A/N: I'm finally back! *Sheepish grin* I was a bit distracted and consumed with writing my Star Trek reboot FF- no excuse for leaving the boys stranded in the jungle for months, I know. My bad- feel free to give me a virtual frown via reviews…Cheers!
Chapter 8- Going Primal
Peter awoke with a thick, sticky layer of sweat covering his body. He had long ago ripped his Nirvana shirt into a makeshift tank top, but it didn't seem to help. The rain had stopped during the night, leaving the jungle floor covered in a muddy soup and the air so completely saturated with moisture that he was amazed he was able to sweat at all. He felt weak and tired although he had slept relatively well the night before. He rolled his head to Gabriel's side of the hut and blinked a few times when he saw nothing. He turned onto his stomach when he heard what he thought sounded like a fire and peered over the edge of the platform to see Gabriel completely covered in mud and poking at smoldering flames. Try as he might, he couldn't think of any plausible reason for what his eyes reported. He determined that this strange occurrence would require further investigation, so he slowly climbed down the ladder and joined the apparently crazy man.
Peter cautiously squatted by Gabriel and looked at him passively, hoping the taller man would spontaneously provide an explanation, but he was disappointed. When he grew impatient, he finally got up the courage to quietly ask, "What the hell, man?"
Gabriel tried not to laugh, but his white teeth flashed against his newly darkened complexion. "Try it." He challenged. "The mud acts like a sunscreen and bug repellant. It will also keep your skin cool."
Peter smiled and inquired, "Yeah, but does it exfoliate? Because if this shit doesn't make my skin absolutely radiate, I will be expecting a full refund." He stood up stiffly and stretched. "But first things first. Which way to the men's room?"
"If you are just going to piss, you can go about 30 paces and do your business. But if you had planned on dropping off some friends, take one of the plastic shards with you, go 50 paces and dig a hole. Remember to bury it when you are done." Gabriel answered dryly. Peter remembered hearing about that quirky rule from friends who had been camping at Yellowstone, but he thought they had just made it up. He could never really believe half of what his friends said anyway. Sadly, most had political aspirations and they would probably be wildly successful.
Peter went exactly 30 paces and found a suitably large tree against which to relieve himself out of Gabriel's view. He frowned as he went about the usual routine and thought about how strange Gabriel was. There was no doubt that the man was smart, and he wasn't kidding when he said he might have been a genius; but maybe he was like "Rain Man" smart. Maybe he was the kind of guy that could tell you how many toothpicks had fallen on the floor or what day of the week any date fell on, but couldn't tie his own shoes. Eating people he thought with a squint. What kind of person thinks about things like that?
Things were taking a bit longer than he had expected, so he casually leaned against the tree and tried to relax; the last thing he wanted out here was a kidney infection. He didn't want to give Gabriel an excuse to eat him or worse yet attempt to remove it in a botched operation. No matter how much the odd man unnerved him, he knew that he was sort of dependent on him for further survival. He didn't fully understand how Gabriel's brain worked, but it did seem that he was able to just figure things out and if Peter was interested in ever seeing New York again, he had to pull his weight and try not to piss him off.
Peter's head instinctively turned when he head rustling in a nearby palm patch. He quickly packed up and called to Gabriel in a tense voice while he searched for a suitably long and pointed stick without taking his eyes off the greenery that moved before his eyes. Whatever it was seemed unaware of his presence as it continued to move by unseen. Gabriel came to a full stop, lightly huffing from the mad dash and looked at Peter expectantly. Peter gestured for him to be quiet and pointed at the low lying palms. Gabriel trained his eyes on the target and squinted to focus them until he saw the leaves move.
He turned to Peter and mouthed, "What is it?"
Peter frowned and silently replied, "I don't know!"
Gabriel looked around until he found a hefty branch about the size of a baseball bat and nodded at Peter to use his stick to separate the thick brush while he prepared to swing. Peter carefully approached the thicket and gently probed until he caught sight of the pattern on the animal's skin. "Snake!" He whispered to Gabriel. "Big one! Moving your way!" Gabriel's eyes sparkled with what Peter hoped was the prospect of a meal instead of the thrill of the kill, but he couldn't entirely be sure. Gabriel took a few cross steps to his right until he had approximated the location of the head and took a mighty chopping swing. The movement stopped and Gabriel moved the brush enough to actually find the stunned snake's head and he took a few more savage swings to finish the job. The brutality of it sickened Peter although he knew that there really was no humane way to end the snake's life other than to bludgeon it to death.
When Gabriel was sure the snake had expired, he wrapped his hands around the neck and pulled. Both men were astonished at the sheer size of the animal. Peter would have guessed it was an anaconda, but he wasn't sure if they lived in this part of the world. All that could be said with any degree of accuracy was that the snake was very large and would easily feed both starving men. In fact, it took them both to carry the heavy serpent back to the hut. They let it fall with a heavy thud and Gabriel sank to his knees from the effort He looked up at Peter and breathlessly asked, "Know anything about cleaning snakes?"
