Somewhere, on a sandy beach, around noon.

 

 

          The sea had thrown me out. My body was stranded on some unknown land. In my struggle, I had lost my jacket and my boots. I was still unconscious, the sun beating down on my exposed skin.

 

 

            I could feel the fresh ocean air passing over my thighs. My jeans were torn all over, as my tank top was. I didn't know how, but I ended up barefoot again. It had to be scripted somewhere, right? However, feeling the warm sand on my bare feet was a nice touch. 

 

 

            If I could feel so many things, it meant I wasn't dead. And then suddenly I was back among the living. I pulled my head out of the sand, as if I wanted to escape drowning or wake up from a dreadful nightmare. Nature had tried to take me down but failed. Nothing could stop Calista the relentless.

 

 

            I spat out all the excess seawater that clogged my lungs. The salty and slighty irradiated taste still remained in my mouth, it was quite a bitter sensation. After I got rid of the water, my body seemed to be doing better, it was no longer in survival condition.

 

 

            My breathing returned smoothly. I looked at the sea for some explanation to my current situation. Where was I castaway? How did I survive the shipwreck? What happened to the boat? These questions would remain unanswered if I stayed here with my ass buried in the sand. I needed to go inland and explore.

 

 

            I struggled to get back on my feet, my hand still covering my trachea, which was burning from the water I had spit out. Even if the beach was nice and pleasant, I couldn't stay here forever.

 

 

             I saw a small dirt road leading inland. I walked towards it. I didn't think this would happen so soon, but I was about to live a new adventure in a foreign land. Lucky me. If I could make it back in one piece. 

 

 

            I followed the small path until my body decided to throw one last bit of seawater. I leaned on the rock and spat it out. I had no more discomfort and started to move again.

 

 

          After a few minutes of walking, I arrived in a swampy area. It was huge and not without danger. I could see in the distance a creature that looked like a reptile but stood on two legs. Perhaps a dinosaur relative? I didn't want to find out, I was neither armed nor clothed to face it. I would spend whatever time I needed to get around it.

 

 

          Behind the swamps, a main road led to the land's core. A caravan was attacked and looted, leaving only the corpses of both a man and a woman and their carrying beast, the brahmin. I couldn't even retrieve the girl's tank top, filled with blood. I had to be careful, there were certainly raiders around, not very friendly either. 

 

 

          Not far from the dead convoy, there was a small house that looked abandoned. It was mostly a pile of bricks stacked up and holding together. There was a word tagged right next to the entrance: Salvaje. I had some knowledge of foreign languages, mostly French but also a bit of Spanish. Salvaje meant wild, it would be consistent with what I encountered from there.

 

 

          Inside the house, I didn't expect to see a table full of supplies. There was also a cute iguana sitting next to the stock! Nobody lived here and if anyone did, nobody would stop me from feeding myself. My eyes were drawn to the three bundles of cash on display. Old world currency, with the country name written on it: Costa Rica. I knew where I was stranded now.

 

 

            I picked up the leftovers and looked for another place to spend the night. Ideally, a place hidden and sheltered. I found my perfect spot a few hundred paces away. I was attracted by a rodent noise under a bridge. An abandoned camp lay there, with two large rats roaming around. Would they mind if I crashed in?

 

 

            I didn't need a weapon to get rid of them. My feet were enough to take the rats out. 

"Shove off vermin, shoo!"

This little workout showed me that I still had my great shape. And like any warrior after a hectic day, I needed to rest.

 

 

            I quickly got onto the sleeping bag. I didn't need to get inside because of the heat, even at night. I had survived the first day in this new land of Costa Rica. It was a nice place for a summer break but I wasn't planning on living there, Boston would be my home forever. I fell asleep with a clear head, dreaming of my next adventures.

 

 

          Early in the morning, I set off again on the road. The surrondings were wonderful, the sun lighting up the horizon. Maybe I'd find a village with people willing to help me, giving me a new tank top and a pair of shoes, even though being barefoot didn't bother at me at all anymore, even on the gravel road. 

 

 

          Behind the destroyed bus was a seated woman. I tried to speak to her in my poor Spanish:

"¡Hola! ¿Hablas inglés? Estoy perdida y busco ayuda."

"¡Hola, chica! ¿Qué haces aquí con toda esa ropa rasgada? ¡Y estás descalza! No te preocupes, voy a ayudarte."

I didn't understand everything, but I think she mentionned my clothes and my feet. She didn't look like someone who was keen to help me.

 

 

            I guessed right. The woman stood up, drew her flaming sword and brandished it at my throat. There was nothing I could do but surrender and put my hands up.
"¡Por favor! ¡Me rindo! ¡No tengo nada, lo siento, no quiero morir!"
"Buena chica. Voy contigo a mi pandilla, estarán contentos de ver lo que he encontrado al lado de la carretera. ¡Vámonos!"

 

 

            I was now being held captive by an armed woman who pointed me to a construction site not far away, with the Costa Rica flag waving. What the hell had I gotten myself into again... She was taking me to her lair and probably to her fellow gang members. I knew who was to blame for yesterday's unfortunate deaths. I had to find a way out of this mess or I'll be next in line. 

 

 

          "¡Hey chicos! Mira con quién he vuelto, una bonita chica perdida. ¡Vamos a divertirnos con ella!"
I didn't have to understand what she'd said. Actions spoke as much as words. I was an easy prey in a hunters' den. And they were about to capitalize on their latest catch.

 

 

          The gang closed in and surrounded me completely. One of the men pulled out a knife. I wasn't afraid because I saw where that fat pig was looking: at my breasts. Fear turned to anger. All I needed was an opening. Only one scum carried a gun. With it, the odds favored me.  

 

 

          "¡Venga, rápido! Quiero admirar sus pechos."
"Ya está, he terminado. ¡Cielos, qué bonitos!"
I was forced to my knees while the guy cut off what remained of my tank top in order to display my breasts in the open. Anger surged through me and soon would boil over.

 

 

          "Vamos a tenerla con nosotros, ¿verdad, chicos?"
Together, they laughed out loud. Without realizing it, those bastards had given me a brief moment of inattention and space to retaliate. I'd had enough of this, they were going to pay heavily.

 

 

END OF PART 1