Five Tribes

by Brian Nelson

  Ryan nodded his head. “Okay, fine, now it’s your turn to listen to me. You’re committing suicide. Right now. If Curtiss finds out about this, you’re done! You don’t know him like I do. If you stay down here another two or three hours, I guarantee he’ll find out. And then you’ll have given him the perfect excuse to fire you. You won’t get a second chance. Not even Walden will be able to save you. Then you’ll have no way to help Emma.”

  For the first time, she didn’t fire off a retort. “What do you suggest I do?”

  “Be smart. First you need a cover story. An excuse to do tissue culture work that won’t arouse suspicion.” He looked around. “Then you have to get in a real lab for Christ’s sake, like H-lab.”

  “That’s for genetics only. I don’t have access.”

  “Yeah, but I do.”

  She raised her gaze and searched his eyes.

  He nodded.

  She fell into him, hugging him fiercely. The sudden warmth of her body against his felt wonderful.

  “Oh my god, thank you,” she said. She cradled his face in her hands and brought his forehead to hers. “Thank you, Ryan.”

  Ryan closed his eyes, savoring the touch of her fingers on his skin. Then he felt her warm lips press against his.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Foresight

  November 21, 2026

  Namibia

  The honeyguide came zipping by their heads, chirping an alarm.

  Eric and Karuma shared a glance of confusion. As their eyes locked, Eric had a horrible vision of the boy’s death. He saw the huge gray horn piercing his body, his leg gored and mangled, his head trampled and crushed. It was like no vision or daydream he had ever experienced.

  Without conscious thought he lunged at the boy, tackling and rolling with him.

  There was a loud crack of breaking branches, and the rhinoceros was suddenly there. Occupying the exact space where the boy had just stood, stomping the ground, slashing the air with its horns, enraged that the trespasser was suddenly gone, issuing angry guttural cries from deep within its lungs.

  “Karuma!” Naru cried, and dashed forward, but she was almost two hundred yards away.

  Eric and Karuma were entangled with each other on the ground. For a brief second Karuma looked confused. Then his eyes saw the rhino, still spinning and bucking in its rage.

  Eric began to untangle himself in order to run, but Karuma held him tight. “Don’t move! You are invisible to him as long as you stay still.”

  Eric froze, but it took all of his willpower. The rhino was only eight feet away . . . and unnervingly enormous. Three thousand pounds of angry power, almost six feet tall at the shoulder. The front horn was well over two feet long, and curved up to a sharp point, the second horn only slight smaller. The head was huge; Eric doubted he could have wrapped his arms around it. Its mouth sat low and flat on the muzzle; the nostrils were closed slits. As it bucked and stammered, Eric saw it kept its head close to the ground, ready to push up and pierce any object it touched.

  Finally, the rhino stopped and looked around, trying to figure out where the intruders had gone. As it turned, its huge body blocked the afternoon sun, and all Eric could see was its enormous black silhouette against the sun’s glare. That big, oblong, head. Its oval belly hanging almost to the dirt. Its feet splayed out at the bottom like massive suction cups.

  Then it turned and looked right at them, its eyes angry and cold.

  Eric froze, not daring to blink, fighting the sudden dryness in his mouth and the urge to run.

  Finally, it turned away, and Eric dared to breathe once more.

  Then Karuma did the most unexpected thing: he gave Eric a smile and a wink and stood up.

  “//nui-b! ” the boy called. Hey, fatso!

  The boy ran into the open, waving his arms. The rhino turned and saw him at once. With a loud snort, it charged. It was terrifying to behold. All that weight, suddenly moving at thirty miles an hour. The head down, almost skimming the ground, leaving no room for escape. Karuma just stood there, arms crossed, smiling. Unafraid. At the last second, he pivoted out of the way. The rhino tried to turn, but could not slow its huge bulk and went thundering past. Karuma ran up behind him and smacked him on the rump. The rhino turned and tried to gore him, but the boy was too quick and darted away. Soon they were engaged in a deadly dance. Karuma jumping and spinning, dodging and rolling. He was so light and graceful, while the rhino, huge and bulky, shook the earth as he tried to catch him.

