A couple of the men butchered the tapir and took a good portion of it for our evening meal. I was useless in the endeavor, as I was busy looking for my now vanished jungle goddess. We continued on, making at least a couple of miles from the encounter before stopping and cooking our bounty and spending the night. I got no sleep that night.
The next morning we had been on the trail for no more than an hour when we ran into a group of four natives, who proved to be Tokayana from Abbeyport. What’s more, it turned out that the bastion of civilization was scarcely five miles away. Within another two hours, we were trudging into the town. The locals who had been our companions, were quickly swallowed up by their tribe, and the local British population was quick to open its doors to the four white survivors. So by nightfall, I found myself a guest in the home of the Winston-Smiths, sleeping in a bed for the first time in more than a month.
Chapter Sixteen: The Decision
I slept for the next three days. I know this because my hosts continued to wake me morning, noon, and night to feed me, and I woke up long enough to eat and engage in enough cursory conversation to avoid rudeness. Then I went right back to sleep. When I opened my eyes on that third morning, I just lay in bed thinking. What I was thinking, I cannot say. I suppose I was trying to make sense of the recent events of my life. Is that even possible? Is there meaning to the things that happen to us, besides the momentary meaning that we give to them ourselves? Or are we just floating from one stop to the next, like a bit of wood or a seed pod dropped in the ocean? I had no answer.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
Mrs. Winston-Smith poked her head into the room.
“We have a bath prepared for you in the next room. James and I will be out for the next several hours, so you’ll have your privacy.”
“Thank you.”
A few minutes after she left, I ventured into the next room. It was a large bathroom complete with a claw foot tub. It had been filled with steaming water and I wasted no time in taking advantage of it. I stripped down and lowering myself to my neck the warm liquid embrace. I stayed there, luxuriating in the water as it slowly returned to room temperature. Only then did I wash myself. Next to the tub were a hand mirror and a shaving kit, which I made good use of. When I was done, I almost saw myself staring back at me in the glass. Almost.
The Winston-Smiths had left me a set of clothing. It was not unlike what I would have been wearing had I been back in Boston—a jacket, shirt and tie, and slacks, socks, and highly polished black shoes. Though they were the correct sizes that I had worn when I had first come to Elizagaea, the shirt was now quite loose and the pants stayed up only because of a pair of suspenders.
Now fully dressed, I stepped out into the parlor. I expected to find no one, but instead was shocked to my very core. Sitting there on the sofa was Gertrude, my wife.
“This is an unexpected surprise,” I said.
“Every surprise is an unexpected one,” she pointed out.
“I meant that it’s an unpleasant surprise.”
“That’s unkind,” she said, pointing to the spot on the sofa next to her. I took a seat in a chair across the room.
“What are you doing here, Gertrude?”
“When the Winston-Smiths found out that I was your wife, they arranged for me to be here when you finally crawled back to life. I’ve been here just over a week. I have a room at the hotel.”
“I meant, what are you doing here in Elizagaea?”
“I came looking for you. I came to bring you home. I don’t know what it was that upset you so that you left without saying a word, but all is forgiven. Just come home with me.”
“What does Walter think about that?”
“I don’t know what you heard,” she started with a nervous little smile, “and I don’t know what you misconstrued…”
“Gertrude, I haven’t misconstrued anything. I know everything. And I swear before almighty God, though I’ve never hit a woman in my life, if one lie slips past your deceitful lips, I will beat the life out of you.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Henry Goode. You’re not the kind of man that could do that.”
“I didn’t used to be.”
There was a small waver in her eyes that said she wasn’t as confident of me as she had been a minute ago.
“Why?” I asked.
“Why what?”
“Why the affair? Why Walter?”
“It wasn’t really an affair. I’ve loved Walter my whole life, since we were both children.”
“Then for God’s sake, why didn’t you marry him?”
“I couldn’t. He’s a mulatto. He doesn’t look it. We could have gone away anywhere he wasn’t known and he could have passed as white. But we couldn’t go anywhere. I’m a Quincy. I had to stay in Boston.”
“So you married me for show.”
“Yes. But that’s not as bad as it seems. You’re a fine man, Henry, and I… liked being married to you. It’s just that I had been in love with Walter for so long.”
“Then go back to him,” I said. “Tell everyone I’m dead. You can live the life of my widow and you’ll still be with Walter.”
“I can’t. My father found out about us. Walter had to leave town in fear of his life. I’m not sure how far he’ll have to go to be safe, but it will be far, far away from Boston.”
“And you didn’t go with him.”
“I told you. I’m a Quincy.”
“So you came to find me, your second choice?” She started to say something but I waved her off. “The fact of the matter is, I have no interest in you, Gertrude, or in Walter’s spawn.”
She placed a hand protectively on her abdomen.
“I didn’t think anyone could tell yet.”
“Your face is fat,” I said.
She stood up. She was still beautiful, like an ice-covered mountain.
“I’m going back to the hotel. Think about what you want, Henry. There is a chance the child is yours.”
“How good a chance, Gertrude?”
