by Archer Swift
Chapter 15
The rest of the day whizzed by in a blur.
After the nominations were announced, to conclude the state-of-the-year address, new leaders were appointed. Yes, Ruzzell was among them, not merely nominated, but selected into the Huduma group. Something about—how did Dylain spin it?—“the pressing days in which we live,” and how important new blood in the leadership core was to our future plans. Again, the actual reality was lost in a whirlwind of words and in a theatrical display of hand gestures. Blah, blah, blah. By now, I wasn’t surprised.
Once the show was over, I was the first one from my clan called in for the regular after-lunch interviews. This was done on purpose to ensure that I wasn’t subjected to any follow-up verbal or physical abuse from the crowd. It had never happened before, but wisely, the Mzees never allowed those sorts of situations to arise.
I do remember that my interviewer, a middle-aged man named Mark Johnson, attempted to keep me engaged for as long as permitted, but I cannot recall what I was asked or what I answered. Mentally drained, my mind was like a sieve, but it was probably all random stuff anyway. A good man and a master bow-and-arrow maker, Mark sat slouched in his usual laid-back manner. With his large paws interlaced on his ample belly, and without a hint of judgment in his eyes, he didn’t pry into what I’d been charged with—that was done and dusted. And to be honest, I didn’t have anything remarkable to share either. Other than the clan-in-crisis debacle, which I kept mum about. When he finished my interview, he tightened his wild, bushy ponytail behind his head and croaked in his deep-throated Donunder drawl: “Chin up, Ristan. She’ll be right, mate.”
Afterwards, I helped my clan with the clear-up, assigned to work alongside Judd. The two of us were given a task separate from the rest and away from the milling crowds, with many of the northern clans saying final farewells before their departure. Again, my assignment with Judd, out of the public eye, was a calculated move on the part of the Mzees. Likewise, I saw Ricardaz Walton, charged with stealing, given a secure passage to a senior member of his clan for safekeeping.
The next mindful moment I had was the soft chopping of the river against the raft as it ploughed through the water. We were on our way back to camp carried along by the brisk river current. Having climbed to its zenith, the sun was now beginning to slide quickly to its slumber. And the frenetic activity of the day was behind us at last. In contrast, the thick jungle looming on either flank of the river seemed unusually quiet. Pensive even. Then again, the late afternoon was always the lull before darkness ushered in the unnerving nighttime racket of jungle blood sport.
I had not seen Scott again, which he had ensured—once more, the wise course of action. Everything in me ached to thank him in person. However, had we been seen talking together, by the wrong eyes, it would have been like an open artery to the Wolves.
Happy days!
Revelling in his appointment, Ruzzell ordered Gellica to sit between Shawz and himself in the front of the raft for the trip back. I couldn’t help but think it was designed to either provoke me or punish her, given her bold display earlier. That she meekly complied robbed Ruzzell of whatever malice he intended. Beauty, courage and smarts, too. I had of course taken up my usual place at the stern where I could help Judd steer the raft. It would be a reasonably quick excursion home, and I couldn’t wait to speak to Gellica.
I wanted to thank her for her courage; we’d not had a single private moment since her brave act, and I was near bursting to express my gratitude to someone! More than that, I just wanted to talk to her. Heart to heart. Trying hard not to connect too many dots, I accepted that her gift to me, her mother’s pendant, was more than merely a way of paying off her own guilt. I was convinced she had real feelings for me. And in a moment of blissful anxiety, I realised the strength of my feelings for her.
Maybe I’m wrong, but I need to know how she feels.
“Ristan,” Judd’s low voice interrupted the conversation I was having in my own head, breaking through my reverie. We had said very little to each other during clear-up. Although, I sensed that he had a lot he wanted to get off his chest; with heavily-sagged shoulders and eyebrows that were pinched tightly together, I guess he struggled to muster the nerve to do so.
“Yes.” I shook my head clear, and tried to give him my full attention.
“I’m so sorry…” he whispered; his eyes narrowed and his lips mashed together. No one else could hear us. Some were resting their eyes; others gazed absentmindedly at the wall of impenetrable bush and foliage flanking either side of us. Sailing down this fairly fast-flowing river was probably the safest place in all of Eden. Relatively speaking. As for me, I kept Gellica in view, out of the corner of my eye. All the time.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“No, I’m truly truly sorry…”
I felt a half-smile creep onto my face. “I truly truly accept your apology.”
“I’m a coward,” Judd lambasted himself.
“No, I suggested you all backup Ruzzell’s story.”
“Only for our sake you did … you copped it for us all.”
“Yep, well,” I said, uncomfortable with the conversation, “now what? Lord Muck over there has got his wish.”
“From now on,” Judd’s fists clenched involuntarily at his sides, the stress wearing on his good-looking face, “no more Mr. Nice Guy.”
