Revealing Eden (16 page)

A rat-a-tat-tat of loud squawks burst in the air with a colorful display of yellows and blues. Probably the last macaws,
Ara ararauna
, on Earth, Eden realized with awe. Something must have startled them. Then she heard a sharp sound from where they had taken flight.

“Did you hear that?” she said, yanking Bramford’s hair. “Something’s there.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Nothing,” he said, though she sensed his apprehension. He sniffed the air. “Storm coming.”

“What? How can you tell?”

“A lull in the sounds, the slight drop in temperature. Don’t you feel it?”

“I’m not receiving any data, remember?”
Thanks to you
.

“Before you would have noticed the signs.”

The sound of his voice soothed her so she tried to encourage him to talk.

“Really?” she said. “When was that?”

“About a million years ago, when you looked something like me.”

“Like you?”

Even uglier than now?
And yet, Bramford wasn’t ugly, was he? He was raw and sexy. Maybe she wouldn’t have looked so bad.

“I bet you would have been one hell of a she-cat,” he said, and she was glad he couldn’t see the pleasure creeping into her face.

Thunder rolled overhead, trailing a whip of lightning through the trees. Eden shrieked as it cracked nearby. The lack of weather alerts from her sensors unnerved her.

Bramford laughed. “Okay, maybe just a she-kitten. But you’ll learn.”

“Not without a Life-Band,” she said.

“Just watch and listen,” Bramford replied, with surprising patience.

“To what?”

“It’s all right in front of you, Eden, if you’re willing to open your mind.” Bramford held out his hand to catch the falling rain. “Trust me, your basic instincts are more reliable than any Life-Band.”

Well, maybe if she had Bramford’s new mix of DNA she also might understand nature. Then she thought of Aunt Emily, living shuttered for decades inside The Homestead, her family home. How had she opened her mind to a world beyond her doors?

To make a prairie it takes a clover

and one bee,—

One clover, and a bee
,

And revery
.

The revery alone will do

If bees are few
.

But Eden wasn’t prone to imagining. Nearly two decades of oxy drips had drowned out the impulse.

And yet, an idea slowly formed in her mind, as she began to relax to the rocking motion of his shoulders that kneaded her tired legs. It was as if no actual separation existed between her and Bramford, like one mixed-up creature, half-natural-Pearl, half-beastly-Coal. Like a centaur from Greek mythology, she thought, unable to suppress a giggle.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You wouldn’t understand.”
If only you could
.

Bramford grunted. He didn’t even pry. The selfish beast simply dropped the subject and ignored her.

They were nothing at all like two halves of a centaur. More like creatures from different planets.

Rain cascaded down through the levels of trees, falling intermittently on Eden. Cool and refreshing, it washed away the broiling heat. She leaned back her head, catching
the droplets in her mouth. Like tears from heaven, she thought.

Soon, her perch grew wet. Bramford caught her waist as soon as she began to slip. He gave her a gentle squeeze before he released his grip. It was a small gesture, maybe even timid. He seemed to communicate something.
Don’t worry. You’re safe with me
.

Eden began to analyze other unspoken signals that had passed between them. Could he tune into her, as if she were connected to and an important part of the world around them?

Only one way to find out
.

Just then, thunder clapped, and even as a scream rose up in her throat, she felt the brush of his hands along her sides. Maybe she wasn’t alone. She smiled as an expansive feeling floated through her. Like a burst of fire, but soft as melting wax.

Even more, his response gave evidence to support her theory. If she gave off subtle signs, why wasn’t the reverse also true? Why couldn’t she tap into her unknown senses and read such subtle signs? Maybe even Bramford’s.
Open your mind, Eden
.

Bramford leaned into the steepening angle, as the path rose. A stiff wind rattled the leaves and filled Eden’s head with his wild, tangy scent. An irresistible urge to run her hands along his face seized her. She clung to him, pressing her hips against the back of his neck. His breathing grew labored, and for the first time, he stumbled.

“I can walk if you’re tired,” she said.

He snapped. “I’m fine.”

“For Earth’s sake. I was just trying to help.”

“By running away?”

“You kidnapped me!”

A deep growl thundered through Bramford. He grabbed her waist—too tightly this time. Furious, she raised her arm to smack him, but he caught it without looking.

“I’m watching every move you make, Eden.”

She struggled against his tight grasp. “You don’t know a thing about me. You never will.”

He tossed her hand free and laughed bitterly. “This is my world. Nothing escapes me here.”

Really?
Could he also see her absurd attraction to his beastly self?

B
ONE-TIRED, Eden slumped on Bramford’s shoulders, wondering when her nightmare would end. The uplifting effect of the açaí berries had worn off many hours ago. Bramford already had given her the last of the water. Her mind and body screamed for relief with every step he took.

Through the gathering darkness, she heard the quavering, mournful sound of the great tinamou,
Tinamus major
. It was a nocturnal bird, which meant twenty-four hours had passed since she had left home. It felt more like a lifetime, and even the tinamou’s song seemed to echo her despair.

At last, Bramford carried her along a foot-worn path that led into a small clearing. Eden lifted her head, dazed by a sublime sunset that trailed a fiery train of peach and red across the clear sky. She forgot her discomfort and the threat of radiation, if only for a moment. She simply stared, humbled by its perfection, though not in a submissive way. She felt small and human, but sort of good. Because if something so beautiful existed in the world, then maybe some part of her also held such beauty.