“Around fifty percent,” she said, having at least enough decency to blush, “judging by the calendar.”
“Good-bye, Gertrude.”
“You used to call me Trudy,” she observed.
“That was when I loved you.”
Then she was gone.
I walked back to the bedroom in which I had spent the previous three days. I sat down and did just what she had bid me do. I thought about what I wanted. I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to go forward. I wanted to find Kanana, but I didn’t know what she wanted. Had she forsaken me the whole time that I had been wandering after leaving Mu, or had she been searching and only found me after I was with the Roosevelt expedition?
I looked at the one item I had arrived with—the canteen with Colonel Roosevelt’s initials upon it. I picked it up and looked at it for a moment as if it could tell me what to do. Maybe it did. I left the room and stepped out of the house just as Mr. and Mrs. Winston-Smith were stepping into their yard.
“I want to thank you for your hospitality,” I said.
“Of course,” said the lady, “and you are welcome to stay as long as you like.”
“Can you tell me where to find Colonel… um, President Roosevelt?”
“He’s staying with the Comstans,” said the gentleman, pointing to a nearby home.
“Thank you.”
A few minutes later, I was seated across from the former president. He looked thirty years older than he had that day we sat drinking coffee on the deck of the Louisa May. Maybe I did as well. His leg had been seen to by the local doctor and was healing up nicely.
“I saw your lovely wife,” he said. “I assume you’ll be on your way back to Boston.”
“No. I won’t be going back to Boston or to her.”
He frowned. “Inconstancy is not a quality I admire.”
“She’s carrying another man’s child.”
He sucked air through his tee
th. “That does complicate things.”
“I’m leaving. I’m going back to the jungle.”
“You mean you’re going back to your jungle girl,” he said. “You’ll need some money to outfit yourself.”
“No. I have everything I need. I’m leaving now.”
“You’ve gone weak-minded, Henry. You’ve got nothing but casual dress clothes and a canteen.”
“Nevertheless, I’m going.”
The old Rough Rider stared at me for a moment. “Wait here.” He left the room and returned a moment later with a pistol, complete with holster, belt, and ammunition. “I bought this just before I went out ranching in the badlands. It’s never let me down.”
He pressed the weapon into my hand and I examined the Colt .44 single action revolver.
“I don’t know what to say, sir. This belongs in a museum.”
“Oh, my boy, they’ll easily fill several museums with my memorabilia. No one will miss this single item. I hope it serves you well. I have a feeling that we will not see one another again in this lifetime.”
I felt myself getting choked up. “I think you’re right. Good luck to you, Colonel.”
“Godspeed to you, Henry.”
We embraced and I left. Belting the weapon around my waist, I hurried through the town till I reached that same point that I had faced when first starting out with my company. I stopped and stared at the trail leading into the lush forest. Then I heard a voice behind me.
“Mr. Henry?”
I turned around to find my old friend Saral, jogging to a stop in front of me.
“Mr. Henry, are you leaving again?”
“Yes, I am, Saral, and I don’t expect to be back again. I’m so glad you made it home.”
“My family bought me for a goat and five knives.”
“Your family got the better deal,” I told him. “I can assure you that you are worth at least ten goats and twenty knives.”
He laughed. “Wait until tomorrow before you leave. We can gather some supplies and I will come with you.”
“Not this time, Saral. I don’t think I’ll be coming back.” I tousled his hair. “If I do come back, I will look you up. You have been a good and valuable friend to me. I wish I had something to give you, but I lost all my money and my possessions.”
“I don’t want anything,” he replied. “We are friends and I have a feeling we will see each other, maybe not soon, but someday.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Henry.”
He turned and walked back into town. I turned back toward the wilderness. I didn’t want to look back. Saral, Colonel Roosevelt, Gertrude: they were all in my past. I needed to find my future. Without any further thought, I started walking up the trail toward that future.
I walked all day, encountering nothing worthy of note. I saw few animals and I hunted none. Consequently I was without food, though it didn’t really occur to me until nightfall. I climbed a tree and slept in the crook of a branch, and was lulled to sleep by the growling of my stomach.
When I woke up, I found food. It wasn’t difficult, as it had been placed on the branch just a few inches from my head while I had slept. Several pieces of dried meat and two plums were held in place by strips of a large leaf used as binding. Ignoring them for the moment, I shouted out in every direction. “Kanana!” Though I startled some birds and a pair of large monkeys that began howling, there was no other answer.
I ate, climbed down, and continued on. Each morning I found some food awaiting my return from slumber. Twice, when I had emptied my canteen during the day, I found it full next to the breakfast. Each time, I called out to my benefactor without answer.
Eventually, I came upon the river that I now knew to be a tributary of the great Thalis. Colonel Roosevelt had named it the Twijfel; for the life of me I didn’t know why. It didn’t seem to fit. I knew of course what I needed to do. The crossing point was several hours to the north, so I turned that direction. As it had been the first time I had traversed this riverbank, the going was easy because of all the game trails and hippo wallows. I was far more cautious than I had been that other time, because now not only was I alone, but I understood far better the meaning of game trails and hippo wallows. They meant danger.