  As Eric watched, transfixed, he realized he’d seen this before. Last night around the campfire, as the old women clapped and chanted for him. This was Karuma’s dance.

  Naru is my runner. Karuma is my trickster. I am the archer.

  At that moment Karuma seemed the embodiment of Cagn, the supreme god of the Sān. The trickster who overcomes all odds, the underdog, the swift and clever. Eric laughed and shook his head as he watched the mismatched battle, knowing that somehow the underdog would prevail. He was so captivated that he did not even notice Naru until she was less than forty feet away. Like a lioness, she was slowly stalking up behind the rhino, crawling on her belly through the grass, her long knife gripped in one hand.

  Within five minutes the rhino’s rage had turned to exhaustion. He stood panting and tired, only charging when Karuma came very close.

  Eric tried to piece the strategy together. How could Naru possibly hope to kill the huge animal with her knife? He watched as she shifted closer, trying to sneak up behind it. It must have some weakness . . .

  Then he understood their plan: with two precise cuts across the tendons of the backs of its legs Naru would leave it helpless.

  Karuma dashed in, so close that the rhino could not resist the bait. The boy ran straight for a dozen paces, letting the rhino believe it had a chance, then he adroitly pivoted aside. The rhino stopped, tired and frustrated. At that moment, Naru rose from the grass and rushed in.

  Suddenly Eric heard Khamko whistle, and Naru paused, sinking back into the grass before the rhino could see her.

  A moment later, Khamko was there. Eric watched in amazement as he walked straight up to the rhino. Eric had to check his impulse to run out and pull the old man down. When Khamko was no more than ten yards away from the rhino, he began to speak to it as if they were old friends. “You look tired, why don’t you go get a drink. There is water that way.” Khamko motioned with his bow. When the rhino made no move, Khamko made a shooing motion. “Go on!”

  To Eric’s astonishment, the weary animal did as he was told. Moving slowly away and not looking back.

  There passed between Karuma and Eric a look of mutual disbelief, then Karuma began to laugh. He ran to his mother, and they embraced. She clutched him tight and buried her face in his hair. Mere minutes ago she had thought she’d lost him. Now he was safe and in her arms. After a while she raised her head and looked at Eric. She nodded to him.

  After a time she turned to her father. “Why did you stop me?”

  “Cagn has already given us all the meat we need for now. Killing the rhino would have been a waste.”

  She seemed about to retort, but Karuma squeezed her harder and she relented.

  A minute later, Karuma broke the embrace. “Come!” he said to Eric, “Let’s claim our prize!”

  Eric had almost forgotten about the honey.

  He and Karuma circled the tall thicket trying to find a way in. While they were looking, Karuma collected handfuls of dry grass and put them in his pouch. Then, scurrying under an archway made by two buckthorn bushes, they found their way in.

  Entering the thicket was like entering another world. Cool and safe. Stooping low occasionally and crawling on their hands and knees they found three pathways crisscrossing the dense foliage. They found the old spoor of springbok, jackals, and badgers.

  Soon they found a small clearing and ther
e stood the great acacia tree.

  Finding the hive wasn’t hard. Thousands of bees buzzed in a great black cloud near a wide fork. The honey guide sat proudly on one enormous branch. She had done her job, now it was up to the Homo sapiens to do theirs.

  The smell of honey was now so strong that Eric could think of nothing else, and his salivary glands were gushing fluid. He began to climb the tree, but Karuma grabbed his arm, “Aren’t you forgetting something, Moon-man?”

  Eric shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

  “/ani,” the boy said. Smoke.

  Eric raised his eyebrows theatrically and nodded—ah, yes—angering African bees never ended well.

