“If the probech were sighted by the river below the rifts, then they will have to follow the grassland to where the white water falls in the forest,” Krue said, with gruff authority. His lips and teeth were stained dark red and he spat red saliva onto the ground. “We should approach with the morning sun behind us; it will be easier to travel. We must be careful below the river crossing. Karathah hunt those lands now. They’re crossing further into our territory.” Krue looked pointedly at Ivy and she recoiled. “If we meet them, there will be trouble.” He pressed his stained lips tightly together and challenged her with a cold stare. Ivy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Apparently, she was not as welcome as she’d been led to believe. She shrank a little closer to Xiou.
Oblivious to the exchange, the other hunters continued to discuss their plans. Krue spat on the ground again before he responded with a sour expression. The others nodded deferentially.
Ivy watched Krue silently. She’d never disliked a person so quickly before. He was a morbidly serious man. Ivy gathered he was still well respected for strategy and hunt lore, although his aging body and many disfigurements probably limited an active role. Krue shot another look of disdain at Ivy as the conversation continued around them. Respected or not, Ivy thought, this man sure as hell isn’t aging gracefully.
“Hear this, Hiranah,” Xiou turned cheerfully to Ivy, interrupting her silent stand-off with Krue. “You will see a probech before the week is out. Would you like that?” Xiou’s positivity was infectious.
“That would be -” Ivy began.
“No!” Krue interjected. His eyes stayed fixed on Ivy. “The karathah can not come with us. She already forced us to lose fresh shirakan meat that would have fed us for days. She is bad luck.” The old man's eyes sought support from those listening beyond the circle. A few of them nodded and grunted in agreement.
Gihn stepped forward from Shahn’s hearth, his hands open in placation. “Hiranah is here to save us Krue. We left that shirakan for our own good.”
“So says she.” Krue shot Ivy a look of deep distrust. “She has given us no reason the meat could not be used. Where is the proof that it was bad? In the time that karathah has been here, she has done nothing to help. For all we know, she is trying to starve us to death.”
Gihn scowled. “Hiranah may be a giant one, but she is here to help us survive the karathah, not kill us as one of them.”
Krue's eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted with anger. “We will all regret her, Gihn,” he said. “The karathah are nothing but poison to our land. They are hunting our probech too hard, they are stealing our food. There are more of them every day while we slowly die, and now -,” Krue glared at Ivy, then spat a mouthful of red juice at her bare feet, “Now you have brought one into our home.”
Xiou jumped to his feet, furious, but Setian held him back.
Instead, it was Kora who spoke up. Ivy saw a flicker of fear in her eyes as she straightened her shoulders to address Krue. “Stop insulting her! Hiranah fell from the sky to help us!”
“Then we should have left her where she fell!” Krue’s reply was mocking and Kora shrunk back from his words. “This karathah has done nothing to save us; she is as bad as the rest of them,” Krue said. “It will already be a dangerous hunt with so few strong bodies; we don’t need the added burden and bad luck of this woman who contributes nothing!” There was a muted scattering of agreement at his words.
Tears stung Ivy's eyes and she blinked them away furiously. As much as she wanted to defend herself, in all honour, she couldn't. Krue was right. She contributed nothing. His family was dying. Whether a Slow Death stole the potential for new life from within them, or a Swift Death wasted their strong bodies one by one, they were dying. And she was letting it happen.
Xiou shook off Setian's hands. This time he spoke with an even tone but there was hostile conviction behind his words.
“Hiranah will come to the probech hunt, or I will not.” There was a sharp intake of breath around the hearth. Xiou was the strongest and most fearless hunter they had. His face wore the terrible scars to prove it. It was through his dedicated leadership that the younger ones still managed to bring as much food as they did and Xiou kept their spirits high and spears focussed, despite the Swift Death that was crippling their band and had taken his brother.
Krue kicked the ground, burning Ivy’s eyes with a pall of ash and dust.
“Then we will come back empty handed.” With a final look of resentment, the old man turned and retreated to his own hearth at the back of the cave.
