Obsolete Theorem

by Stan C. Smith

  She looked down at her leather-clad feet for a moment. “I sing when I am alone.”

  He decided not to push it. He assumed Skyra would now ask about where he and his team were from, but she just went back to watching the fire. He shifted his gaze to Maddy, who was standing motionless near the rear of the chamber. “Maddy, you feeling okay?”

  The drone shifted slightly. “My charge is draining faster than it should. Perhaps the arrow inflicted more damage than I originally thought.”

  “We can use the solar chargers tomorrow,” Virgil suggested.

  “At this rate, I will be depleted long before sunrise. I am now going to initiate sleep mode to reserve power that I can use in the morning to move to a suitable location for solar charging. Is there anything you would like me to do before I sleep?”

  Virgil started to say something, but Lincoln raised a hand to cut him off. “Yes, Maddy. Could you please tell us a few jokes before you sleep? We could do with a laugh.”

  Maddy’s red ring pulsed. “Despite the fact that you are trying to appease my guilt regarding my lack of usefulness, I will comply.” After a moment of silence, she said, “I seem to be having trouble recalling one. Perhaps because I have the memory of a woolly mammoth. It’s like an elephant’s but a little fuzzy.”

  “That’s the spirit, Maddy,” Jazzlyn said.

  Lincoln felt the corners of his mouth turning upward.

  Maddy said, “First we have an ice age, then we have global warming. It’s almost as if the earth is bipolar.”

  This time Lincoln released a hearty laugh, along with Jazzlyn and Derek. Even Virgil blew out a brief snort. It was like a valve had been opened, releasing the tension in the small chamber.

  Maddy’s red lights did two quick counterclockwise loops, signaling initiation of sleep mode.

  The laughter lingered for a few more seconds then faded to silence.

  Lincoln glanced at Skyra. She was staring at him without expression.

  “We’re okay,” he said. “We were laughing at something we thought was funny. I saw you laugh earlier, but I don’t suppose you laugh at the same kinds of things.”

  She continued staring for a moment. Then she plucked a stick from the pile of firewood at her side and carefully arranged it in the flames.

  Lincoln sighed. He was starting to feel chilly so he crawled inside his bag. He had offered Skyra his sleeping bag, or at least one of the ultra-compact jackets from the gear bag, but she seemed confused by the offer as well as the gear itself, so he’d given up. Now he was glad to have the bag.

  His raw nerves and aching muscles gradually relaxed as he went back to watching Skyra’s face. How bizarre it was to share a cave and campfire with living Neanderthals, one of whom actually spoke English. Perhaps what Lincoln found most surprising was that Skyra seemed not so different from himself. She was the only other person he’d ever met with the same ability to gauge people’s actions a split second before those actions were carried out. What else would he discover about this fascinating woman? What would he discover about her sister?

  Skyra abruptly snapped her head toward the chamber’s opening. She grabbed one of the crude spears and got to her feet. She kicked the other spear toward Lincoln, scattering embers across the stone slab.

  “Something comes!” she hissed. “I hear it. I smell its stinking breath.”

  “Oh, shit!” Virgil said as he scooted back from the opening.

  Lincoln shoved his sleeping bag off and grabbed the second spear. Everyone in the cave fell silent.

  “What is it?” Derek whispered.

  Skyra turned from the cave opening and stared at Lincoln. For a brief moment, Lincoln saw a change in her expression, a tightening of the muscles in her cheeks. He sensed she was about to speak.

  She let out a shriek, and from the corner of his eye, Lincoln saw Derek jump back and hit his head on the chamber’s low ceiling.

  Skyra’s shriek transformed into, “at-at-at-at-at-at… at-at-at-at-at-at.” She pointed at Lincoln and then at each of the others in turn.

  “Jesus H. Christ,” Jazzlyn exclaimed. “No freaking way!”

  “at-at-at-at-at-at… at-at-at-at-at-at.”

  Lincoln shook his head and dropped the spear, this time keeping it next to his sleeping bag. He held both hands up, palms toward Skyra. “Okay, I see that we laugh at different things. I suppose we deserved that.”

