by Louise Wise
‘Prims! No good hiding in the shadows!’ As Murdow’s feet turned a full circle, there was a spitting sound in quick succession. He was shooting his venom blind into the undergrowth.
Another thwack! and he fell to his knees again; closer to Jenny. His throat was extended and on the point of firing his poison. Another spear caused his back to arch, and he fell onto his front to the muddy ground. He was eyeball to eyeball with Jenny. His eyes widened on seeing her. There was an almighty howl. A cry of victory. Footsteps, and then the Jelvia was surrounded by natives. He tried to move, but was pinned to the ground by the spear.
He moved an arm, and reached towards Jenny.
Jenny continued to hug her knees.
A native stood on his back, forcing his head into the mud and pulled out the spear only to plunge it back in in another part of his body.
Murdow’s hand spasmed and then relaxed.
Jenny squeezed her eyes closed.
Chapter Fifty Two
‘Two boats are missing.’
Gorjum had led him down to the ocean-fed lake and the report that the boats were missing didn’t seem to worry Gorjum, but it worried Fly especially when he’d seen a boulder with the letter ‘J’ clearly written.
He’d not mentioned it to Gorjum. But this is was far as Jenny would have come. She’d have waited, or walked up the shoreline for him. She’d not have attempted to head for the mountains alone.
‘Two boats missing, and a warden on the loose,’ said Gorjum. ‘The others were killed.’ He kicked at a loose stone. ‘I suppose we can be grateful that he only took the two boats.’
Fly was barely listening. He stood on the muddy bank and peered out at the sea. It was difficult to see anything on the surface. There were many small glaciers that caught the moonlight and pierced his eyes, but he was certain that was the path Jenny had taken. She hadn’t wanted to, but the warden had seen her and forced her to flee—or taken her hostage. He envisioned the Jelvia in one boat and towing the other, with Jenny, behind him.
‘Do we know which warden?’ Gorjum asked somebody.
There were a few Jelvias standing on the muddy bank discussing the missing boats.
‘It was Murdow,’ someone said.
‘Damn!’ said Gorjum. ‘Would’ve loved to have personally killed him.’ He stared morosely into the water.
Fly’s eyes flickered to Gorjum. Then he looked back out to sea. Diana was safe with Molver; she’d look after her. He turned to Gorjum. ‘You have a nice community here. All you ever wished for.’
‘We need to grow as a community if we’re not to die out. Molver has tried to artificially impregnate herself several times, but it hasn’t worked. I’m loath to ask her to get pregnant the normal way with a man other than Saneg, whom she loves. She’s my daughter and that just doesn’t seem right.’
‘She loves Diana.’
‘She hungers for a child.’
He was still talking when Fly walked several steps and dived off the bank. He burst up on hearing a splash and knew Gorjum had jumped in after him. He swam to the boats and pulled himself into one, he sliced through the rope that tied it and grabbed the oars as Gorjum reached his boat.
‘I think Jenny was one of the people who took a boat,’ he called as he rowed away. ‘Chased or taken hostage by Murdow.’
Gorjum sliced away the ties to the boat, climbed in and began to row after Fly.
Fly glanced up as he saw Molver’s figure on the riverbank with Diana cradled against her shoulder and Saneg by her side. She was watching him, her mouth parted in shock, and her lanky frame was getting smaller and smaller.
‘Look after Diana!’ he yelled.
Molver’s reply was drowned out by the slapping of waves against his boat.
Chapter Fifty Three
There were many victorious yelps, howls and chants, and spears thrust in and out of the Jelvia’s back until only his head and limbs remained intact. Jenny could hear the thwacks and the slurps as his body was shredded; could smell the iron until she thought she’d retch.
She could only see the natives’ lower legs from her hiding place. Hairy legs, with wide hairy feet and splayed toes. They danced around the body chuffing and huffing in delight. The legs didn’t seem as hairy as her honnards. And like Zack, she could see skin beneath.
