Eden

by Louise Wise

  The fragile truce between her and Fly hung over her head, as delicate as the tiny scented buds that covered the bush. Since his attack and shame-filled apology, there had been a new respect growing between them. It was one small step towards harmony. She lay down on the soft grass with a contented smile, her hands behind her head. This had been the first day of the beginning of her acceptance here. And now that it was finally acknowledged, she felt a curious blanket of peace fall over her.

  When she returned to the spaceship, Fly was still sitting against the moss-covered wall of the spaceship, cutting the middle out of a tree trunk he’d previously felled, and she felt curiously pleased to see him there.

  He looked up as she walked down the hill, and a smile made a rare appearance over his face. Jenny reacted automatically and smiled back, her grin stretching across her own face like an elastic band.

  In that moment, she was certain he more than tolerated her - maybe he actually liked her? Somehow, that was important.

  Fly stopped what he was doing, leaned back against the wall of the ship, and watched her coming towards him. Her movements were all fluid and un-rushed. Today she had her glorious red hair tied up with twine on top of her head. It made her neck seem all the more delicate and slender.

  He often wondered if somebody other than himself had survived, would she still be alive. There had been so many violent people on the vessel, himself included. He realized that if she had arrived only months after him, he would have done what the others may have done; companionship was at the bottom of his concerns in the early days. How loneliness had changed him!

  It had certainly changed him where the new shelter was concerned. If it weren’t for this dainty woman, he would be living there now; instead, he had become dissatisfied, and with more material than he knew what to do with, he had begun to build a larger, stronger house. Working hard did more than keep him occupied; it took his mind of her.

  The times when she had thought herself alone, Fly would be there watching. Unable to help himself, he crept like a sleepwalker to watch her bathe in the river. Then, feeling like a voyeur, and ashamed, he crept away and worked harder to overcome the potent attraction she held over him.

  He sighed and, picking up his roughly made tools, continued to perfect his boat. They had a long way to go yet, but he had been lonely for far too long to lose her now.

  Something had disturbed her sleep, and she woke the next morning still feeling tired.

  Yawning, she tiptoed across the cold cabin floor, made herself a hot beverage, and carried it out towards the cockpit, carefully sidestepping the smelly corpse. Seeing Fly sitting on a chair, watching her passage along the corridor, made her start. She was often alone for the first half of the day.

  “Can I make you a drink?” she asked, wondering why he was here.

  “You sleep too much,” he said, ignoring her question. “I have been waiting a long time.”

  “My body clock is still running on a 12 hour day and night. The days here are a lot longer than they are on Earth,” she paused, “it’s something I shall get used to in time, I suppose. You could’ve woken me.”

  “You looked so peaceful, I was tempted to join you.”

  Hot, prickling color flooded her face. She looked at her feet. Her toes curled, and she gritted her teeth and waited for the revulsion to invade her body at the thought of him watching her at her most vulnerable, but instead warmth cascaded over her. And she felt giddy and amazed at the sensation.

  At his chuckle, she raised her head.

  “Ah, Jenny, when will you stop being afraid?” He stood up, and moved away towards a large basket, made roughly from grass and twine, and from it he took two separate pieces of animal hide.

  “Come,” he held out a hand. “It is time we started working together. “

  Jenny hastily placed her drink down and walked forward. She stopped a meter away. He closed the distance, and picked up one of her hands. He held it lightly, as if examining an exquisite piece of china he didn’t want to break.

  Jenny could feel the rough texture of his skin; every callous and scar. They weren’t gentle hands, they were the hands of a savage. A man who had killed, and who had been touched by similar brutish strength.

  She wondered what it would be like to be made love to by him.

  The atmospheric conditions have altered your brain waves, Jenny Daykin. You cannot find an alien attractive!

  Who said anything about finding him attractive? I merely wondered about making love to him, that’s all. Merely scientific.

  “Your flesh is very soft,” he said, and jerked her out of her reverie.