As darkness fell, Ivy sank against the cave wall on her sleeping mat. She watched Xiou and Shahn at the fire, clearing away the family meal and conversing quietly with Shahn’s young sister Leihna. Kyah and Trahg had spent the last hour rolling tight raffia balls to each other across the dirt. Now, the tiny boy lay dozing in Kyah’s lap as the bonobo gently groomed his hair. Kyah caught Ivy’s eye in the flickering firelight.
“Baby- sleep-”, Kyah signed.
“It’s time for bed,” Ivy replied quietly. Kyah relinquished the little boy to his sleeping mat and soothed him as his eyes fluttered. Shahn rubbed her forehead against the bonobo’s affectionately as she took over the task of settling him. Kyah didn’t even flinch.
“Sleep- good- Ivy”, the bonobo signed. Then she picked her way to the mouth of the cave to find her nesting tree for the night. She always nested close by and rose at sunrise to search for food, usually with Trahg and Turi following her. Ivy had never seen Kyah so calm and self-assured.
After all this time, she’s healing.
Gihn had also disappeared into the forest. Although Shahn had tried to ease Ivy’s guilt, she knew his faith in her was faltering. Krue was right. I contribute nothing. Krue and his followers were turning on her and Ivy didn’t blame them one bit. It was the other hobbits she blamed, the ones that needed and wanted her here. The ones that called her in the first place. Deep down, Ivy didn’t want to give them what they sought. What they had stolen from her. Life.
An aching loneliness bit her heart.
The smooth river stone was still clasped warm in her hand and she rolled it over. The silhouette of an ivy leaf was now engraved deeply into its surface. The shape hadn’t been intentional; it had just seemed to belong there so Ivy had etched it into being without conscious thought.
She squeezed her eyes shut and let her fingers seek the twin image on her thigh. She could feel it there, beneath the fabric of her jeans. That mark that had once made her feel so unique, now made Ivy ache with loss as she desperately wished that the fingertips caressing it were not her own. Orrin. Her heart willed him to hear the words. I miss you. I really do. And I’m so sorry. She didn't notice the tears that slipped down her face and pooled in the hollow of her throat.
Ivy saw Orrin’s face in the darkness of her mind. She felt the crushing intensity that he had awoken within her. She clung to it like a living, breathing thing. I don’t want to give you up. Not yet. Where is that moment? The one where I wake up and find this was all a dream? Ivy pushed her forehead down into her knees in silent anguish.
She was paralysed. Never had she wanted more desperately to break away and run, to smash the faith of these people to pieces. I want to save myself. The horror of that realisation should have suffocated her in guilt but it didn't. I want to be faster and stronger than them. I want to run away and leave them to die. I’m the very thing they’re begging me to save them from. It was pitiful. Because I want to save myself. I want him. Her head fell back against the wall, but she refused to open her eyes. The anger welling up inside her was so human. She pushed it away, but it fought its way back. She was drowning.
A flash of warm hazel eyes dragged her back up and Ivy ground away the tears with her fists. She squeezed the river stone hard. I’d fight for you Orrin. If I had a choice. She let her eyes fall open. But I don’t. The cave was still there. The hobbits, with their all vulnerabilities and anger and naive faith were still there.
; I could save them. Of course I could. But I shouldn't.
Because the very traits Ivy had hidden from herself for so many years, were out there now, waiting for them. Humans were callous. They were selfish. Violent. They stole and then pushed and pushed the weakest to any edge they could find. I am human. Ivy couldn’t even try to deny the very same urges that fought within her.
But they need me.
Ivy strongly suspected that the fates of these people were no longer moved by natural selection. There were forces at work here, stronger, urgent forces that were stealing their potential to exist.
Human forces.
And if the hobbits were dying by human hand, then it was only right that a human hand should reach out to save them.
Ivy pulled back the edge of her sleeping mat. The hide and dried grass she slept on was beginning to smell like home. If I have to stay here, then I'm doing it on my own terms. This is my life now. She dug into the compacted cave floor with her nails, scraping and dislodging the dirt until the hole was big enough. She pressed her lips to the ivy-engraved river stone. Even if I can't have you Orrin, perhaps one day, you might have a part of me. Ivy covered the stone again with dirt, pushing it hard with the heel of her hand. She flattened the corner of her bed roll back on top of the disturbed earth. It was buried now, just like the life she had lost.
