Opalescence

by Ron Rayborne

  When it finished the first piece, it set to eating the other. So Tom cut another, then another, all the while stroking and quietly talking to her.

  He felt good about the beast. It would be nice to have a partner on this trip, then neither would be alone. Still, the little one was so, well, little. How would he take care of her? He could barely manage the weight he was carrying now. Maybe she would follow.

  When the little one was full, she lay back down, but this time she lay next to Tom’s feet, though her tail draped over Mama. She looked into Tom’s eyes. Then Tom remembered the P.I. Digging in his pack, he withdrew it, and, standing back, took a picture of the face of the big black pig-looking thing. Words appeared in the viewfinder:

  Accessing Database

  He waited, and then the assessment came.

  Dinohyus

  There followed a short description.

  Entelodont species. Up to seven feet in height. Extinct, early Barstovian.

  “Seven feet? Holy ... so you’re only a small one?” Tom said, nervously glancing around him. “Crap, I hope I don’t meet your parents!” Then, “I think you’re supposed to be extinct,” he said, looking at the big black mound. Next, he pointed the identifier at little one’s mother. Again, the words:

  Accessing Database

  Aelurodon taxoides. Extinct member of early canine family.

  This was followed by additional information.

  Something moved in the dark. It sounded big. Maybe something that had caught the scent of blood. Huffing. Apprehensively, Tom looked in that direction, but he couldn’t make anything out. His eyes were adjusted to the light in the meadow. Little one barked, a warning yip that said, “Stay away, or I’ll have to let you have it!”

  “No! Don’t!” Tom blurted. Then stepping back over to her, he said, “We gotta go. Say goodbye.” Reaching down, he picked up the little beast. The creature in the forest snuffled, moved closer. Tom could barely make out a hulking shape just back of the trees. Little one barked again.

  “No, no. Don’t do that,” Tom whispered anxiously as he hurried the opposite way. Holding her in his arms, he headed in the direction he’d gone before. And on they went, Tom and his little Barstovian beastie.

  “I guess it’s just you and me, Little One,” he said after enough time had passed. “So, what do you think of your name?” Little One just looked at Tom, saying nothing in reply. She was so cute that Tom had to laugh.

  “You sure are a beauty!” he said. “How do you stay so clean in these woods?” Though Tom was delighted to have someone to accompany him, it didn’t take long before the extra ten pounds felt like twenty. He peered ahead, trying to see if he could spot the opening, but no.

  A dark form loomed there, perhaps fifty yards away. It stood to the left of the path he was on, the animal trail that eventually led out of the forest, effectively blocking the way. Same beast as the day before, Tom concluded. He stopped and cursed. When Little One noticed, she let out a loud series of barks.

  “Hey! I thought I said not to do that,” Tom admonished. “If that thing attacks, you’re not the one that’s going to have to fight it.” Little One paid him no mind, but continued to bark. The big animal stared dully at them, looking slightly bovine, though different. For the life of him, Tom could not remember if this type of animal was carnivorous or not, but again its horns looked menacing. Still, he had no intention of waiting it out again, nor of spending one more night in this forest. Finally, cautiously, Tom began to advance, while cutting a path to the right, giving the thing a wide berth. When they were twenty yards away, the bovine-like animal suddenly stirred, then bolted down the path, but not out of the way.

  “Oh great!” Tom said, though now he thought that the animal probably wasn’t a carnivore. He likely could have simply gone around it yesterday. Walking back to the path, he pressed on. Each time he got to within twenty yards or so, Little One would bark and the bovine-like thing would run off down the path, then wait for them to catch up again. Tom chuckled. They went on that way another twenty minutes before the animal decided to move off farther to the left and let them by. It stared at them stonily. Its glare was returned.

  When he looked back around, Tom was thrilled to see sunlight through the trees far ahead. They were getting closer to the end. It had been a lot longer than he’d thought while looking out from his perch on the mountaintop. He wondered how he’d so miscalculated the distance. As they closed in, the woods gradually became lighter, though still mostly in shadows, and the air decidedly warmer, yet still full of fragrance.

