Opalescence

by Ron Rayborne

  They were at a dead-end. They’d have to turn back.

  Turn back. He shook his head at the thought.

  Or ...

  Or ....

  Or...

  They could go across.

  Chapter 24

  After the departure of the Strong Box, Julie stayed in the area for another two days, perhaps hoping that, finding her missing, the scientists fifteen million years away would send it back for her. Meanwhile, she busied herself picking up and burning debris. There was no return of the box, however. She wondered what Jaqzen told them, and if they would buy it. The third day, she decided to head back to her home in the hill.

  On the way, she discovered, to her dismay, that she was not alone after all. Jaqzen was apparently still there. The sound of gunshot betrayed him. Hearing it in the distance, she climbed a tree on top of a hill and looked out. More gunfire, but he couldn’t be seen, too many trees in the way, though she could tell about where he was. She guessed a mile to the northwest, in a less dense woodland. The report of gun carried far in a world virgin to abrupt human noise. She continued on her way southwest, to her hideaway, grateful that he hadn’t seen the smoke from her fire.

  Julie remained there for another three months or so, undiscovered, soon remembering the PinPointer. She checked it everyday in case they finally sent someone back to fetch her. As discreet about it as she could be, Julie only checked it when she was away from the cave. Jaqzen could be watching.

  In the meantime, she explored her new world as much as possible, reveling in old wonders long lost to people and discovering many more new species, all of them completely unknown to science. Flora and fauna. Scores of new foods, too. She learned how to wash when the soap was gone. How to mend clothing when it began to fall apart. And later, how to make new garments from scavenged animal skins and make new shoes from the toughest parts of these hides.

  She found a marvelous grassy hill, with a stunning view, and a certain, feel, that drew her, and each evening she sat and watched the island volcano, and the sun as it sank to the West. Then she would sing. Sing for Tom. Now it was Enya’s If I Could Be Where You Are.

  Afterwards she would pray, pray for her husband, for her heart, to come to her, to come home; its impossibility never occurring to her.

  During her time at the cave, Julie was evolving, became stronger, more confident in her abilities. Yet she never lost what it was that made her who she was. Julie Pine, scientist, wife, woman. Everywhere she went, Julie studied and took notes, cogitated and drew tentative conclusions. She also kept a daily journal, a diary of sorts, and added memorable experiences.

  One that stood out was an extraordinary migration of small, brilliant yellow, canary-like songbirds with purple and red striped wings. She didn’t know what kind of bird they were. The day before, there had been a virtual plague of pesky flies attracted to the abundant fertilizer on the prairie. She holed up in her den the whole time in an attempt to escape them.

  Julie woke the following morning to find the flies gone. Instead, there were dozens of the birds, all singing and chattering gaily on the branches of her overhanging oak and thousands in the trees around. They also fluttered through the sky in lively clouds, diving in and out over the forest and in waves from tree to tree. Sensing that this was a happening of grand proportions, Julie climbed her hill, and sat on the far side looking out toward the open west. Scattered oaks and kopjes dotted the countryside here, but mostly it was grass, grass and grazers. Horses, camels, antelope, some proboscideans, a scattered variety of carnivorans, both large and small — the usual. It turned out, though, that the hordes of yellow birds she’d seen from the cave was but a tiny representation of their actual numbers.

  Down on the grasslands and stretching out for miles toward the North, South, and West, the birds flew in truly epic waves, going after the numberless flies, which rose up in flight. But not only were there the yellow birds, including several other previously unknown Miocene species, there were more familiar perching birds, or their ancestors, too. Vermilion Flycatchers, Scarlet Tanagers, Orioles, Bluebirds, stunning Indigo and Painted Buntings and a variety of plainer songbirds. Wrens, Warblers, Vireos, Thrushes and Sparrows. A virtual orchestra. But it was the yellow that dominated. Though they kept to their own feather, still, the effect was of cooperation in this feast. The air was practically electric with all the mad excitement and so much chirping, trilling, twittering, pipping and peeping. Most of the grazers tried to ignore them and continue with their eating, grateful for the diminishing of the flies. A few, however, convenient landing pads for throngs of merry songbirds, would run off a ways, then stop and go back to their feeding.