I’m beginning again, she decided, and this time, I’m choosing my own fate.
Ivy searched her mind for answers long after sounds of sleep filled the cave.
The idea had struck him like lightning in the dead of night. With a curled lip and smug face, Neil sat pulping the vomit flavoured fruit against a rock. I’m a fucking genius. He’d picked the fruit under ripe and had no intention of eating it. When he was finished, Neil placed ten tiny marsupial skulls in a horseshoe row, one beside the other upside down, as makeshift bowls. It hadn’t been easy to catch so many, the little bastards were fast, but his patience had eventually paid off, both for food and this. He filled each skull-cup to the brim with pulpy fruit then turned to his next task.
Neil grunted as he twisted the copper bracelet over his wrist bones and hand. It had been there a long time. He’d put on weight. Years ago, he’d been offended when Francine had insisted he wear it to ease the arthritic twinges in his joints. It was a sign of weakness. Of age. Not to mention a complete load of crap. She was so damn gullible. He almost smiled at the memory, but not quite. She’d always had a weakness for those palm readers that lure tourists in foreign markets. But his then-wife was insistent on the bracelet and in a rare effort to appease her, he’d put it on and left it there. Now, it might finally be useful. The copper was hard but malleable enough. It took Neil the best part of two hours to chop it into five sections using a roughly sharpened stone, each piece a little more than two centimetres long. Disassembling his watch band was easier. With a bit of force, the zinc alloy broke into heavy links of three a piece, giving him five separate bits. He pocketed the cracked analogue face.
Neil lay the short wedges of copper and zinc in alternate fashion along the connecting edges of the bowls; zinc, copper, zinc, copper… until he had a line of ten. Each end of metal arched between two skulls, dipping down into the sour fruit cupped inside. Ten perfect battery cells, about half a volt each. Once all ten skulls were connected in a single line, he pulled the USB cable he still carried from his back pocket. One end was jacked for his mobile, the other for a computer. In his frequent travel between offices, this cable was a lifeline for transferring and storing files on the go. It had been Dimitri’s idea, and though Neil would never admit it, it was a good one. He’d been moments from downloading the data in that physics lab with this cable.
Using his stone blade, Neil sliced the computer jack from the end and stripped the plastic coating from the cable. He separated the long, delicate wires out. He pushed the first wire into one end of his line of skulls, then the other wire into the opposite end. He wiped his hands clean on his trousers and pulled his dead mobile from his pocket.
Neil hesitated. His fingers were shaking. The little piece of plastic and metal was more than it seemed. It was control. It was a scrap of reality in an unreal world. The prospect of failure to revive the phone seemed somehow crueller than its death. Gritting his teeth, Neil plugged it in. Moments passed. Nothing. His heart sank.
Suddenly, the screen lit up. The battery icon switched to charge.
Neil exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His shoulders relaxed and he laughed wildly. Fucking genius. With a sigh of relief, he sat back against the tree to wait.
The pale light streaming from his cell phone screen illuminated Neil’s haggard face. It was nearly midnight. He stood high on a barren ridge south-west of his river hideout. He’d paced silently through the forest for nearly an hour to get there, with only the waxing crescent moon to light his way.
Neil was filthy but renewed in purpose. His hands held steady. All trace of alcohol was gone from his system. His body was stronger, his thoughts clearer. Neil spun the device in his fingers, contemplating the threat he'd been issued such a short time ago by his colleagues. The CEO had cornered him at a media junket.
“You’re walking a fine line, Neil. I’m not going to cover for you again. The women, the booze… the press are all over this event. Go home.”
“Who’s complaining Barry?” He’d turned with a leering smile to the blonde trailing him. “This one’s not, that’s for sure.”
“The Board is and I am. Get out of here and sober up. We can’t afford another mistake.”
Neil stiffened. “You give me incompetent staff and tell me I make mistakes? That project was a mess from the start; I’m just your bloody scapegoat.”
“There’ll be an internal review. It was badly managed. You’re losing your edge, Neil. You’ve let yourself go and you’re sure as hell not taking us all down with you.”
