Kyah dropped down from the branches beside her. The bonobo looked at her in apparent amusement, all white teeth and high pitched laughing then slapped her hand gently over Ivy’s forehead.
“Alright then smarty-pants, you do it!” Ivy growled.
Kyah picked up the durian easily and carried it to a nearby rock.
“Your hands are tougher,” Ivy muttered under her breath as Kyah perched herself beside the rock, and began smashing the fruit against the sharpest edge.
“Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” Ivy sighed. She found a sharp stone on the ground and together they dug into the tough outer skin to the spongy layer underneath. “It’s like cutting a shoe,” Ivy grumbled after a few minutes. Eventually the holes were big enough to scoop white, fibrous flesh from the inside. Kyah immediately sucked on the large elliptical seeds she dug out, holding them still to scrape the sides clean with sharp teeth. The fruit smelled pungent, like vomit or over-ripe paw-paw with the consistency of a custard apple. It made Ivy’s eyes water. Holding her breath, she ate some, expecting the worst. Miraculously, it wasn’t too bad. A questionable blur of peach, mango and coconut flavours managed to overcome the overwhelming smell. “I suppose I could live on this,” Ivy said begrudgingly. After a few minutes, her hands stopped shaking and her head cleared as they quickly emptied out the multi-chambered fruit leaving an empty shell. Ivy grinned, tipping the spiky casing upside down onto Kyah’s head. “Viking!” She laughed. Kyah threw it off, knocked Ivy backward with a playful grimace and ran to get another one.
As the sun set in a red blaze, Ivy realised how badly she had judged distance. They were probably still hours from the cave and darkness was falling fast. Giving in, she collapsed under a tree. Kyah climbed into a low lying branch, where she set about expertly making a woven nest of thick green leaves. Ivy eyed it enviously. She knew her own nightmares would throw her to the forest floor if she fell asleep so high up. The night air brought a sharp chill and Ivy shrugged further into her jacket. Her fingers curled around a note, folded neatly in the pocket. Ivy pulled it out. She couldn’t help the sting behind her eyes at finding Orrin's handwriting. She had tucked the note straight into her pocket when Orrin had given it to her, not pausing to look at what she assumed was his address for their dinner date. She was right. 7pm - 25 Beach Street, Port Melbourne. But underneath, three more words had been scrawled. Please trust me. He'd completed the note with a single O representing his name. Ivy choked back a sob and squeezed the paper tight in her fist. Please trust me. She had been so close. But now she'd never have the chance.
The birds fell silent, their chorus taken up by insects buzzing, whirring, chirping and zitzing, each one incessant and amplified by the resonant hollows of the jungle. Light from a waning full moon broke the canopy, accenting moving shadows and menacing shapes in the dark. The rhythmic, rasping sigh of some nocturnal beast sounded frighteningly close. Ivy shivered in the cold as twigs and branches snapped unseen in the darkness.
Eventually Ivy fell into a fitful sleep, unaware that she was being watched.
Squabbling of dawn bats woke them in a shower of leaves and fruit. Kyah dropped from her nest and salvaged bits, sniffing and then shoving them into her mouth. Ivy stretched and felt the pull of stiff muscles unused to yesterday’s exertion. Ouch! She sucked air in through her teeth. The fabric of her jeans stuck to her ankle with dried blood, and Ivy gingerly pulled her makeshift bandage away. The cut was pink and raw and her flesh was swollen tight around it. Infected, damn it. Ivy relaxed backward again and felt a jab from her back pocket. She retrieved a small tube of antiseptic cream, beaming at her companion.
“We’re in luck, I forgot to put your medicine away, Ky. Pity it’s almost empty.” Kyah stiffened as Ivy smeared the remnants of the medication across the bonobo's inflamed chest and grazed head then dressed and re-wrapped her own injury. When Ivy had finished, Kyah scraped the leaf litter away from their feet. She picked up a fallen stick and snapped it easily underneath her foot then dragged it across the bare soil. Ivy anticipated the symbol Kyah drew before she’d finished it. Food. The durian they had carried with them from yesterday’s tree proved a welcome breakfast. Kyah offered Ivy the last of the fruit, holding it out with an endearing toothy smile. When Ivy declined, the bonobo ate it herself with a soft grunt of appreciation.