  Skyra rattled on a couple more times before sitting back down. She leaned back and spoke a few indiscernible words just centimeters from her still-sleeping sister’s ear. Then she faced Lincoln with that same teeth-in-the-mirror smile. “You are strange bolups. You make me laugh.”

  Lincoln’s heart was still racing, but he managed a smile. “Is that what your people do for fun—try to scare each other?”

  “It only scares the children of my tribe.”

  “Terrific. What do the adults do for laughs?”

  “We tell stories. We tell stories of things that did not happen—things that could not happen.”

  “You mean like tall tales? Like exaggerated stories?”

  She gazed at him without expression, obviously not understanding.

  Lincoln heard a moan. The others had repositioned themselves around the fire following Skyra’s practical joke, and now Derek was cradling his face in his hands and rocking back and forth.

  “Lincoln, he’s having another episode,” Virgil said.

  Lincoln crawled to Derek’s side. “You okay, buddy?”

  “I don’t… know,” Derek said, his hands still pressed to his face. “Aww… noooo.”

  Lincoln gripped Derek’s neck with both hands. “You’re going to be fine. Feel your face, Derek. Can you feel it? What kind of face do you have?”

  “Aww… I don’t….” Derek’s words devolved into a guttural moan.

  “Focus on what you feel,” Lincoln said. “You know what I see? I see human fingers, human arms.” He started pulling Derek’s hands from his face. “I see—”

  Derek flung his hands out, knocking Lincoln onto his back beside the fire. Derek got to his knees and threw himself on top of Lincoln, snarling and thrashing his head from side to side as if he were trying to get past Lincoln’s outstretched arms to bite his face or neck.

  “Derek, stop!” Lincoln gasped, trying to hold his friend at bay.

  Several shapes appeared above them. Everyone shouting at once. Hands grabbing Derek’s shoulders. People pleading but unable to stop the savage onslaught. Then something struck Derek’s head. Derek slowed his attack slightly. Another blow to the head. A foot shoved Derek to the side then kicked him onto his back. A sharpened tree branch pressed against Derek’s throat.

  “What is wrong with you, bolup?” Skyra demanded, pushing the spear so hard that Derek began to choke.

  Lincoln recovered his wits and grabbed the spear’s tip. “Don’t kill him! He didn’t mean it. Skyra, please.”

  “He was attacking you,” she said.

  Lincoln tried shoving the spear point away from Derek’s throat, but Skyra held it firmly in place. “It’s okay,’ he pleaded. “He’s okay. Tell her, Derek. Tell her you’re okay now.”

  Derek finally seemed to realize a spear was being pressed to his throat, and he gripped it with both hands. He stared up at Skyra with wide eyes. “What… what are you doing?”

  Skyra pulled the spear back, but only a few centimeters. “What is wrong with you?” she repeated.

  “It’s just something that happens to him sometimes,” Lincoln said. “He has a problem in his brain. In his head. I know the words won’t mean anything to you, but it’s a condition called clinical lycanthropy. It’s rare—that means not very many people have it.”

  “I know what rare means,” Skyra said.

  Lincoln nodded. “Okay, sorry. I just… can you move the weapon away from his neck?”

  Skyra shifted the spear point to Derek’s chest but still kept him pinned down.

  Lincoln continued. “Clinical lycanthrop
y makes him think certain things. Sometimes it makes him believe he’s changing into an animal. He doesn’t actually change, but it feels very real to him. Certain things can make it happen. It can happen when something scares him. It can happen when he sees an animal. I’m sure it happened just now because he thought a dangerous animal was coming into this cave.”

  “What did I do, Lincoln?” Derek asked. “Did I hurt someone?”

  “Don’t worry, no one got hurt. Are you okay now?”

  Derek ignored the question and stared up at Skyra. “Can you please take that thing off my chest? It hurts.”

  Skyra finally pulled the spear back. “How can a man believe he is an animal?”

  Derek shook his head slightly. “I don’t know. I wish it didn’t happen, but it does.”

  Skyra backed away from Derek as if she didn’t want to turn her back on him. Then she took her place again by her sleeping sister and fed another stick into the fire. She spoke while staring into the flames. “I do not know how you strange bolups are still alive.”

