Steve and the Sabretooth Tiger

by Dan Anthony

  Steve surveyed the forest edge – Headcase and his tribe edged forwards. As well as boomerangs Steve could see wooden spears and wooden knives.

  ‘Go on, Steve,’ said the girl in an excited voice, ‘we prayed for this.’

  ‘Really?’ asked Steve.

  ‘King Headcase,’ snarled One Punch, ‘our warrior, Steve, who runs like a pig and stinks like a human, has come here to save us. He has something to say.’

  One Punch shoved Steve forwards.

  Steve stumbled towards the king, holding his woolly hat on his head with his hand.

  ‘Errr, now listen here, King Headcase,’ said Steve.

  ‘You are not a Neanderthal,’ said the king, sniffing the air, ‘you have the smell of a human, like us. You are one of us.’

  ‘Actually, I’m a warrior,’ said Steve. ‘And I must say I think you’re being very unfair on my friends. You must leave them alone. Go away.’

  One Punch looked at the girl; the girl shrugged. They weren’t impressed.

  The king laughed. He put his hands on his sides and he roared with laughter. His tribesmen joined in.

  ‘One puny traitor against King Headcase and his brothers from the forest. My friend, if you don’t join us now, you and the halflings will be ripped to pieces by my warriors and your bones sacrificed to the tigers.’

  Something happened to Steve. As he watched Headcase and the tribe laughing at him, a new feeling came over him. He didn’t quite understand why, but he stopped feeling so scared. A hot flush filled his face. His cheeks went red. It wasn’t fair that King Headcase could bully them. Why should he get away with killing off the Neanderthals? Why should he let this king person push him around? He felt angry.

  ‘I challenge you,’ growled Steve.

  King Headcase and his warriors roared with more laughter.

  Steve stumbled backwards. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. But he still felt angry.

  ‘Me and you – one on one. I win, we go free – you win … errr, I guess it’s steak and chips all round.’

  King Headcase seemed to like the idea of being challenged, he leaped forwards. His warriors cheered. One Punch and the girl did a high five.

  ‘Go on, Steve, hit him with the right, then the left, then use the jab. One, two, one, two.’

  Steve stepped forward. Headcase met him. Steve looked up at Headcase, he was tall and muscly with a fearsome scar across his jaw. Headcase looked down at Steve, dressed like a ball of fluff, and laughed.

  Crack! Headcase smashed Steve in the face with his fist sending him flying. Steve’s sheepskin hat flew off and the sabretooth tigers edged a few feet closer.

  Steve pulled himself to his feet. He suddenly realised what a terrible mistake he’d made. He wasn’t a warrior. He wasn’t even good at fighting. He was going to die. He looked desperately at the girl. She put her hands over her eyes. For a warrior sent by the gods, Steve seemed strangely bad at mortal combat.

  Smash, smash. King Headcase landed two punches on Steve’s midriff then he grabbed him in a bear hug and tossed him in the air. The warriors laughed as Steve landed on the floor.

  Steve looked around desperately. He knew he needed to do something. But what?

  Thwack. Headcase kicked Steve’s head, making his nose bleed. Steve stuffed his hand in his pocket looking for a handkerchief. His hand touched the librarian’s stone. He pulled it out and staggered to his feet. He’d had an idea.

  Steve held the stone forwards and looked at Headcase.

  ‘You see this?’ he said. His brain was racing at a hundred miles an hour.

  Headcase took a step back, his eyes shifted from side to side. He seemed worried about the stone.

  The king edged backwards, his eyes fixed on the stone in Steve’s hand. Steve edged forwards.

  ‘A stone,’ said Headcase, ‘nobody said anything about stones. Where did you get it from, boy? That’s a weapons grade military stone, if I’m not mistaken.’

  ‘It’s one of the most powerful hand stones in the world. It could take your head clean off,’ said Steve.

  The king took another step back. Steve advanced. He could hardly believe what he was doing.

  The girl looked at One Punch, she smiled. Somehow, Steve was winning.

  ‘Those boomerangs of yours are no match for this. Wooden stuff is yesterday’s news – from now on, this is the Stone Age, and the one with the best stone wins.’

