Human (49 page)

“No! I can’t do that-” Ivy pulled her hand away, heart suddenly hammering in her chest. It was one thing to change prehistory, but another thing entirely to leave the archaeological equivalent of a hallmark card on a rock saying
‘I was here!
’ Ivy laughed nervously, shaking her head. “Not a good idea, Gihn.” The old man frowned.

Ivy gently dropped his hand, stung by an errant thought.
But then again… If I did it, that print would survive a lot longer than I ever will. It will remain to become a part of the world I lost. His world. Orrin’s. He might even find it. And date it…”

Ivy held up her hand in the sunlight, wriggling her fingers and grinning. “No, you’re right, of course. It would be an honour to be first on your wall.” Gihn smiled victoriously and smeared a dollop of pigment across her open hand. Ushering her forward, he smoothed Ivy’s hand onto the stone, leaving a golden imprint. He then added his own hand print alongside.

“I know it can not fill your loss Hiranah, but you and Kyah are both loved here. This is your home now,” he said, seriously, “and we are your family. Remember that, you must always stay here with us. You belong here now so you have to stay.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow. “Where could I go anyway? I can’t go home.”

“No you can’t,” he said again. “This is your home now.” Gihn lifted his chin and broke the connection, then turned away, busying himself with the paint. Ivy sat for a moment, her eyes narrowing. She cleared her throat, plastered a smile on her face and took his hand.

“Gihn?” Ivy said, biting her lip. “What were the stars like the night I fell from the sky? Can you draw them for me, here on the wall?”

“Why?” Gihn shuffled uncomfortably and looked past her to the children playing. Ivy was surprised. Although he often questioned her secrets, Gihn had never once questioned her motives.

“I suppose I just want to remember it. That night changed my life.” Ivy gave her most disarming smile and took back her hand to curl her fringe behind her ear. It was a half truth.

She couldn’t simply write a love letter on the wall. Twenty first century English script in a prehistoric Indonesian cave painting would spark scientific anarchy when it was discovered. Ivy bit back a laugh, imagining the fallout. No, if she was going to leave Orrin a message, it should be written in the stars.

“Besides,” Ivy added, reconnecting with him, “that night is part of the story of the Life Stone too now. The story of your family. I mean
our
family.”

Gihn nodded slowly, seemingly appeased by her response. “You are right; we should all remember it.” Appraising the wind-smoothed wall carefully, he dipped his finger into the paint and drew five dots on a clear wall.

“Do you know these stars?” he asked.

“Of course. That’s the Southern Cross,” said Ivy.

“Perhaps, to your people. To us, these stars are shaped like the kites of the karathah fishing rafts. We call them karathin.” Again he dipped his fingers in the thick yellow dye. “Tonight the moon will be here,” he drew a waxing crescent moon near the constellation. “When the moon was full – here -”, he traced a perfect golden circle with his index finger, “this is when you fell from the sky.”

“I don’t understand,” Ivy lied.
Had it only been three weeks?

Gihn completed the drawing, adding an arc of lunar positions around the constellation at seemingly random angles. “The stars shift with the moon. Every season is different, even every night they sit differently in the sky. Can you not see it?” He frowned, surveying his calendar.

Perfect.
“Oh yes, I see what you mean. Thank you Gihn,” Ivy smiled.

For you, Orrin. The stars.

They sat under the shade of the Rosewood trees nearby and talked. Gihn was infuriatingly naïve. He assumed the earth his species would survive into, would be as natural as the one he now occupied. Ivy knew better. Modern humans had all but lost their connection to land and those indigenous cultures that still honoured it were often bulldozed from their sacred sites and given shopping centres and bitumen in return.

Instead of tainting Gihn further, Ivy simply listened, asking questions occasionally and remembering as much as she could to record in her journal back at the cave. Behind them, the Southern Cross shone in yellow ochre on the wall, and Kyah, Trahg and Turi laughed and rolled about in the leaves all afternoon.

No one noticed when Trahg dipped his own little finger into the remaining pigments as any child would, who could not resist. And when they left as the sun set, no one noticed the yellow woman with flaming red hair left on the limestone. Nor the dark haired creature and small boy drawn beside her, holding hands.

The chimpanzee shuffled loudly above him. Neil held his breath as it passed. It was almost too easy. For the last two days the chimp had foraged ever closer to his hide-out. Today it was alone, lacking its usual entourage of man-ape children, but Neil cared little for its reasons for solitude. All he cared was that it was alone. The animal was a clear threat and it was time to get rid of it.

He’d spent the night with a sharp chunk of flint in his fist, stripping and shaping a switch. His own blood stained the shaft of the spear that he now had to show for his efforts, along with the cuts and bruises that were etched into his palms and fingers. Still, the spear offered Neil a degree of protection, and what better initiation for it, than to kill the only thing here that knew he existed.
One less obstacle.

Seemingly oblivious to his presence, the chimpanzee skirted low branches, further and further into the forest. Neil was unfamiliar with the dark trees it led him through, but wasn't concerned. He ran his fingers over the curve of his mobile tucked away in his pocket. It was almost always switched off to conserve battery power, but in the unlikely event he needed it, the compass would point him back to the river.