  Julie wondered about the migration. In this tropical/temperate world, it wouldn’t be one based on a need to escape foul or freezing weather. No, this migration was simply a pursuit of one of the bird’s favorite foods. The insects had hatched in their billions and the birds, timing it precisely, descended upon them as they took to wing. In a couple of days, when the fly numbers no longer justified it, the birds would disband and disperse. Still, even with this many birds, she knew that they would only devour about half the number of flies. Many more would fall to other predators, reptile and insect. In all, maybe ten percent would survive to breed and continue the line. She had no fear for the flies. The numbers of songbirds, though, were simply stunning, dwarfing anything she’d ever read about the migrations of old.

  Some days later, she was witness to a different, yet equally remarkable, event. Walking through a dark, pathless forest on her way to another scientific adventure, Julie thought she heard faint cries and stopped. She listened now, waiting in silence. The sounds did not return until she was about to leave, then there they were again - small whimperings off to her left a bit. She looked that way. It was even darker there, shadowed by heavy vegetal undergrowth. Julie strained to hear the sound again, and it came. Barely audible, something in pain, a cry, yet muted, as if it were trying to be inconspicuous. A flush of concern came over her and she approached the area she thought the cries were coming from and stared into the dark, trying to see. Another whimper, so faint, it was coming regularly now, with each breath of the animal.

  Julie dropped to her haunches trying to adjust her eyes, unsure what to expect.

  “Hello,” she whispered, “are you okay?”

  Slowly, the indistinct outline of an animal shape lying on the ground began to form. It was small and spotted. Julie was tempted to get her flashlight, but thought somehow that this would be a violation, and she withheld.

  The animal was lying on its side, breathing rapidly. She could hear that now. The sun moved imperceptibly. A note of slightly brighter light appeared, and then she saw it. A small horse. Hipparion. Unknown species. She drew in her breath.

  “Are you okay?” she asked again in a soft voice. Still the animal breathed hard. Its side bulged, moved. Julie swallowed. Then she reached out a hand and lightly, ever so lightly, touched her, touched the side where her baby was. There was a dampness to her fur.

  “Oh, you’re going to be a mom!” she said in hushed tones. The cries got a little louder and quicker. The animal might be reacting to her presence negatively. She did not want to disturb it. Yet the scientist — and the nurturer in her, impelled her to stay.

  There was more movement, vibrational waves rolling along the little horse’s abdomen. More whimpering. Suddenly, something from the back end appeared. Little dark hooves, one set of them, then quickly following, long, thin legs. The next part though, the foal’s head, did not show immediately. Naturally, it would be larger and would require more effort on the part of mom. However, she lay same as before and seemed to make no extra attempt. How long had she been lying here, Julie wondered, trying to deliver her baby? She was probably exhausted.

  More cries then, and the Hipparion mother lifted her head to look at her side. She heaved, but nothing more emerged. She laid her head back on the ground.

  After several more tries, Julie said, �
��Can I help?” This was followed by another move, a big convulsion, and louder cries. She drew back her hand. Nothing more came. The little horse’s breathing became rasps. Oh no, she thought, her heart breaking. Then she hit on a plan.

  The next time the horse heaved, Julie grabbed the legs of her young and pulled. There was resistance and mom cried, then all of a sudden the baby shot out, followed by a wash of fluid. A big foal. All she’d needed was a little help.

