Chapter 14—Who Am I?

Sometimes the best way to figure out who you are

is to get to that place where you don't have to be anything else.

Ranger's POV

The last thing I remember I was floating. Floating on a cloud.

The next thing I knew I was laying on my back while a beautiful young girl straddled me. We were both naked and covered in strange black markings that just accentuated the erotic setting. The naked girl was exquisite in face and form and she was sensually rubbing herself over my very erect cock. What a way to wake up!

I stared at her as she moved on top of me, her head thrown back, a look of ecstasy on her face. It seemed unreal, though highly pleasurable. Until I sensed we weren't alone.

I turned my head and a stabbing pain shot through my body. My distance vision was a little blurry, but I could see two men standing in a doorway. They had guns drawn, which caused adrenaline to surge through me.

Immediately, I thrust the girl behind me and tried to get up. More pain, worse than the first pounded every inch of my body. I struggled to rise again, but the girl pushed my shoulders down before I collapsed on my own.

She was magnificent, facing down men twice as big as she was and they were armed. I strained to understand what she was saying. She was furious they had interrupted our marriage bed—that explained a lot—and demanded they leave. I added my own sentiments, but was surprised when they actually left.

My wife (?) grabbed a garment and slipped it over her voluptuous body, much to my dismay. She dropped down beside me, running her hands over my body. I thought it was more sensual play, but everywhere her hands touched me there were sharp stabs of pain. She seemed satisfied though, and proceeded to stroke my brow and whisper soothing words to me. Despite my best efforts to stay awake, I soon drifted off to sleep.

My next few memories were a blur of being shaken awake and having warm liquid poured down my throat. There were also times I remembered the girl rubbing me down with a wet cloth. I know my body reacted, remembering her naked and moving so sensuously on top of me.

Finally, I woke up and my head was clear and the pain had settled to a dull ache. I tried sitting up. I was a little dizzy, but felt better than I had before.

An elderly grey-haired woman appeared out of nowhere and squatted down in front of me. She was ancient looking, but sinewy. The t-shirt and skirt she wore were faded and frayed from repeated washings. Her feet were bare.

In a high-pitched squeaky voice, she asked me how I felt and I told her. Then it hit me, she was speaking in a language other than Spanish and I could understand her. I didn't know why that seemed odd to me, but it did. I asked her where I was and her reply was confusing. The words she used simply meant 'home,' though she wasn't referring to the structure we were in, but to a bigger place.

She left for a minute and came back with a small wooden vessel filled with a steaming brew of what smelled like meat broth. She thrust the bowl at me and wouldn't take no for an answer; my stomach echoed her demands. I obediently gulped down the tasty soup and got a big toothy grin from my hostess as my reward.

I tried to stand up, but she was able to keep me sitting with her bony fingers pressed down on my shoulders. Was this some form of magic or was I really that weak? I looked at my body and saw I was naked. I also saw many recent wounds, now scabbed over and healing.

What had happened to me? Why couldn't I remember?

Another more pressing need made itself known. I told the old woman, in Spanish, I needed to relieve myself, but she seemed not to understand. She called out to someone and a man entered the room. She spoke rapidly to him and I understood only one word out of every ten.

The man looked familiar. He was tall with skin the same color as mine, and he had long dark hair and brown eyes. His body was lean, but very muscular. His only apparel was a leather loincloth. He too, was barefoot.

He smiled down at me and spoke, in Spanish, in a strong pleasant tone, "I am glad you are awake. We were beginning to wonder if you had a sleeping sickness. You must be eager to stand on your own two feet. Please, let me assist you."

Even with his help, I struggled to stand. My healing wounds were still sore, but mostly I felt incredibly weak. My host must have read my mind.

"You have been in bed for over two weeks. It will take you a while to gain your strength back. Let's limit this first walk to emptying your bladder. You can take a full tour of our village later, after you have eaten some solid food and are stronger."

My head was spinning a bit, so I allowed myself to lean on him as he led me outside. We walked a short distance to the edge of a cleared area where a deep trench had been dug a few steps into the underbrush. There were strong branches laced together in a shelf over the trench, which I assumed were for sitting on while relieving oneself. I chose to stand, even though I was none too steady on my feet.

I looked around at my surroundings as we slowly walked back to the building I'd been in. It was a large round structure made of mud bricks and a thatched roof. There was a doorway, but no door. There were several other buildings in the cleared area. Most were long narrow structures made of similar materials. Jungle loomed over and all around us.

There were people coming and going and sitting in the sun. All seemed to be doing something: carrying things, weaving, pounding, whittling. Even the children were busy bringing food and other items to their elders. Although I was naked, no one paid much attention to us other than a brief glance.

