The First Genesis

by Mark Macpherson

‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I cannot interfere every time you’re upset.’

  ‘I’m only upset at you,’ she said. ‘This is natural,’ she pointed at the bloody mess behind her, without looking, ‘but your unwillingness to help is unnatural.’

  He was unmoved. She tried another way. ‘Just for now, please?’ she pleaded. ‘I’m sure I will get used to your presence and,’ she wavered, ’inaction. But, I need it explained to me and not over this boy’s body.’

  She saw his eyes flinch when she repeated, ‘Please?’

  He dropped his eyes from hers, as if she had won a test of strength. She heard a sound behind her. She turned as the boy stood. His eyes were open wide as he stared at the apparition of the man walking away from K’ul Kelem.

  Hachakyum walked back to the forest trail they had left when the sound of the young boy’s screams had made K’ul Kelem run. He was worried how his life with K’ul Kelem was beginning. He had assumed he would be in control of any relationship with a human companion. He had not counted on sharing his life with her as an equal.

  ‘Who was that man?’ the boy asked K’ul Kelem.

  She saw that he was not as young as she had thought when he was a mess of blood and torn flesh. He was almost of the age of manhood.

  ‘He is no man,’ she said.

  Chapter 10

  ‘My name is Lakam Pakal,’ the boy said.

  K’ul Kelem stared at him, uncomprehending for a moment that the life she had helped was named.

  ‘I am K’ul Kelem,’ she said.

  The boy was startled and stepped away from her.

  ‘You have heard my name?’ she asked with resignation.

  ‘I have heard your name,’ the boy quietly confirmed while he kept his eyes on the ground, as if looking at the famous woman was dangerous.

  K’ul Kelem wondered how upset Hachakyum would be, although he had helped her. She forgot the boy and walked quickly back to the trail, for a frantic second wondering if she would find him there. Hachakyum was waiting. His face frowned when she came closer and she did not understand why until she realised the boy had followed her. Of course, she thought, they could not leave him.

  ‘Where is your village?’ she asked Lakam Pakal.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s many days walk,’ he said.

  ‘What were you doing here on your own?’ she asked, incredulous.

  ‘I am to become a man,’ he said sheepishly.

  ‘How?’ she asked.

  ‘I was to spend a night on my own, in the jungle. I became lost.’ The boy was extremely embarrassed.

  K’ul Kelem was astonished. ‘And you have no weapons?’

  ‘Ah!’ The boy slapped his forehead, turned and ran back to where he had been attacked. He came back smiling and satisfied with the meagre weapons he had retrieved from the place he had dropped them. When the long-toothed cat had attacked he had abandoned his weapons in fear as if showing his defencelessness could be a defence. He stared with bright eyes at K’ul Kelem and Hachakyum as if he thought himself ready to protect them.

  Hachakyum was annoyed. The presence of the boy made continuing their journey pointless.

  K’ul Kelem smiled thinly at Hachakyum acknowledging the boy’s interference was her fault. The air shimmered against her skin, as it had done in the cave on the first day, and the next instant the three of them appeared at a campsite.

  Their miraculous appearance surprised the gathering of coast people. K’ul Kelem hesitated but then walked confidently forward, on her own, towards the people gathered around a series of cooking fires.

  ‘I am K’ul Kelem,’ she said. Her hands were raised in greeting and a show of non-violent intent.

  The men of the village gesticulated, yelled and waved weapons at her. One throwing stick snaked through the air and pierced the ground three paces from where she stood. It had been thrown as a warning, not by an errant marksman.

  One man stood before the other men. He waved his weapons but made no sound. His face was tight in a frown, he did not have the open mouth and wide eyes of the other men who were trying to look fierce.

  K’ul Kelem stood her ground as the group of men came closer. They quietened when the frowning man stood before K’ul Kelem at less than an arm’s length.

  ‘I am K’ul Kelem,’ she repeated to the man standing before her. She lifted her head, and straightened her body to show the man she had no fear of him or the other men behind him.

