Failed Prospects

Monday, 23 Oct 9am : Byron strode thru the forest eastward along a beaten path, back to site 4. “Hope is a fickle bitch. Imagine being one with the animals, ready to hunt my prey…an urge to hunt…predator…I return to my pack as the Alpha to become king of the jungle. I am…Jane.” Unconsciously 'Jane' dropped to all four and began to run like an animal. In no time he/she entered the empty camp. Where was his pack to dominate? He took his frustration out on the truck only to find it already sabotaged. “Ah Jane, you already marked your territory last night while you left me hanging. But I am Jane now.” Byron/Jane proceeded to trash the camp, slashing the tent, denting the cook-wear, and tossing items deep into the woods. Pissing on the smoldering fire before heading northwest, “I can smell them. The fear sweating from that cowardly professor.” Harold nervously watched the creatures the Paleontologists had described as spined- Therapods but now called spined-apes for the way they s...

Sunday, 22 Oct, 9pm : Byron followed Jane as she led the way to her cabin. She pointed out, “Watch yer step there. That plant’s poisonous. You doing OK back there? Not walking too fast fer ya am I?” Byron wondered, “For someone with a backache, she sure is spry. What have I gotten myself into? Some lustful hick?” The cabin was simple and small but did have an attached shed. Jane described the area, “Out here I can just sit and listen to the birds and animals. Peaceful. Tell ya what, I’ll be in the garden over there. The wood pile is right over there.” While Jane whistled away in the garden, Byron picked up the axe and got to work. 30 minutes in, and he was already sweating; so, he took off his shirt. “God, I hope I’m not arousing that old woman.” He got into a good rhythm in sync with the tune Jane was whistling. What happened to her whistling? He was about to turn to look when he suddenly passed out. Monday, 23 Oct, 7am : After checking the hotel guestbook, Marcus headed for the sta...