“Come here, beautiful,” Ivy said.
After all she had been through in the last twenty-four hours, Kyah's obvious joy at spending time with Ivy touched her heart. She pulled Kyah into a playful hug, running her fingers through the bonobo’s hair affectionately. Kyah hooted softly and reciprocated, her fingers catching in Ivy's knots.
A loud snap startled them both. Leaves and twigs cracked, underfoot. Close. Ivy stared intently into the shadows, but no animal surfaced. Invisible predators prowled her imagination and she urged herself to just breathe, fighting panic. She was suddenly exhausted of the constant danger the forest kept. Dark circles shadowed Ivy's eyes and she rubbed them with filthy fingers, prodding them into vigilance. As much as she had wanted to relax, she knew it was foolish to do so. Kyah fidgeted in echo of Ivy's stress and the woman pulled Kyah’s long fingers away from the raw scratches on her chest.
“I’m over-reacting Ky, it’s okay. Let’s just go.” Ivy was keen to reach the river, not just to quench her dry throat but for the cleanliness it offered. The sun rose crimson and gold as they set off again towards the cave.
They were being followed. Consciousness of this fact grew with Ivy's sense of unease. Her skin prickled as she limped along. She felt eyes watching her and stiffened her neck. A shuffle here, a snapped twig there. It had become too consistent. They want me to know I'm not alone. Her palms grew clammy and Ivy's heart raced. Kyah circled her fearfully on the ground, fully aware she was being hunted but unwilling to leave Ivy alone. She screeched into the jungle din. Another noise. Closer. Ivy spun slowly as she walked, desperate to catch a glimpse of the thing that hunted them. Cold sweat dripped down her back. Could it be human? Truth be told, Ivy wasn't sure a human was even preferable anymore. At least, not the sort that stalked her in shadows. Another shuffle, closer. Ivy spun around. The clamour of the forest deadened in her ears as she strained to focus on her pursuer. She heard the blood whooshing through her skull and opened her arms to Kyah. The bonobo was shrieking now, petrified. They clutched each other, their eyes and breaths jarring frantically together. A shuffle to her right. A faint splinter to her left. There's more than one. Ivy froze. She couldn't breathe. She was surrounded, dwarfed into the base of an enormous buttressing root. We don’t have to die together. With an almighty effort, Ivy shoved Kyah as hard as could up to the lowest branches.
Kyah screeched hysterically, pacing above her with desperate eyes.
“Stay Kyah! Stay up there, don’t come down!”
In a frozen moment of fear, Ivy considered her options. She would run. Through them, if need be. She could lead them away from Kyah and fight for her survival as far away as she could manage. Her intentions solidified in an instant as she pressed up against the wood, preparing to spring forward. She felt the adrenaline building in her coiled muscles.
But then, before she could even move, a noise made Ivy's blood run cold. Whispers.
“Who are you?” She had tried to scream it, but barely a breath escaped with the words.
“What do you want from me?” Oxygen came thick and fast into her lungs and her head grew light. She was hyperventilating. Ivy pressed back into the wood. Breathe, Ivy. Breathe.
The whispers grew louder. The words were fast and confusing, in a language Ivy didn’t understand. She shook violently, sweat running in rivulets down her face, neck and shoulder blades. Her heart tried to escape her body and she could no longer stand it.
“What do you want?” she screamed into the trees, “Come out!” Birds above her scattered in fright and a deathly silence entombed the forest.
The shadows in front of her broke and a creature stepped into the light. A r
ush of cold ripped through Ivy’s body despite the warm air. Her knees hit the hard ground before her mind understood. With eyes like saucers, Ivy reeled.
The man staring back at her was in miniature, oddly proportioned, his features every bit as human as her, but not human at all. He stood waist high with strong sinuous muscles and a thickly shaped body. Tangles of grey hair contrasted against his coffee-coloured skin, creased with age. Pronounced brow ridges framed his face, shadowing a broad flat nose and wide cheekbones. He had no forehead and his skull was long and low beneath the matted hair. His head was lifted proudly and he watched, with an aura of quiet intelligence, appraising Ivy with piercing dark eyes. There was no mistaking what this creature – this man – was. Ivy had come across artistic interpretations of the fossils in her research. She had pursued them in fact, diligently, passionately, aching to put a face to the bones.
