“Evening dudes, what's happening?” Phil Chan breezed through the door. He waved a pair of expensive sunglasses at them as he dumped his laptop case on the nearest desk. Tall and immaculately dressed, his carefree self-confidence was amplified by a combination of intelligence and a very wealthy family. He had the preened, adored look about him of an only son.
“Where the hell have you been all day, Phil?” Orrin said. His voice was uncharacteristically bent with anger. “Get yourself over here and help Dale. The systems have gone haywire. Someone’s stuffed up.” Phil's nonchalance faltered as he took in Dale's wide eyed reticence. He grabbed the stranded chair.
“I'll be in my office.” Orrin turned and stalked away. As he neared his door a glint of silver caught his eye. He picked up a delicate chain from the floor. Ivy's necklace.
Broken.
With a sigh of regret, he shut the door behind him.
Ivy lay nauseated and broken; her ears still ringing with the high pitched scream that had followed her. She didn't want to move and didn't try. Perhaps she couldn't move anyway. Somewhere, her mind stayed connected. Her body, her self, didn't feel important anymore; it had ceased to exist to Ivy as anything but this manifestation of searing, agonising pain. Reality had changed. It had become only the shredding that had torn at her bones, and the lasting heavy ache that consumed her. She tried to claw past the pain, to surface, but the blackness suffocated and dulled her senses under its agonising weight. Ivy struggled. A tiny part of her grappled bravely against this loss of control, desperate to make sense of the pain, sure that there was something more important to remember, desperate to be aware. But there came no insight; she was not alive enough anymore. Her strength sapped quickly and easily and Ivy’s distant mind only mumbled incoherent thoughts in offering as a wave of nausea hit her again. The pounding of blood through her ears washed away all sound. She forced open her eyes but only blackness greeted her, so perhaps she had not opened them at all. As the nothingness overwhelmed her again, Ivy sank into it willingly, gratefully, hoping the terrible ache would disappear in its embrace.
When she awoke for the second time, comfort greeted her. Black heaviness still filled her head, but there was no longer suffocation, no longer pain. This time, it was a quiet, dark place to hide. Ivy lay still with closed eyes, slowly becoming conscious of her arms, her legs and her face. She was curled on her side, with something spongy under and around her. She was warm, much warmer than usual. A hand stroked her forehead gently. The soft fingers ran from her brow up into her hair, rhythmically, slowly. It had been many years since she’d felt the love and safety of such a hand. She lay contemplating this new knowledge. Mum. I guess that means that I've died and that's why the aching has gone. I'm here, with her, and it's over. This death didn't bother her. Memories of the shredding and its agonising, mind-numbing ache were so close by that they threatened to smother her again in fear. Death seemed like a reasonable price to pay to be free of it.
This is peaceful, I like it here. I won't be missed. Silently, Ivy felt the weight of her conviction. No one would miss her. She had been disappearing over the last few years, little by little. She had camouflaged herself into the backcloth of society, consumed by her research and the desire to stay independent– to protect herself, she reasoned. There was no one left now to grieve her loss. No one would even know she was gone. Perhaps it was better this way, better to leave no mark on the world, just disappear.
As a child she had been indomitable, entirely doubtless of her own impending imprint. Now that life was over, she wondered where that bravery had gone, what she had done to herself to let it fade.
Death was quiet. Tantalising scents and long forgotten memories came flitting back. A shining Christmas tree with a lopsided cardboard angel, a thickly scented carpet of pine needles on glossy floorboards, over-sized gumboots full of rain, the coconut scent of her mother's thick red hair. The memories came faster, chasing each other as she struggled to grasp them. A flash of white teeth and the laughing eyes of a boy, a first kiss under the soft fall of snow, heartache. Her father in his favourite chair, so many books, her beloved cello, blinding laboratory lights, daisies, chocolate and strongly brewed coffee, sheets of music, faces – so many faces, dark wavy hair, bright purple jacarandas towering above her, Kyah playing in their branches. Kyah!
Ivy sat bolt upright, her eyes bursting open as she grappled the air for stability. Kyah! She could not afford death, even such a peaceful one.
