From the Shores of Eden

by Shelley Penner

  Greybeard began to pace, sampling the faint updraft impatiently. He squatted for a moment, listening intently. He hooted a loud tribal call. No reply came back. He wavered for a moment, undecided, then grunted commandingly and started down the defile. The Tribe rose and followed without hesitation. Many years had passed since Scarface challenged Greybeard for supremacy, but the old male’s status remained high, and in the absence of other dominant males, he resumed his role of leadership.

  Following the rich aroma of ripe budyankende, the Tribe scrambled down the stream bed, negotiating a maze of tumbled boulders, until the water plunged over the rim of a high shelf into a deep pool far below. First Born quickly discovered a route down the steep bluff, and Greybeard, tolerant in his old age, permitted the youngster to take the lead. In the shelter of the rock wall, warmed by the afternoon sun and watered by the pool, a thicket of budyankende survived, heavy with sweet, yellow fruit. The Tribe eagerly began gorging themselves.

  Sometime later, Scarface’s voice roared out a location call from the top of the bluff and Mama paused to add her voice to the answering chorus. The six dominant males came crashing down the trail and swaggered into the thicket, hair still on end, exuding a perfume of blood and violence. Nutcracker moved aside cautiously, surrendering her feeding spot, but First Born edged closer to the big males, fascinated by the wild scent and the powerful mystique. Hooter, the beta male, began stuffing fruit into his mouth greedily. The sticky juice dripped down his chin and glistened in his bristling beard. First Born began hesitantly grooming the big male’s back, breathing deeply the fragrance of aggressive maleness. Hooter slowly relaxed, his mane and beard subsiding at last.

  * * *

  Eve reached the age of three years before the Beast first cast its shadow across her life. Through her early, happy years, she grew into a confident, sociable youngster, full of playful vigor. She learned the language of her kind, rich in signs and body language, accented by a few vocal expressions. She came to know the voices of the earth and discovered that every living thing vibrated with a silent song, unheard, but not beyond perception. And the song of the thing became its name, the essence of its being, its life force. She learned to recognize those songs which vibrated in harmony with her own, and those which could harm her.

  Next to Mama, Eve’s two brothers became the most important individuals in her life. Though Tickles remained her most frequent playmate, First Born became particularly dear, her protector, her hero. Once when she became separated from Mama and wandered lost and frightened, First Born found her and comforted her. And when the big males frequently showed off in a raging display of aggression, pounding anything that didn’t move out of the way, First Born gathered up his little sister and fled with her to the safety of the higher branches.

  But over the years, First Born grew up. The females now gave way before his superior male strength. He began to spend less time travelling with his family and more in the company of other males. Since the Tribe’s migration down from the mountain, the males no longer disappeared for days at a time on border patrols, for they no longer defended any fixed territory. But the dominant males did make frequent tours of the loosely scattered foraging groups, mating with any females who came into season and reinforcing the discipline of the hierarchy, binding the Tribe into a cohesive force. They had become nomads, invaders in rival territory, and any serious alarms brought the entire Tribe together on the run. Females with infants kept their distance from dangerous altercations, but the highlanders won many inter-tribal skirmishes due to the participation of adolescents and unburdened females. In general, though, life remained peaceful, and food along the river still plentiful.

  The day Eve first became aware of the Beast was a day to remember for more reasons than one, because that day it rained for the first time in months. Eve awakened as usual, high in the jungle canopy, in a cozy night nest where she snuggled close to Mama. Once the sun warmed away the morning chill, an oppressive atmosphere settled over the river valley like a heavy hand pressed over the heart. The songs of the jungle seemed muted, colorless. The apes foraged listlessly through the early part of the day, then settled in a patch of sun to rest. But the youngsters, with their boundless energy, continued to play. By midafternoon, Eve chased Tickles through the lower branches in a noisy game of tag. She had almost caught up with him when the entire world suddenly reverberated in a massive explosion that rumbled on and on, like the deep, threatening sound Scarface made when angry, only bigger, louder, more terrifying. Eve screamed and sprinted for the safety of Mama’s embrace. The daylight faded abruptly, as if some tremendous giant loomed over them, blotting out the sun. Eve whimpered and clung tighter to Mama, while Tickles shivered close, bewildered. The rest of the foraging group hurriedly joined them: Blossom and her youngster, Dandy, Nutcracker, Hooter, Greybeard and adolescent Swinger. They huddled together for reassurance as the world around them vanished behind a torrential veil of chilling rain. For a time, life became an exercise in enduring misery.