To her surprise, a young Indian woman stepped out of the shadows. Eden wondered at the lucky coincidence, and hoped she would lead them to food and water.

She greeted them with a simple hello.
“Hola.”

“
Hola
, Maria,” Bramford replied.

He knew her, Eden realized, her hopes rising.

Maria wore the distinctive bowl-shaped haircut of the Huaorani. A strip of bark-like cloth hung around her wide hips. Her headdress of bright feathers and yellow
Oncidium
orchids seemed to contrast with her plain voice and mild demeanor.

She stared at Bramford with quiet reverence, warmly welcoming him home.
“El Tigre es bienvenido a esta casa.”

“Gracias.”

Unlike her tribesmen, however, Maria cringed when she looked up at Eden. Fear lurked behind her startled eyes.

Was it because Eden now lacked a shed of dark coating? She didn’t mind not being the Jaguar Man’s sidekick, but she hated feeling like dirt.

Maria turned without another word and led them through a well-camouflaged gate. They entered an orderly compound that looked nothing like the decaying river settlement. In fact, Eden wondered if she was the first white visitor. Or hopefully, her father already had arrived.

The forest was cleared to form a large circle. In the middle a huge fire burned, casting a glow over a half-dozen neat, palm-thatched huts. Bramford seemed familiar with the place and headed towards the largest dwelling. Set apart from the rest, it was built on stilts with a wooden front porch. Eden wondered if it was his hut, although he hadn’t branded it as usual. But why this remote jungle hideaway?

Past the other huts, and directly across from Bramford’s, sat a smaller hut behind a vine-covered fence. Unlike the rest,
it had no visible entryway, and Eden guessed that it faced away from the camp onto the thicket of trees.

At the far edge of the camp she spied yet another hut. Overgrown with weeds, it had a bar across a wooden door.
Like a prison?
Eden shuddered at the thought of being locked up there at the end of the world.

Two little girls, naked but for the flowers in their hair, sprang from one of the nearby huts and ran towards them. Their shrill cries and happy, even exuberant, faces shocked Eden. She watched in disbelief as a scarlet macaw trailed after them like a multi-colored banner fluttering in the rosy light. It landed on the older girl’s shoulder, its long, graduated tail feathers reaching to her feet. Could an
Ara macao
possibly be a pet?

The children, maybe ages seven and eight, stopped and stared in amazement at Bramford. The macaw fixed one beady eye in his direction.

Bramford sounded hesitant as he greeted the girls.
“Hola, chicas.”

“El Tigre,”
Maria told them.

Wide grins split their small, round faces. But the excitement dancing in their soft brown eyes flamed out as they took in Eden. They began to tremble.

“Rebecca,” the older one said, the color draining from her face.

Eden felt Bramford’s shoulders stiffen. She glanced around to see if anyone was there but saw no one.

“Rebecca,” the girls called in unison, as Eden turned back.

Did they mean her? Was it the native name for some white-skinned animal? Whatever the reason, Eden understood
that she terrified them. Not beastly Bramford. Just the ugly Pearl.

“Rebecca! Rebecca!” the children cried.

Bramford’s body began to shake with a thunderous roar and he dropped Eden into a vegetable patch. Maria seemed to scold the girls in a dialect Eden didn’t recognize. They grew hysterical, repeating the mysterious name. The pet macaw imitated them with loud, throaty squawks. The louder the noise grew, the more intensely Bramford roared.

Eden dusted herself off, more puzzled than angry. “Who’s Rebecca?” she said.

Bramford sunk his weight into a crouch and directed his rage at her. Eden’s knees wobbled. The name had struck a nerve in him. If she said it again, he might make her pay. He might grab her with those big, rough hands and pin her down.

Eden couldn’t help herself. “For Earth’s sake, Bramford. What did you do to this Rebecca to make the children so afraid?”

Just as she feared, he pounced on her. She screamed louder than the children. In a blink, he threw her over his shoulder and bounded across the camp.

My Earth, towards the prison hut!

“No!” Eden cried, struggling against him. “You can’t do this to me.”

“I can and I will,” he said.

Sure enough, he stopped beside the dreadful hut and pulled her down. She pounded her fists on his chest.

“Is this where you lock up your victims? You’re an animal, Bramford.”

To her surprise, he let her blows rain down on him.

“You’ve caused enough trouble,” he finally said, his voice ragged.

He pushed Eden inside and, before he closed the door, threw a handful of nuts and berries on the floor. Then he shut her in. With a thud, she heard the bar fall into place.

“Let me out!” Eden cried, banging on the door.

Only the wailing voices of the little girls, still calling Rebecca’s name, reached her.

She shook her head, dazed.
What just happened?

Just like at the lab, Bramford had confined her to quarters. She examined the small hut. Air flowed through a high window but there was no way to reach it. She was trapped, like one of her father’s lab rats. Like that beast should have been.

Eden slumped to the ground, humiliated. The unfamiliar sting of tears surprised her. She let them spill down her cheeks, tasting their salty wetness with the tip of her tongue. She hadn’t even cried when her mother died. Emotional relief always had been an oxy-drip away.