As a dizzy spell took over, I shut my eyes. Sounds popped out at me. I could hear voices and laughter and there was a background noise of jungle sounds—birds singing, insects buzzing. I also detected the sounds of a river nearby. It was, in a word, peaceful.

Just from that simple walk, I was exhausted and my host detected it. He hurried me along to the hut and helped me lie back down on my bed of loosely packed fronds covered with a brightly colored blanket. I settled myself into the bedding and a wave of extreme fatigue came over me.

The man sat cross-legged next to me and said, "My name is Juan. What are you called?" I didn't know if it was just my sheer tiredness, but when I asked myself that question, I had no answer. Then sleep took over all thought.

The next time I woke up, the young girl I remembered from earlier was in the hut. She was sitting near the doorway, sewing something. When I sat up, she turned to me and smiled. My heart started beating faster. She was a most beautiful woman in both face and form. And if my sketchy memory served me at all, she was my wife!

Why couldn't I remember more?

In one graceful movement, she stood and came over to me. Shyly, she handed me what she'd been working on. It was a length of soft, well-worked leather, embellished with bits of colored shell. I wasn't sure what it was, but I smiled up at her and thanked her.

When I just sat there, she took the leather from my hands and instructed me to stand. Now, I was acutely aware of my nudity. I was semi-erect even though she was fully clothed and hadn't even touched me. When she put her arms around my waist, semi expanded to fully erect. Her smile widened perceptibly.

I let her dress me in the leather loincloth like the man, Juan, had been wearing. It was a simple wraparound garment and very comfortable. I thanked her again and suddenly realized I didn't know her name. If she was my wife, how could I not know her name?

Then I realized I didn't know my own name.

I sank back down on the bed and she followed suit. My mind was racing trying to make sense of my situation. I couldn't remember anything before waking up in this hut. NOTHING!

Try as I might, I couldn't remember my name, where I was from, my family, what I was doing here… nothing from my past. This didn't feel like home to me, but then again, where was home? My first memory was waking up in this hut, with this girl… my wife?... and then men with guns? Guns! I looked and then felt around the bed. I had no weapons… where were my weapons? I swept the hut swiftly with my eyes, dizziness resulting when I turned my head too quickly.

I knew my face reflected my confusion, which threatened to turn into panic. I could feel my facial muscles automatically drop into a blank expression. The girl reached out and stroked my arm. When she spoke, her voice was soft and melodious. Her calm, gentle manner helped put me at ease.

She brushed my hair back from my face and her next words gave me more reassurance. "You must be wondering how you got here? It is quite the story, though I should let Joran tell you. He has been racing in here after each of his chores asking if you are awake yet."

"Joran?" I asked. It sounded like this was someone who might be able to answer my questions.

"Yes. Joran, my little brother. He is the one who found you and brought you to our village. You were in terrible shape with many wounds. Luckily for you, our grandmother, Yada, is a healer and she was able to treat you and make you well. Even she thought we would lose you, but you are a fighter and soon you will be strong and healthy once more." She touched my bicep, the bulge dwarfing her small hand.

I looked down at my body covered in nearly healed cuts and scrapes. "It sounds like I owe my life to your brother and grandmother. And I owe my gratitude to you for caring for me."

I couldn't help myself from staring at this young girl sitting next to me in this rustic mud hut. She was breathtakingly beautiful and dressed in a simple cotton dress that had seen better days. She wore no adornments except for a small leather bag hanging from a leather cord around her neck. However, I couldn't get my initial vision of her out of my head.

"I remember something about some men with guns and you telling them they were interrupting our wedding…?" I asked, trying not to mention what had happened between us in the moments before the men came, but the image was so strong. I clearly remembered this gorgeous girl naked and astride me.

The young girl blushed furiously and wouldn't meet my eyes. When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper. "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that."

"Something like that is impossible to forget," I told her, laying my hand on hers.

Her smile was a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. She had me totally enchanted. In a low whisper, she mumbled, "I can't forget it either."

Then her voice took on a stronger tone with a hint of sarcasm in it. "The men were soldiers, looking for someone who blew up their precious mine. The mine is an abomination and should never have been allowed to be. My people are grateful to you for what you did."

What did I do? And why can't I remember?

She continued, "I am grateful to you, too. My name is Nevi." She blushed again. I loved watching the deep flush creep up her neck and suffuse her cheeks with color.

"The soldiers were looking for you and I could only hope they wouldn't recognize you if I painted your face and covered your wounds with body paint in the manner of the wedding rituals. And I hoped even such rude dangerous men wouldn't challenge a bride and her new husband as they… consummated their marriage." She dropped her eyes. "Forgive my boldness, but the soldiers invaded our village and I didn't have much time to prepare. I was just grateful the wedding ruse and my angry bluff worked. You seemed to understand and played your role well." She gave me a slight grin or maybe it was a smirk.

