Eve

Something was wrong with Little One.

Her nose told her. Little One’s breath smelled wrong. The wrong smell clung to his body.

Her ears told her. Sounds rattled in him. Bad sounds. She put her ear up to Little One’s chest. Bad Thing snickered to her from in there. Bad Thing wanted Little One. It didn’t want him like Leopard or Lion. But Bad Thing wanted Little One.

Her fingers told her. She ran them through the short black hair on Little One’s back. Little One’s hair was too dry. She touched his forehead. Little One was too warm.

Even her eyes told her. Little One’s face was too pale. His face hung limp. His nose oozed yellow-green. She pried open one eye and peered in. Little One was far away.

This was wrong. This was very bad. She was scared.

Shafts of light shot through the canopy of the grove, dancing between the natural columns of this primeval cathedral, playing across the rest of Family. Family stirred nervously. Butterflies and dust mots flitted in and out of the beams of sunlight. She squinted back at them and into the low morning sun. She remembered Little One chasing the butterflies, falling and laughing. She smiled. She looked down at him, limp in her arms. Little One did not move. She turned his little head toward the butterflies so he could see. Little One did not care.

She glanced up at the branches, swaying gently in the kind morning breeze. She could not help appraising the tiny reddening spheres. Soon this fruit would be ready to eat. She would remember. She would bring Family back soon.

These trees were friendly. That was why she brought them here. The trees always gave cool shade from the sun. The trees often gave safety from Leopard. The trees sometimes gave Family food. Except for the hot-dry days still far away, the little brook at her feet was filled with cool, clear water. Family felt good here. Family felt safe.

She squatted on her heels. She clutched Little One. She rocked back and forth. She squinted at the sky to her left. The sun crept up. It no longer touched the edge of the world. She waited. She felt Bad Thing in Little One. She could do nothing.

She remembered the night just passed. She had held Little One close to her. She always held him close during the night. His tiny scrap of warmth would snuggle against her. That always felt good. Except the night just passed. Little One was too warm. Little One fussed. Little One whined. Soon Little One was as hot as a black stone in the sun. He had thrashed back and forth. He made small sounds of pain. His little eyes sought out hers, asking for help.

But she could not help Little One then. She could not help Little One now.

As she remembered, the sun climbed to the top of the sky. It pounded down on the grass just beyond the trees.

And then she noticed.

Something was there. Her head jerked up. Family noticed her quick movement and tensed, ready to flee, ready to attack, waiting for her.

Something was there in the grass. Her eyes darted. Her nose twitched.

What was it?

It was not like Bad Thing that wanted Little One. It was something … different. She had learned to fear different. The hair on her back jumped up in a ridge. Clutching Little One, she turned, ready to dash back to the safety of Family. Over her shoulder she watched the grass. It stirred. She crouched, ready to scamper away, but she did not.

Suddenly, the grass whipped back and forth. Danger! It charged. She vaulted sideways; angry she had not jumped sooner. She landed awkwardly and fell. Still clutching Little One, she scrambled to her feet. She tried to flee. Too late. It swept over her and Little One. She cringed. She clutched Little One closer. It swept all around her. Her eyes darted, trying to see. Her free hand struck out. Her usually reliable nostrils flared wildly. She caught a whiff. Of what?

It seemed to grab her. She pulled back. It wrapped around her. She struggled. She couldn’t move. She tensed, and covered Little One. She waited for its fangs to sink into her. But it did not bite. It did not hurt her. It soothed. She looked down at Little One. He seemed more comfortable. Her nose twitched. What was it? Wind? That was all she could compare it to. But that was not right. The Wind Thing whispered to her, like the Breeze might. The Breeze was her friend. The Breeze told her where water was falling from the sky. The Breeze told her Leopard was hunting Family.

She sniffed.

What did Wind Thing tell her? She paused, sniffed again. What? She could not understand. She could not understand. Not yet. She tried and tried as the sun crept across the sky. She gave up. Little One needed her.

He was still as hot as the dark stones in the sun. His breath rasped shallowly in and out. She scooped a little water out of the brook with her hand. She poured it into his parched open mouth. The water rolled out the corner of Little One’s mouth, trickled through the fur on his cheek and fell, disappearing between her toes into the clay that would someday make passable pottery.

She remembered when Bad Thing had tried to take others in Family. They turned hot. Some were a little hot. Others were very hot. Most shivered. Many smelled like Little One did now. She could not remember the smell ever being so strong. Except once.

Sister came over to comfort. Seeing Sister made her remember the same strong smell on Brother. That was a very sad time. It was the saddest time of her life. Until now. She shook her head. She would not remember that. She would remember good things.