Jenny turned her face and stared at the insides of the tree. She covered her ears and tried to block them out. She daren’t move. This group of primitive people she didn’t recognise—not that she could tell them apart. Bo, Zack, Melinda and Mum had been exceptions. She hugged her knees tighter and pressed her face between them. Trying to make herself as small as possible.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there trying not to listen to the chants and jeers.
There was the sound of running water and Jenny peered over the top of her knees. In front of the opening were lean legs, their backs towards her. They appeared so human she was transfixed. A stream of urine was splattering over what was left of the Jelvia’s body, steam was rising, as was the smell. Jenny buried her face again.
She heard more chatter from the natives, until one of them said a single word and all went quiet. Then her only exit darkened. Jenny turned her head. She started.
Faces were peering inside with yellow or orange eyes. But they were eyes identical to a human’s. These eyes held wonder, and as they took in her hiding form, they backed away, and sat on their haunches to regard her solemnly.
Jenny looked from one to the other. These primitive men were taller than honnards, their bodies streamlined rather than squat and muscular. They were bearded, but not as hairy as she’d come to expect them to be. They could have been human had their heads been smaller, but their foreheads were protruding and overhung their faces.
Her gaze fell to the stick doll around the neck of one. The ‘doll’ was just two crossed sticks, but the ‘head’ was coloured red with some kind of dye. Jenny looked over them—five. Five primitive men. Tucked away inside her hiding place it seemed like there had been more.
One gabbled in his language, another responded, and then one of them held out his hand to her. When she didn’t respond he took off something that had been around his neck. Not the stick doll, but a necklace of coloured shells. He laid it in front of the tree opening before retreating to the line of watching primitive men.
She looked at the necklace on the ground, placed there to draw her out. She made up her mind straight away—the primitive men could have dragged her out but their show of caution told her they felt empathy towards her. She crawled out, picking up the necklace as she rose.
She had to stand slowly. The stiffness she felt was almost a pain. The natives watched with no expression. Then, as she placed the necklace over her head, they began to jabber and smiles crossed their bearded faces; wide-open smiles with the matching crinkling of eyes.
Jenny looked from one to the other, and then stepped over what was left of Murdow. His head was missing. She could still hear the thuds and slurps ringing in her ears as his insides were turned to mush. There were spears still embedded in the body.
The natives were still squatting in the dirt, and watching her with something she couldn’t quite understand. She hoped it was awe. Or love. Anything nice… She scanned the surroundings. It was tree after tree after another. She didn’t even know which way she’d come, such was her panic at the time. She cocked an ear to see if she could hear the ocean, but the only sounds were forest chatter.
Slowly, the natives began to stand. The one with the effigy around his neck was first. He clutched it in his fist and chanted some words. Then fell silent and stared at her—as did the others.
‘Hello,’ she said breaking the silence. ‘I’m Chi-Chi.’
Her voice hung in the air as they continued to stare. She saw the Jelvia’s bloody head hanging by his hair from the hand of one; one eye was missing and his mouth hung open in a frozen snarl.
She peeled her eyes away.
‘Chuf-ner druler,’ one of
the natives said. His jaws worked up and down, not properly forming words. He shook his spear and chatted words that Jenny couldn’t follow. His voice was high-pitched—excited.
The other held out the bloody head to her as if offering her a prize. She steeled herself from recoiling and cleared her throat, trying to think of something to say, something they would understand. Astonishingly, they all copied the throat clear. Her intake of breath was also copied.
She pointed to herself and said, ‘Jenny.’
The natives raised their spears upward and said, ‘Chi-Chi.’
She looked at them in turn. Their faces, dirty and bearded, didn’t seem so fierce. The hair on their heads was long, dreadlocked in parts, frizzy in others.
‘Chuff, kernuff, huff-juff,’ said the one with the effigy, and walked into the forest. He stopped and looked back at her.
Come on, then, oh beautiful one. Let’s take you to the cooking pot.
