatience rising.

“Let's not scare the poor woman.”  I say in a soothing voice.  Looking toward her I say.  “My name is Ashley Butler.  This is my husband Tony.”

There is another moment's pause.  Tony and I glance at each other wondering just what was happening right now.  We really seemed to have thrown this woman for a loop.

At last we hear the rustle of leaves and the woman steps forward out of dense foliage.

What we see is a young woman, somewhere in her mid-twenties I would guess, wearing a simple one piece wrap around tubular off white dress that went from just under her arms to just below her knees.  I am immediately taken aback by the sheer size of the woman.  Not so much her height, which I surmise to be around 5 foot 9, but by her bulk.  She had the stout build of a powerlifter; thick muscular arms, trunk like legs, a hulking torso, and a wide neck just a tad thinner than her head.  She HAD to be pushing 200 pounds or more.  She carried a healthy amount of body fat but she was far from obese.  Despite her plus sized frame she still had a squat but womanly hourglass shape to her thanks to her large bust, hips, and butt.

The sides of her head were shaved short but the rest of her luscious long brown hair was held back in a flowing ponytail.  Her skin was a caramel tan.  She wore a thick bracelet, earrings, a barrette, and a long hair pin all made out of the same hammered bronze.  Around her left upper arm was a dark stylized armband tattoo.  She had no shoes and carried nothing with her beyond a sack made of netting slung over her back.

Planting herself just out of arm's reach she openly looks us over with those peculiar emerald eyes of hers.  She was plainly of Polynesian descent but her eyes suggested otherwise.

Just by the way she held herself I could tell she didn't consider us a threat.  In our current state we were harmless as flies.

“Shit.”  Tony mutters under his breath.  “They grow 'em big around here.”

“Shhh.”  I admonish him.

“I don't think she knows English.”  He retorts.

We wait as she takes us in.  It doesn't take me long to notice her scanning eyes were far more focused on my husband than myself.  I knew this look.  Now maybe I was misreading what I was seeing, this woman and I coming from such different cultures, but I swear I see raw unabashed desire as she eyed up Tony.

Sidling closer to him I ask.  “Do you know English?  What is your name?”

Her eyes slowly look back to me.  Again she looks me over from foot to face, as if sizing me up.  I did not care for the adversarial look one bit.  For some reason I was suddenly very self conscious about the fact I wore only a bikini and a towel.

There is another long awkward silence before she at last speaks.  “Come.”  Is all she says.  Turning toward a narrow overgrown trail she motions for us to follow.

Tony's Story

“Come.”  The strange hefty woman says before waving us on to follow her.

“You do speak English!”  I say with relief.  “Thank God!”

Not being in any position to argue Ashley and I follow, though I could tell my wife was seriously intimidated by this woman.  We pepper her with questions as we go but she doesn't say another word nor even gave any indication she understood what was being said to her.  She would glance back once in a while but her voice stayed silent.

I do my best to keep up but my knee and ankle were roaring with pain.  I'd already pushed them to the limit just getting to that clearing.  My knee had seized completely and my weakened ankle threatened to turn over on every step.  Ash does her best to help me along but eventually I am forced to call out.

“Wait!  Wait, please.”  I growl in agony.  “I need a rest.”

“He's hurt.”  Ash says.  “Please slow down.”

Ahead on the trail the woman stops and turns around.  She watches as Ashley helps me to sit on the ground.  I grip my knee in both hands, close my eyes, and grit my teeth as I try to force back the pain.

I hear movement.

“Wait...”  Ash starts to say.

Before I knew what was happening I felt myself being lifted from the ground.  My eyes snap open and I am face to face with the native woman.  She held me in her arms like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold.

“Hold on a second!”  I protest.  I push against her but she holds me in place.

“Put him down!”  Ash says.

The woman shakes her head and says to me.  “I carry.  You rest.”

It was evident now that her English was far from perfect and she had the strangest accent.

“I can make it.”  I assure her.

She was having none of it.  “Husband Tony hurt.  Ashley Butler weak and small.  Makea strong.  I carry.”

“Makea, is that your name?”  Ash asks.

The woman nods.  “Come.”

Without another word she turns and starts off again.  Had this been any other time, in any other situation, I never would have allowed this.  But after our ordeal and with my injuries I honestly didn't think I could have made it much further on my own.  Still, my cheeks burn with emasculated humiliation as this She-hulk carries me like a helpless infant in front of my wife.

I look back at Ash and saw that she was afraid but determined.  We had no choice but to trust this woman yet we didn't know who she was or what her intentions were.  Terrible pulp fiction inspired thoughts of primitive sacrifices and ritual cannibalism come uninvited to my worried mind before I shake them away as ridiculous.  This was the twenty-first Century.  Once home Makea would probably lend us her iPhone and we would be soon on our way home.

I give Ash a comforting grin.  “It's going to be okay.”

She nods and smiles back bravely.  Again I am so damned proud of her strength and resilience.  If we decided to take the parenthood route I already knew Ash would make one hell of fine mother for our children.

With me cradled in the strong steady arms of Makea we make good time through the forest.