The memory jarred. Neil took a deep breath and looked out from the frigid precipice. He was high above sea level. His breath misted as it left him and he gritted his teeth. The company had lost faith in him. They sought to send him quietly into retirement, like an old horse shot behind the shed. He wouldn’t let it happen. Another dark cloud resurfaced in his memory.
“Dad, it’s me, it’s Benjamin.” The voice through the telephone receiver was hesitant.
“Benjamin? Yes, what is it?”
“Well, I was just wondering- I haven’t seen you in a while and I thought maybe… well there’s a Fathers Day lunch at school. Mum says I’ll be back home next Wednesday so I can go. Maybe you could come with me?”
Neil could hear the beeping of medical equipment in the background. Another round of chemo.
“It won’t take long… it’s just lunch.” The boy’s voice implored softly. “All the other dads will be there.”
“I’m sorry Benjamin; I’m travelling interstate at the moment. You can take Stephen.” Francine’s new husband would no doubt have offered anyway. Neil looked at his watch, aggravated by the attempt at guilt. Probably Francine’s idea. She’d made the boy too soft.
“But I was hoping… Okay Dad. I’m sorry I called.”
“It’s fine. I have to go. Perhaps next month.”
“Yes Dad.”
The quiet voice faded from his mind.
Benjamin was nearly eleven. Neil still resented the way Francine had indulged the child. Especially now. Life was hard and the sooner the boy understood it, the better he would survive in the world. The stronger he would be. And he would need to be strong.
Neil squeezed his eyes shut and shook the chill from his neck. There was nothing he could do for Benjamin, he knew that. What the child really needed was more time. Time to find a cure for the disease that bound him. Time was something Neil couldn’t provide. No father could. Once more, the bitterness of another’s disappointment seethed in him.
Neil refused to accept that loss as he refused to accept the other. He resented their judgement. The Board of Directors, the w
hole damn department, the boy. Neil may not control time, but he would damn well control this situation. He was not too old, too slow or incapable. He would prove them all wrong.
Dark strategy was his ally tonight. His theories needed to be tested. This place was far enough away from the cave and river to prevent discovery by the damn ugly abominations that he spent so much of his time watching. Secondly, he wanted the space to breathe and fully dissect the ludicrous hypothesis unfolding in his mind. But most importantly, this was as far as he’d needed to hike to get a clear view of the stellar night sky.
In his current abysmal circumstance, the built-in digital compass of his phone was proving a life-saver. The dense canopy of the forest usually prevented him navigating by star-path; he couldn’t get a clear enough view to identify the South Celestial Pole. Tonight would be different. He held the device up to test its accuracy. The true magnetic compass swung a digital pointer to North and Neil looked out across a dark sea of volcanic jungle. His forehead creased anxiously. Although he used it sparingly, the battery was nearly half gone again.
He flicked his finger across the cracked screen searching for the GPS display. A series of twelve empty receiver boxes greeted him once again. He’d hoped that having such a clear view of the night sky might allow him to pick up any remaining GPS satellite transmissions available, however weak they may be. Neil knew that they were up there; thirty-two satellites in medium earth orbit spaced evenly around the globe. At any point in the world, he should have been able to receive four satellites simultaneously, and the earth-bound receiver would compute his exact position. If he could only access the GPS, he could find out where he was and navigate his way out. Once again, however, the receivers remained empty on the white screen.
It was clear he was no longer in Melbourne, or Sydney or anywhere else he knew – the jungle told him that much. But where he was, he had no clue. Neil shifted his fingers around the edge of the device, hoping not to obscure the antennas he knew were hidden in the circuitry and aesthetics of the phone. Nothing. Over three thousand artificial satellites are up there, and not a single one functioning. Shit. It seemed impossible, that this energy mutation could have had such a dramatic effect on every individual orbit. Even geostationary satellites were known to drift when faced with solar wind and the gravitational effect of the sun and moon. Surely one of them, somewhere, was protected and operational. Neil had seen many of those satellites launched himself in years gone by. He’d worked on their transmission logs and monitored and relayed their feedback. Nothing.
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