Stiff as a board, my back remained towards Pheo, weighing whether I shoulDither or Evacuate. Squeamishly, I wheeled to face her. “What’s on your minnnd?” I prompted.
Twisting against distress, she dropped down from her perch, no longer employing the sink counter as a chair. Torches frequently blazing in her eyes had retreated to embers -- beneath them puffy skin indicated that she’d already lost the mental war a minute prior. With a tremble, she evicted each word: “What if-f Buck’s inf-fected or s-something? That th-thinG! totally gnawed on him.”
“I know what you mean,” I navigated. “I theorize maybe it was even a mutant experiment or some kind of vicious water nymph. Remote locations are prone to weird reports, & my horoscope did caution about some kind of recycled secreTEchnique from below...”
“Oh my, I hadn’t taken it that far. But N-not just its origins ya know,” she stammered. “How didn't i n-notice it coming, Pyram? I’ve sp-pent my entire life outdoors & no one was in MY ear.” Tears then flowed unbroken. Yet you could hear embers crispily reviving steam.
“Ah Pheo, come on, don’t think for a second it’s somehow your fault.” I searched my heart deeper for soothing answers. “Buck was being noisy and obnoxious: For one, that distracted the rest of us, & his Drama may have been the prime source in attracting it toward us.”
I could barely believe she was undermining herself so roughly about the incident.
“Oh, that’s some fine justification,” Pheo suddenly spat with venom. “Buck’s a harmless wee baby. Neither your Crowbar, nor this confounded blade penetrated that Over-grown crawfish!” Furiously, she reached behind herself to snatch it from its resting place. I flipped out in stages. My volume raised, as I clung to last shreds of composure.
“PheeeNix!..” It didn’t appear I was getting through. “Don’t make things worse,” I cautioned.
She jostled the machete, And pushed it toward my nose.
“Look at it!” she howled.
I couldn’t see anything EXCEPT my thunderstruck expression badgering back at me from the smooth side of the blade. Broadside slanted against my collar bone, not outright against my throat, i gathered she may just be toying. So I pushed back, growing cross: “I’m not just Looking at it, I’m feeling it, Pheo.”
“Right then; Keep nothing from me this time,” she commanded. “You saw something distinctive about that fucker to be surmising it wasn’t a natural beast. What did you SEE when you tried to nail that critter?”
It appeared I had no choice but to share some insight, as I had already said enough to make her suspicious. “Actually, it was mainly what I saw after the fact, when I fell underwater. Some kind of slimy Beak & Flowers insignia engraved on its belly, gloWavering this bioluminescent red.”
She finally relaxed and lowered the sword to the ground. Then in a sour tone said, “Wish I could’ve seen what you did. Doesn’t exactly ease my shock, but now I see why you speculate the paranormal direction.”
I recalled what I had said to Dudley: about an alligator… ripping him apart. I winced. But what good could come if we dwelled on that? So I left that unspoken.
Biting back stings of sorrow & uncertainty, I said, “Hey, ya didn’t miss much action, and we frightened it off okay.” I offered a supportive yet convenient smile, Priding myself that I managed to spin a half-truth past Pheo’s penetrative wheedling on the unusual aspects of the Ambusher. I took the chance to pat her arm (wishing instead I had squeezed her hand) & turned to leave, adding: “Let’s use it as motivation and regroup!”
No sooner had I finished speaking, a blow impacted me around the rib cage. Off guard and off balance, I took my 2nd spill across the bathroom tiles. There was more shock than pain, no ripping motion or puncturing spikes, but something bottled me up, sent me toppling beside the door frame, and thickness constricted both my arms.
Bomb?! Snake?! Burst pipe?? The only clue to go on was a streak of heavy green that zipped through my peripheral vision right before I got trucked. My body rattled to a stop, pinned between the wall and my assailant, which I wrestled against to bring into view.
A fireball was huddled into my shoulder. The culprit of intensity being Pheo. I breathed a little bit - (an action that today so punitively pronounced was taken for granted) - and released rigid muscles. Thankfully, she didn’t appear upset anymore, rather relieved: hugging me tight. The nuzzling exertion of copious red hair reminded me of my pet tabby cat, Grrboam. I must have really soothed her.
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“Damn girl! I about knocked your block off. Why always the upredictable Ferocity?” I charged. She looked up at me with Grate-full, glowing eyes and contended, “You, who nearly knocked the door off its hinges when you crawled in, wanna label me off my rocker?”
“Whoakay, you saw that?? Well... that was different,” I drew distinction. “I was literally under a ton of pressure.”
She smirked. “And I’m not?”
“Hmm, I think my case was more urgent,” I said, defensively. “I’m almost sure your head wouldn't have EXPLODED like my bladder had you chosen not to release your tension by shoving me around.”
“Maybe I blew a fuse or two before I could even come to terms,” Phoenix warned, expression souring.
Right now miss Stress would be celebrating a holiday. Happy Thanksgiving to you, too; I immensely enjoyed you attending without an invitation, but I hope you enjoy my armor of choice: everlasting sarcasm.
When I returned to Earth, Phoenix was regarding me peculiarly.