Something gritty and foul coated her lips and invaded her mouth, and Ivy spat out dark loamy soil. She sucked the humid air fiercely, filling her lungs. Bright green shapes violated her eyes and she blinked furiously, rubbing them with filthy fingers. In front of her, a familiar black face came slowly into focus, hand extended. Soothing, guttural hoots came close to Ivy's ear. She was so grateful; it was like music. The bonobo's warm fingers again sought Ivy's forehead and this time they were met by a shaking hand. It was you, thought Ivy. It was your touch that reached me in that dark place. A tiny shadow of renewed grief arose as she realised. It was only you.
“But you’re alive,” breathed Ivy, holding the long fingers to her cheek.
Her companions’ eyebrows creased and she gave another soft hoot, clearly pleased Ivy was finally responding. Strong, hairy arms encircled Ivy like a child and she couldn't help but smile. She pulled away, studying the bonobo. A gash on Kyah’s forehead trickled blood, which had set and dried around her eyes. She was filthy, dirt and leaves dulling her usually immaculate coat. The scab on her chest flamed with scratch marks. But the bonobo’s onyx eyes were clear and responsive and her face showed no sign of pain. The cut wasn't life-threatening - the scab looked awful, but she'd seen worse - a few grazes - no broken bones. Ivy exhaled with loud relief.
Finally appeased, she let her own eyes drop. Ivy found her hands sinking into a layer of damp, decomposing leaves. Far above her, a weak sun broke through tiny holes in a dense canopy, shooting down dazzling patches of light but leaving the majority of ground dank and shadowed. Every possible shade of green surrounded her, overwhelming in its beauty and intense domination.
“Where the hell am I?” Ivy reeled. She didn't recognise this place. Disorienting greenery stretched in every direction and massive trunks dwarfed her in its centre. A rainforest she thought; the humidity was like a living force pressing in on her. I would remember this, thought Ivy. I don’t remember this. Her heart quickened, reflecting the pulse of life around her. How the hell did I get here?
She pushed herself up off the ground. White sparks showered in sudden blackness before her eyes and a searing pain shot through her right leg. Falling back again, she ran a filthy hand across a dark patch on the leg of her jeans. She rolled it up. A deep cut sliced Ivy's right ankle an inch long, blood bubbling at the edges and a thin layer of white visible underneath. She pinched the edges together, biting her bottom lip hard.
“Damn.”
Deep breaths. Come on, Ivy. Think. Scanning the surrounding earth, she spied her brown leather satchel nearby. Ivy reached back and weakly shook the contents one-handed onto the leaf-littered earth. A stack of papers sprayed across the ground. She shook it again and one by one, the contents of her bag hit the ground. Her hairbrush. A half-empty water bottle. Purse. Head scarf. A half dozen pencils. Keys. A chocolate bar. An apple. Finally, her mobile phone and beloved journal.
“Brilliant first aid kit, Ivy,” she sighed. Grabbing the scarf, she wound it tightly around the cut and tucked it in. Her eyes tightened with pain, but somehow it felt slightly less. It throbbed, pushing against the fabric, now dark with spreading blood.
Where was I going? Minutes ticked by as Ivy dug into her memory, trying to resist the focus her leg was demanding.
Well, wherever we are, I’ll need an ambulance, or at least some help getting out. Maybe a helicopter or the SES? The necessity for help grated at her. Grabbing her phone, Ivy saw the battery icon blinking as it struggled to find a receptive tower. No bars. No recept
ion. Ivy looked around, her heart sinking. There must be a tower somewhere – how big could this forest be? The enormity of green was suffocating. There was no open space in sight, no humanity. Certainly no technology. She dialled emergency, knowing it was futile but Ivy still felt the sharp pang of disappointment when the declining beeps signalled her failure. Idiot mobile never works when I need it. In fact, it usually did work, but acknowledging that fact seemed to be inviting more despair. Ivy stuffed the mobile angrily back into her bag, along with the other useless belongings and spilled research papers. Kyah watched her with huge, silent eyes. She was, as ever, close to Ivy’s body, lightly touching.