  Now he began to notice more flowers. Though they could live in the gloom, they obviously preferred sunlight; he found that the sunnier parts of the forest contained by far the majority of them. The scent was heavenly. Where before there were flowers singly, now they were in bunches. Blues, whites and farther on oranges/reds/yellows.

  More shapes near the opening of the path, sun streaming in, making the darks seem darker. Silhouettes. Movement. Horses. Tom and Little One continued on, walking among them. The tiny horses moved aside, and it seemed like an official greeting, a proper welcome to the Barstovian earth. He didn’t look back.

  Chapter 14

  Tom paused just under the last of the oversized trees and took in the view. It was grand. Lush, green, rolling hills stretched off into the distance, bordered by woodland that receded to either side, and on those hills a variety of animals, browsers and grazers, large and small. Dominating were horses of diverse species, for not only were their sizes and markings different, but they seemed to have separated themselves by clan. And there were others, not horses, but llama/camel and antelope-looking. All standing or walking, munching the new grass, other little ones frolicking with their mothers. All were alien to Tom. He also caught sight of smaller, badger-sized animals walking unhurriedly along in a little group over a nearby hillock and larger ones that ambled or loped past singly, the grazers watching and giving them space.

  The most stunning of all, though, were the elephants. At least that’s what Tom thought they were. Near the edges of the forest some distance beyond and to their right, was a herd of large ones, pulling down branches from tall trees and eating the leaves. Unlike modern elephants, however, the upper tusks of these big brutes curved downwards, while another from the bottom jaw stuck out straight or turned slightly upwards. Together they acted as efficient graspers, and indeed, Tom observed, one of the herd was rolling a downed log out of its way. Elephants, here! he thought. Wow!

  Tom suddenly remembered the Photo Identifier. Time to find out what these animals were. And thus they wandered, up the slope, through the wildlife which would lift their heads without apparent alarm and gaze at the stranger and his more familiar, though at present, harmless friend, as they sauntered by. Tom, with Little One on the top of his pack, behind his head, snapping pictures as he went. Not as encyclopedic as Julie’s plant-oriented “Case”, usually the P.I. only gave the genus name and a general description of the various plants and animals when the species could not be determined exactly by photograph alone, which was much of time. But sometimes the species was also shown. Every now and then, however, it would balk completely with a disappointing not in database answer, indicating that the organism was unknown to science.

  Breathing hard, Tom attained the slope. Behind him was the high canopy of tall trees. Ahead, the landscape undulated gently to the horizon and thoroughly teemed with life. The quintessential pastoral setting, it captivated Tom. The scent of pure air mixed with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers and trees in bloom. A breeze blowing from his right, from the distant sea, blowing away the heat of the day, ruffling his hair. The clear, blue sky with its voluptuous clouds cumuli. Some, far away, promising to unload on the mountains. And the songs of meadow birds. He caught sight of them flitting about joyfully in the tallgrass, chasing each other. Then all at once, a loud rushing, as a ten thousand thousand wings, emerging from the green, suddenly lifted to cerulean, taking flight as one. A huge, ever-c
hanging shape. Tom was awestruck. He hadn’t known that the earth had ever been like this, this ... Eden. Despite his urge to get moving, to find his wife, he couldn’t help but smile, then he was laughing. He didn’t know why he was laughing, except ... except that it felt good.

  This world was so very different from his that he realized just how atrophied his time had become in comparison. How sick and twisted. So strange, so refreshing it was to look around, to search, yet find not one single sign of humanity, no crushing hordes, not even the tiniest bit of garbage anywhere. He threw his arms wide and spun around shouting.

  “Yes! Yes! I love it! I love it!”