"So, we are not married?" I asked, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice. I let my gaze drift down her body. Any man would be a fool not to want to bed this exquisite creature. She was not only beautiful, but also intelligent, principled and courageous. As I said, I was enchanted by her.

She threw back her head and laughed. Her smiles were infectious, and so was her laughter, though so much smiling seemed strange to me. I bowed my head for a moment before meeting her gaze.

Trying to joke with her, I quipped, "I am sorry our marriage was so short-lived, Nevi. It seemed to hold great promise." That elicited another throaty laugh from her.

As we continued to flirt, the man who earlier had told me his name was Juan entered the hut. I was actually relieved. It helped me regain control over both my thoughts and my body.

"You are looking much stronger today, my friend. Daughter, I think our guest is ready for solid food. Please bring him a substantial meal. And some cups of 'ale' for both of us." The word he used was unfamiliar to me, but I knew he was referring to a fermented beverage.

So, Nevi was his daughter! I was doubly glad he interrupted us. It wouldn't do for me to seduce the young daughter of my host. As she stood and walked out, Juan took her place next to me.

"You are feeling better?" he asked.

I nodded. His family had saved my life. I felt it was crucial to be honest with this man, that any concealment on my part wouldn't be tolerated. And I needed answers. My mind was screaming at me, 'Who am I?'

I started with a thank you. "Your daughter tells me I was badly injured and you and your people took me in and nursed me back to health. I owe you my life. Please know that I am forever in your debt." Juan nodded respectfully.

I continued, not quite knowing how to say what needed to be said. "I am at a great disadvantage. I am hoping it's temporary and because I suffered a blow to the head or some such injury, but I can't remember my name. In fact, I can't remember anything before I woke up in your village."

There. It was out. I felt incredibly vulnerable, but I owed Juan the truth. I felt safe with him, like a long lost brother. For some reason, I didn't think I was a very trusting man, but I knew I could trust Juan.

His eyes widened and he didn't say anything for several moments. "You remember nothing?" he asked, searching my face, probably for any signs of dishonesty or deception. It's what I would do, I think.

"Nothing. The first thing I remember…" I hesitated, and told a discreet lie, "is the soldiers entering this house."

Juan slowly shook his head. "My memories are precious to me. I cannot imagine the loss you must be experiencing. Please know I will help you in any way I can," Juan said.

Nevi returned then with a basketful of food and drink. I watched her saunter through the hut toward us and hoped my body wouldn't react, because my very first memory was of her naked and astride me.

I was grateful our attention and talk turned to our meal. I asked many questions and learned the names of many plants, fish and animals that were the staple of their diet. I learned they were of the Ye'kuana, the River People or People of the Canoes. Their small tribe consisted of seven families and there were about forty such tribes scattered over the region.

I asked more about where we were and learned we were in Venezuela. Why could I remember that Venezuela was in South America and not be able to remember my own name or where I was from? It was like I could remember simple facts and languages, but nothing personal.

Juan continued talking as if to put me at ease and told me he had several children. His oldest son was in a large city to the north, Cuidad Bolivar, attending college and another daughter was married and living in another Ye'kuana village to the south.

As we talked, a young boy about ten years old rushed into the hut. He was about five feet tall and had a thin body and large feet that looked like he was gaining inches faster than the rest of him could keep up with. He had shoulder length black hair and flashing dark eyes. All he wore was a simple loincloth.

He came running up to me, talking a mile a minute. When he reached me, he was smiling broadly and kept patting my shoulder, assuring himself I was alive and well.

This was obviously Joran. I thanked him for saving my life and then asked him to tell me everything he saw and heard when he was at the mine. He obviously had told this story many times over the past two weeks. Joran settled himself on the hard packed dirt floor in front of me and began his tale.

From Joran's description of what happened to the guards, I realized I might have killed two men. I tried to keep my reactions from showing on my face when this little boy was telling such a gruesome story – about me and my actions – especially when I couldn't remember doing it. I didn't know what to think when he told me I came to the mine with another man and that man never came out of the mine after the explosion. Was this other man a friend of mine or a partner in my criminal activities? And was he now dead?

Was I really a criminal? These people seem to think I was a hero for what I did. I clearly was seriously wounded in the explosion and would have died if Joran hadn't pulled me from the river and if Yada hadn't treated me. I owed these people my life.

But why would I want to destroy a mine? Who was I?

I filed Joran's story away in my mind so I could study it later for a clue to my identity. Now, it was time to learn about this strange new world I found myself in.