  The rain ended soon, however, far too soon after years without a rainy season. Soon sunlight once more spilled through the ragged, broken canopy. The earth breathed a fragrant sigh of relief. The sun seemed warmer, friendlier, the colors of the forest richer, the air more nourishing. The voices of the jungle sang with renewed vigor. Shards of light glistened from every leaf and branch bejeweled with shimmering droplets. An ineffable sense of delight suffused Eve. Standing upright, hands lifted to the heavens, she twirled and stamped and pirouetted in a joyous celebration of life.

  Later that same afternoon, Eve and Dandy played follow-the-leader while their elders rested and groomed each other nearby. Eve had difficulty keeping up with Dandy, almost a year older, but she followed with dogged stubbornness reminiscent of Scarface. If she fell too far behind, Dandy stopped and waited. Then off he went again, hand over hand along a lower branch, to hang from the end and bounce a few times, then drop to the ground, scoot across the clearing between Swinger and Blossom, scale the side of a rotting log and run its length. He paused for a moment to dig out a fat grub and allow Eve to catch up, then he jumped to the ground on the far side and dove down a slope, sprang into the branches, higher, higher, leaped across to the waiting arms of another tree, swung down a liana and dropped into the brush below. Eve still hesitated over the gap between the trees when she heard Dandy scream, a piercing shriek of starkest terror that locked Eve’s muscles and shocked her mute. Below her the bushes shivered as a thick, scaly body arched up and lashed out, flattening the surrounding vegetation. Like a huge, animated vine it lapped its coils around her playmate and slowly constricted. Shrieks of horror abraded Eve’s throat. Clan members crashed to the rescue from every direction. From the safety of the trees, they screamed their hatred and rained rocks and debris on the predator. The huge serpent just tightened his helix. Dandy’s eyes bulged. Blood bubbled from his mouth, which now screamed in silence. A shadow moved across him, the shadow of a huge, invisible Beast that sucked the light from his eyes and passed on. In the joyous symphony of the jungle, the song of the Beast was a deadly silence.

  Eve buried herself in Mama’s arms, grief stricken and terrified. For years after, the trauma of that experience haunted her. Depressed, confidence shattered, she could not wander more than a few steps from Mama’s side without feeling frightened and vulnerable, and she woke often in the night whimpering and shivering from bad dreams. For the first time she became aware of the gaps in the vibratory symphony of the rainforest. Whole sections of the orchestra remained silent, and others faltered.

  Only a few days later, First Born disappeared, and Eve somehow knew the Beast had taken him too.

  * * *

  Sweething had come into estrus. The alluring sight of her pink, distended bottom drew the males like bees to a flower. They clustered around her, inhaling her heady perfume, waiting for an opportunity to couple. But Scarface commandeered her favors and guarded her jealously, as he did all females in their season,
the privilege of the alpha male. However, when he became busy disciplining one subordinate, another always waited to take advantage of his distraction. And Sweething willingly obliged them.

  Though well-established in the male hierarchy, First Born remained young yet and low status. His place in the hierarchy offered few opportunities to mate. If Scarface didn’t chase him off, one of the other mature males usually did. He hung around the fringes of the group, foraging diligently, pretending indifference while he edged closer and closer to Sweething. He glanced over at Scarface. The alpha male sat with eyes closed blissfully while Hooter groomed him. First Born looked at Sweething and thought about what he wanted to do. The evidence of his desire rose up and pointed at her. But the evidence looked a little too blatant. With a roar of indignation, Scarface hurled himself across the clearing, pinned First Born to the ground and pummeled him until he screamed in pain and terror. Scrambling to escape, the youngster fled into the safety of the trees.