  Karuma took the dry grass he had gathered and—using some of the blades like rope—fashioned it into a wad that he could hold with one hand. He started a fire by rubbing a reed on a flat stick, then adding a wad of tinder. When its tiny strands began to curl orange with heat, he deposited it into the wad of grass and blew on it until it began to smoke. Then, quick as a leopard, he climbed up to the hive opening and stuffed the wad in. Using the same hollow reed he had used to make the fire, he began blowing into the wad, sending the smoke deep into the trunk.

  Eric climbed up and stood on the opposite branch. The smell of the warm honey was making him scatterbrained.

  “Whatever you do, don’t kill any of the bees,” Karuma warned. “Even if they sting you.” He gave one last long blow into the long reed. “There, that should be enough.” He produced his hunting knife and gave it to Eric, “Help me widen the opening.”

  Together they pried open the hole, ripping out sections of the dead wood. Then Karuma plunged his arm deep inside. He winced several times as he was stung, then Eric heard the honeycomb crack and the next moment Karuma’s hand emerged holding a foot-long plank of golden brown honeycomb. They both laughed with delight, and the honeyguide chirped excitedly. Karuma gently brushed and blew half a dozen bees off the comb then lowered it into his buckskin pouch. He repeated the process twice more until his satchel was full.

  “Now your turn.”

  They switched positions and Eric slowly eased his arm into the hole until it was up to his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the cool wood. The buzz of the bees was deafening, and dozens of them alighted on his arm and face. But pacified by the smoke, none stung him.

  He felt the sticky honeycomb with his fingers as well as the fuzzy bodies of the bees that covered it. He tried to gently brush some of them aside to get a better grip. He let out a hiss as the first bee stung him, then he was stung again. But now he had a grip on the comb and broke it off. That cost him two more stings. He pulled the honey out—a gooey, dripping mass of sugar and protein. He couldn’t wait any longer. He offered it first to Karuma, who took a big bite, then Eric dug his teeth in. It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, a sweet and earthy loam, made sweeter by all the work he had done that day—the miles he had run, the dangers he had survived.

  Then the honeyguide gave a belligerent chirp.

  Karuma laughed. “Don’t worry, we haven’t forgotten you.” He broke off a piece and laid it on the branch. The bird swooped down and began pecking at it. “You must always remember to give him his share. If you don’t, next time he will lead you into the lion’s den.”

  Eric gathered two more sheets of honeycomb. “That is enough,” Karuma said, “it is a big hive, but we don’t want to take too much.”

  When they had reached the ground again, Naru was waiting for them. Karuma laid out a handsome offering to the honeyguide and for the next half hour the four of them gorged themselves on honey.

  Eric had never remembered being more content, more alive, more satisfied. All he was doing was eating honey, but this simple thing felt like heaven. When he had eaten his fill, he lay back on the ground and looked up through the quaking leaves of the acacia tree at the brilliant blue sky.

  The other two soon followed suit, and they dozed there awhile, dappled in sunlight.

  Their stomachs full, their minds empty.

  Finally Naru broke the silence. “That’s enough rest for you two, you have a lot of walking to do.”

  They moaned in unison. “Why us?” Karuma asked.

  “Your grandfather and I must stay to guard the kill and prepare the meat. That means you two must go back and get the others.”

  Karuma moaned again.

  Eric did a rough calculation in his mind: it was at least six miles back to the camp, so twelve miles round trip. That would take close to three hours. He could have gone to sleep right there, but a part of him didn’t care. On this day he felt like he could do anything. He stood up stiffly, his head cloudy from the honey . . . or was it the apitoxin from the bee stings?

  “Come on, Karuma.”

  The boy made one more protest, then his infectious smile grew back across his face.

  “All right, all right!”

  When they emerged from the thicket, Khamko was waiting for them. He cleaned Eric’s wound with hot water, then applied the herbal antibiotic he had concocted, and finally stitched it up using a fishhook and line. “Rub some honey on it for the next few days,” he said, “then forget about it.”