  ‘OK,’ said the king, ‘let’s not be too hasty. Hasty is wasty.’

  ‘He almost took my head off with that thing,’ shouted the girl.

  The warriors shrunk back into the fringes of the woods.

  Steve lined his shot up, he knew he had to hit the king square on the head – if he did that and Headcase dropped, the fight would be won. He put the stone in his right hand and got ready to throw.

  ‘Man,’ said King Headcase, ‘you didn’t think we were really going to eat you?’

  ‘Let us go,’ snarled Steve, ‘that’s all we want. Let us walk south along the fringes of the forest so that we don’t have to face the tigers.’

  ‘Is that all you want?’ said Headcase. ‘Of course, but give me the baby and the girl. Just to finish off this whole sorry episode with the Halflings. We should have exterminated the Halflings ages ago.’

  ‘No!’ said Steve, ‘The Halflings have got just as much right to be here as you.’

  Suddenly, rage flooded through the king’s face. He glared at his warriors then he turned on Steve.

  ‘Nobody contradicts a Headcase,’ he shrieked and he rushed towards Steve.

  Steve felt like running. But he knew he couldn’t. He felt like hiding. But there was nowhere to hide. He felt like crying out for help. But there wasn’t any. He tried to stay calm. He waited. Headcase bounded closer. He was huge, with shoulders as broad as widescreen televisions. As he charged, screaming at the top of his voice, Steve could see that his long beard was plaited with finger-bones. The king rushed at Steve and the warriors cheered. One Punch and the Girl shouted as loud as they could. Steve lifted his arm; he waited and waited, until it was almost too late. And then he threw the stone. It struck the king on the head, splitting his wooden crown and sending him crashing to the floor at Steve’s feet.

  The warriors drew back.

  Steve couldn’t believe his eyes. Tentatively, he approached the collapsed king. His eyes were closed, his breathing was slow and regular. He was out cold. Steve picked up the stone and tossed it from hand to hand, like a cricket ball.

  ‘Let that be a lesson to you,’ shouted Steve.

  One Punch, the girl and even the baby all shouted for joy.

  The sabretooth tigers slipped away into the long grass.

  The tribesmen pulled their leader, groaning, and holding his head, back into the woods.

  9

  The Follower

  They made camp on the fringe of the forest. They’d left King Headcase and his tribe of Flesheaters behind and travelled as far south as they could, tracking the boundary of the forest. As they walked Steve got the feeling that they were being watched. But every time he checked he saw only the forest to his left and the plains to his right.

  It was night-time, when Steve asked the question. The Ice Baby had drunk its Neanderthal baby drink of goats’ milk, crushed pine nuts and dried reindeer blood and had fallen asleep under a tree. The girl, One Punch and Steve were sitting by the fire. They were eating rabbit which they’d cooked over the flames. Above them they could see millions of stars casting a silvery glow over the plains ahead. All around they could hear the creatures of the night. Frogs croaked, bats twittered and mice scurried through the vegetation. The tigers stayed away. The firelight frightened them.

  Steve poked the fire with a stick. Steve looked at the girl.

  ‘What’s your name?’ asked Steve.

  The girl looked at Steve.

  ‘I haven’t got one,’ she said sadly. ‘My people were destroyed by the humans before I was named. In our way of l
ife you can’t be named until people know what you’re like.’

  Steve nodded. He poked the fire, thoughtfully, with a stick.

  ‘That seems quite sensible,’ said Steve. ‘I think I was a Steve before I was even born.’

  The girl laughed.

  ‘You really were very brave today,’ she said.

  Steve didn’t feel brave. He wished he did.

  ‘Can we give you a name?’ said Steve.

  ‘Names can only be given by the elders of our tribe,’ said One Punch, who was snoozing nearby.

  ‘But they’re all dead,’ said Steve. ‘We can’t just call her “girl” all the time.’

  One Punch looked unconvinced.

  ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘but remember, I’m her grandmother, it should be me that chooses the name.’