She remembered the many times Bad Thing lost. Others cooled down again. Soon they ran and jumped and laughed. They were just like before. That happened to her long before. Bad Thing tried to take her. But she beat it. Little One would beat Bad Thing too. She relaxed.

But bad memories crept back. Sometimes others stopped moving. That is what happened to Brother. Brother was as hot as Little One. Brother stopped moving. Brother never moved again. Family went away to get food. When they returned, Brother was gone. Brother was never seen again. Family forgot Brother. But she did not forget.

She wrapped both arms around Little One. She clutched him between her knees. Little One usually liked that. He would always move closer. But Little One did not move closer. Little One grunted weakly in pain. She needed to make Little One feel good. She picked through his hair, looking for Tiny Tasties. That always made Little One feel good. Little One did not notice. This was wrong. This was very wrong.

The sun was now at what would some day be called three o’clock. It hammered the lush grass as yet mown only by the grazing herds whose sinews would someday make excellent bowstrings. A faint buzz slipped up on her from nowhere. It sounded like one of the tasty Flying Things. It danced in and out of her ears. Sometimes it even seemed to be in her head. She waved. Flying Thing would not go away.

Then the sound of Flying Thing changed, higher, then lower in pitch. Somehow, it made her remember the strange Wind Thing. That did not make sense. Flying Thing was nothing like Wind Thing. Her ears twitched. She sniffed the air again. Flying Thing whispered to her.

That was it. Flying Thing whispered to her like Wind Thing. What did it say? It did not speak of water or love or food or home or Family or Little One. It did not say any of those things. But Flying Thing seemed to say all those things. And it whispered something more.

Her head throbbed. She could not understand. She hurt too much. Something was wrong with Little One. She stopped trying to understand Flying Thing. She turned back to Little One. Bad Thing laughed at her from inside Little One. She wanted kick and bite and kill Bad Thing.

She would not let Little One stop moving. She would not leave Little One behind. She would not come back and find Little One gone forever.

She touched Little One’s face. Too hot! Too hot! She clutched Little One to her breast. She pulled another Tiny Tasty out of his hair. She put it in his mouth. It lay on Little One’s Tongue. Little One would not try to eat it. His dark eyes, Little One’s precious little dark eyes would not look at her. Little One must cool down. Little One must run and jump and laugh again. She tickled him. His little laugh would always make her smile. Little One would not laugh.

His chest rose and fell. That was good. But he worked too hard. And wrong sounds still came from him. She did not know what to do.

She lifted up Little One’s arm. She let it go. Little One’s arm thumped on the red clay. Little One did not care. She clutched him close again. She rocked on her heels again. Her throat was so tight it hurt. The sun slipped down the other side of the sky.

She wailed. The sound rolled across the grassy plains and into some yew trees that could have made stout bows. Family jumped. They knew what her wail meant. She was angry. She hurt. None of Family would dare come near her. Her anger, her frustration scared them all. Even Leopard heard her cry. Leopard decided to look for supper elsewhere.

Far off, the sky echoed her cry. Her nose told her to look to what would someday be called north. Her friend Breeze carried the faint hint of water falling from the sky. She knew she could take Family there to find Little Wiggles who fled the ground to escape the water. It was simple. She snorted with pride. She learned this long ago. But Breeze carried that other message, the one she could not understand, the message of the strange Wind Thing, the message of the strange Flying Thing. What did it say? She sniffed Breeze once, twice, three times more. Something was coming.

Between her and the water from the sky, Family waited. They cautiously made sounds to tell her they wanted to move. Her eyes set as hard as the raw, still unknapped flint scattered in the steam at her feet. She was big. She was strong. They would not move until Little One was ready to laugh and play. She would not let them. She would bite them. She would pound them with her fists. She could bully even the Big Male to stay. Family would not move until she told them to move. She was certain. The fury was in her.

She was strong. But she was afraid Bad Thing in Little One’s chest was stronger. His breathing caught roughly and stopped. Her heart clenched into a cold stone ball. She shoved him away from her chest so she could see his face. An ugly itch scurried up her back. The last time she felt that ugly itch, she had taken Little One to the water hole. She jumped to grab a Hopping thing for Little One. Leopard stole between her and Little One. She could have called Family. Together, they might have driven Leopard off. But she knew there was no time. She snarled.

Leopard turned. He pulled his ears back. He spit at her. Leopard wanted Little One. He kept looking back over his shoulder. She knew what Leopard was thinking. He wanted to grab Little One. She roared in rage. She would never let him take Little One. She growled fiercely and pitched stones at him. Leopard would not leave. He was still between her and Little One. He howled and threatened, but at least he would not turn his back on her.

