Eden (28 page)

Jenny
’s
gaze dropped back to the man lying on the floor. “I love him so much, you know.” She looked up. “It means a lot that you believe me now. “

Now -
that single word hurt Bodie.

“You know,” said Matt. “You’ve a husband in Fly, and as near to another dad with Bodie as you
’re
going to get. So, how about a big brother?” He squeezed her shoulder. “I promise I won’t pick fights or hurt you again. “

Jenny looked up. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Then she smiled, “Besides, big brothers hate their little sisters.”

Matt
’s
answering smile was crooked. “Not this one,” he said awkwardly.

The following day, Matt walked over to the second house. He stood looking over the structure, and the mounds of earth that concealed the piping. Then he stripped off the upper half of the Itor spacesuit and began moving the already chopped and measured wood from the pile into their correct positions.

Bodie, with the aid of a thick walking stick, checked on the cattle. He refilled their water butts, and rescued a calf that had fallen into a trench. He collected milk, killed and gutted a young animal and prepared a meal. Jenny had never mentioned the fact that he could walk, although she must have noticed it; but he was glad because he didn’t want to have to lie to her again. Maybe, when her thoughts, were not all taken up with Fly, she would remark upon it.

Fly showed no improvement the next day, or the next and Bodie became worried that neither food nor water had passed his lips since the accident. He knew he had to think of a way to fix a drip into his arm to counteract the rapid weight loss and dehydration, but without modern appliances, he felt useless.

Nothing was mentioned to Jenny - subconsciously she probably
realiz
ed Fly would die if he became seriously dehydrated, so while she devoted herself to caring for him, Bodie thought of ways to
feed Fly the necessary nourishment intravenously.

On the third day, Bodie had discovered a way to fix a drip into Fly
’s
arm using a hollowed out wooden stem from a bush. He had
sterilized
the necessary improvised equipment, and intended to inject a briny solution deep into the vein in the upper arm. He was quite proud of his invention, but Matt advised that Jenny should be kept in the dark in case the absurd instruments they intended to use distressed her.

Bodie went into the kitchen to check his sterile mixture of globulin and glucose, made simply from plant and animal tissue. And, as instructed, Matt tied two pieces of string tight around Fly
’s
arm, one below the shoulder, and the other above the elbow. The area between bulged with contained blood, and blue veins were thrust vividly outward.

With no more cerebrospinal bleed they’d hoped his skull fracture wasn’t as serious as they had previously thought. They could do no more than hope. The wooden brace had been replaced with something stronger, but it looked crude and cumbersome.

“About time you woke up,” Matt said, lowering Fly
’s
arm back down. “Bodie
’s
playing doctor, and if I were you I’d wake up and make my escape.” He looked at the pale face on the raised pillow. It looked like cold grey marble, and at that moment the alien appeared already dead.

“You look completely harmless lying there. Hard to believe how terrified I was of you.”

“Aw, damn!” Bodie yelled from the kitchen. “Jen
’s
coming
back.
“

Matt grinned and looked back
down at the silent face. “How d’
you put up with her? She
’s
an hysterical head case, or is that only where you
’re
concerned?”

“I
’ll
send her on another errand.” Bodie hobbled out of the
door, his limp exaggerated in his hurry.

“She
’s
bound to suspect something,” Matt shouted back, but the door slammed shut, and any reply was lost.

“This house is pretty good, but mine
’s
better.” Matt spoke absently to Fly, as he loosened the string. He sat back on his heels, wondering where his hatred of the alien had gone. “The structure you did was so-so, and I only rearranged it slightly. I could do with some help with the roof, though. Bodie ain’t as agile as he used to be; the fault lies with his age as well as his injury, I s
’
pose.”

Standing, he walked to the window and looked out. Jenny was nowhere in sight, but Bodie was coming back across the meadow with his newly limping gait.

Fly moaned.

Matt swung around. After a pause of sheer surprise, he rushed over and sank down beside him. He tapped his face in between the metal structure of the brace and felt Fly try to move.

“Fly?”

The moan, when it came, was a little sound one might make in deep sleep.

Matt rose sharply when he heard the door. “Bodie! Bodie, get in here quick!”

“What?” Bodie stuck his head around the door, his eyes immediately dropping to the floor where Fly lay.

As if prompted, Fly made another sound and his eyes flickered. This was new improvement, and Matt threw Bodie a look that was pure triumph.

“Jesus...” Bodie said. “How long has he been doing that?”

“The moment you slipped out.”

Bodie knelt down clumsily, and prized open Fly
’s
eyes.

“Don’t know why,” he said, allowing the eyelid to fall back into place. “I can’t see a bleeding thing in his dead, fish eyes.”

“What about the drip?”

“Give him a moment - keep talking. I
’ll
waft the smelling salts under his nose.” Instead of the familiar ammonium carbonate, the mixture was made up from something completely different, generally used to keep the night-time biting insects at bay, but its smell was sharply potent.

“We saved your life, you alien bastard,” Matt said smugly, but not unkindly. “I guess that makes us equal now.”