  Jenny dragged her hand away, but he simply took it again and held it more tightly.

  “It will tear easily.” He looked up and caught her mistrustful gaze. Then he began to bind the thin, but strong, leather around her hand.

  He did the same to the other, while she looked on wandering what was happening to her. He took a long time over his task, probably longer than it should have taken, but then it was over, and she was standing alone, her covered hands free to hang by her sides. “Follow,” he said.

  Picking up the basket, she trailed him outside. Her head was spinning. Had he flirted with her? From savage alien to philanderer, Jenny was thrown into confusion.

  Over the fast disappearing days Fly taught her the basics of surviving. And with his guidance, and the protection of the gun, Jenny was able to work and contribute to their survival. Compared to Fly, her skills were limited, but the danger she encountered was immense and far out-weighed the meager offerings she brought back.

  The danger wasn’t only from the native-wolves. There were other, stranger animals that lived in total darkness deep in the forest. They stumbled out, dazzled by sunlight, and presented her with new horrors.

  There were slimy creatures that lived on rotting vegetation on the forest floor. They paid her little attention, but their slug-like residue on the ground was thick and sticky, and made walking difficult.

  She became an expert with the gun, and within a few days she knew which part of the forest to avoid and which to aim for, she knew which bush provided the best fruit, and which was poison. She learned where the most succulent fungi grew, and how to pull bark away from certain trees without spilling its secretion; this provided them with anesthetic for the various cuts and bruises they often received. She also learnt how to secrete iodine from seaweed found clinging to the seabed.

  She had already known that Fly was impatient and had a violent make-up, but she was fast and eager to learn, which saved her from his worst wrath. When she had done something wrong, he would roar a torrent of abuse at her; and when she did well, he’d pat her on the head. She had wanted to be treated as his equal, but instead she felt like a child before him.

  The loneliness continued, overwhelming her sometimes in its intensity. His abstract manner wounded her and fed off her confidence, until she felt her hard work was as unimportant to him as it was important to her.

  “I’m his pet,” she often reminded herself in a moment of abandonment, “his pet companion.”

  *

  She was feeling particularly low today, especially as Fly hadn’t made his usual visit. In fact, he hadn’t come at all and dinner was left over stew from the previous day, and her own collection of berries. She sat, miserable, in the cockpit, shelling nuts.

  Scavenging native-wolves had prowled outside earlier, and their appearance had made Jenny very aware that Fly wasn’t entirely protected against them. Despite his brutish nature she depended on him for not only shelter and food, but for companionship - no matter how little of it he gave away. And sometimes, when he wasn’t in his dark moods, he was fascinating to talk with. She learned how the Neanderthals were exceeded by the modern human, and how they had climbed to the top of the food chain to become the supreme being on Earth.

  But since the light flirtation several weeks ago, he hadn’t attempted to be in any way sexual towards her. And, strangely, she h
ungered for more of the same.

  “Can’t you see what’s happened, Jenny Daykin?” she asked herself curtly and actually shook her body as if a hand had been on her shoulder trying to force the wisdom into her. “He’s so afraid of being alone again, he’s avoiding you in case he’s tempted to force himself upon you and kills you.”

  Her sudden, voiced thought startled her, and the bowl of nuts tipped and scattered all over the floor. On her knees, Jenny absently gathered them together. It had never occurred to her. Fly afraid of loneliness? Was that true? Was that the reason he spent so much time away from the spaceship, because he was protecting her from himself?

  He was bad-tempered, he had a frightening violent streak, but he had never hit her. Unintentionally hurt her maybe, but he had never turned on her, other than to shout a frenzy of foreign words.

  She was lonely, but lonely for him. She ached for his security, his black stare that was sometimes filled with an intense wonder and bewilderment of her.

  She smiled to herself: Like the time she found the small baying foal-creature with its back leg caught up bramble. The mother stood a mistrustful distance away but didn’t intervene when Fly exposed the animal’s throat and took out his huge knife.

