CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) (7 page)

When she awoke,
Screech was not there.  Alarmed by his absence, she called to him. 
There was no answer, but soon she heard him lowering himself into the
cave.  He had bulbs and tubers in his hands, as well as two speckled
eggs.  His face was covered with yolk and bits of shell.  Zena had
learned to eat eggs neatly by inserting a fingernail into the top and bottom of
the shell and sucking out the contents, but Screech had not yet mastered this
technique.

Abruptly aware
that she was ravenous, Zena devoured the eggs.  They were her favorite
food, and satisfied her hunger more than anything else.  Screech watched
her, his eyes round and serious.  Zena held the baby up for him to see.

He reached over
and touched it gently, then brought his face close to sniff it. The scent was
new and complicated.  Blood and milk and feces were all
intermingled.  He sneezed. Zena put the infant to her breast and suckled
it peacefully while she ate some bulbs and tubers.  Then she rose to her
feet, gesturing to Screech to follow.  Gathering a large armful of the
soiled grasses, she pushed them up through the entrance to the cave.  The
smell of birth was strong and would attract attention.  Screech helped
her; together they carried all the nesting material away from the refuge and
scattered it, to dissipate the scent.

Weary but content,
Zena stood for a moment gazing at the vista below.  Though she had been
here for many years, she never ceased to wonder at the beauty and abundance of the
place she had so unexpectedly found.  Then her eyes were drawn to the
plume of smoke that always rose from the mountain with the bowl-shaped
top.  Today, the plume was thick and very dark.

She frowned
anxiously.  For weeks, the mountain had been belching smoke and soot, and
sometimes it emitted ominous low rumblings.  When the wind was right, the
air carried a thin layer of grit that covered everything - rocks, grasses, her
skin, even the berries she ate.  As she watched, a deep russet glow showed
momentarily at the base of the plume.

Zena turned
away.  The belching peak, with its ominous smells and noises, worried
her.  But for the moment, she was too tired to care.  The mountain
would have to wait.  And for almost a month, it did. Then, in a momentous
explosion of flame and molten rock, it erupted.

CHAPTER
FOUR

The antelopes
could not settle to their feeding. Their heads snapped up constantly, and they
pranced skittishly from place to place as if drawn by an invisible force. Zena
watched them uneasily.  She did not know the cause of their nervousness,
but she felt it too.  Some danger greater than a leopard or tiger, or even
a storm, was gathering around them. It was like the tingling feeling she had
before the rains came, when terrible rumblings came from the sky and flashes of
light speared the clouds, but much bigger and more oppressive.

She turned to look
at the mountain.  For weeks, it had been emitting a strong, acrid smell
that coated her nostrils, made her eyes water.  The noxious fumes were even
stronger today.  The light was strange too.  A sickly, gray-green
cast overlaid the normal blue of the sky.  She could not see the sun, had
not seen it all day.  It seemed reluctant to show its face, as if weary of
its unaccustomed struggle to break through the constant haze.

Plumes of black
smoke spewed from the mountain's bowl-shaped summit.  Zena watched as they
dispersed into wispy grayness and then coalesced into bulbous clouds edged with
sulfurous yellow.  They seemed to cover all the earth with their ominous
pall.  Her sense of unease increased.  The mountain was the cause of
the animals' nervousness; she was suddenly sure of it.

She shuddered,
terribly afraid.  For the first time in years, she wanted her
mother.  She did not know what to do, whether to take Screech and the
infant away or to remain in the security of the cave until the danger from the
mountain had passed.  Her mother would have helped her.

She called to
Screech and headed for the cave.  Night was almost upon them, and there
was nowhere else to go.  Placing her bundle of long-stemmed plants and
tubers on the cave floor, she settled down to feed the infant.  She had
tried to make Screech understand that he, too, should bring as much food as he
could carry back to the cave.  It was all she could think of to do against
the unnamed threat.

He came almost
immediately. He had understood, for his small hands were full of plants and
fruits. He nestled close to her, as he always did, but this time his face was
uneasy. He seemed to sense her apprehension, and he stroked her arm over and
over again. Even the infant seemed affected, for she had whimpered off and on
all day.