  Then Eric and Karuma started the long hike to find the others.

  When they arrived at camp, the people were ready. Somehow they had sensed that it had been a successful hunt and they set out immediately. As they walked, Karuma told the hunting story slowly, teasing them. Narrating each part carefully, making them think, again and again, that the gemsbok got away. They cheered when they finally heard the truth. But then Karuma quieted them, and like a master storyteller, told them of the honeyguide and the rhino.

  They were amazed and cheered and laughed. Kebbi-an, the old woman who had cut him that morning, came and grabbed his arm tightly around the triceps. She shook him and wagged her finger in his face. She was so old and her voice was so hoarse that Eric had a hard time understanding her and thought he was being scolded, but then Karuma translated her words.

  “She says that you brought us luck! A hunt like this—with meat and honey—only comes along only a few times a year. She says you are now half Sān.” The woman nodded and smiled. “But only half.” Then she hugged him fiercely.

  The sun was almost down when they saw the fires that Khamko and Naru had made. Some crude shelters were hastily made, then the feast began. That night they danced the dance of the hunt. Eric, despite his fatigue, danced with them. And like many of the Sān, he danced until he was spent, until all his fears and anxieties were exorcised from his body. Until he entered a trance that held him between life and death. Under a billion pinpoints of light, with the sparks and ash rising from the fires, and within a ring of acacia trees, he danced as all people once danced.

  As he lay under his lean-to, with sleep coming on quickly, he thought of Jane and how much he wanted to share this experience with her, so that she might feel as he felt now—the joy and happiness of this simple life. A life that made their chaotic world seem suddenly so strange. He didn’t yearn to be home, he yearned to have her here, to feel her warm body beside him, to watch her face as she too came to understand the power of this place and its people.

  They made that patch of the savanna their home for the following nine days, until all the meat was gone. He ate the liver of the gemsbok; the liver was always given to the hunter. They lounged in the shade under the great acacia trees and drank in the smell of the honey as the bees droned on above them.

  “Do you know how we humans were made?” Khamko asked Eric, just after they had finished the day’s allotment of honey.

  “No.”

  “It is a good story,” he said. “When the world was new, everything was covered with water. Cagn was a mantis then. He convinced the honeybee to fly him over the water to find land. But no matter how long they flew, the bee could not find any solid land. Finally the bee was too tir
ed to go on and he set the Mantis Cagn down on a flower. The bee died but she left behind a seed, and it was from that seed that the first human was born.

  “So you see, the bee is our mother. And the honey is her milk to us.”

  Eric nodded and smiled.

  “Tomorrow we must set out,” Khamko said. “First we will get water. Then we hunt again.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  A Decade in an Hour

  November 23, 2026

  Washington, DC

  “You realize this isn’t going to be easy,” Bill Eastman said. He and Jane were sitting in Bill’s office with its wide view of the Potomac River. “For the last five months Curtiss has had every three-letter government agency looking for the Inventor, and they’ve found absolutely nothing. Besides, you and I aren’t exactly detectives.”

  “True, but I think that’s to our advantage. Just think of what the Inventor accomplished, beating us and the Chinese at our own game. He’s a scientist, like us. Perhaps if we can think like him, we can find him.”

  Bill gave a slow nod. “Okay, I’ll play along.”

  “Great! Where do we start?”

  “Well, let’s begin with what we know about him.”

  “That’s not much,” Jane said. “He saved Eric, Mei, and Ryan in China, just as General Meng was about to murder them.” Jane thought back to what Eric had told her. “Eric said he did it out of a sense of reciprocity . . . because the Inventor had used Eric’s idea of Forced Evolution to make himself into . . . I don’t even know what to call him . . . something that wasn’t really human anymore. He told Eric, ‘You gave me life. Now I return it.’ ”

  “That shows us he has a sense of morality and justice,” Bill said, “but we also know he has a dark side. He seems to value life on one level, yet has no qualms about killing either.”