  ‘Chak K’an was my responsibility,’ she said to the man’s face. ‘You killed him. I wish to talk.’

  ‘The woman who cannot die?’ the man said with derision. ‘I thought you would have been older.’

  ‘I am,’ she said.

  The man was confused as if she was trying to trick him. He did not like her. He smirked.

  ‘Your kinsman expected to be treated as a king. He demanded our respect. He said, he had the protection of K’ul Kelem and we should not disobey him,’ the man said. He raised his voice to include the group of armed men behind him.

  ‘And you, a girl, are K’ul Kelem? You could not even save yourself, let alone protect another.’

  He raised his hand as if to strike her. She quickly intercepted his arm and held his wrist. He tried but could not remove it from her grasp.

  ‘I have come here to apologise, and to talk,’ she said softly. She let his wrist go.

  ‘Have you not also come for revenge?’ he asked but did not wait for a reply.

  K’ul Kelem did not see the stone knife but felt the violent blow pierce her skin below her ribcage. The sharp point searched inside her chest and ruptured her heart. She fell, lifeless, to the ground at the feet of the man. His arm was dragged down with her body as he was unable to quickly remove the knife that he had buried deep in her abdomen. He let go as she fell. When she lay on the ground, he leant over her, put a foot on her hip and dragged at the handle of his knife to pull it from her body. Blood poured onto the ground and dripped from the end of the knife in his hand.

  He had no pride in his act of violence, as he stood over the body of the woman he had killed. He had half-believed the stories and would not have been surprised if his knife had been blunt against her skin. He looked up from her body and, for the first time, noticed the man and boy who had been her companions.

  He knew the boy but could not make a sound in acknowledgement and recognition.

  The world became dim. The man who had killed K’ul Kelem was afraid like he was a young child, alone at night. He could not move. He could not breath. His life was being squeezed from him. The pain was unbearable. He could only move his eyes. The rest of his body was lost to him. He swivelled his eyes to where K’ul Kelem’s companion had stood. No man remained there.

  An incandescent, angry light burnt in the shape of Hachakyum. The men who had threatened K’ul Kelem fell to their knees, placed their hands over their heads and ululated like grieving women. Terror filled their eyes as pain filled their bodies.

  The man who had struck K’ul Kelem, however, remained upright, his body lifted off the ground as it stretched towards being torn apart.

  Hachakyum came closer to the man who was then able to see, through the light that was Hachakyum, eyes that burned with such anger and hatred that the man wished to die to escape them.

  K’ul Kelem lay, unmoving, on the ground at the feet of her assailant but she was not dead. She was aware of Hachakyum’s anger but her body could not move until it had repaired itself. She felt her strength returning as if she was drawing energy from the ground itself. She willed Hachakyum to listen to her thoughts, to not destroy the man who had attacked her, to not kill all of his people. She worried that his anger, which also filled her with dread, would become uncontrollable. She worried about the fate of all people, of the world itself, because of the mistake of one man who had attacked her.

  Hachakyum was not listening to her thoughts. He had promised K’ul Kelem and he had stopped listening to the thoughts of all people, as a part of his enjoyment of qualif
ied humanity. He had been surprised by the attack. The man would die and his agony would be as no human had suffered before. Hachakyum stared at the eyes that flicked away, as if looking directly at the anger of a god was more painful than the agony wracking his body.

  There was a tug on Hachakyum’s tunic. His head snapped around, ready to destroy the annoyance. Lakam Pakal was afraid but had overcome his fear. Hachakyum opened his mind and the man crumpled to the ground. He took deep, difficult breaths as the pain slowly subsided within his body. The light that had been Hachakyum diminished until he was again the shape of a man.

  K’ul Kelem sat up, then used her hands to push herself off the ground. She stood next to Hachakyum. The ululating men stopped and stared at the god and the woman who could not die.

  ‘Why?’ she asked Hachakyum, in a soft voice that feared his anger, remembered the pain of her attack and the destruction he had intended on her behalf.