  ‘Hey,’ said the girl, ‘don’t I get any say about this?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Steve, ‘let her choose – she could be Jaydee, or Miffany.’

  ‘Jaydee?’ said the girl, flicking her hair, ‘what a pretty name.’

  ‘The name you shall be called,’ said One Punch, looking serious and solemn, ‘is Rock Face, because you have been struck on the head by Steve’s incredible stone. Let it be known to all that from this point on you shall be known as Rock Face.’

  ‘No way,’ said the girl, ‘I want to be Jaydee.’

  ‘No you don’t,’ said Steve.

  ‘Why can’t I be Jaydee?’ said the girl.

  As they argued deep into the night, a lone human watched them from the safety of a branch high up in a tree.

  10

  The Cat

  The journey from Headcase’s pine forest to the Misty Swamps should have been straightforward. They’d crossed the tiny gap between the forest and the swamp quite easily. When they arrived at the first green shoots of the swampland, they thought they’d escaped unnoticed. It was Steve who spotted the sabretooth tiger. It was lying on the grassland next to the swamp. It was thin and dehydrated.

  One Punch came and took a look.

  ‘It’s too skinny to eat,’ she said. She looked up at the sky. The same birds that Steve had noticed in the mountains were circling above.

  ‘The vultures will pick at it for a few days.’

  Steve looked sadly at the huge cat. Its eyes blinked slowly. He could hear its breathing was fitful.

  ‘Groucho,’ he muttered.

  ‘I’ll break its neck,’ said One Punch, kindly.

  Steve looked shocked.

  ‘It’s for the best,’ said the girl. ‘We must never allow animals to suffer – this is our way.’

  One Punch took the big cat’s neck in her arm.

  The cat gulped, as if it knew that it was best to be killed.

  ‘Wait,’ shouted Steve.

  He’d taken a turn carrying the baby; he felt it wriggle around in the sling on his back to get a closer look.

  ‘I can see what’s wrong with the tiger,’ he said.

  The Ice Baby laughed and gurgled with pleasure.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said One Punch, ‘some kind of tiger expert are you now?’

  ‘It’s obvious,’ said Steve, ‘look at its teeth.’

  The girl and One Punch pulled the tiger’s mouth open. One giant sabre tooth hung down like an ivory scimitar, the other was broken and yellow.

  ‘That tiger’s got a cracked sabre tooth, possibly with an impaction in the upper jaw – there’s an infection and a good case to be made for fitting a crown or possibly even extraction.’

  The girl and One Punch looked at Steve.

  ‘How come you know such a lot about teeth?’ they chorused.

  ‘Oh, I read up on things, and I spend a lot of time in the dentist,’ said Steve.

  ‘So what do we do?’ asked the girl.

  ‘Pull the tooth out,’ said Steve calmly.

  One Punch approached the tiger’s mouth. The tiger didn’t move. It just lay there, its sad eyes staring out across the grassland. One Punch stuck out her hand; very gently she held the broken tooth between her thumb and her finger. The tiger winced. But it didn’t move. Slowly One Punch took a hold of the tooth. Then with a sudden movement she pulled at the tooth with all her Neanderthal strength.

  The tiger let out a yelp. One Punch fell over backwards. And the tooth stayed where it was. Steve stood up. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the stone. He tossed it from hand to hand as he thought.

  ‘What tool could we use,’ he said, ‘to knock this poor tiger’s fang out?’

  ‘Use the stone!’ said the girl. ‘Quickly, we haven’t got all day.’

  Steve looked at the stone, then the animal. It closed its eyes and rested its head on the grass. If he didn’t act quickly it wouldn’t survive much longer. Steve walked up to the tiger. It was huge. Maybe twice as big as he was.

  ‘You’re not going to thank me for this right now,’ said Steve, bending down and patting the tiger’s head. He couldn’t help noticing how soft and velvety its fur was. The animal opened its eyes, it almost seemed to be asking Steve for help. Steve took the stone in his right hand, lined up the tooth and, with pinpoint accuracy, knocked out the remains of the bad tooth with one blow.

  The tiger flopped back on the grass.

  ‘Run,’ shouted One Punch, ‘we’ve got to get away before it wakes up.’