  Little One jumped down into the grass, then sat, mouth open, tongue hanging, watching him. Just like a regular dog, Tom thought. He remembered the meat he’d brought, the piece of entelodont he’d sliced, provided kindly by Little’s mother. Sloughing his pack off, he laid it in the grass and sat down himself, then opened the top compartment where he’d stored it. Taking it out, he laid it in front of Little One. Raw, blood-soaked, it had made a mess in the compartment. He’d wash it out when he could. Little One set to eating it greedily, giving little growls as she did. Must have been instinctual, for certainly Tom wasn’t attempting to take any. Then he grabbed the small collapsible bowl and poured in some water. Little One sniffed, then drank of it. The water turned a bit red. Tom took a few swallows from the bottle.

  “We’ll have to make sure we stay near water. I only have this one bottle. If the breeze stops, it feels like it could get pretty hot.” Little One paid him no mind, but continued feasting. Tom felt hungry himself and dug in his pack for something to eat. Finding a package of freeze-dried “stew”, he opened it and, pouring out the water, put it in the bowl. Then he added fresh water. Not wanting to waste time heating it, he stirred and began to eat, then grimaced. It tasted like mildly seasoned, slightly lumpy paper. Experimentally, he set it by Little One. Curious, she put a nose to it, tasted, then curled a lip and let it drip off her tongue. Tom laughed out loud.

  “Hey, that’s high-tech food there! Took us thousands of years to come up with it. Show a little respect.” Then just to show her how good it was, he took another bite. “Yuck! You’re right. It sucks.” Little One looked at him strangely, turning her head this way and that. Then she slumped into the grass and rolled onto her side, finally closing her eyes. It’d been a big day for a little one, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Soon, tawny fur was asleep. Tom didn’t have the heart to wake her. Instead, he got up, and, keeping a watchful eye on her, decided to make an increasingly widening circuit around her, snapping more pics. The camera had a nice zoom feature that allowed him to zero in on the farther beasts. Names and information began to pop up. Archaeohippus, Desmatippus, Parahippus, Hipparion. The horses in view. Aepycamelus, Miolabis, Protolabis, Oxdactylus. Llama-like fauna apparently related to camels. Camels here in North America! Some rather bizarrely horned deer-like animals. Dromomeryx, Cranioceras, Bouromeryx. And the really odd Prosynthetoceras, which had forked horns on a tall stalk over its nose like a slingshot. There were also some smaller pig-things, Cynorca and a larger version, Hesperhys, and a few carnivorans, Brachypsalis, Leptarctus, Mionictis. He also snapped some rodent-like creatures, Petauristodon, Nototamias, Geomys, Cupidinimus.

  As he walked, he pushed easily through high, knee-level grass. Over this grass, zooming this way and that, were numerous insects. They zipped right by him without pause. Many were beetles. Some alarmingly large. There were others as well. Colorful butterflies and huge black wasps with orange and black wings. A beetle landed on his shirt and he quickly brushed it off with a shudder. Most abundant were the bees, small, stingless natives and larger honey and bumblebees, also natives, some with stripes on their abdomens, some without. They mobbed flowers here and there. It’s a bee’s world, he thought. When he caught sight of a shrub covered with lots of the big wasps, he decided to try to get a closer look and hopefully snap a picture. He wanted to know what they were, yet he was also exceedingly wary of being stung. They were shockingly large, with beautiful iridescent black abdomens. When he had gotten as close as he dared, he zoomed in with the camera and took a picture.

  Tarantula Hawk, the P.I. stated. Extremely painful sting.

  Yeow! Tom retreated at the warning, backing away carefully, then turned and walked off, checking behind him every so often. He’d have to give them a wide berth.

  Larger and larger his circuit became, farther and farther from Little One, so absorbed was he in his photography. Every now and then he looked back to make sure his Little One was still there. Finally, a half-hour had gone by, and Tom began to feel anxious to get back to her. Turning around, he headed toward the dark shape in the grass, which would be the little Aelurodon. Then, reaching the spot, he was horrified to find that the dark form he’d been watching was not her after all, nor the pack he left her near. It was a piece of wood. Somehow, he’d lost his bearings. He cast about, then finding his pack, he hurried to it. She was gone. Reaching down, he quickly slung the pack over his shoulders while frantically looking around and calling out to her. Now he was running. Then, off in the distance, heading back toward the forest, he spied a small, tawny-red colored shape moving through the meadow. He ran that way.

