“But you must have known civilization was closing in on you, from all the planes flying over.” Quentin recalled again that he still hadn’t seen or heard a plane since the crash.
“I have indeed seen such things. A means of travel long anticipated by imaginative thinkers. But until now these vessels passed over us harmlessly.”
Abruptly, Samuel stopped walking. He gazed into the forest ahead of them and then spoke loudly, “Noadi, gu mbakha-lekhé wa-mol-mo?”28
Quentin followed his gaze. Noadi, the Papuan who’d pierced Quentin’s chest with his spear, stood in their path. Noadi approached them cautiously. He was not carrying his spear. Instead he held what appeared to be a cord strung with white teeth.
“Gu mbakha-lekhé wa-mol-mo, Noadi?” Samuel repeated.
“Nu if-e-kha misafi gup-tekhé fédo-p. Nokhu-yanop-tu.” As he spoke, Noadi nodded at Quentin, and then at the string of teeth in his hands.29
Samuel frowned. “He would like for you to see something he has made. This is most unusual. It is rarely moved from its place of security.”
Noadi stopped before Quentin, looking him squarely in the eye. He grinned broadly.
“Nokhu-yanop-tu,” Noadi said. His singsong voice held no threat. He pulled the string of teeth open before Quentin and spoke rapidly. The cord was long, with perhaps two hundred teeth. The teeth were quite large, probably taken from crocodiles since no other large predators were found in New Guinea. At one end of the string the teeth were much larger, some of them ten centimeters in length—too large for even the most impressive crocodiles Quentin had seen. Noadi held the string of teeth closer, and Quentin saw that they were each etched with a picture. Intrigued, he moved closer and reached for the strand.
Samuel cleared his throat. “Quentin, I wouldn’t…”
Noadi’s eyes grew wide, but then he handed it over. “Nokhu-yanop-tu.” Noadi sat on the ground and gestured for Quentin to sit across from him. As Quentin settled onto the ground, Samuel exchanged words with the Papuan.
“Noadi believes it is important to show this to you. I lived among these people for many years before I was allowed to see it.”
Quentin looked closer. The level of detail of the etched images was astonishing. “What exactly is it?”
“It is an account of the history of the tribe. Each tooth shows an event of significance.”
Noadi pointed to the larger teeth at one end of the cord and spoke rapidly. The first tooth showed three people in the forest. Beyond them was water, perhaps the ocean. They appeared to be hunting, carrying weapons and game. The image wrapped around the back of the tooth and Quentin lifted it to see underneath. The hunters were confronting a palm tree with a large bulge in the trunk.
Quentin looked at the next tooth. The image was unmistakable. It was a Papuan man, suspended against a background of stars. Quentin turned it over. There was the Earth, drawn in great detail, standing out prominently against the stars. The image even revealed continents, misshapen in the same pattern that Quentin remembered from his dream.
“The dream!” Quentin said.
“Indeed,” Samuel said. “A consequence of the Lamotelokhai.”
“I’ve never seen artistry like this, Samuel, not unless it was created with the help of microscopes and lasers. How do they do this?”
“These are a people of extraordinary patience, as they do not grow old. I have known Noadi to labor for eight years on the design of one tooth. The pictures represent hundreds of years of efforts, and the events they show occurred throughout thousands of years. I believe that the tribe discovered the Lamotelokhai on the northern shore of New Guinea ten thousand years ago, perhaps more.”
“Ten thousand years? What evidence do you have of that?”
“It could be much more. But details I have assembled from their narratives suggest this. Also, observe the crocodilian teeth before you. Notice how the teeth decrease in size from one end to the other. It is not only a record of depicted events, but also a record of the species of crocodiles available to the artist. Such significant change requires many thousands of years.”
Quentin’s mind reeled. Papuans were thought to have traveled in boats to New Guinea at least forty thousand years ago, one of the oldest cultures isolated from the rest of the world. To think that this was a detailed pictorial history of such a span of time was beyond belief. If so, the value of the string of teeth before him would be immeasurable.
