Bones on Mars - A paranormal, sci-fi, fantasy romance

Houseproud

Before any explorations could happen, Floyd and Leela had to sort out minor details like food and shelter. Water had been ticked off already: a small stream trickled down the cliffs, forming a crystal-clear pool at its bottom. Whether that was just a nifty ruse devised by nasty microbes lurking in the rippling fluid was anybody's guess. In any case, they had little choice.

Leela was the one with the spear, so she'd have a go at the fish, of which there seemed to be tons, splashing around in the shallow water of the beach. The driftwood stacked at the far end would make a great bonfire.

If they could light it.

If they couldn't, it was sushi time. There certainly was enough fresh seaweed to spice things up.

Floyd's job was to climb up and explore the caves. It didn't look like it was going to rain—in fact, if there was to be precipitation, it would most likely arrive as snow or sleet. Alone the thought of what nighttime temperatures would look like and what they would do to his body propelled Floyd up the cliff in no time.

Yup, there were caves. They weren't high, they weren't spacious, but they would do nicely as shelter—uh, oh.

Perhaps not.

Floyd took a cautious step closer to the blackened fire ring at the back of what was effectively a generous overhang.

Someone had had the same great idea. And that someone had been there first.

His gaze fell on a collection of crude stone bowls and something that looked like a deflated balloon made of hide.

He lifted it.

Wondered if it would hold water.

"El? Did you leave this for us?"

No response.

Behind the fire-ring lay something furry. He stepped closer. Pelts in all shapes and sizes, stacked up as orderly as the irregular shapes would allow.

"Someone's house-proud, eh?"

Still no response.

A heap of firewood caught his eye. As long as the owners of all this seaside real estate wouldn't show up, they should be snug for the night.

"Better and better," he said to himself.

A draft swirled around his ankles, and he bent down. The firewood had been piled up next to a man-sized hole in the rock. He bent, crawled in, and banged his head.

Not so man-sized after all, the bloody hole.

"Shit."

Careful not to scrape his exposed hide on the protruding stone, Floyd kept crawling and emerged at the top end of what reminded him of a rock slide spilling onto some sort of plateau. Grassland wherever he looked. To the left, the right, and all the way to the horizon a sea of yellowish-green grass undulated in the ever-present wind. Above, the seagulls dipped and dived. Something that looked suspiciously like a rook or a raven—he'd never been able to tell the two apart—was sitting on a boulder, giving him the evil eye.

"El?"

The bird cawed and flew off.

Maybe not.

"We're not on Mars anymore," said a female voice behind him.

It took all of Floyd's tattered self-control not to shriek like a little old lady. Though little old ladies these days were more likely to get out their shotgun, and pepper your guts with buckshot.

He swung around. Leela stood at the exit of the crawl tunnel, shielding her eyes with her hands. Her furs were wet at the bottom, and she smelled of fish.