I reached the point in the river where it widened to a hundred yards or more, leaving most of its span very shallow. Just as I remembered, there were many flat stones to step across and I reached the middle without any problem. As I stepped up onto a large flat boulder, I paused. This was the exact spot in which I had been hit by an arrow. I stood next to an oblong boulder, which pointed skyward. I ran my hand over it, thinking of all the events that had transpired since I had last touched it. Then I noticed that just beyond was another boulder leaning against it. It was slanted so that one could climb it and hop onto the top of the upright stone. This I did and was rewarded with a beautiful view of the river in both directions. The rest of the countryside was just as hidden as before, covered as it was by the dense tropical jungle.
I sat down and took a drink from my canteen. This was a beautiful spot, really. I judged that it was late afternoon and if I wanted to make camp in a tree, I should get going. Then I decided that this boulder was as safe as any tree. A saber tooth tiger might hop the river rocks and get me, but then I suspected he could climb a tree too if he really relished the thought of my flesh. There was plenty of room, so I set my canteen and my pistol nearby and peeled off my jacket to use as a pillow. I sat watching the rapids swirl away to the north as the sun set. Then I lay down and went to sleep.
Unlike waking up in a tree, where I was protected from the early morning sun by the high canopy of leaves, my waking on the top of a large boulder occurred early. The first rays of the sun were reflecting off the bubbling swirling water below me. They were not the first sights that greeted me though. The first thing I saw upon opening my eyes were two green eyes staring back at me.
“Kanana.”
“Henry Goode.” She was sitting cross-legged next to me. I sat up.
“Why didn’t you come and get me?” I asked.
“Kanana say Henry stay with Giwa. Henry not stay. Then Henry go home. Kanana make sure that Henry go home safe… to Boston, America, where no elephants and no crocodiles.”
“I had to help my friends get back. I’m not going back.”
“Not with woman?” she asked. “Kanana see her.”
I smiled. “Did you stay around the town just to watch me?”
“Kanana watch many.”
“That was Gertrude.” Just saying her name made my smile fall away. “She is having a baby—another man’s baby. Not Henry’s.”
“Zuhu, lion… strongest lion mate… um…”
“Females?” I offered.
“Strongest lion mate females. Make all babies. Stronger lion come and kill lion and all babies. Then make his own babies with females.”
“Well, Henry is not a lion. Henry would not hurt a baby. But Henry cannot be with a woman who won’t be faithful.”
“Faith-ful?”
“Only for me. A woman only for Henry.”
“Kanana only for Henry,” she said quietly.
“And Henry is only for Kanana.”
She smiled and then grabbed my face with both hands and smothered my mouth with kisses. We continued for several minutes, during which she climbed into my lap. Finally, as we stopped to catch our breath, she looked deep into my eyes.
“Henry stay with Kanana?”
“Yes,” I said. “Henry stay with Kanana. Forever.”
The End
About the Author
Wesley Allison is the author of more than twenty-five science fiction and fantasy books, including the popular His Robot Girlfriend. He has a Bachelor of Science degree from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas and a Master of Science degree from Nova Southeastern University in Florida. He has taught English and American History for the past 23 years in southern Nevada where
he lives with his lovely wife Victoria, his two grown children Rebecca and John.
For more information about the author and upcoming books:
Visit the City of Amathar Blog at http://wesleyallison.com
Visit the Author Wesley Allison page on Facebook.
Books by Wesley Allison
Look for them wherever fine ebooks are sold. Paper editions are available at the City of Amathar Blog (wesleyallison.com) and by special order from your favorite bookseller.
Princess of Amathar
Transported to the artificial world of Ecos, Earth man Alexander Ashton struggles to understand the society of his new friends the Amatharians. As he does so, he finds himself falling in love with their princess and being thrust into a millennium-long war with their mortal foes the reptilian Zoasians. Princess of Amathar is a sword-swinging novel of high adventure.
His Robot Girlfriend
Mike Smith's life was crap, living all alone, years after his wife had died and his children had grown up and moved away. Then he saw the commercial for the Daffodil. Far more than other robots, the Daffodil could become anything and everything he wanted it to be. Mike's life is about to change.
His Robot Wife
In His Robot Wife, the novella-length sequel to His Robot Girlfriend, it is the year 2037 and Mike has been married to his robot wife, Patience, for five years. Troubles are on the horizon though. Prop 22 promises to annul marriages between humans and robots. And Patience hasn’t quite been herself. Is there something wrong, or does she just need a software upgrade?
His Robot Wife: Patience is a Virtue
It is the year 2037, when men are men and robots are cute. Patience, the robot wife, has a new friend– Wanda. Wanda, another Daffodil, has been having difficulty bonding with her human, the recently divorced Ryan. She hopes that with Patience’s mentoring, she’ll be able to help Ryan accept her into his troubled life. But even Patience isn’t prepared for what happens when they take a joint vacation cruise to Antarctica. His Robot Wife: Patience is a Virtue is a science fiction story in a world where technology is more than just a pretty face.
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