“Homo flores-iensis.” The words escaped her lips in whisper. At once, the pieces fit. Ivy knew where she was. The jigsawed landscape, this island - so breathtaking and surreal - now had a name. It was Flores. The fossils had been found nowhere else. The volcanic peaks and rifts that she had seen from the outcrop took on new meaning. She had seen this place in photos; but the reality of it was even more beautiful, raw and untouched and… epic.
… Reality… Her mind felt splintered and her breath hitched. Maybe this wasn’t reality at all. Was this a dream? Had she obsessed over the dig and its bizarre children so much that she’d become trapped in her own warped daydream? She’d been unconscious for so long – did I hit my head?
Ivy squeezed her eyes shut. Pain. If I pinch myself, I’ll know I’m dreaming. She pinched her arm. It wasn’t convincing enough. Ivy’s fingers found the bloodied patch on her jeans and she pressed hard. Her eyes shot open at the responding pain. Real pain. The man was still staring; but now concern seemed behind his eyes. Ivy grappled for an explanation. Her thoughts of escape had been overwhelmingly blind-sided.
Her mind raced, exhausting all logical thought. Leaving her with… insanity.
If – against the laws of nature and physics – she had been… shifted… to this place - why here? Why Flores? And this man, Ivy stared in disbelief, was meant to be extinct! Had she stumbled upon an undiscovered tribe so remote… so inaccessible… that no-one knew they were even here? And if she was so inaccessible, how would she find help? The sudden realisation that humans - her own type of humans - lived in Flores as well offered a glimmer of hope. If I can survive long enough to find them.
Ivy looked into the man’s eyes. He seemed to be waiting for something.
“Hello” she said. The word sounded stupid.
His eyes were strangely round. They tightened thoughtfully and after a moment, he whispered toward the shadows. Another man stepped into the light, younger and stronger with a scarred and twisted face. A thick wooden spear with flaked stone point was held tight in his fist. He raised it swiftly to her chest. Ivy held back a choke. Adrenaline surged again and her bent knees began to ache. There are only two of them and I’m taller. I’ll run. Fast.
They seemed to guess her intentions. As if melting from the dark places, nine more of them appeared, surrounding her and each clutched a weapon with varying degrees of distrust etched onto their face. They were a menacing sight, even with their diminutive stature. This was their territory and although she was dubiously faster, Ivy knew she was defenceless. She had studied the deadly accuracy of those weapons they carried. Blood residues left on those same tools suggested that their victims were often bigger and stronger than she was. I’ve got no hope.
“Please,” Ivy whispered, “Don’t kill me… us, god, not Kyah…”
Unable to stand the isolation any longer, Kyah dropped with a thud and scrambled into Ivy’s arms, screeching. The hunters drew back, hissing and muttering at each other as Ivy clutched her, twisting to shelter her charge.
A brusque command broke through the hunters’ circle. Weapons lowered hesitantly. Still collapsed on her knees, bent over with Kyah’s weight, Ivy met the old man's eyes squarely as he stepped past the others. Ivy felt the heat of his body close in. She smelt a musky odour mingled with sweat and the dampness of the forest in his skin.
“Hiranah,” he said softly, beckoning to her.
I know that voice! Soft, guttural, warm against the back of her neck…Violent fear came with recognition. It was his voice in my bedroom… at the rally… in my lab! He followed me here! The misplaced logic suddenly fell horrifyingly into place. No, this is their home… I’ve been summoned.
The old man’s eyes searched Ivy’s intently for a long moment. Then he ushered the hunters back into the trees and turned to beckon her with a disproportionately long arm for his height.
“Keecha.. sha sha kika monahta…”
Ivy got to her feet trembling, grateful for the strength of the buttressing trunk behind her. It suddenly dawned on her. I have no choice. I go with them and risk everything, or stay here and die.