“I have scrupulously pieced together a scanty picture of historical events,” Samuel said. “But these people are very shy, often unwilling to discuss matters at length, if at all. And the elder, Matiinuo, whom you have met, is the only tribesman living today who lived when they discovered the Lamotelokhai. Matiinuo is notoriously difficult to talk to.”
Quentin stared at him. “You’re not trying to tell me Matiinuo is ten thousand years old.”
“No,” Samuel replied. “Most likely much older. Ten thousand is only a moderate guess.” He returned Quentin’s gaze without faltering.
“Jesus Christ,” Quentin muttered. He looked more closely at the teeth. There were depictions of hunting and fishing, and what might have been a marriage ritual. One image near the beginning of the string caught Quentin’s eye. It showed a frightening creature that resembled a man, but with longer arms and a stooped posture. In one hand the creature held what appeared to be a human head, and the ground around it was littered with bodies. Gazing at the tiny scene, Quentin felt a chill.
He pointed at the creature. “What is this thing?”
Noadi simply stared at the tooth grimly, but Samuel said, “That tooth depicts an event that has shaped the villagers’ beliefs regarding the Lamotelokhai. The powers of the Lamotelokhai intoxicated one of their tribe. He apparently ran amok, madly killing fellow tribesmen before being destroyed. It was this event which induced the indigenes to never again communicate directly with the Lamotelokhai.” Samuel touched the next tooth on the string. “And which induced them to employ the mbolop in communicating with the substance.”
Quentin looked closely. The tooth showed a villager engaged in a sign language conversation with a tree kangaroo.
Near the middle of the string was a scene of the ocean shoreline, with jungle and water. Men in canoes were on the beach. He turned the tooth over and saw that the boat people were being killed by Papuans with spears. Beyond this tooth were more images of battle, each with bodies on the ground, killed by tribesmen with spears. Quentin glanced from tooth to tooth. The second half of the string contained dozens of scenes of killing. Scattered among them were pictures of such activities as building tree houses and hunting. Quentin was witnessing an account of the populating of the island of New Guinea over the centuries, reflected by increasing encounters with outsiders.
Quentin looked at Noadi, who grinned back at him. “Which of these pictures did you make, Noadi? Samuel, can you ask him that?”
“There is no need,” Samuel said. “Noadi created them all. He has witnessed all the events shown, but for the first ones. Matiinuo described the first encounter with the Lamotelokhai to him. Noadi is nearly as old as Matiinuo, as are other members of this tribe.”
The string of teeth was the most stunning artistic achievement Quentin had ever seen, and it looked oddly out of place lying in the leaf litter and mud. “Why have you shown me this?”
“An excellent question,” Samuel said. He exchanged words with Noadi.
The Papuan pointed at the teeth, running his finger from one end to the other, and then jabbing at the last few. “Nokhu-yanop-tu. Wolakholol lembu-té-n-da.” He then pointed at Quentin. “Yu nggulun. Yu manop. Gu di mbolombolop.”30
“Most distressing,” Samuel said. “It appears that Matiinuo’s dismal view of the tribe’s fate is shared by Noadi, and probably the rest of the tribe. He would like you to know that his people have lived an existence worthy of respect, or perhaps reverence.”
“Nokhu-yanop-tu,” Noadi repeated, pointing to the last few teeth on the s
tring.
Quentin looked. There was a scene with men wearing clothing. One of them lay dead on the ground. The other kneeled with his hands up. Quentin turned over the tooth. A tree kangaroo sat between the kneeling man and his attackers. “This is you, isn’t it?”
Samuel nodded, his face grim.
The next tooth showed a man who was plainly Samuel, no longer fully clothed, but wearing his unmistakable vest. He was pointing to what looked like a fallen tree with numerous holes in it. There were several small animals in the scene as well.
The second to the last tooth showed another clothed man. He was on his knees, a spear protruding from his body, facing his attackers. Quentin presumed this was Peter.