Peter kneeled down next to him and wiped his forehead while he concentrated. "We dissected one last semester in biology." He sighed. "The venom sacks are in the head."
Gabriel looked at the mess of flesh and bone that used to be the skull. "I think we have that covered." He handed a sharp bit of plastic to Peter as a scrub nurse would hand a scalpel to the surgeon. "We did perch. This one is all you." He smirked.
Peter slowly took the item and rolled the beast over to reveal the white belly. As he began to cut the tough skin, he found himself actually enjoying the experience. It was not so much that the animal had died, but it was the satisfaction of knowing that between the two they had the skill to capture food. This was just another step in their ultimate survival he told himself as he ran his finger along the incision, separating the guts from the edible pink hued flesh. Suddenly he felt primal and strangely proud. This was something he couldn't imagine telling his friends about, they simply wouldn't understand. Would Nathan? Would he be surprised or give his little brother a pat on the back for finding his long buried and hidden killer instinct? He found skinning the prey easier than he had imagined; for the most part, it peeled away from the flesh like turning a sock inside out.
Neither man said anything as they rotated their skewers of fresh meat over the fire as one would toast a marshmallow until it was pure white and they were reasonably sure it was safe to eat. Nothing had ever tasted so good to either of them. "Tastes like chicken." Gabriel observed with his mouth full. Peter scowled and prepared more of the meat thinking that was what Jeffery Dahmer said about human flesh.
Both men ate as much as their stomachs could hold since they didn't know when their next meal would be and there was no way to preserve the meat to cook later. It seemed like such a waste, but they dare not risk eating rotten food. One could easily die of dehydration if they contracted food poisoning. Gabriel had suffered through one bout of it when he was 12 and that was one experience he was not eager to relive. He had no real conception of death at that age, but he often wondered if that was what it was like. The continuous pain and misery just didn't seem compatible with life.
With great effort, the men drug the remains of the carcass to the wreckage site and dumped it, covering their noses to avoid inhaling the stench of decay that began to hang over the area. They didn't come this far just to lose their hard earned meal. Climbing the ladder with nearly bursting bellies was a chore, but they made the ascent and sighed heavily as they laid on their backs staring at the now browning roof. Gabriel began laughing lightly, prompting Peter to turn his head to look at him. "And you thought you couldn't hunt."
Peter smiled at the irony. "I didn't, really. It found me."
"Well, whatever, man." Gabriel stated. "If we have to put you out as bait to catch food, then so be it. Maybe you are some kind of Grizzly Adams or something, animals are just attracted to you." Peter had never really been around animals before unless he counted the Central Park Zoo or the legions of pigeons that swarmed the city and they did seem to follow along behind him glaring with their beady little eyes. There was that one time his cousin's shiatsu tied to bite him…and he did get chattered at by an angry squirrel last summer… and he did get chased around a park by a goose… if animals were attracted to him it was for all the wrong reasons. "So what would you be doing right now if you were back in New York?" Gabriel asked pulling him from his memories of prior animal assaults.
He cleared his throat and frowned. "Uh….I don't really know. What day is it?" He wasn't as upset about losing track of time as he thought he would be. Perhaps it was just better not to think about how much time he had spent waiting on help to arrive. One moment at a time.
"Saturday." He replied.
He thought about it, but shrugged. "Homework, I guess." Of course there was more he wasn't saying because he was tired of people judging him based on his parent's status. At least for a little while, he could associate with Gabriel because he didn't seem to know. At any rate, Peter never told him his last name; as soon as he did, the game would be over because everyone knew who the Petrelli's were. No doubt there would be some stupid party his parents would want him to go to. He would have to get all dressed up and smile even though all of the pretense made him sick. For the first time since the crash, he found himself glad he was stranded in the jungle. "You?"
"Probably the same." Gabriel replied half-heartedly. He knew it was only partially the truth. Saturdays were often spent watching boring game shows and documentaries with his mother in the dimly lit apartment because she seemed to enjoy them. He closed his eyes and tried to forget the way her eyes shined when he would often correctly give the answer to clues on "Jeopardy." She would tell him how smart and special he was. He could be anything he wanted, she would sigh in admiration, even the president! He would weakly smile at her knowing he had no such ambitions for himself. He couldn't figure out a way to explain to her that his intellectual ability, while helpful, wouldn't be enough to get him to the places she had envisioned him going. Even if he managed to get a scholarship, or in his mind be yet another charity case, it wouldn't change the fact that he was poor and the tattered remains of their family did not have the power or clout needed to get ahead, because that was how the real world worked. He was not an Astor, a Rockefeller, a member of the ubiquitous Mafioso…he wasn't even a Petrelli, but he often wondered what his life would be like if he was.