Ivy rolled her jeans back down. The denim was stiff with blood and she realised she was filthy, covered in black soil and mulch. She groped her hair and neck, flinging a crawling insect into the leaves. She felt soil matted into her hair where she had lay. Her fingers paused against her throat. The tear-drop black amulet she had been wearing was gone. Oh no. Tom… A sinking guilt settled in her stomach and she grabbed a fallen stick raking the nearby ground. But the amulet was gone, and so was the silver chain that had held it around her neck.
Where on earth am I? Ivy looked around, seeking familiarity. She’d been at Melbourne University long enough to know that even the loveliest areas were artificially designed. There was nothing this massive, this wild near the university. Deep breaths. Try to remember.
She had been with Kyah in the Biology building most of the afternoon, playing, convincing her to eat. Then - Orrin! Warmth coiled in her chest and Ivy caught her breath. It was impossible to resist that boyish grin, the suggestion and humour in his eyes. Memories came flooding back, almost overwhelming her. He had leaned in close under the jacaranda, his intentions clear. But they’d been interrupted… and then? She sought out the bonobo’s eyes next to her, looking for an explanation. Kyah watched Ivy's face intently, her lips rounding with silent concern. Kyah had been with her, that much at least, seemed obvious. They had been walking to Orrin's laboratory.
An involuntary shiver crept down her spine. In her mind’s eye she saw hundreds of tiny hands, tearing the bonobo from her grip. They were disembodied and ghostly. Horrifying vestiges of solid flesh lost in thick air, all the more terrifying as their size could only have belonged to children. What children? They had stolen Kyah from her, and she had willingly leapt into blackness to save her. Then the pain had taken Ivy, the desperate ache in her bones and the echo of that scream. Did she scream? Had it been Kyah? Filled with sudden anxiety, Ivy pulled the bonobo into her lap and searched her face once again. Had she felt the same agonising ache in her bones? How long had she waited, while Ivy lay unconscious? Fear welled in her chest and her breath came fast and shallow. Kyah's face swam before her as tears welled at the thought of more pain for the animal. She’s suffered enough. Ivy choked them back and took a deep breath.
“What the hell happened to us Ky?”
Kyah shuffled quietly around Ivy, making soft noises. Ivy scrunched her eyes tight shut, ignoring Kyah's attempts to placate her. It was the bonobo's instinct; to diffuse potential violence, to dissolve tension through affection, to heal distress with affection. Kyah was a bonobo; the most altruistic and peaceful of any primate on earth. In another place and time, without years of abuse and neglect and instead living within a community of her own species, Kyah would have offered body contact to dispel another bonobo’s anguish. Ivy knew this and understood. But instead, now Kyah sat behind Ivy, dragging soft fingers through Ivy's hair and over her shoulders attempting to groom her friend with soft grunts.
But Ivy didn’t want to be touched or loved. She wanted to hit. To punch. To scream.
Ivy focused on breathing instead. In. Out. In. Out. Anything to contain the sheer fury she felt building up inside of her. She screwed a fistful of dirt inside her hand and felt her fist pound the forest floor. In. Out. In. Out. Just breathe.
With utmost self control, Ivy let the dirt go and relaxed her fingers. Bright sparks appeared behind her eyelids, but she kept them shut tight. She couldn't stand the thought of looking again at the jungle that invaded every conceivable space around her. Where the hell was she? And was it not bad enough that she was stranded here in the middle of god-knows-where with nothing but a backpack full of stationery and a screwed leg, but Kyah! Kyah was stuck here- vulnerable, lost. With no protection or food.
But most unbearable, was the promise of pain. Ivy had promised Kyah no more pain. She had failed. Had Kyah felt the severity of that bone-shredding ache that she, herself had? Who would knowingly inflict that kind of pain on another creature? What sort of human? Because only a human could be so callous. Ivy tore her eyes open again glaring into the undergrowth and willing the culprit to come forward.
“Who did this?!” Ivy's scream shattered the forest din and for a moment everything went silent. She shivered and scanned the earth around her. The forest floor looked undisturbed - no footprints or tracks; but then again, perhaps she wouldn’t recognise them if there were. Ivy studied Kyah once more. The bonobo didn’t look like she had been in pain; maybe this situation hadn’t affected her in the same way. Whatever this situation was. What happened to them? Some sort of freak accident?