  ‘Can’t we stay to make sure it’s OK?’ asked Steve.

  ‘It’ll be hungry,’ said One Punch, ‘you don’t want to be around then. That thing hasn’t eaten for weeks.’

  Before disappearing into the dense green vegetation of the swamp Steve turned and looked back. He’d come a long way.

  In the distance he could see the mountains covered with white snow, with those black rocks punching through like frostbitten fingers. He saw the slopes of open rock he’d clambered down, the pine forest where Headcase and the warriors lived, the plains with the ravenous tigers. He remembered how lonely he felt when he first stepped out onto the snow. He smiled as he thought about Big Mo, shoving him in the back and onto the ice. He could still hear his voice, echoing through his imagination: ‘When was the last time you didn’t get out of a dream alive?’

  Something caught Steve’s eye. For some time he had had the distinct impression that something or even someone was following them.

  One Punch joined Steve. It was her turn to carry the baby. Steve swung the baby round and looked into its face. It slurped on the blue dummy. Steve rubbed the baby’s cheek with his finger, he tickled its chin. The Ice Baby laughed, almost letting go of the dummy. Steve laughed, the Ice Baby was the best behaved baby he’d ever come across. Not like Kyled. He’d shared a room with Kyled for five years. As far as Steve could remember, Kyled had cried and jumped and snarled his way through every day.

  ‘How will we know when we arrive at the safe place?’ asked Steve, as One Punch took the baby.

  ‘We dunno,’ said the girl, ‘you’re the warrior, you’re the one who’s delivering us. You tell us.’

  ‘How am I supposed to know?’ asked Steve. ‘I’m not really a warrior. I’m Steve. I live on a weird round road called Oliphant Circles and I play spot on in the back lane.’

  ‘Oh, don’t give me that,’ said One Punch, ‘of course you know. This swampy place,’ she said, waving at the thick green vegetation ahead, the watery ground slithering with strange beetles and bugs and the air thick with flies: ‘is this a safe place?’

  ‘No, of course it isn’t,’ said Steve.

  ‘Correct, it’s a very dangerous place,’ said One Punch triumphantly, ‘you see, you do know what you’re talking about.’

  11

  The Misty Swamps

  Steve, One Punch, the girl and the Ice Baby entered the swamp. By the time they reached the water’s edge, a mist had descended. It was almost impossible to tell where you had been, or where you were going.

  ‘Lead us through the swamp, Steve,’ said the girl. ‘I know you can do it.’

  Steve paced along the side of the swa
mp. He didn’t see how he could go on. The watery wetland went on for miles.

  ‘If Steve misses the path,’ said One Punch, ‘we’ll drown, there’s quicksand around here, it sucks you down; you’ll never get out alive. The Ice Baby will never grow up to be a big Neanderthal, and you won’t be a Halfling any more. Our whole species will have come to nothing: we’ll just be a baby sucking a horrible blue dummy and girl with no name lost in a terrible lonely swamp.’

  They fell silent. Steve picked his way forwards, testing the firmness of the ground with his feet. Then he fetched himself a stick from the bank. He used the stick to test the ground and edged further out into the swamp. He took the girl’s hand. She took One Punch’s hand. The baby lay strapped to One Punch’s back, sucking on the blue dummy.

  Inch by inch Steve moved forward. Soon they could neither see where they were going nor where they had been.

  ‘Please can I be Jaydee,’ said the girl, as they crept into the swamp.

  ‘It’s confusing,’ said Steve, ‘there can’t be two Jaydees; you must be someone else.’

  ‘Rock Face is a really nice name,’ muttered One Punch, ‘I wish I’d been called Rock Face. One Punch sounds really unromantic.’

  Steve stopped. The mist billowed around them. They stared into it. It was like peering into a pillowcase. It was strangely silent out in the swamp. The water beneath them was still. The air was dank and heavy. Nothing moved, nothing breathed.

  ‘Errr,’ said Steve.

  ‘If he says he’s lost I’ll kill him,’ muttered One Punch.

  ‘I don’t know which way to go,’ said Steve.