Darkness came, but
Zena could not sleep.  Low rumblings emerged from the mountain, and
sometimes the sound escalated into a sustained roar.  Twice, the ground
trembled under them as they lay curled up in the cave.  After the second
tremor, Zena picked up the infant and crawled outside, driven by an impulse
stronger than her fear.  The air was warm and still, the night silent except
for the volcano, as if even the insects were too wary to emit their usual
noises.  Moonlight bathed the plains, and Zena could see the outlines of
grazing animals. They seemed even more restless than before.

One of the heavy
black clouds that littered the sky snaked across the moon's face, and the
animals disappeared.  Now all she could see was the mountain glowing
fiercely in the distance.  The redness near its top had grown.  So
had the smoke; no longer a thin plume, it spewed out in voluminous bulges that
roiled menacingly into the sky.  Behind the smoke came flames.  But
this time, they did not diminish into a scarlet glow, as they always had
before.  Instead, the flames leaped into the night, turning all the area
above the mountain into a blazing inferno.

Fear slashed
through Zena's body.  Something terrible was about to happen.  She
could feel it in the tingling of her skin, the gaping ache in her belly. 
She must get Screech, get away!

She turned toward
the cave, but before she could take a step, the mountain exploded.  A
massive pillar of smoke and flame shot straight up into the tumultuous clouds,
and a deafening roar split the air as thousands upon thousands of tons of
molten rock finally escaped the dome of hardened magma that had long held them
captive.  Moving at hundreds of miles an hour, the scalding rock spewed
over the lip of the fractured dome and spilled down the sides of the mountain
to the earth below, burying everything in its path in a scorching embrace.

Another explosion
rent the air.  Fiery balls of rock catapulted into the night sky, then
streaked toward the earth in long, burning arcs.  Everywhere they landed,
fire followed instantly.  It sped through the grasses, the bushes, the
trees, the animals that sheltered within them, incinerating them in seconds.

Horrified, too
shocked to react, Zena stood motionless, watching.  Flames covered
everything in the valley below her. They lit up the plains, turned the air
red.  Animals scattered in all directions, trampling each other as they
fled the inferno.  A band of pigs blundered toward her, swerving at the
last moment to charge up the ridge. Not all the animals escaped the fires, and
the screams of those who were trapped and burning mingled sickeningly with the
crackling of flames, the mountain's roar.

A stronger tremor
shook the earth.  Zena yelled for Screech, but he was already beside her,
his face contorted with fear. Then suddenly he was not there, for the ground
had parted beneath them with a huge, grinding crack. Zena fell hard against the
ledge, knocking the breath from her lungs.  She gasped and tried to call
Screech, but no sound emerged.  Frantic with fear, she tucked the
screaming infant under one arm while she felt for Screech's warm body with the
other.  But there was nothing.

Relief flooded her
when she heard Screech calling from somewhere below.  His voice was wild
with terror.  She scrambled toward him, but another tremor knocked her
down. Clutching the infant against her chest, she crawled toward the place
where she had heard him. The moon was eclipsed by ponderous clouds, and she
could see almost nothing.  Then, blessedly, it emerged for a slender
moment, and she spotted Screech crouching part way down the slope.  She
ran to him and pulled him up the hill again, toward the cave.  Perhaps
they would be safe inside.

They crawled
toward the entrance, but nothing was there.  Zena stared, so astonished
she forgot her fear for a moment.  The ledge had fallen on top of
it.  She pushed Screech ahead of her toward the second entrance, but that
too was gone.  The whole ridge had collapsed.  There was no refuge,
no place to go.

The roar of the
mountain grew into a sustained shriek.  Zena pushed the baby's head
against her chest, and covered an ear with her free hand, to try to stop the
sound. But an even greater clamor arose as the volcano's savage intrusion on
the atmosphere triggered a momentous storm. Thunder split the sky; a wild crack
of lightning followed instantly.  The bolt hit the bushes at the top of
the ridge, engulfing them in flames.