  “Oh, no, Fly!” she had cried. “Poor thing, I’d rather go hungry than eat him.”

  And Fly watched while she unsuccessfully tried to untangle the ungrateful creature, until he crouched beside her and cut the bramble away with the knife he was going to use to kill it.

  “There goes dinner,” he had said when the animal had skipped away, and together mother and baby began to munch the grass as though nothing unusual had happened.

  Jenny had laughed, and finally so had Fly.

  He wasn’t really a violent, sadistic man. His culture had made him that way, and underneath Jenny could see a much kinder, gentler person struggling to understand new emotions that had been repressed by all Itors for hundreds of years.

  She was troubled. “Don’t give up on me, Fly,” she whispered. “I’m trying to understand you, really I am.”

  A low engine noise caused her thoughts to waver, and slowly she raised her head. She held her breath and listened, but her heart filled the silence and finally she was forced to stand up and go outside to find out what was causing the sound.

  A blast on a horn made her jump. Quickly she swung he gaze towards the top of the hill, and gasped.

  Fly was behind the wheel of the buggy. He stopped on the crest and he climbed out, a faint smile on his face.

  Jenny flew up the hill, her eyes were for Fly only and her relief at seeing him made them fill with tears. She felt amazed at her response, and drew her gaze towards the buggy and pretended her happiness was for seeing her precious vehicle again.

  She stepped forward as her spiraling thoughts spun around inside her head: He came back! He came back to me!

  The roof of the buggy was replaced with a large disc-shaped wheel pointing towards the sky, and when her brain acknowledged the sight, she whistled with glee.

  “You’ve created solar-power!” She stared at him in wonder. And then astonishing herself, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his rough-scarred cheek. He didn’t respond but stood looking down at her with a muscle in his cheek twitching spasmodically, as if he were trying to overcome an emotion of some sort.

  Jenny stepped back, feeling embarrassed. She turned back towards the buggy as his posture came to resemble an old fossilized tree.

  “I thought the wolves had damaged it beyond repair,” she said. “Is there no end to your talents?” She felt she said the wrong thing, became all confused and blushed hotly. “I-I mean talents as in making lov… things!” she squeaked. “Making things.”

  Fly was taken aback at her soft kiss. He fingered a wire on the buggy absently while he tried to understand her mood. She stood chattering away, much too fast for him to understand. Her cheeks were flushed, and he was never more tempted than now to take her in his arms.

  It had taken a long time to stop her acting fearfully every time he was around, and with one stupid uncontrollable rage when he had nearly took her without consent, he had almost ruined everything. But now they were walking towards one another with the same interest of sharing and companionship.

  Maybe something more, he could only hope. But he wasn’t going to risk losing her by insisting.

  He slapped the bonnet, feeling pleased with himself. “It is temperamental, but it works.”

  She laughed. “Wow! Solar-power, it’s wonderful! How did you…” she shook her head, and allowed her words to trail off.

  He had removed the dash, and wires protruded from it to run upwards towards the large concave dish. The back seat had gone and was replaced with a wooden floor. Large, yellowish, rounded vegetables were rolling about. He watched as she leaned over to pick one up.

  “I found them a couple of days ago,” he explained. “Raw or cooked they are perfectly fine to eat. “

  “They could be turnips.”

  “You have the same on earth?”

  “No,” she smiled. “The shape’s the same, but our turnips aren’t covered with fluff. “

  She let the vegetable drop back into the buggy as her eyes moved to the empty space where the radio had been.

  “It was beyond repair,” he said to her unspoken words.

  Her shoulders slumped and he immediately wished he had better news. The radio had been totally destroyed by the natives; they had been incensed by the static that came from it.

  “I doubt Taurus is in its range now, anyway,” she said.

  Fly had an inexpedient urge to comfort her. Instead he turned and began to walk away. But Jenny called to him, and when he looked back the first thing he felt was gratitude that he would be able to spend a few more seconds in her company.