  11

  Travel

  47,659 years ago - Day 2

  Veenah had slept through the entire night. That was good—she needed to rebuild her strength. While everyone slept, Skyra had frequently ducked out of the cave to get away from the campfire smoke, which irritated her throat. Outside, beyond the smoke’s smell, she had caught the musky odor of a cave bear that was somewhere nearby. Knowing cave bears would not come near a campfire, she had slept only in short bursts, waking frequently to nurture the flames. When the sticks they had collected were finally gone, Ripple had quietly told her it would stand in the cave’s opening and watch for danger, assuring her it was quite capable of scaring off a cave bear if necessary.

  Now Skyra stood beside Ripple upon the rock ledge outside the cave, smelling the air and watching the shadows become shorter as the rising sun behind her made its way into the sky. The humans were awake—she could hear them talking within the cave—but she did not wish to speak to them. She was going to take Veenah back to Una-Loto camp, and the thought of leaving the strange bolups made her chest feel tight and uncomfortable. Speaking to them would only make it worse.

  Skyra hated bolups. She had always hated and feared them. Bolups killed nandup men and did worse to nandup women. So why didn’t she hate these bolups? Why didn’t she fear them?

  “You must stay with the humans, Skyra,” Ripple said. It was the first she had heard from the creature since long before the sun’s light had spread across the distant hills.

  She didn’t reply. Talking about it was a waste of time. She and Veenah had to return to Una-Loto camp, even though they were hated by some of their tribemates. Nandups could not survive without their tribe.

  “Your tribemates will kill Veenah, and they may kill you. This must not happen. You and Veenah are important.”

  She spat on the rock slab. “Stop saying we are important. We are just Skyra and Veenah.” She sniffed the air and scanned the jumbled boulders of the hillside one more time, then she ducked back into the cave.

  Without turning her eyes to the humans, Skyra moved straight to her birthmate. Veenah was now lying on her back, staring at the cave’s ceiling. Skyra crouched beside her and caught the scent of Veenah’s urine. “Veenah, you have tainted yourself and your waist-skin,” she said in the Una-Loto language. “Do you want wolves and lions to smell you?”

  “I do not care,” Veenah replied.

  Skyra growled, although her chest tightened even more than before. Something was very wrong with her sister. Veenah had slept hard all night, so should have been feeling better by now. Skyra pulled Veenah up until she was sitting. “Come, sister, we are going to our people. Odnus will know what medicines you need. Get up.”

  Veenah didn’t move. “Odnus will not help me.”

  “Yes, she will. Get up, sister!” Skyra grasped Veenah by the neck and pulled her to her feet. Still without turning her eyes to the humans, she guided Veenah out of the cave and into the sun’s light.

  Lincoln and Jazzlyn followed her out.

  “You’re not leaving now, are you?” Lincoln asked.

  With one arm supporting her sister, Skyra stared at the distant hills. She did not want to look at Lincoln’s face. “Yes, we are going. We belong with the Una-Loto, and Veenah needs their help.”

  “But we can help her. We treated her wounds yesterday, and we can keep treating them until she’s healed.”

  She led Veenah to the end of the rock ledge and began climbing over the boulders toward the ground below. “We belong with the Una-Loto,” she said again. “You go back to your tribe. That is where you belong.”

  Behind her, she heard Ripple say, “Skyra has made up her mind. We cannot stop her, therefore you must go with them. You alone must go, Lincoln, not the others. You must go now.”

  “Now?” she heard Lincoln say. “Why do I have to go without the others?”

  “It is more important than you can imagine. Please, Lincoln, trust me. You must go.”

  Skyra helped her sister slide down a rounded boulder.

  Veenah then shoved Skyra’s hands away. “I do not need help.”

  “Skyra, wait!” Lincoln shouted. “I need time to gather some gear. Wait for me, okay?”

  She didn’t look back, and she didn’t wait. The hurt in her chest was now worse, but looking back at Lincoln wouldn’t help. Lincoln could not come with her to Una Loto. She ignored him and kept descending the boulder hill until she and Veenah were on flat ground. They began walking side by side away from the rising sun. If Veenah could keep up this pace, maybe they would reach Una-Loto camp before the sun disappeared tomorrow.

