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“Just like that?” I ask. Clearly Sasquatches are things of legend. Something tells me they’re not going to just release us so we can go blabbing to the media about the secret underground city of bigfoots. (Bigfeet?) “We can just…leave?”
“Please don’t say that now that we’ve seen their secret dwelling, they’ll have to kill us.” Steph wrings her hands in front of her.
“They won’t kill you,” Frank sighs. “You will have your memory of your time here erased before you go. It’s a thing the Sasquatches can do, kind of a Men in Black mind-wipe thing. They’ll zap out any memories of your time here and replace them with alternate memories.”
As Frank continues to answer questions, my mind drifts to the hulking furball who tried to give me flowers. God, I feel like such a bitch for screaming in his face like that. A sharp stabbing pain of regret pierces my chest remembering the hurt look on his face as the flowers dropped from his hand to the stone floor.
Great way to make a first impression, Kiki.
In hindsight, he was actually kind of cute, in a Chris Hemsworth meets Chewbacca sort of way. And his scent—like pine needles and fresh rain—I can still smell it, earthy and oddly calming. Yum.
I'm jolted back to reality when the auburn-haired woman asks, "Um, are we even, you know...compatiblewith them? Like, anatomically?" Her cheeks flush the color of tomato soup.
Frank clears his throat, appearing about as comfortable as a vegan at a pig roast. "The Sasquatch have done extensive research and, um, well, bottom line is yes. Interspecies intimacy is quite possible."
This earns a chorus of nervous giggles and one "Hubba hubba!" from Steph. I just sit there, trying very hard not to picture what's underneath all that fur. (Spoiler alert: I fail miserably.)
“Since none of you brought any luggage, you’ll find a variety of toiletries in the bathroom and stacks of t-shirts and yoga pants in the drawers. In the next couple days, I’ll place a shopping order for whatever you need,” Frank tells us seeming relieved to change the subject.
Just then, the door creaks open and a timid-looking Sasquatch shuffles in carrying a huge tray of covered dishes. It’sclear the Sasquatch is female by her curvy figure and feminine features.
"Ah, ladies, this is Enfys," Frank says smiling at the Sasquatch. "She's brought you dinner."
Enfys gives a small smile and I notice the fangs that peek out over her bottom lip as she does. Dinner is doled out, plates piled high—and I do mean piled high— with some sort of steaming stew, fresh bread, and what looks like a giant slab of berry pie. Each of us is served a portion big enough for an entire family. I realize I'm famished. I never did get to eat the pancakes I made back in the motel, a million years and one trans-dimensional Sasquatch portal ago.
As we dig in (and holy cow, it's delicious), Frank tells us that after dinner, Enfys will give us a quick tour of Grotto's hotspots and he’ll be back tomorrow to see how we’ve settled in.
I figure now's as good a time as any for introductions, so I swallow my mouthful of savory stew and say, "I guess we should get to know each other a bit." I gesture with my spoon. "We can go around in a circle and introduce ourselves. I'm Maria. Maria Garcia." The name tastes wrong in my mouth, like I'm chewing on aluminum foil.
The green-eyed auburn-haired woman beside me goes next, merely introducing herself as Bambi without offering a last name.
Steph chokes on her stew. Then blurts out, "Oh my god, you’re Boom Boom Bambi!"
Bambi's face falls. Steph’s expression immediately morphs into one of remorse, and it hits me why Bambi looks so familiar.
A few years back, there was this huge sex scandal with a married megachurch pastor and a young female parishioner. The press had a field day dragging Bambi through the mud, branding her as a homewrecking harlot and calling her “Boom-Boom-Bambi” while the pastor was portrayed as a good manwho temporarily fell under the spell of a Jezebel. Personally, I had him pegged as a self-righteous prick.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Steph flashes puppy dog eyes at Bambi, and I have to admit, she does look truly remorseful. “I’m such a motormouth. I never should have said that. I really don’t know when to shut up sometimes and then next thing I know it’s ‘open mouth, insert foot.’”
I clear my throat. "Listen, I don't believe anything the media and gossip rags report. They're vultures. I know for a fact they’ll take a grain of truth and tack on a bushel of lies and the general public will spread it on social media like wildfire as though it's ALL gospel."
Bambi shoots me a grateful look and the other girls chime in with similar sentiments, all of us attempting to put Bambi at ease.
“Wait,” Steph suddenly looks around. “Where’d that other woman go?”
It hadn’t registered until now, but Steph is right. That skinny, tired-looking chick with the thousand-yard-stare is gone. Pretty sure she's the one who fainted when we got off that prison bus. Just before I screamed like a psycho. Ugh.
“Maybe she’s resting somewhere?” I offer.
Octavia, the blonde woman with the badly scarred face agrees with a nod. “They probably took her to like a Sasquatch sick bay or infirmary, or…whatever they have here.”
Enfys returns as we’re finishing what I have to admit was a delicious meal, and despite the Sasquatch’s protest, Octavia insists on helping her gather the dirty dishes.
There's some kind of commotion outside. Shouting, thumping, and loud as day I hear a booming voice shout “Humans go home!” I know we all hear it because every head swivels as we make eye contact with one another.
Enfys's fur bristles and she mutters something under her breath before schooling her features into a tight smile and hustling out into the hallway.
There's an awkward beat as we all try to pretend we can't hear the growling argument happening just outside the door. When Enfys returns, she looks a bit frazzled.
