Crash in Combat
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Crash in Combat
Steve woke up in pain. His arm and left hurt, a dull pain. He hadn't opened his eyes yet for fear. When he finally managed to open them just a bit, he saw the thatched roof of the hut. Sunlite peeked through the spaces between the thatch. Otherwise the room was a shadowed, cool place. He could hear insect outside, swarming around. He leaned up to look at his surroundings. His left arm and leg were covered in a palm frond bandage and held in place by strong yet flexible pieces of wood. He was naked and he could see the remains of his uniform on the dirt floor of the hut.
The last thing he remembered was the sight of his fighter jet heading for the thick jungle. His co-pilot had bailed minutes before but his own ejection seat did not work. He looked, not at the approaching ground but up at the clear blue sky. If this was his end he wanted to see it one last time, to imprint it on his mind. Then all was blackness.
The young, muscled man had been hunting in the woods. He was looking for wild berries and other things he might eat. Earlier he'd set out some traps hoping to snare a rabbit or some other creature to supplement his meager diet. He heard the sound of the low flying jet nearby and then a loud crash. Running to the sound, he saw a ring of fire burning on the jungle floor. On the edge of the fire lay a bundled white cloth, twisting. Circling the flames he moved with caution to the cloth. He'd never been far from the village that had ostracized him many moons ago. He knew of a distant war but it mattered little to him here in his jungle. It was a fight between two groups of men both of whom were hostile to his people. Their pale religious men had tried to sway his people from the gods that had protected them since ancient times. They had little success and eventually left his people to their old ways. However, they did manage to teach his people some words in their foreign language in order to communicate with them. Being young and bright he quickly picked up their langauge but he rejected their religion just as the rest of his people had.
He approached the white cloth which was now very still. He could see a red streak on the ground. Instinct told him that it was blood. Perhaps his gods had sent him a bird to roast for his supper. He pulled the white covering away only to discover a man, bloodied with most of his clothing torn away. The man was breathing and moaning in pain. Our hunter knew that he must help. He quickly pulled the cloth the man was laying on away from the flames. As he did so the man moaned from pain. His arm and leg were twisted in an un-natural way. The hunter left for a few minutes to gather a few stirdy pieces of wood. He returned and made a sling using the wood and the white cloth. With this he was able to pull the injured man back to his hut.
Once he'd gotten the man inside the hut he went out to the fire he used to cook with and warmed some water. He mixed some jungle herbs into the water until he was satisifed with the paste he'd created. Taking the paste inside he them covered the man's injuries with the past and some clean palm leaves. Finishing this he very carefully moved the man over to his sleeping hammock. He pulled the hemp ropes up until the hammock was just a short way over the ground. This would keep the crawling insects from the wounded man. He returned to his fire to prepare a stew of dried meat and wild vegitables.
As Steve's mind became cleared and he could focus he noticed the smell of the stew and moaned from hunger. He could not remember the last time he ate. Suddenly a naked, native man appeared in the doorway of the hut. He smiled at his now awake guest. He was carrying a wooden bowls with a steaming mixture in it. The naked man approached the hammock, knelt, and offered Steve a spoonful of the stew. Steve closed his eyes and let the wooden spoon enter his mouth. It was a strange taste but welcomed. The man then took a spoonful of the stew and ate it himself. This showed Steve that the man was sharing his own meal.
Over the next few days, then weeks Steve had begun to recover. His arm was not broken only sprained and the paste that the man applied worked wonders. Eventually Steve was able to sit up. The young man had bathed him using warm water and a piece of the torn parachute. His host had been very resourceful, using another piece of the cloth to cover the doorway of the hut. He'd also carved a crude crutch for Steve to use to support himself.
While he still could not understand the man's language he did manage to commuicate using his college french and a few of the words he'd picked up in the local market near the airbase. This was supplemented by drawings in the dirt to illustrate what could not be understood. Steve became comfortable with his new friend and host. He wondered if his comrades had given up on the search for him after seeing the wreaked remains of his plane. If they had he was satisfied with the current existance.
Over time Steve began to get the story of the young man's life out of him. He had been banned from his village and his people when he'd tried to have sex with one of the stronger warriors in the village. He was denounced before the entire village and sent into the jungle on his own to die. But the man was stronger than the villagers had suspected. He quickly built a hut and carved out a new existence for himself. Steve admired the young man for his survival. He also had a growing awareness of his own attraction to the man. At first he attributed it to gratitude for saving him. But with the passing of time another feeling began to surface. He felt a need that he's never had before. It was a need for a deeper closeness with another man.
Together they worked on the campsite. Steve was able to recover some basic tools from the remains of his crashed plane. He used these to build improved traps and tools for hunting. He even managed to learn about the editable plants in the jungle. He cultivated a small garden. Together they repaired the roof and walls of the hut to keep out the elements. They build a larger hemp hammock that they would share. They discovered certain plants that repelled the jungle insects and used the leaves to cover the floor of the hut. They also rubbed the leaves over their bodies to protect themselves from the insects.
Occasionally, Steve would hear a chopper fly near but he made no effort to attract their attention knowing that his old world would not accept his life with his new friend.
As time passed the two men became closer. Steve managed to pronounce the native man's name but instead they re-named each other. Steve became Jean and his companion was Joe. Steve even carved 2 "J's" over the door of the hut. At night after supper they would retire to the hut and the hammock. Eventually they began the process of physical bonding. It surprised Steve how easy it was to sexually mate with this native. Certain things were instinctive, part of human nature. It was natural to express their feelings in a physical way. As the distinction between his old life and his new one blurred, both men realized that their little world was unique. They had few visitors, mostly those of the same persuasion. Often their shared their food and bodies with these visitors. But each visitor soon left to seek his own partner, happy to have experienced the joys of being with the two men.
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