Sequel to Call Me Methuselah
Dating a caveman isn’t what Radhi had in mind. He likes guys his own age. Sure, Oscar passes for twenty, but he isn’t. They look identical, but they’re not. Oscar’s tried telling him, but who would believe such a thing -- until now. Radhi can’t deny it anymore -- his ex-boyfriend’s a caveman.
After knocking out Dr. Killington’s thug and rescuing Oscar, Radhi’s worried he’ll get arrested. He launches his father’s boat on Lake Mead and knows the perfect hideout. He and Oscar can figure out what’s next for them.
When Dr. Killington learns the secret in Oscar’s blood, it gives Oscar two choices -- remain on the run, away from Killington, or turn himself in. Whether the FBI, FDA, or whoever, someone ought to know what Killington’s been up to. Experiments with Oscar’s rare stem cells have cured people and made them young again.
Cursed to see the end of days, Oscar can’t bear losing another loved one. If only Radhi could be with him when the world ends, but Radhi doesn’t love him.
Never having lost someone, death seems unreal to Radhi ... until a close encounter. Understanding mortality for the first time, he learns the meaning of Oscar’s gift and the threat of his curse. When Oscar shares adventures from the Stone Age, the surprisingly intimate stories draw Radhi in and change his heart. He knows what he must do.
I wiggled a fly off my nose. The morning sky blushed above the Mainlander’s camp. After a sleepless night, I dozed a little when something landed on my cheek. It might have been another fly, a bee, mosquito, hornet, or spider. I couldn’t see it any sooner than my face. Tied to this tree, I didn’t know what stung me.
The ointment that protected my skin from bugs and sunburn had worn off. The supply remained on my raft, wherever it had floated, along with all my earthly possessions, the few adornments, a sharp-edged stone, my spears, and nets.
The fresh fruit snack I’d saved for later on, I never had a chance to eat. That loss didn’t bother me so much as the other things. Though I’d eaten nothing for over a day now, except a few dates, I lost my appetite.
The happy family sat around the fire with a couple visitors who hadn’t left yet. They chewed on scraps from the three Islanders, who’d disappeared in short order last evening, except for their bones. My stomach turned, but I couldn’t look away for fear of what came next.
The girl put down a rib and glanced at me. When I met her glare, she averted her eyes almost immediately. Straightening her hunched posture, she clutched her hands together at her middle and stuck out her perky little breasts, while from the corner of her eye, she stole another glance.
If not my imagination, she admired me. According to legend, when Mainlanders weren’t eating us Islanders, they sometimes took us as mates. I couldn’t fathom which would be worse. The girl outright stared now and cackled.
This got her brother’s attention, the burly one who’d captured me. Now he, too, ogled my way, for what seemed like forever. His mouth hung open, and he licked his lips. I shrunk under his hungry glare.
Finally, a roar bellowed out of him, directed at the girl. She hissed back, and her attention returned to the rib bone she’d gnawed on, almost bare. Barbarism such as this I’d never witnessed on the Islands. With all the depravity I faced there, it couldn’t compare to these awful creatures.
The brute picked up a gourd and stood. He walked slowly toward me as if I might bite. I could only imagine my horrifying expression. It must have been quite frightening in his eyes, or so I liked thinking. In truth, my fierce look hid my own fear.
He must have seen through the bluff because he didn’t hesitate long. After all, I was tied up, no reason for him to dally. Hovering over me, he put the open gourd to my mouth.
I couldn’t see its contents. I clamped my lips shut and held my breath, at risk of smelling human flesh. At my distress, he tipped his head to the side. Up close, his robust face and muscled shoulders struck me as less frightful than before. I couldn’t tell why, maybe from his quizzical eyebrow, raised all in one piece as he studied me.
As if understanding my concern at eating my kind, he shook the gourd in my face, and to my surprise, it rattled. High pitched, like something small and hard. Meat wouldn’t make that sound.
I stretched my neck to see inside. I couldn’t reach that far. He noticed my effort and placed the gourd’s opening in front of my eyes. I had a look and steeled myself. To my great relief, it contained some tsamma melon seeds and ground-nuts.
I might have smiled. In any case, he grinned. I opened my mouth, and he poured in some bits. I chewed hard. The comfort food restored my hunger. When I swallowed, he fed me more.