I felt uneasy with the flicker of intent in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
His facial furniture rearranged into a glower. “I’ve been a coward for too long.”
“No need to do something stupid now,” I said swallowing a sour smirk at my own low-ebb credibility; I wasn’t exactly exempt from a regular brain fart either.
“Agreed, but if we don’t stand up against him together, the bullying will never end. You’ve held your ground; I need to hold mine.” He put his hand on my shoulder. For just a moment, and then quickly took it off. Even so, we both felt awkward. It’s a guy-thing. Planet Earth was burnt to a crisp and here we were fighting for our lives in a distant galaxy, yet we were men ... and men stay the same.
However, in that brief interaction, I felt we bonded together in a way we had not done before. Judd was a good man, a close friend. We had so much in common. Both overly responsible, almost dutiful. The Plague took his mother and mine. And we both lost our fathers on the same day. In the same horror incident. Our heartfelt moment now sealed our friendship even deeper.
“Things didn’t look good today, did they?” Judd continued.
I played dumb. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve never seen the Mzees so unsettled … and Dylain’s influence seems stronger than ever. Plus, no news … nothing about Future Forward. Are we any closer to defending ourselves? Or planning a strategic attack against them? We’re stuck in perpetual pause. Another year of survival mode as our numbers dwindle...”
There was so much I wanted to tell him. My suspicions about Dylain and Ruzzell … especially what happened between Scott and me. Of course, I won’t. And how I felt about Gellica.
Maybe about this … yes, when the time is right, I will tell him this.
Almost reading my mind, Judd asked: “Sorry, buddy; listen to me moan … how did the grievance interview go? Couldn’t have been fun, hey?”
“Um … yep. Awful. It was as bad as it sounds,” I said emphatically, hoping he wouldn’t ask anymore about it.
“And how brave was Gels?” Judd sighed.
“Wow, she was something else.”
“Do you remember the day she saved Brucie?” Judd asked, although I wasn’t sure he actually posed a question. His warm eyes roamed the sky, and he took a deep breath. A smile engulfed his face; his mind obviously caught up in the unforgettable memory.
I answered anyway. “Of course. The day she became a legend.”
It was shortly after Ling, Brucie’s sister, died. Grieving for her, he sought solace in Gellica’s company. One morning, when Brucie accompanied her and Nadalie to forage for nuts and ber
ries, a ragged, male Wolf caught their scent. Aged and evidently expelled from its pack to fend for itself, it had wandered into the jungle in search of easy prey. Ravenous, mangy and demented, the Wolf attacked within seconds of tracking them down.
Gellica and Nadalie clambered clear of the danger by scaling the nearest tree. Their flight attracted the beast’s attention, and he tried to pursue them, snapping at their heels with his massive jaws and long canines. They both scrambled to safety in the tree’s high boughs, even though Gellica was confronted with the tormenting recollection of her parents’ gory death.
Only when the frustrated Wolf stopped its vain attempt to hook them from the tree did Gellica realise that Brucie was still frozen to his spot on the ground. Paralysed with fear, he had wet himself. And when the old, starved Wolf turned his attention to Brucie, Gellica somehow found the fortitude to overcome her own harrowing terror.
She had micro seconds to act. And did.
Before the Wolf pounced on Brucie and tore him to shreds, Gellica drew out her twenty-centimetre knife from its sheath on her hip and dropped onto the neck of the grisly beast with her full weight behind the blade. Piercing the creature’s brain, she killed it instantly, suffering a sprained wrist in the process. While there was a huge slice of fortune involved, it was the most courageous thing we had ever heard of, trumping even the bravery of my father and Judd’s old man.
While Nadalie eagerly told the clan of her heroics, Gellica didn’t want anyone else to know. Despite his preference for not sharing testimonies publicly beyond our clan, Victor thought this was an exception worth making. Still, Gellica refused. She said she didn’t want any attention, and confided in Nadalie, Judd and me—after we would not let the issue go—that she was most concerned for Brucie. That he’d come out looking weak if people hailed her actions. Besides the selfless act itself, her concern for Brucie’s well-being defined the person Gellica was.
Judd sighed wistfully, bringing me back to the here and now. “Saving Brucie that day. Deflecting the heat off you today. She is something else, isn’t she?”
I couldn’t help my eyes return to where she was, trapped between Ruzzell and Shawz, and I knew Judd was gazing at her, too.
Then he said the worst thing I heard all day.
Words that drove a stake straight through my heart.
Enough to deflate the last bit of good feeling I had left.
“Rist…” he said, his voice low and loaded with emotion.
“Yes?”
Judd stroked the end of his nose and puffed his cheeks. “I love her, Rist. I think Gels is the one.”