  “Don’t disappear! I haven’t seen you all morning. Let me take you for a drive.”

  As he drew near, she smiled up at him and slipped behind the wheel of the buggy.

  Jenny drove in silence. It was deliberate; her thoughts were overwhelmed with new trepidation. Seeing the buggy was only half of it, while knowing Fly had not abandoned her was the whole of it. Her thoughts turned to her mother, billions of miles away on Earth. Her mother would like Fly. She had always said there was good in everyone if you looked hard enough. She glanced at Fly. And there was plenty of that in him.

  She slowed the buggy on reaching the colorful spectacle, and breathed in the heady aroma. The spongy grass was pockmarked with sandy dunes, and between them thrived blooms in abundance. Yesterday she had cut down some of the flowers for her cabin, and was disappointed that once away from sunlight they had closed up, taking their scent with them.

  This was one of her favorite places, marred only by the presence of a giant homicidal plant standing over the many beautiful knee-high flowers, whose scent was pure undiluted perfume.

  “You like it here?” Fly asked.

  “The flowers; the smell, It’s wonderful.”

  Fly sniffed loudly. “It is pleasant.”

  Jenny chuckled. “It’s more than “pleasant”.” She pointed towards the giant, ugly plant. “One of them attacked Bodie. Its leaves became hard, knocking him over. “

  “I have seen animals speared on the leaves and drained of their blood while they struggle to free themselves.”

  Jenny shuddered. “Do you have to be so graphic? Oh Lord, blood sucking plants, whatever next?”

  “Is this still your favorite place?” Fly teased.

  She smiled back. “If I shut my eyes I can still smell the flowers, but I don’t have to see the blood-sucking plant. This wonderful scent alone makes me happy. “

  “You do not look happy. You are worried about Bodie, I think?”

  “You’re very astute. But no, I was thinking of my mother. She lost her husband on a space mission, and now she’ll believe she’s lost a daughter too. “

  “You are always thinking about others.”

  “I came on this mission ag
ainst her wishes, I didn’t think of her then. I did what I wanted, and enrolled for the mission exams. I passed, and went on to complete a preparation course. Mum wished me luck but…” her voice wavered. “I knew how she was really feeling inside. She didn’t want me to end up dead like my father.”

  “What is “mother”?”

  “Mother and father are my parents,” Jenny explained. “The two people who created me,” she added when he still looked confused. “Where’s your computer?”

  “The battery has failed, and I cannot find another that works. Mother,” he moved his tongue around the unfamiliar word. “I think I understand. That is the female animal who has young.”

  “That’s right,” she said, although she wasn’t sure she liked his description.

  “So, what is “father”?”

  “A father is a man who, er, makes the woman pregnant. He’ll bring up the child too.”

  “I understand; as most children I never met my biological parents. My parents had probably never met, either. We do not have primitive births as you do on Earth. “

  Jenny made a conscious effort not to bristle. He hadn’t intended it to be a barb, and his tone had been matter-of-fact.

  “Parents are chosen for their good genetics, and we were born in a special birthing laboratory and raised in the customary care of the world’s government.”

  He had told her only fragments of his past life and it never ceased to shock her. She wondered how two worlds, with people created from similar atoms, could be so different and lacking in compassion. In reality they had been born the same, only their habitat made the two worlds so different yet so homogeneous.

  “Look!” Fly pointed, and Jenny looked around in time to see a chimp like animal disappearing up a tree with its tiny baby peering out of its pouch.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize they had pouches. It’s so sweet.”

  “I can taste it already,” he agreed.

  “That’s not what I meant!” she said, turning her head to laugh up at him, as he laughed back.

  They watched the animal in silence, and Jenny became aware how their thoughts had somehow channeled together, and the emotion that dominated Fly had been with her all along, even when she was safely in England. It was fear - fear of loneliness. Both had experienced it, even from their own people. Neither knew where they belonged, and had drifted through life looking for respect in the strange hope that it would banish their seclusion from everyday experiences.