The last tooth was unfinished, an image only roughly outlined and not yet etched into the surface. But there was no doubt what it was—the fuselage of the Twin Otter, twisted and on its side. Beside it stood several people, with more lying on the ground.
“Maf lebil lefu-manda,” Noadi said. From his pouch he pulled out another tooth and held it out to Quentin.31
“Curious,” Samuel said. “Noadi says that this tooth will be the last.”
Quentin accepted the tooth from the child-like hand. Unlike the image of the plane, this one was detailed, etched into the surface as if it were completed long ago. Quentin stared at it. He turned it over. It was the same on both sides—nothing but stars. He held the tooth up to Samuel. “What does it mean?”
Samuel frowned at the tooth. “It is all that they believe will soon remain. After the world is turned upside down.”
Chapter Thirteen
Mbaiso signed, drawing a T in the air with a curl at one end. Bobby promptly saw a vision of a tree kangaroo scampering up a tree and then a rope ladder falling and hanging there, ready to be climbed. The vision faded. Mbaiso signed again, followed by another vision, this time a tree kangaroo bouncing on a wet branch, releasing a shower of rainwater.
And so it continued. The pace of the lesson picked up, until Bobby thought his brain might boil over. At first, the signs had mostly to do with things the tree kangaroos did to help people. But soon the lesson shifted to human actions such as climbing, making things, and even killing. There were signs for objects such as spears, rope, and carving tools. And there were plants and animals that Bobby had never seen before. When Mbaiso paused the rapid-fire lesson, Bobby easily recalled everything he had learned.
“If we ever get home, school is going to be a breeze from now on,” he said aloud.
Suddenly the kangaroos sat up straight and twitched their ears.
Bobby looked around, but saw nothing. “What is it, guys?”
The two newer kangaroos scurried off, leaving Mbaiso and Bobby alone. Mbaiso signed, and a matching vision appeared: something moving through the trees. Mbaiso kept signing and the vision changed. A body—a Papuan—lay in the mud. The body was mangled, but it suddenly opened its eyes, sat up, and then struggled to its feet, a twisted, broken man standing before him. Then the vision vanished.
Bobby looked at the trees around him. He whispered, “What are you trying to tell me?”
“Maybe it’s telling you I am here.”
Bobby jerked around. “Addison. I didn’t see you.”
Addison’s black eyes did not blink as he moved closer.
Bobby stepped back. “Why’d you leave the tree house? Your dad will be back soon.”
Addison stopped just in front of him but didn’t speak. His silence was unnerving.
“Why did you scare Carlos like that?” Bobby said.
“I wanted him to remember.”
“I remember the other airplane now, like you said. Is that what you mean?”
Addison actually blinked. “Did you see what he saw?”
“What who saw?”
Addison looked confused for a moment, and then he said, “The boy, Addison.”
Bobby frowned. “I saw the other plane. I even saw people in it.”
“Yes, people,” Addison said. “Do you know who?”
Bobby frowned even more and didn’t answer.
“You don’t remember. Keep trying, then you’ll see.” Addison turned to walk away.
“Addison, did you die? Back at the airplane?”
Addison stopped and turned around.
“I can talk to the tree kangaroos now,” Bobby said. “Mbaiso showed me this dead guy that got up, and then you showed up. And the Papuans, they tried to bury you. And you said so yourself. You said you went to the place of the dead. What happened to you?”
Addison approached until he was close enough to touch. Bobby braced himself for a bad odor, but all he smelled was wet soil and humid air. He whispered, “Are you still Addison?”
The dark eyes stared through him. “I know about Addison.”
Bobby wanted to step back, but he held his ground. “What does that mean?”
Addison held up his hands, looking at the palms. “I am someone else, too. He is Ahea. I have his memories.”
“How can that be?”
Addison rubbed one hand on the other, like there might be something hidden under the surface. “I don’t know. But I will find out.” He turned away again. “You should go to it, too. You can listen to it. The others won’t know how.”