  “Little One!” he shouted. Not hearing, she continued on her way. “Little One!” he called out again. Now she turned to see him. Tom stopped running so as not to scare her.

  “Where are you going?” he asked her. She sat down in the grass on her little haunches. “Probably thought I’d abandoned you.” He kneeled down and looked at her. “Were you heading back to Mama?” he asked, stroking her head. He realized that he was already attached to her. Sad that she thought he’d left her.

  “I won’t leave you,” he said. “We’re a team now.” She lay down by his legs and looked up at him. “Promise you won’t leave me?” he asked. They looked deeply each into the other’s eyes, Tom and his little Aelurodon, and at that moment a bond formed between them. A bond for life.

  As he walked — Little, a warm, furry bundle behind his neck — Tom understood why Julie had been so passionate about prehistory. It was unlike anything he’d ever imagined before. To be honest, he’d never really given it much thought. Had just sort of unconsciously assumed that the way things were in his time was the way they’d always been. The way they were supposed to be. He realized now how wrong he’d been.

  Slowly walking on, he took everything in. A bank of gloriously blue and white flowers on a small rise to his left, yellow and red on his right. Here and there were paths carved in the grass over the long years by so many animals, and he’d walk them for a time, but then found himself again cutting across the green when they’d begin to wander. Often they led to some body of water fed by the rivers flowing from the East, from that gradually rising plain. Well, he thought it was the East, but the compass seemed to demur. He wanted to explore up there, but didn’t want to be diverted. He was set on making as straight a passage as possible to that blinking green dot on the P.P. That course would force him to climb steeper banks and lower vales than had he simply gone around them. But he didn’t care. Except for the weight on his shoulders, Tom felt good.

  When he got thirsty, he’d drop the pack, then they’d fill up from the bottle. But it was running low — he knew he’d have to get more. Well, no problem there per se, he thought, there seemed to be no lack of it — so far at least. There was the issue, though, that a lot of the waterholes he saw were populated by wildlife. As he walked by them, he watched to observe the behavior of these local fauna. He was dismayed to find that, after drinking, they didn’t seem to be in any real hurry to be on their way, some just standing and snoozing, others lying down near the water.

  The day grew hot when the morning breeze stopped. They finished their water and continued, Tom ever on the lookout for a vacant pool. To be sure, there were available puddles here and there, probably recharged by last night’s rain, that he could drink from, but they looked stagnant. No ri
ver flowed into them and no animals were drinking from them. A hint, perhaps. But he didn’t take it. Bending down at one of these ponds, he noticed there was a film on top, and it stank. Still, he filled the bottle and sipped, then grimacing, spat. Ug. He spat again. Wisely, Little One would not partake. Tom looked around and shook his head. What to do? After a while, it became clear that the only way they were going to get a drink would be to walk through these loiterers.

  Choosing a largish pool, he began to walk toward it. Heads lifted. Camels, small ones, and a couple of large ones. And some of those peculiar deer-like things. One made a step in his direction. He stopped. It took another.

  “Whoa. I’m just after some water, same as you,” Tom said. Two more stepped toward him, regarding him curiously. What is this creature that walks on two legs? Little One gave a loud bark. At that, they stepped back suddenly, all heads now on him. She barked again. They trotted off a short ways, not quite seeing the little aelurodon behind Tom’s shoulders, perhaps imagining that he was the source of the report, a sound they had learned long ago meant death. Now, Tom saw that some of the deer-like animals were in the water as well, probably mucking it up. When Little One gave yet another bark, they began to splash out every which way. Finally, all out, they stood off from Tom and Little One and let them approach the waterhole. Sure enough, the water was brown from agitation. Tom sighed. Should he use the water filter? On water this dirty, there was no telling how long it would last. Little One, though, unlike the last puddle, did not hesitate and began to drink. Tom thought of stopping her, then refrained. He bent down and again took a sip. Not repulsive like last time, but he could feel the grit on his tongue. He needed more than a sip.