  Baby lay there, as did mom, not moving for a few moments, then it lurched. Still, mom lay, too tired to do anything more. The foal lurched again now, and tried to get up. Mom looked over, then once more lay her head down in rest, gathering her strength. After another moment, she lifted her head to look at her offspring, a deep genetic urge overcoming her other requirements. Julie sensed that she was too close and edged back a bit, then stood and tiptoed several more feet away. Mom, not seeming disturbed by Julie’s presence now, stood herself, then turned around and began to lick at the membrane around the face of her baby. The touch stimulated it and immediately it lurched again and tried to stand, making a small cry of its own. It fell, but it did not give up. As Julie watched, tears in her eyes, it tried again and again. She wanted to reach out and steady it, but withheld.

  “Come on, little guy!” she said encouragingly in low undertones. Though obviously drained, mom continued to clean her baby. Finally, after five strenuous minutes, the foal stood, shakily, a dark, wet form and sought out its mother. She was there, and after a few failed attempts at location, found her teats and began to drink. Mom’s mouth hung open, panting, and Julie worried that she was too tired. Yet, bravely she remained and fed her new foal, while casting uneasy looks at Julie.

  Julie wondered if there was anything else she could do, feeling almost like a mother to the little horse herself, but could think of nothing. She decided then, that her presence might be more of a hindrance than a help, so she began to back out. The little Hipparion mother watched her, and Julie thought she intuited gratitude for the assistance from this stranger.

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered, wiping her eyes. Julie stood and watched them a minute longer, then said, “Take care of each other,” turned, and walked away. She hoped fervently that both would be safe. Feeling spent emotionally after that, she decided to cut her day short and head back home. There, she wrote in her journal about the happening. She’d not taken any photographs, feeling that would have been an intrusion, so her words alone would have to suffice.

  Yea! Witnessed the birth of a Hipparion!

  May he run like the wind

  and live a long and happy life.

  Julie spent the night on her hill, and slept under the stars.

  Then, one day it happened. She was sitting on her hill experimenting in making alcohol when there came a pulsing tone, a steady beep issuing from her backpack. Jaqzen, Julie thought in fear. He’d tried to contact her many times after she’d first left the Strong Box, then stopped when she didn’t reply. Now, here he was doing it again. For her part, she’d not turned on her own device in sometime, except on rare occasions to place him, so as not to give herself away. She’d know when he tried to find her, but if she left hers off he wouldn’t know where she was.

  Still, she needed to know his location, always hoping that he’d gone off on a false trail and was now somewhere far away. She had to know. With serious misgivings, she opened her pack and took out the PinPointer. Then, pausing, she flipped it open, turning it on.

  There he was, Jaqzen, the red light. She smiled. He was about fifty miles away — no, it was forty-four. Not as good, but good enough.

  She was about to switch off when she noticed the “resolve” light was on. Julie squinted, then shielded the face of the PinPointer from solar glare to make sure. Yes, it was lit. She remembered that there was something, something she’d been taught about the device and this light back at the Institute. Quickly, she felt for the little round button on the side and pushed it. Immediately the two dots that represented she and Jaqzen shrank and dropped to the bottom of the screen. Then at the top another appeared. Blue. It pulsed, as did her own. She stared, incredulous, then let out a little yelp of surprise and covered her mouth. Someone else was here! They’d sent someone!

  She continued to gape wide-eyed at the screen for minutes, her heart and mind racing. She knew she should switch off, but couldn’t. Then the blue light went out. She waited another minute, then, afraid of alerting Jaqzen, switched off herself. She sat heavily on the ground and puzzled over it. The Institute had sent someone, either that or there was some sort of malfunction. If they did send somebody, why did they put them so far away? It didn’t make any sense! She flipped her PinPointer on again to look, but this time there was no blue light. She switched off again when she noticed Jaqzen’s red light blinking. Certainly, he’d been alerted. If he was watching just now he knew her general location. His light was pulsing; he must have been looking. She swallowed. She couldn’t stay now. She’d go to meet that blue light.