The others crowded her, urging her with their presence. When she began walking, the leader turned towards the jungle. Jammed between them, she had no choice but walk with them.
The native in front used his spear as a machete to cut himself a path, but much of the undergrowth was flattened which suggested they used this path regularly. The back of her neck rippled with fear with every step, but she steeled herself from dodging to the side and running. Adrenaline pumped in her veins urging her to run, but she sensed this would be worse. They thought her superior, hence the stick doll they carried. She was some kind of hallowed being in their eyes, and to act as anything otherwise, might get her into trouble.
The sky was brightening through the leaves, and she marked her way with her chalk. When the chalk became too small, she gorged out a cross on a tree trunk. She picked fruit when she saw it and ate it hungrily without stopping. The following natives stopped when she did, some of them also eating fruit as they saw it. They didn’t hurry her and after a while she suspected that if she turned to walk in a completely different direction they wouldn’t object and just follow her.
But she didn’t. She assumed they were taking her to their settlement, and she had an idea that she could rest there and might be able to collect some provisions for her continuing journey.
The track was an almost neat path, and the leading native wasn’t using the spear as a machete anymore. She glanced over her shoulder at the natives behind, and caught the gaze of one. He was chomping on a melon. He stopped abruptly, and looked seemingly embarrassed at being caught eating.
‘Chuff-Chi-Chi,’ the one leading said.
Hurry up, need to get this fast-food cooked.
Jenny turned back, and he beckoned them onward with his spear. Tramping through the damp jungle was becoming easier—or rather, something she was becoming used to. The ground wasn’t as boggy, and the trees weren’t as dense, either. She could smell smoke and the greasy aroma of something cooking.
The leader stopped and turned, and with a start she saw that they’d arrived at wherever they’d wanted to take her and there was no sign of a settlement. She was standing on a large area of burnt undergrowth. In front of her were three tall trees, and unlike the scorched area they looked healthy. The lower branches had been pulled off so the trunk was visible, and a dais, like a skirt, had been built high up near the remaining waving branches.
She looked around. The area had been methodically fashioned, why, she couldn’t answer.
She noticed something and balked. In the branches was a nest, and she could see circling giant birds in the sky. One came low, and landed in the tree. Its huge wings folding as it landed. It squawked, but didn’t attempt to attack them.
The native men didn’t seem at all fazed.
‘Chuff-blu-ger, huff-karnuff. Karnuff!’ one said looking at her.
Here’s your lunch, birdies!
There was a thick rope leading up into each tree with one side knotted, which could have been some sort of prehistoric pulley or a ladder. She didn’t have time to work it out as the native holding the decapitated head, his feet like hands around the trunk, climbed the tree in little jumps. He didn’t use the knotted rope. The head was hanging from his mouth by the hair as he almost ran up the tree. He reached the platform, and Jenny saw it was wide enough for him to stand. He put the head down, raised his spear, and rammed it through the eye socket to secure it to the podium.
Jenny turned her head in disgust, but not before noticing part of a ravaged body on one of the tree’s podiums. A circling bird squawked above it and nestled in one of the trees. It watched, but didn’t attempt to attack the native as he effortlessly climbed back down leaving the head on the podium.
The native with the effigy around his neck, took it off and held it aloft. He howled.
Jenny saw bones on the ground close to the trees. Her feet seemed glued to the charred floor as she realised what she was witness to: a shrine to the birds.
She looked up. Two birds fluttered down, and fighting between themselves they fed on the head.
‘Kernuff, huff, Che-lers huff-guff-chuff.’
You’re next, ginge.
Panic seized her, and Jenny turned and ran.
She zigzagged through the trees aware that the athletically built men she’d left standing would easily catch her up. And they did. She could hear them as they followed her.
She was on a narrow manmade, albeit primitive-made path, and was about to jump into the undergrowth when the path opened out into a clearing—the settlement of the natives.