Fly
’s
eyes flashed open. The empty blackness of his stare caught Matt off guard, and he jumped back with a startled yelp. Bodie returned in time to witness his fear, and crowed loudly at his fright.

“I am... not the... alien, you... are,” Fly said in a thick, gruff voice, and Matt
’s
shocked expression changed into a grin. His first friendly grin ever directed at Fly.

Bodie
’s
laugh changed to a gasp. “He
’s
awake! Christ, Matt, the man
’s
alive!”

Matt nodded. “You’ve human breath in you now, Itor man.”

Fly
’s
eyes held awareness, and Matt watched his throat swallow as if he were having difficulty accepting this new piece of information.

“The human mind... is strange. You had a... chance to kill... me. Jenny?” he asked, and his eyes closed.

Matt looked at Bodie, and they exchanged shaky, incredulous
laughs.

Days passed, and slipped into weeks. The weather became warmer, but the river and the ocean remained incredibly cold.

Fly
’s
ankle and head injury recovered, and Bodie
’s
legs became less painful and stiff. He repaired the strap for the old gun, and constructed a new weapon with an explosive propellant from the remains of several old computers and a sulphurous powder. He also devised a small wind machine to grind the wheat that grew around them, and was planning, with material from the spaceship, another vehicle of some kind.

Matt
’s
insecurities had vanished, and with it the competition of survival. This was their new life, and they had all decided, without words, that they would pull together. Thoughts of earth and their old lives were swept away as their new way of life predominated.

Their lives were simple but hard work; their food appreciated and enjoyed. Jenny no longer thought of her old vegetarian ways, and Matt didn’t balk at dismembering animals.

Sometimes days passed without Jenny and Fly ever seeing the others. She worked on her crops, watering and nurturing them, and finally harvesting them.

She had a plot of root vegetables, fruit vines, and a small orchard of carefully planted fruit trees, which were spindly in their youth, but thriving beneath her care. She gave some of her harvest to Bodie and Matt and in return they gave her flour and butter (of sorts).

And so summer steadily approached winter. Leaves began to fall from the trees, and the fruit and vegetables became sparse. The bridge was finally up and declared open; it had a drawbridge in the
center
to stop the natives from coming over. The caged monkey was released ungratefully back into the forest, and it scurried away with its razor tail held high above its head.

Despite the declining weather their lives got easier, and hunting was a rarity as their cattle grew. The harvest of fruit, vegetables and flour would, if they were careful, last most of the cold winter.

The summer ended in a blazing display of lightning and thunder; the smell was pure sulphur, and the thunder was louder than anything they had ever remembered. The violent earth tremors sent their farmed animals crazy, and many were killed trying to escape the enclosure. The storms seemed to last forever. Talking amongst themselves was impossible, so body gestures became the main language. Fly learned a whole new terminology.

Fireballs bombarded the forest, trees were set ablaze, and parts of the jungle were destroyed. Fire became their paramount fear. Then it was over. The cloud rolled by as if speeded up on a fast-forward tape. But with the storms went the warmth, and so winter arrived.

The first snow had them outside playing childish games and building snowmen, until the cold drove them back indoors. The second snow fell, hardened, and the ground level rose.

The ground was pure ice, even the air felt frozen. It was difficult to breathe. One step outside and any body moisture exposed to the atmosphere would instantly freeze. The cold was unbelievable; inhaling hurt. The newcomers wondered if they would survive.

And Fly warned them it would get colder.

The river stilled in its flow, and the sea was in a continuous state of pause. For the winter months they had stored many animal hides and furs, and dressed accordingly. They adjusted, their bodies slowed, and they slept longer.

They survived.

TWENTY-NINE

A second winter rolled round, and they all prepared for it with mixed feelings of trepidation and excitement.

The freeze settled on the land and everything hibernated beneath its icy fingers. The sky was blue and the suns shone, but the plain below was a blinding white, and no living thing could be seen moving; hidden away until the thaw.

Jenny and Fly continued in their lives without regret, but Bodie often looked to the sky with jumbled expressions of hope and sadness, and Matt was frustrated with his new slow-paced life.

They hated the fact that they had to rely on daylight for electricity, and that sometimes food wasn’t readily available.

The twin suns rose and set, the planet rotated, and once again melon appeared on the tall gnarled trees at if to say, “Hey, look! Here comes spring!”

Fly stood in the warmth of the kitchen, a batch of freshly baked biscuits stood cooling on a stone plate next to a jug of rich red wine made from the fermented red fruit. He turned to look out of the window. The sky was darkening after the setting of the suns, but it was darker than usual because clouds had gathered with threatened rain. He took a biscuit, they tasted of honey, and bit into it absently.

Bodie and Matt could be heard in the distance, singing a tuneless song that had the hallmarks of two men completely stoned.

He picked up his cup and tossed the last dregs down his throat. It was strong stuff. And obviously they had both drunk more than their share before bringing it over. He smiled to himself. Bodie and