Bobby moved to catch up with him. “Listen to what? I don’t know—”
Mbaiso jumped in front of them. He bleated, almost like a sheep, a sound Bobby had not yet heard him make. Both boys stopped walking. Then Mbaiso signed with his tiny arms. The movements came so fast that Bobby could not follow them. He saw visions, but they were quickly swept away by new ones. There was the lump of stuff in a tree—the Lamotelokhai—and tree kangaroos near it. They were touching it, maybe talking to it.
Suddenly Addison shouted, “Ané kha-fén! Nokhu ima-fon khüp Lamotelokhai! I will see it myself.” Mbaiso didn’t move. Addison lunged at him. Mbaiso jumped, but Addison caught his tail. Before Bobby had a chance to stop him, Addison lifted Mbaiso with both hands and swung him over his head. Mbaiso bleated once more before Addison smashed him to the ground. The kangaroo bounced, rolled over, and was still.32
Bobby’s skin prickled. Static filled his ears like a TV signal suddenly cut off. He stared at Mbaiso’s broken body. “You bastard!” he cried. “Why’d you do that?”
“It made me mad,” was all Addison said. And then he walked away.
Bobby ran in front of him and shoved his chest as hard as he could. “He didn’t do anything to you! What’s wrong with you?”
Addison threw himself at Bobby, driving him to the ground. Bobby tried punching at the face above him, but Addison grabbed his wrists. His grip was too tight to pull free, so tight that Bobby yelled from the pain. Addison stared down at him.
Bobby’s anger turned to fear. “Let go, Addison! Really, it hurts!”
Addison didn’t budge.
Bobby tried to think. “I need to help Mbaiso. You might have killed him.”
Addison’s faced changed a little, into what might have been a smile. “Killed doesn’t mean anything anymore. You know that.”
“You smashed him—hard.”
“He made me mad. Now you’re making me mad. The mbolop isn’t dead.”
Bobby turned his head to look at Mbaiso. “He looks dead.”
“The mbolop doesn’t die. I know, because Ahea knows.” Addison’s grip grew even tighter, and gray veins appeared through the skin of his forehead. “The other airplane, Bobby—remember, or I’ll make you!”
Bobby tried to turn onto his side so he could push himself up. But it was no use. “Okay, will you let me up if I try? I want to help Mbaiso.”
Addison was silent, waiting.
Bobby squeezed his eyes shut. And then he was back in the plane again. Mr. Darnell was talking to them. “That’ll give you guys a chance to get it straight,” he said. Bobby smiled at this and stared out the window. And then his vision started to blur. There was something there. For a moment he saw only shapes and surfaces. Then the other pl
ane moved away. He saw the wing, and windows in a row, with shapes beyond them. And then the plane was gone.
Bobby couldn’t remember anything more. It had happened too fast. He opened his eyes. “I saw the plane, Addison. People were on it. That’s all I remember. Now let me up.”
Addison’s face changed. At first Bobby thought he was going to laugh. But the grin grew larger, until it looked like his cheeks might split open. Addison’s breathing was wet and loud, and his tightened mouth trembled. Bobby pushed against him, trying to back away, but the ground held him in place.
“Nu khén-telo! Gekhené pesua im-le!” Addison’s voice was shrill. “I’ll make you remember!” Addison let go of his wrists and grabbed Bobby’s face. He yanked Bobby’s head from the ground until it was inches from his own.33
Bobby struggled. He struck Addison’s face, but Addison didn’t even flinch. Finally he stopped fighting. “Okay, I’m trying!” He could feel Addison’s wet breath, and he held his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to see him. He tried slowing the memory down.
He was on the plane. His vision faded, and he saw the shapes. The other plane was so close that he could have touched it if he could have reached through the window. Bobby slowed the memory down, almost to a stop. The plane slowly moved away—the windows on the side—the shapes beyond them. The shapes were dark, except for the last one, near the rear of the plane. The shape was a person’s head. It was lighter than the others because it was turned to the window, looking out. The face seemed familiar.
Bobby paused the memory and strained for more detail. Suddenly he recognized the face. There was no mistaking it. It was Addison, looking back at him with wide eyes.
Diffusion Box Set Page 16