There was silence when she entered the lair. The other primitives stopped what they were doing, and stared. The following natives stood at her side. One howled, filling her head with its noise.
A few in the lair had been gutting and skinning carcasses before passing along the spinal bone to others who pulled out long pieces of sinew using their mouths. Jenny’s head whipped to the other side; others had been rubbing at animal skins, stretching it between them to get every inch of it covered.
Some of the natives, Jenny noticed with an ‘Oh my god’ murmur, were as naked as her with regards to body hair. These wore animal skins like clothes: simple robes, wraps and ponchos.
‘Real live Neanderthals,’ she whispered looking around at the tepee-like tents dotted around the camp. Some were sharpening stones or bones. They all seemed to be doing something—or had been doing something before she arrived. She noticed spiralling smoke from pits in the ground. The pits were covered with moss and sand. These were ‘ovens’ and beneath the moss and sand, would be stones and a fire which had probably been burning for hours. Within those white-hot stones would be meat—probably an entire carcass. These early people were obviously more advanced than honnards—they had barely discovered fire. These could even be a different species entirely. She peered at them from beneath her fringe; in awe of them as they of her.
She felt chilled and hadn’t realised how much until the heat from the pit ovens reached her and caused her thawing limbs to throb. Unconsciously, she moved towards the warmth.
Slowly, a man came over. He wore an animal hide that reached down to his hips, the middle was secured with a belt that, in turn, was attached to two separate leather stocking-like leggings. Weapons hung from the ‘belt’ together with a small effigy of her.
He stopped a little way from her and looked her up and down. He was tall, probably taller than Fly, and like the others, streamlined rather than squat. His nose was flat against his face, and it wrinkled as he sniffed her.
‘Chi-Chi,’ he said. And it started a chorus of “Chi-Chi, Chi-Chi” from the others until Jenny put her hands over her ears.
Then someone thrust something at her. It was an animal fur. Fruit was placed at her feet. Another animal fur was draped around her shoulders, and a beaded necklace was put over her head followed by a fur stole around her shoulders. Then someone placed a garland of flowers on her head.
Jenny looked around at the faces, so many! They danced around her. Their faces were as fierce as they smelled, but all
smiling, all chanting and all laying something at her feet. She hadn’t been led to her execution, but shown how the Jelvias were dealt with by being fed to the birds.
There was a high buzzing in Jenny’s head. Lights flashed behind her eyes and then she saw Fly coming towards her with Diana in his arms. He was smiling. But in a deeper consciousness Jenny realised she’d fainted, and Fly and Diana weren’t really there, only chanting Neanderthals bearing gifts.
Chapter Fifty Four
‘She’ll head towards the mountains,’ shouted Fly above the sound of the ocean. They were rowing through the waves, and the rangy shoreline was becoming closer with every push of their oars. ‘I’ll head for that coastline, you go over there.’
‘If I lose sight of you, I lose sight of the woman,’ shouted Gorjum.
A lump of ice floated towards Fly and he reached over to push it away. Eden’s winters developed incredibly fast. There wasn’t an autumn. The summers ended abruptly with thunder and lightning storms and then the ground began to freeze, and stayed frozen until the spring when icebergs broke up and the ground thawed.
‘I’m hoping we’ll see her boat,’ Fly called back.
‘You could be leading me away from her, for all I know,’ Gorjum said. ‘Maybe you think you can kill me and take over my community?’
‘I never realised you hated me so much,’ Fly said. ‘When I trusted you with those bombs I thought you trusted me in return.’
‘You trusted an assassin like yourself. Had you known I was a runaway would you have done the same?’
They rowed alongside one another. Each canoe keeping up with the other as they sliced through the freezing water. ‘Probably not,’ Fly said.
‘You’ve a reputation, Fly. I had to make sure I was on your good side.’
‘You never struck me as someone who listens to gossip!’
Gorjum grunted, and worked the oars. ‘A woman would never have rowed this far on her own.’
‘She had Murdow after her. Fear lends you wings.’