She inched sideways. Leopard circled the other way. Finally, she worked herself between Leopard and Little One. Leopard howled in frustration. She thought he would eat her instead. She plucked up a sharp stone and hurled it at Leopard with all her strength. The sharp stone bounced off Leopard’s head with a satisfying "bonk". Leopard howled in pain and glared at her fiercely. But she did not flinch. Her glare matched his. Their eyes locked. Then she saw she had already won. Leopard was stunned by her fury. He was afraid of her! Leopard backed off.

Leopard pretended he had not lost. But he did not turn his back to her. He inched backward, slipping one paw back, then another. Only when he was sure he was safe, did he turn his back on her. His ears came up. The hair on his back went back down. His tail twitched proudly from side to side. His walk said he was not hungry. He did not care about Little One. He was not afraid of her.

She shrieked in triumph. She laughed at him. Leopard pretended he was not embarrassed, but she saw his ears curl back toward her laughter. Leopard slinked off. His black spots finally disappeared into the tall grass until all she could see was his tail. Leopard gave his tail one last flick as if to say a nonchalant goodbye. Then that too disappeared.

She remembered Leopard and smiled. Then Little One stirred faintly in her arms. Her smile vanished. She could not drive off Bad Thing as she had Leopard. This time her throat hurt too much to snarl. She tried pitifully.

Little One’s breath hitched again. She looked into his eyes. Little One’s eyes had rolled back up into his head. His breathing stopped.

She shook him. His arms moved. Little One moved his arms. She was certain he moved his arms. For one last moment his eyes did turn to her. He saw her. He smiled. Then he was gone.

He did not breathe again. She shook him. She placed her ear against his chest. She listened. She heard no good noise. She shook him again. She placed her ear to Little One’s chest again. She was desperate to hear anything now. Even Bad Thing was quiet. The silence was worse than Bad Thing.

She bellowed. She howled again and again. Family scampered away quickly. Each howl scooted them deeper into the trees. Some even fled to the branches.

The sun was now near the other side of the world. Little One had not moved for a long time. Family was nervous. They were hungry. They were thirsty. Most were still too afraid to let her see. Sister came over. Sister picked Little One up and propped him up on his feet. She let go. Little One slapped against the dry earth. The sound sickened her. Little One did not move. Sister moved to try again. She shoved Sister away. She gathered Little One up. She clutched him to her chest. She rocked back and forth on her heels. Sister tugged at Little One in her arms. She would not let go. Pain stabbed her throat. Tears seeped across her dark skin.

Sister tried to drag Little One from her arms again. She pulled back. Sister pulled harder and snarled anger. She leapt to her feet. She slapped Sister on an ear. Sister staggered back. Sister looked stunned. She felt bad. She did not want to hurt Sister. Sister gave her a nasty look and skulked back to Family in the dark shadows of the trees.

The sun now touched the earth. Little One still did not move. She was empty. She ran her hand over his precious face. She let a finger linger on Little One’s lip. She reached up and pried open his eyelid. Little One’s eyes were empty. She slumped on top of him.

Wind Thing returned. It swirled. It buzzed. It whispered in her ear. She did not care. Let Wind Thing devour them both. It closed in upon her and Little One.

Eve understood Little One was no longer in the tiny body that slumped in her arms. She realized he would never be there again. She bowed her head and began to moan.

Family trembled under the home trees. They could feel that she was different. They had learned to fear different. And a different sound came from her. They could not understand her. But the meaning would have been clear to any one of Eve’s daughters or sons, even twenty thousand generations later.

There, on the plains of what some of her progeny would name Africa, Eve stood, both feet planted squarely. With her Little One lying at her feet, she arched her back. Her spine cracked. She stretched both hands out and up. She cocked her head toward heaven, desperate to call out to someone she could feel but could not see.

And Eve howled...... "WHY?"

"A couple of years ago, Aphelion was the first to accept my work. I was ecstatic when Aphelion published Boots, a story about a mechanical cat who almost kills his bumbling master aboard the one man, deep space freighter, The Star Bucket. Later, my story The Loki Must Die, took second place in Aphelion's first ever space opera contest. And just last summer, If This Be Hell... , a story about a medieval Muslim who dies in battle and whose soul is accidentally sent to Valhalla, was an honorable mention in Aphelion's sword and sorcery contest."

E-mail: John.Gilmore@tsjc.cccoes.edu

URL:

Visit Aphelion's Lettercolumn and voice your opinion of this story.

Return to the Aphelion main page.