  Humiliated and sexually frustrated, First Born turned his attentions to Fancy, a young female nearing estrus, but not yet attractive enough to draw attention away from Sweething. He offered her a choice piece of fruit and she accepted the gift. He sat beside her and groomed her while she continued foraging. During the afternoon rest period he lay next to her, sharing warmth and companionship. Then, when he thought he’d spent enough time to establish a bond, he grabbed an overhanging branch and shook it, a signal that he wanted her to come with him. He walked away, but only her indifferent stare followed. He returned patiently and repeated the performance, several times, and at last she rose desultorily and trailed after him.

  They hadn’t gone far before she began to feel nervous. She sat down, looking back. First Born groomed her for a while until she calmed, then he repeated his branch shaking, urging her on. She rose and started back.

  With a cry of frustration, he chased after her, stamping and pounding the ground, tearing at bushes and throwing rocks, displaying his superior male strength and the depth of his displeasure at her lack of cooperation. Cowed and penitent, Fancy crouched submissively, and when he again shook a branch she followed immediately, if reluctantly. And so they continued, with First Born alternately bullying and reassuring his consort, occasionally having to resort to physical violence to convince her, until at last they moved far enough from the safety of the clan that Fancy felt only too glad to stay close to her sole protector.

  Three days later, Fancy’s pink posterior blossomed into full estrus. Free of the stress of competition, the pair lived a leisurely, idyllic lifestyle, foraging and playing and resting together, mating whenever they felt the urge. Such private consortships remained nature’s way of increasing the gene pool and ensuring that not only the strong reproduced, but also those with intelligence, imagination and personal appeal. However, when the highlanders became invaders in foreign territory, the privacy of consortship became a dangerous luxury.

  In a day nest on the ground, First Born and Fancy rested together companionably. Her swelling subsided several days earlier and her sexual attractiveness dwindled with it, but they had established a bond of friendship that could last for years. A furtive rustling drew her attention and she sat up nervously. A low grunt issued from the brush to the left of their resting place. First Born leaped up, hair bristling wildly. The couple exchanged nervous grins and touched each other for reassurance, then, of one accord, retreated hastily. In a shocking explosion of violence, four heavy-shouldered, fully mature males burst out of ambush and assaulted them savagely. One leaped on First Born’s shoulders, driving him to the ground and knocking the wind from him. Screaming in terror, Fancy abandoned him and fled south, followed by a single pursuer who quickly gave up the chase and rejoined his companions. With merciless brutality they bit and pounded and stamped on their helpless enemy. First Born had little chance to defend himself and no chance to escape.

  * * *

  Eve watched intently as Nutcracker carefully positioned a palm nut on the hard anvil of a tree root and smashed it open with a hammer stone. Eve held her hand out in a pleading gesture, and Nutcracker, ever the indulgent aunt, relinquished the prize without hesitation, then shinnied up the tree to fetch another. She moved with less than her usual grace and agility. After years of barrenness, Nutcracker had at last become pregnant. Mama had recently given birth as well. Almost a year ago, Mama finally came into estrus again, and soon afterwards her milk had dried up. Mama’s sudden sexual popularity coupled with the forced weaning seemed almost as traumatic for Eve as Dandy’s death and sent her into a gloom of depression. Though Mama lavished her with reassuring attention, only the sudden appearance of a baby sister eight months later finally restored Eve’s joie de vivre, filling her with curiosity, delight and maternal envy.

  A fruit pit struck Eve behind the left ear and she shook her head, glancing around in bewilderment. A tiny, merry face peered from between the leaves, chittering in mischievous amusement. Eve bared her teeth fiercely at the female colobus monkey, though they both knew no real animosity existed between them. The noisy troupe of smaller primates had followed the foraging group all day, pelting them with twigs and refuse. As the little female moved higher, Eve noticed a tiny infant clinging to her belly fur.

  A sudden stir of excitement electrified the members of Eve’s foraging group. Scarface and Throwsrocks swaggered into the clearing, and Hooter and Greybeard hurried to greet the alpha male, touching hands briefly in a sign of welcome. The four males stared at each other tensely, communicating by subtle gestures and shifts of stance, some message Eve didn’t understand. But Tickles plainly did. He followed as the two subordinate males positioned themselves in the trees. Scarface and Hooter casually strolled farther down the trail. Though they all appeared quite innocent, Eve sensed something strangely furtive in their movements. Scarface stopped, ascended into the branches and began feeding on leaves, while Hooter continued alone. After travelling some distance away, he too climbed into the lower canopy and began working his way back toward the monkeys, who socialized noisily just at the edge of the clearing. With a sudden roar of intimidation, Hooter rushed them, sending them scattering. The audience below added cries of excitement and encouragement to the piercing cacophony of terror, but Eve watched in silent shock as Scarface snatched a colobus monkey out of the air and ripped the baby from her arms. He released the mother, but his teeth closed over the baby’s tiny head with a sickening crunch. The panicked troupe fled back towards Hooter, who drove them east into the waiting arms of Throwsrocks and Greybeard. The shadow of the Beast swooped back and forth through the canopy.