Pulling her ruined watch off, Ivy tossed it into the backpack. It had stopped ticking at five thirty in the afternoon. Ivy strained to glimpse the watery sun breaking through the canopy above. What time was it now? Daylight – was it still before sunset? Or have we been here all night and this is now morning again? It was impossible to tell. She would have to find a higher vantage point to see the sun. The surrounding trees rocketed thickly into the sky above - ancient, massive and far too high to climb.
Kyah pulled gently at the clasp on Ivy's satchel. Her dark eyes held a familiar question. So polite. Kyah could easily have undone the clip and helped herself. Instead, Ivy tossed her the apple. While the bonobo ate, Ivy leaned back against a tree, gingerly pressing her leg. The deep cut was tender but manageable. The makeshift tourniquet seemed to be working. Ivy flattened herself across the ground on her stomach and stretched as far as she could. Her fingertips dragged back a dead branch and she stripped it of twigs. With some weight off her ankle, they would travel faster.
Defiance flooded every cell. We need food and water. I need to know where we are. I need to find a way out. There seemed to be no obvious path. The forest floor inclined ever so slightly in one direction and if they had to travel, higher ground was probably better than any. I need to find an outcrop where I can see more clearly…. a city in the distance perhaps? Or even a road to follow. I could find a phone, call Orrin… Her heart leapt. Any plan of action was an improvement on this futility.
“Okay Ky, I guess we’re exploring.” Ivy pulled herself up and threw the battered satchel over her head and shoulder. She plunged into the undergrowth, walking stick first with Kyah close behind.
It was Ivy who impeded their progress, constantly ducking, scrambling over and occasionally crawling gracelessly through the thick tangle. Her leg was weak and aching but she was reasonably fit from years of jogging in the quiet streets near her apartment. It had been routine for her, a safe, solitary choice of exercise.
Kyah travelled gracefully across the littered earth. Ivy marvelled at the effortlessness of her perfect balance and wished for just a moment she was even half as coordinated. Kyah leapt from one vine to the next with her long fingers and toes curled tightly, swinging and releasing just over an arms length away to grip again and propel herself forward. Sinuous arms twisted mid flight to alight branches on all fours in an easy gait. With her knuckles slightly curled to support her own weight, Kyah navigated the branches like a tightrope walker. Her shrewd and curious eyes missed nothing.
Ivy watched her intently as she walked, caught between a desperate delight to see the bonobo so uninhibited and the immense worry of losing her in the trees. If Kyah chose to explore, Ivy knew she had no hope of finding her again. Thankfully, Kyah showed no interest in disappearing and was never
more than a few yards away. She called frequently in high-pitched bursts, her reddish lips curled playfully as she kept patient pace with Ivy’s sluggish progress. As the hours passed, darkness did not come. So she had spent the night unconscious on the forest floor. Anonymous scuffling and screeching within the trees joined the raucous buzzing of insects and calling of birds. She imagined predators existed here that neither one of them would have a hope in escaping. Fury threatened to burst her chest and again Ivy chastised herself, pushing the fear deep inside until it was nearly covered. Just deal with this, Ivy. Just find a way out.
Suddenly, the bushes beside her burst apart. A streak of light fur tumbled across her feet and Ivy fell back, losing her balance. She hit the ground hard. Her satchel fell open, scattering papers. Above her in the branches Kyah began screeching and pacing with fright. The displaced ball of fur in front of her was dead still, with only its little chest heaving. It seemed to be caught or hurt, and Ivy pulled herself up for a closer look. Blood was smeared on its face and a hind leg was skewed oddly to the side. A cat? No, it was a rat! The biggest damn rat she had ever seen. Ivy fleetingly considered trying to catch it see if she could help in some way. But a shadow fell across it and Oh. My. God.
Looming over them was an enormous bird, at least six feet high. With a slow predatory stare, it stepped toward her on a long slender leg with slightly webbed short toes and blunt claws. Sprawled on the ground Ivy knew that even if she were standing this bird would be far taller than her at full height. Its strong, massive body was feathered in dirty white plumage and black coverts covered its wings. The bird crooked its neck toward her and lowered a bald, scabby head down, turning sideways to stare at her with an unblinking eye. Ivy froze. Its beak was long and sharp and it suddenly clattered the parts of it together in warning.
Human Page 10