  Jaqzen, in the midst of skinning the Barstovian sow, Dyseohyus, heard the beeping. A little late. He ran to his pack and threw it open, removing the P.P. There was nothing. He scratched his head. A minute later, the green light appeared. It remained on. He made a rapid calculation. Ha, ha! he grinned, I’ve got you, Julie Pine! He did not stop to wonder why she might be beeping him. He knew only one thing: his prey, his opponent, that which through cunning and stealth had eluded him too long, was inadvertently signaling him. He smiled while packing, tearing off a raw chunk of flesh to eat on the way.

  “It was only a matter of time, Pine,” he said confidently.

  Early the next morning, Julie loaded her pack and climbed one last time out of her cavern home, saying goodbye to it as she did. Altogether, she’d lived in the cave for four months. Four months of sunrises and sunsets. Four months of study and leisure. Four months of happy memories. It had become her home. She hated leaving.

  She’d also be leaving her hill and the wonderful pond. Filled with sadness, Julie wept. It was a soft cry, like a gentle rain. She could have lived here the rest of her life. Even if she never saw Tom again, she could be happy. There was a lifetime’s worth of things to see and learn. Many lifetime’s worth.

  Suspecting that Jaqzen could be on her trail after yesterday, Julie switched her PinPointer on. She gasped. He was! In the night, while she slept, he’d made twelve miles! Twelve miles closer to her. He knew where she was and at this rate would be here by tomorrow. If he had taken note of the other, the blue light, he’d know that she’d likely be heading that way and would try to cut her off. A cunning tracker, she knew that she’d have to outwit him to get by him. Thus, mistake or not, Julie chose to make a long detour and head south, switching on her PinPointer at a few locations along the way to give him the false impression that she was going in that direction. Then, at the end, turn it off, make a U-turn and arc around west, then north. If she was lucky, he would keep south. And thus she went, following well used animal trails, hoping that other prints would erase her own.

  It worked for a while, too. Not long though. In a day he was on to her. It was her too frequent checking of his position which raised his suspicions. Suddenly, her signals stopped. Her last beacon, he’d noticed, was moving off laterally toward the ocean. Between she and it was thick forest, and a long, semi-wide strip of open land. No doubt, that was the route she’d return by. He checked his progress behind an abutment of rock halfway in and turned off his beacon, while waiting for hers. Darkness fell.

  At dawn, she sent one more. A last inquiry — and a mistake. She was indeed a fraction closer now and heading his way. He was right! He had her! Jaqzen figured her probable speed, had breakfast and sat tight. Mid-morning, he climbed the highest hill around him and took out his scope, scanning the horizon from which she was coming. A lot of animals, as usual. He sat there for hours, smoking, flicking butts and watching.

  Julie was fairly certain that she had fooled Jaqzen. In her checks,
it was clear that he was following her. That afternoon, she decided to begin her about-face, first veering off westward for a ways, just under cover of the trees that juxtaposed a wide and lush grassy plain enclosed by low hills a mile or so distant. When the sun went down, she made camp. In the morning she would continue north, leaving her PinPointer off. By then, she thought he should be many miles south of her.

  When daybreak came, however, she felt she had to know for certain and switched on briefly. There was no signal from him. She switched off again, pondering that.

  In the broad meadows next to which she walked, was a large herd of mixed grazers. Camels, antelopes, horses, peccaries. She took note of these last, Hesperhys, Cynorca and Prosthenops. She remembered that it was a tooth from Prosthenops, found by rancher and geologist Harold Cook in 1917, and described by Henry Fairfield Osborn in 1922, that led to the mistaken notion of a so-called Nebraska Man, which Creationists used as evidence of the supposed fraud of evolution theory.

  “You rabble-rouser you!” Julie tsked.

  Other prehistoric fauna roamed the pastureland, the oreodonts Ticholeptus and Merychyus, a 200 pound, plant-eating cud-chewer with a short face, tusk like canine teeth, a long tail, short feet, and four-toed hooves. And there was Brachycrus, a rare, hippo-like oreodont which weighed in at over 700 pounds. Its hanging half-trunk was quite nimble, and able, Julie noted, to both pull a snout full of Potamogeton or pick up a scampering beetle and put it in its mouth.