Dazed, unable to
think amidst the noise, the horror, Zena could not move.  A burning chunk
of rock careened through the air and crashed in front of her, jarring her into
action. Grabbing Screech's hand, she bolted along the ridge, away from the
fires and the belching mountain.

All through the
night, they blundered through the murky darkness, falling countless times,
until they were battered and bruised all over.  Only flashes of lightning
gave shape to their surroundings.  Then, each rock, each bush and tree
stood out harshly against the scarlet sky.  But as soon as the
incandescent spear had delivered its blow, a curtain of black dust descended
once more, making the livid air impenetrable.  The urge to stop and rest
was strong.  But Zena kept them moving, for she sensed a menace behind
them even worse than the fires.  Twice, she had looked behind her and seen
the russet glow of molten rock racing across the plains and up the hills, as if
the mountain itself were chasing her.

The ferocity of the
storm increased moment by moment.  The thunder seemed never to stop, and
lightning tore the sky apart in multiple flashes.  Wind suddenly blasted
at them, driving hot ash at their faces, into their eyes.  With the wind
came rain.  Black and filled with soot, it cascaded upon them in torrents,
coating their skin with its residue.  Zena stumbled on, clutching the
screaming infant with one arm, guarding her eyes with the other.

A tree fell behind
her with a deafening thud; she hurried away from the noise, desperate now to
find shelter.  She could barely see, and branches were crashing all around
them.  To go on was dangerous.

She reached for
Screech, to pull him with her under an overhanging ledge, but Screech was not
there.  Her fingers touched only air.

She called to him,
but got no answer.  She called again.  He could not be far away; he
had been beside her only a moment before.  Suddenly terrified, she yelled
as loudly as she could into the onslaught of thunder and roaring wind and
crackling flames, but still there was no answer.

Frantic, Zena
tried to retrace their steps, but in the howling darkness, she could not tell
where they had been.  She dropped to her knees and crawled, clinging to
the infant while she searched the ground with her fingers. Perhaps he had
fallen, or was trapped somewhere.

She could not find
him.  Over and over, she crawled around, trying to search a new place each
time.  She yelled with all her strength until her voice was hoarse and not
even a croak would emerge.  Finally, she sank to the ground in
exhaustion.  Tears poured from her eyes.  Screech was gone.  He
had vanished, as her mother had vanished, and now she might never find him...

The infant
squealed in her arms, but she ignored the cries.  She wanted Screech; even
more than the baby, it was Screech she wanted. He was closest to her heart, for
he had come to her first, when she was all alone.

Despair
overwhelmed Zena.  She felt as if something inside her had been mortally
wounded in a way she could not understand, could not bear. She closed her eyes
and howled, forgetting the storm, the volcano, the danger of being heard. 
She howled and howled until all the strength was gone from her.  Then she
collapsed silently against the ash-laden earth.

**************************

A total absence of
sound woke Zena.  The woods were eerily still, as if every creature that
had ever lived there had been silenced by the volcano's fury.  No wind
stirred, no animal moved, no bird called to its mate. 

A drop of water
made a barely audible plunk as it landed in a puddle, its normal bell-like tone
muffled by soggy ash.  Zena turned her head toward the sound.  It
seemed to come from far away, so she ignored it and fell back again toward
sleep, but she could not get comfortable.  Her whole body ached, and her
throat was so raw she could barely swallow.

She rose stiffly
to her feet, holding the still-sleeping infant against her chest.  For a
moment she could not remember where she was. Then memory returned and agony
bent her double.  Screech was gone... he was gone... A terrible, drowning
heaviness tore at her heart as she thought of him alone and frightened, calling
for her.

Abruptly, she
straightened and began to search frantically among the stark trees. Perhaps he
was still nearby.  The night had been so dark, so terrible.  Maybe
now, with light beginning to creep into the smoky air, she would find
him.  She tried to remember the way she had come, but nothing looked
familiar, and all signs of their passage had been erased by the driving rains. 
There were no footprints, no scents, so she traversed the whole area, back and
forth, calling loudly.  But no answer came.