  Though Eve had eaten meat before, viewing it as just another kind of food, she had never before observed the brutal violence of the hunt or associated the dismembered pieces of bloody flesh with terrified victims. Tickles returned proudly with a tiny red colobus baby hanging limp in his hand. It looked disturbingly like their new sister, Little One. Mama immediately begged a share, and Tickles tore his prize in two, handing her a lower quarter. When Mama offered Eve a joint, she accepted it listlessly and sat holding it, staring blankly into the shadows, overwhelmed by the realization that, not only could the Beast change its aspect, it could wear the shape of her own kind. A short while later, when Tickles, having greedily consumed his own share, snatched Eve’s portion and made off with it, she offered no protest.

  * * *

  In the near distance, the screams and roars of Scarface disciplining a subordinate drew a nervous grin of sympathy from Eve but offered her a sense of security. The warm weight of Little One on her back gave joy and comfort, as did the sight of Mama just a few paces ahead. All around, faint rustlings and grunts pinpointed the individuals of her group foraging through the undergrowth. Mama discovered a cluster of leaves rolled into cylinders and began picking them apart to get at the juicy caterpillars inside. Little One, almost two years old now, slid from her perch and climbed Mama’s shoulders, reaching for an overhead branch. Mama caught her by one ankle and pull
ed her back down, then strolled on, down the sloping bank to the edge of the river. Between a wall of sheer rock and a thick curtain of overhanging vegetation, a narrow strip of beach gave easy access to the water. Many animals came here to drink, and the clay of the shore looked deeply indented with footprints.

  Unseen, a shadow moved within shadows.

  Mama leaned forward to drink and Little One slipped off her shoulders to land with a splash and a small squeak of surprise. Mama quickly pulled her back to shore. Fear of submersion remained firmly entrenched in the ape psyche. The wide, deep channels of the river proved a far more effective barrier to the highlanders than the mountain gorge ever could.

  Eve caught a flicker of movement in the shallows and wandered up the beach to investigate. Tiny fingerlings darted in and out between the rocks. Wary of falling in, she dabbed at the surface with a branch. The tiny fish vanished. Little One joined her and tried to initiate a tickle session, but Eve became enchanted by the watery reflections of light shimmering across the shadowy bottom and paid no attention. Only when she heard the quick thumpity-thump of padded footfalls did she look up and turn just in time to see a huge, shadow-black monster launch itself from the top of the bank and drive Mama to the ground. Mama screamed and tried to escape, but hooked claws gripped her sides. Fever-hot breath scalded the back of her neck as teeth closed over her spine and crushed it in one quick bite. Eve shrieked in terrified protest. The Beast turned on her, wearing the body of a black leopard, its face a bloody, snarling mask.

  Little One swarmed up Eve’s arm and onto her back, and Eve, trapped against the sheer cliff, blindly took the only route of escape. For an instant, panic overcame her fear of the water and she charged out until the bottom dropped away beneath her and she plunged beneath the surface. Little One instinctively released her hold and tried to swim, but the current swept her away. Only then did Eve realize that the Beast, which could become a snake or an ape or a black cat, could also become a river. It bit into her eyes, slithered into her ears and clawed its way down her throat, constricting her breathing, searching for her life spark. Terror gave her strength to fight, but she kicked and flailed at the water to no purpose. It would not surrender, and she could not hurt it. Then her feet found the bottom, a slab of basalt rising as a solid bastion against the deep current on either side. She scrambled onto its flat plateau and stood upright, breaking the surface into light and air. Choking and coughing, she struggled for balance. She remained submerged almost to her shoulders but, surprisingly, though the current pushed at her, the water also supported her.