  Skyra heard a humming sound and glanced back. When she saw Ripple flying toward her, the tightness in her chest eased up a little. She thought maybe Ripple was going to stay with the strange humans, as the creature seemed more suited to being with them than with her, but she had grown accustomed to having Ripple around whenever she was away from Una-Loto camp. The creature’s presence made her feel less alone.

  As Ripple caught up, it thrust out its legs and settled on the ground beside her. “Skyra, I must say that your self-destructive behavior is quite wearying.”

  Skyra continued walking. “Don’t talk to me if you won’t use words I know.” She glanced over at her sister. Veenah was staring ahead, as if she wasn’t even aware Ripple had joined them.

  “Please stop walking!” Ripple said, more forcefully than Skyra had ever heard the creature speak.

  She growled but didn’t stop. “Why?”

  “You must at least allow Lincoln to catch up.”

  “Why did you tell him to come with us? My tribemates will kill him.”

  “Then we need to protect him.”

  “Skyra, wait!” Lincoln shouted from far behind.

  Skyra growled again. She grabbed Veenah’s arm and came to a stop.

  Lincoln was running, awkwardly swinging a green bag in one hand. As he caught up he slung the bag over his shoulder and shoved each arm through a strap to hold it on his back. “I’m coming with you,” he said, his chest heaving to suck in air.

  Skyra gazed at his face for the first time since the sun had come up. She started to say something, to tell him to go back to his people, but she realized the tightness in her chest was now almost gone.

  Lincoln said, “You didn’t give me a chance to talk to my team or to figure out what to bring. I told them if I’m not back in a few days to leave without me.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if they’ll really do that.”

  Skyra took Veenah’s arm and started walking again.

  “You didn’t even tell us goodbye,” he said, catching up.

  Ripple, now keeping pace, asked, “Lincoln, do you have weapons in your pack?”

  “We weren’t allowed to bring firearms. I have a survival knife, but that’s about it.”

  “I have a suggestion,” Ripple said. “Skyra, you know it is not wise to travel unarmed. This terrain does
not offer the proper resources to make quality weapons, so I suggest we take a detour to the bolup camp.”

  Skyra shot Ripple a glance. The creature was right. She needed a good, sturdy spear and at least one khul. She changed directions slightly, heading for the camp.

  “What about the remaining humans, the women and children?” Lincoln asked. “And what if more men have returned from a hunt?”

  “Some risk is involved,” Ripple replied, “but traveling unarmed is foolish.”

  After walking in silence for only a few breaths, Lincoln spoke again. “Skyra, are you mad about something? You haven’t spoken to me yet this morning.”

  She grunted. She didn’t want to speak to this strange bolup for the same reason she had been reluctant to look at his face, although she couldn’t explain why. Nandups weren’t supposed to trust bolups, and they weren’t supposed to feel pain in their chests when leaving bolups.

  “Okay,” he said after waiting several breaths. “I’ll just assume you aren’t a morning person.”

  Skyra stopped at the river. Veenah’s urine-soaked waist-skin was pungent and would attract predators. Without removing either of their clothing, she guided her sister into the cool water. Their skins would dry during the day’s walking.

  While Skyra washed away Veenah’s urine, she saw Lincoln pull the bag from his back then remove the strange blue garment that covered his arms and torso. His skin was pale, and he was skinny, like many of the other bolup men Skyra had seen, with so little fat on his body that she could see his ribs and the muscles of his belly and arms. As he kneeled at the river’s edge and began splashing water onto his face, she returned her attention to Veenah. She didn’t like how the pale, skinny bolup confused her.

  After washing, Skyra once again led the group across the river and over the rocky field toward the bolup camp. Veenah was able to walk at a good pace, but she continued staring at the ground without speaking. Lincoln and Ripple, now also silent, followed behind.

  After they made their way up the first hill, Skyra stopped to peer into the valley between hills. This time she saw no woolly rhinos, cave lions, or any other creatures, so she led the group across the valley and up the next hill. Stretched out before them, beyond the narrow stream, was a vast expanse of charred trees. Without foliage to block her view, Skyra thought she could make out several dark shapes where the bolup camp should be—perhaps skin shelters that hadn’t burned. If the shelters were still there, the women and children would still be there, and so would the khuls and spears.