Neil let out a soft grunt, ducking under a branch and pushing through a thorny tangle of vines. Ahead, the chimp kept moving.
Take your time.
Neil held back as far as he dared, wanting to get enough distance between himself and the cavemen to ensure he wouldn’t be seen or heard when he rammed his spear into the chimp's soft belly. Its constant presence goaded him.

The deliberate threat as it stood over him by the river’s edge still cut into Neil's memory. He was loathe to admit what he knew now was an undeniable truth.
It didn't just see me. It
saw
me. My desperation. My intentions. My fear.
Ever since, it had followed in the redhead’s shadow as a silent sentinel, waiting for him to act again, no doubt.
But I won't be so careless again. This time, fear for yourself, chimp.
Neil wiped a trail of sweat down his trouser leg and re-gripped his spear.

An advantage wasn't given, it was created. That first defeat had been hard, but it was an opportunity to learn.
There's more at play here than a fucking game of
Survivor. There were lives at stake. His own life, obviously. And Benjamin's life.
I can give him time. I'll do it all again, I'll give him my time. This time.
There would be no more tubes and chemo if he could get that amulet. The boy had put on a brave face but Neil was next to useless against death's shadow. It was easier to keep the boy at arms' length and save him from the disappointment that came from seeing a parent's inevitable fall from hero to human. Benjamin needed a hero, a real one.
No more pain. A chance to live.

And soon, Neil would be that hero.

There was life to be had. There were opportunities begging in a world that would devour an energy source he could provide. The world was hungry for resources and knowledge that he could steal from its own future and carry back, by bending
time
itself.

And no damned monkey is going to take that opportunity away.

Neil crept forward.
Far enough.
The chimp seemed to be slowing, waiting for something. Neil moved slowly, closing the distance between them. It was so close now. The chimp's head swivelled and he saw its eyelids narrow. It ducked beyond the shadow and momentarily disappeared from view. Readying his spear, Neil broke through the forest edge, a smirk on his face.

He stared, blinking dumbly into the sunlight, swivelling his head in search of the chimp.

“Where are you, you little bastard?” he said, turning slowly. “You can't hide forever.” Neil heard a slight movement above him. Concealed on a low branch amongst dark foliage, the chimpanzee stared down. Its eyes bore into his own, fully aware of his presence. It pulled its lips back baring teeth. Then slowly, deliberately, it pointed over Neil's shoulder.

He spun around.

A trap!

Only seconds had passed with Neil standing exposed and distracted in the forest glade. But as the shouts went up and sharp spears surrounded his face and chest, Neil had time to glimpse his deceiver one last time before it disappeared silently back into shadows.
You clever bastard.

Spears jabbed into his chest and arms, forcing Neil to his knees. Tiny rivulets of blood broke from his white skin. His captors shouted at each other over his head, clearly incensed by his sudden appearance from the undergrowth. Sweat stung his eyes and his heart pumped furiously. Truth be told, this was what Neil expected to find in this archipelago jungle, whenever in prehistory he’d fallen. Human hunters - tall, dark-skinned and possessing all the reasoning skills of a modern human.

One man stepped forward, red beads swaying from his cropped hair. His face was young but he had the indefinable carriage of a leader. The red-beaded hunter grimaced at Neil’s white skin, and then boldly leant forward. Where the other hunters were clearly nervous, this one showed no fear at his white face. With a flint blade tight in his fist, the hunter pushed his own hand through Neil’s greying hair. As Neil tried to twist away, the man scraped his exposed neck with the knife in warning. He grabbed Neil roughly by the jaw and studied him carefully. The others argued over his head, spears poised.

Neil sensed the beaded hunter assessing him. The hunter pulled Neil’s spear from his hand and surveyed it with critical eyes. He ran his fingers over the point, clearly unimpressed. He threw it to the undergrowth. He picked at Neil’s shirt collar and ran his fingers across his trousered leg, scowling. He plucked at the shirt buttons with his fingernail and scuffed his bare toes into Neil's shoe. Then he simply stood, considering, while the others argued around him. After a few long minutes, the red-beaded hunter turned to the others gesturing with instruction toward the North.

A rabble of objections broke out and many spat towards Neil, furious with whatever had been suggested. The closest man, older and heavily muscled, pulled a sharp flint blade from a band at his waist. In one swift move, the knife was pushed to Neil’s bare throat. Neil felt a trickle of warm blood and squeezed his eyes shut. He braced himself for the inevitable.

It never came.

Through squinting eyes, Neil saw the man struck hard across the jaw. The older man stumbled back, dropping his blade in surprise. A snarl of warning came from the red-beaded hunter. All around him, the others’ eyes were wide with shock. But no one stepped forward to defy him again. In protest, the defeated hunter pulled something from his waistband. It was a plait of long matted hair, dark and coarse.
A woman’s hair.
He indicated the direction from which Neil had come. He grabbed at the long spear of a comrade as he spat his argument at the red-beaded leader.