“Oh, sorry,” I faltered. “Quarreling with circumstance–err, carried away with an analogy. Forget it.”
Following an incredulous look she stated, “We should hang out more,” then with a wink, “Weirdo.”
“Hey,” I protested. “ComplimenTaken, but I just prefer the company of your more like-minded brothers,” I lied. And pretending to be disgusted, I started to pry my arms loose, saying: “Keep your hands to yourself, Creepo.”
She made one of those disturbing faces with the shifty brows, wide eyes, tongue, and decadent smile. “You haven’t seen creepy yet, Pyrofoam. Don’t tempt me.”
So being my “Pyro”-maniac self, I gave her motivation. “Pheo, with a lot of effort, people can disgust me. But they can’t creep me out.” - Especially someone beautiful as you - “Especially when I know they’re trying.”
Her eyes slanted. “OH no?” Her voice grew surreptitious. “Maybe the average person doesn’t know how to effectively execute it, in all honestyyy.”
Her body went lithe and she slithered over my stomach like steam, edging towards my face. Some part of me had intended to spark such a reaction. Then again I wasn’t sure that I truly wanted to witness a creep show right now. Coming from her though, this failed to be completely discomforting, regardless that I was oblivious to the tender aspects of Pheo’s nature. Somewhere at the primordial level, it was exhilarating, much like the conflicting emotions of thrill and unease which a roller-coaster ride generates. And it shouldn’t have been, since I knew it was some kind of ruse. Something tugged at me to not become side-tracked, advising that this was a foolish waste of critical time.
“I, uh, just remembered...” Those eyes were a Firewall: full of deactivated alarms. A delicious, inviting heat. No she’s a landmine, fool! “The reinforcements won’t be far behind.”
“The reinforcements,” the air hummed as she spoke, “can wait.”
“B-but they,” I was melting away. “They don’t know… what they could run into…”
Hands more like silk and feather than flesh or bone traced over my collar and around chest, dripping along belly, and where she touched, frost bubbled up before erupting into lava. The cold, stiff ground had vanished from my corporeal radar. For all I knew I was floating. She lowered her body closer, and brushed her cheek against my own. I closed my eyes, savoring. I felt fingers in my hair, slide down my shoulders and peel away.
And then it stopped.
No hands, no movement. Weight shifted away from me. I cracked an eye, causing me to shoot up in disbelief and flounder backwards, palms slapping the stony floor to push away. But I wasn’t going anywhere imprisoned against the wall and Phoenix, who spanned the girth of both my legs—armed again with Blade.
Pheo was ruminating upon the gleaming machete in a one-handed clutch, as if it were a crystal ball. As it writhed back and forth, the reflection of glistening teeth within her taut lips signaled that a degenerate demeanor had returned. “And where are you going?” The tip of her tongue emerged to gradually slide between her lips. The blade sauntered down to trail beside my leg, moving up to my hip. “You’re like a porcupine -- in more ways than one. How bout we shave?” she said, smugly.
“No matter,” I huffed. “I think your heart’s a snapping turtle. I regret humoring you.”
A devilish grin accentuated a point as she cheerily swiveled her head, treasuring the room’s emptiness. It snapped back abruptly with a chuckle. “I don’t see anyone to get you out of it that easy.”
I swallowed. “Excuse me??”
One wagging finger stretched out and passed over my nose, trickling onto my lips. A silent mandate for silence. “Dear me, it looks as if you’ll be the only witness.”
The sword’s edge lingered over my belly and ruffled my shirt. I could feel sideways serration across the skin, not the proper cut style to draw blood, but discomforting. My diaphragm turned a string of vibrations so quick that it seemed a whirring pocket of vacant air. If she meant to spill blood it just might gush out and scald both of us.
Leaning down over me again, she grabbed my shirt into a wad scraping the rough edge of the blade across stubble to the side of my adam’s apple, swallowing me with hyperactive eyes like the Cheshire cat. I heard a maniacal squeal, “Let’s numb ourselves to this feral town..” and could only fret as a Blood-thirsty scimitar came rushing down to cave in my lungs.
My mind went blank, too stunned to act. The knife zoomed, but at the last instant flipped around, & the handle bounced into my ribs instead. Ugh, freebie shot. She propped on her elbow, and her calloused palm dork-stamped me on the forehead.
I flapped wildly at her wrist. “I think that’s enough, Cheap-shot!”
Every letter returned crisp and hot with saliva, as she lowered her lips to my ear to invoke: “Quite the turning of tables wouldn’t you agree?”
“What tables?” I protested with a laugh. “You didn’t even eat off me.”
“Fool,” she called me. “Do you honestly think that I would be your pet? Pleasing you, serving you?” she spat in resentment. “Who do you think I am: your willing little princess?”
My jaw twitched, madly scrambling for an answer, but nothing adequate translated into the power of my vocal chords. I choked silently.
“I want an answer, stupid,” she decreed, and with her elbow struck my rib cage.
A little too lightly.
“A control freak,” I elicited, deadpan.
Her eyes narrowed. Frick-a-Brick; that might have been a bit brash.