  He spoke to her without words. ‘He asked me to stop.’ The boy kneeled next to the man on the ground. ‘He is his father.’

  Hachakyum spoke in a soft, dangerous voice to the man gasping on the ground. ‘Yes, she cannot die. And she is older than the memory of your first ancestor. It would have paid you to have listened to her.’

  Chapter 11

  ‘Why can’t I die?’ K’ul Kelem asked. ‘How do you stop it?’

  They had left the coast people. K’ul Kelem abandoned her attempt at negotiation.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘I felt that knife pierce my heart.’

  ‘Nothing can stop accidents,’ he said.

  ‘What if you’re not watching? What if you’re busy?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t keep you alive,’ he said and stopped walking. She also stopped. He looked around at the jungle, then up at the grey sky overhead and finally down at her face. He hesitated not knowing how to explain.

  ‘This creation is you. It exists for you,’ he said. ‘This creation keeps you alive, as you, also, keep it alive.’ He smiled as if that might make it understandable.

  She smiled, she had to, but she did not understand.

  ‘This world,’ he said. ‘And you are the same thing. You draw strength from each other. You can’t die because this creation depends on you, as you depend on it.’ He smiled again. ‘I’m quite proud. No-one has done this before. This,’ he waved his arm as if to take in the whole world, ‘and you, are the first.’

  ‘I’m an experiment, am I?’ she said. Her eyes flashed.

  He did not understand how she could find fault with what he had said, but her tone said otherwise.

  ‘No, of course not,’ he said. His face frowned and K’ul Kelem, involuntarily, became dispirited. ‘There is no experimentation. You are the same as you have always been, you depend on no-one else, your life has simply been preserved by my skill.’

  He found it a handicap not listening to her thoughts.

  She smiled. ‘Thank you, I guess,’ she said. She touched a leaf. ‘This is mine, this is me?’ she said.

  ‘No, it’s not yours. No-one owns this,’ he said, while looking at the leaf she touched. ‘But there are dependancies.’

  ‘And what are you dependant on?’ she asked.

  ‘You,’ he said. ‘Now.’

  ‘Me?’ she laughed.

  ‘Why not?’ he asked.

  ‘It seems very unlikely, that’s why not.’

  Chapter 12

  A month after K’ul Kelem returned to her people a small group of strangers approached their campsite. It was comprised of a young man and five young women. He asked to see K’ul Kelem when he was challenged by a group of men wielding weapons. He kept his eyes downcast until she arrived before him. She smiled when saw his face.

  ‘I am glad you are well,’ she said. It was Lakam Pakal.

  ‘Thanks to you, K’ul Kelem. And to Hachakyum, of course.’ He sank to his knees before her in an attitude of worship. K’ul Kelem frowned at his subservience.

  ‘What can we do for you?’ she asked quickly.

  ‘I have come in payment of a debt,’ he said.

  ‘You have no debt to me, or to us,’ she said, including the group of men around her.

  ‘Not just for my life,’ he said. ‘Although I owe it to you, but for the killing of Chak K’an, your kinsman.’

  An older man stepped forward. ‘What did you say about my son?’ He brandished his weapon, ready to strike the young man as if he had been personally responsible for the death of Chak K’an.

  Lakam Pakal watched impassively as the threatening older man approached.

  ‘I have brought these women from my family. They are also as payment for my father’s attack on you.’

  ‘You were attacked?’ an elder in the group asked K’ul Kelem.

  ‘It was nothing,’ she said, dismissive. She had not told her group of the attack, only that her attempt at negotiation had failed and that she would return to resume her discussions the next season.

  ‘Nothing?’ the young man on his knees said as he jerked his head up. He stood, realising the opening for a good story.