A hesitant step forward brought a nod of approval from the man. He took a few steps forward, glancing behind to her. Hitching Kyah higher into her arms, Ivy straightened her shoulders and boldly followed tiny footprints through the forest, unsure where they would lead.
It's time to live the dream. Or the nightmare.
A wiry woman at the Anthropology reception desk turned to greet Orrin with a haughty smile. Her eyes quickly assessed his handsome face and athletic arms and she re-arranged her own face into something she considered more flattering. Thin, brightly painted lips offered her name and assistance.
“Good morning,” said Orrin, tapping his fingers nervously under the counter frame. “I’d like the office number for Ivy Carter please. She's a doctorate research student here. Archaeology.”
“Carter was it? Mmmm, just one moment please.”
Battering eyelashes lidded her focus as the secretary browsed a list behind the counter.
“I'm so sorry; we don't have anyone here by that name. I'm sure you wouldn't have misheard it …?” Her voice dripped with false flattery.
“No, it's definitely Ivy Carter,” said Orrin surprised. “Audrey, was it? Could you check for the name Ivy then, please? She's been here for years. She tutors undergrads.”
“Ivy, Ivy, Ivy … noooo, so sorry love, but I'm afraid there's no Ivy here. Perhaps you're in the wrong department. Sociology is just up the hall.” A girlish wink and apologetic smile looked obscenely misplaced on her heavily made-up face.
Orrin didn't move. His fingers gripped the countertop. Eight years in the department and no record of her? No office? This was all wrong.
Audrey raised a pencilled eyebrow at his lingering presence. “Perhaps there is something else I can do for you?” Beyond the smoked glass partitions, Orrin heard muffled chortles and inwardly groaned. He didn't have time for this game.
“Listen, Audrey, I've got to find this woman. Can you cross-check her with your tutor list? Or perhaps an old database? I really need her number.”
Audrey's smile dissolved like sugar and her haughty lips returned.
“I'm sorry, but our records have no such person. I'm afraid you're in the wrong department … or perhaps you've been given a false name.” A smirk settled onto her mouth and looked at home.
Shite. Orrin took a deep breath and tried again, attempting his most charming smile. “Perhaps if you could call …”
“I'm sorry sir,” Audrey interrupted, “I have a lot of work to do. Good-day.” She spun on her heel and disappeared.
This is bollocks! Orrin knew Ivy was here somewhere and he would find her. His memory raked over their past conversations. She'd been in that department for over eight years. She did have an office, that napkin proved it. He just didn't know where. This receptionist was obviously new. Or possibly just chronically unhelpful. The residue lab. Scanning the directory beside the elevator, Orrin located the most likely laboratory. He'd go there. Jayne! She'd have Ivy’s number.
He followed the third floor c
orridor to its end and rapped on the door. Jayne whisked it open with a bright smile.
“Hey there, come in!” She stepped back into the room with her white laboratory coat billowing and seated herself behind a row of test tubes and pipettes. An airmailed box was open in front of her, its contents spilled across the bench. Indie music spilled from a dusty radio.
Orrin relaxed against the door frame, desperately thankful for her normality. He shook his head, smiling. Not mental after all. After a few seconds Jayne looked up, surprised by his lack of movement.
“You all right, hon? Am I in your way?” She looked around, and then flashed Orrin a winning smile.
He found his voice. “Of course not, I’m just here for Ivy. Is she around?”
Jayne winced apologetically. “Ivy? Oh jeez, I’m sorry! I'm new here; I just assumed you needed the lab.”
Orrin frowned. “Why on earth would I need the lab? I work in Physics.”
“Oh-kay. Well, I didn’t know that. Anyway, as you can see, I’m the only one here today.”
Orrin looked around the room. The other benches were clearly empty and a single door from the back wall had a radioactive sign lit up above it. His own small office had been refurbished from a similar unused laboratory extension. In this case however, the lit sign suggested radiation of biological samples was in process. No one would be in there.
“Right, got it,” Orrin said. “Well, can you tell Ivy I dropped by? I was worried about her – and the chimp, after they left my lab. I couldn’t find her.
“Who’s Ivy?”
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