  ‘My father killed K’ul Kelem,’ he announced dramatically to the group of men. They groaned and yelled in annoyance at the young man telling obvious lies. ‘She fell as one is dead, to the ground at my father’s feet. Blood poured from her. Then the light of the world was darkened as all men felt pain unlike any they had felt before. My father’s body was squeezed and stretched beyond endurance. His pain was the most, beyond anything a human could endure. It was the anger of Hachakyum that stole the light of the sun so that it came through his body alone. He was ready to destroy all men. I begged him to stop. His eyes bore into me filling my body with dread but he also looked on me with compassion and the light returned to the world as K’ul Kelem was returned from death.’

  The elders and younger men stared at the young intruder and at K’ul Kelem. Their eyes open wide with astonishment.

  ‘You tell a good story,’ K’ul Kelem said.

  The boy smiled.

  ‘How is your father?’ K’ul Kelem asked.

  ‘He did not survive his injuries,’ the young man said quickly.

  Hachakyum had let him die, she thought. He had paid the price for injuring her. She had thought the boy had convinced him to not kill his father. However, he had simply stopped killing him and had left him to die. It must have been a horrible death, she thought.

  ‘My people listened to my story, how you and Hachakyum saved me from the beast. They saw the power of Hachakyum and of you, K’ul Kelem, they know that you truly cannot die. I entreated them to give restitution for the death of your kinsman and the attack. They disagreed. They wanted revenge for the death of their leader, my father. I counselled them that I, as his son, did not want his death avenged and that the ending of the two lives balanced. With mine returned, we owed a debt. I offered to come here. I hope these women from my family,’ he indicated the young girls who accompanied him, ‘will clear the obligations between us.’

  ‘Yes,’ K’ul Kelem said immediately and forcefully to the young man and the crowd. ‘The obligations between our people have been satisfied. These women will become equal members of our group. However, I should go to your people. To tell them our dispute is over.’

  ‘That would not be wise,’ the young man said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My uncle has assumed leadership. He is not a man I trust, although he is my kinsman. He has taken our people away from our lands. He has wrenched us from the places of our ancestors. My people have lost their connection with our ancestral land. They are lost and are now wanderers. They have gone further to the north, as far from you as possible. He is an angry man. I suggest that you do not approach my people until after his death.’

  ‘What will you do?’ she asked.

  ‘If I am allowed, I would like to stay. In the presence of K’ul Kelem and Hachakyum,’ he said and bowed his head. ‘If that is acceptable,’ he finished quietly.

  K’ul K
elem smiled and rested her hand on his shoulder. The young man flinched at her touch. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘You will also become an equal member of our group.’

  Chapter 13

  Many decades after the attack, K’ul Kelem sat among a gathering of elders in one of her far-flung kinship groups. She had not been among those people for many years. They lived near the coast, at the location vacated by the people who had retreated north. They had begun a partly sedentary life, remaining in one place, sometimes for months at a time. Their food requirements came from the nearby ocean, estuary and the jungle, which they had learned to clear small patches and harvest crops from introduced plants. It was a unique way of life and they had changed to it within a single generation. However, they remained nomadic out of necessity. Their integration with the land of their ancestors required frequent ceremonies of renewal and continuation at all the ancestral locations. They could not be separated from the land and the places where their ancestors had lived, had died and were buried. The stories of ancient lives were renewed by ceremony and propitiation.

  K’ul Kelem was proud of these people and their adaption. She wished she could spend more time among them, even she could learn from them, but her responsibility to other less resourceful people consumed her time.

  The leader of those coastal people was Lakam Pakal. He stared at her as the group sat together but he did not speak.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ she asked as she stared him down. He averted his eyes.

  ‘No, K’ul Kelem. I was only thinking,’ he said.

  ‘Of what?’ she asked.

  He laughed a single explosion of breath. ‘I remember when I was younger than you,’ he said. ‘You have not changed from my memory of all those years ago. Now, I am an old man.’

  ‘Are you a wise old man?’ she smiled.

  He chuckled. ‘That’s not for me to say,’ he said. ‘But, I hope so.’ He gazed over the group of elders. ‘I have lived all these years only because of the compassion of K’ul Kelem,’ he said. ‘And the power of Hachakyum.’