Opalescence

by Ron Rayborne

  Lifting the raft onto another patch of flattened reeds, Tom slipped into the bay and swam soundlessly, while his cares washed away with the dirt. Little, too, dog-paddled in joyous circles around him. When she was out, she shook a million rainbow droplets to the four winds. It was a magical hour in an enchanting place he would never forget.

  Back aboard, they poled around the point and Tom was instantly stunned by the vista that met their eyes. Past the peninsula, an old sandbar had cut off a long section of beach and it sat isolated from the fresher waters around them. Here it was much saltier and shallower, but still navigable. Yet, it was what lingered in their hundreds that shocked him the most. Between the surf grass in the tide pools at the beach, and the grassy banks just back of the shore, were row upon row of tall, bright pink birds, standing, walking and sleeping. His jaw dropped.

  “Oh ... my ...”

  Completely ignorant of their provenance, he quickly took out the P.I. and snapped a picture.

  Megapaloelodus, family Phoenicopteridae

  Flamingo

  Their color was truly shocking. Feathers, legs, even their eyes. The most exquisite pink he’d ever seen! Surrounded by green, the effect was electric neon. The birds were three to five feet tall, with downward curved bills, graceful and elegant. As they glided slowly closer, Tom gaped through his binocs. At their feet was an evenly spread out layer of what appeared to be white, snail-like mollusk shells.

  The birds, a little edgy at Tom and his aelurodon companion, strutted the shoreline in long strides. Finally, at some invisible signal, the whole took to the air, a pink cloud swirled in blue. When at last the two passed, the flamingos circled around and landed back in their place.

  The whole filled Tom’s heart, healing it after the last day’s misadventures.

  Opal, I love you.

  It took them another two days of hiking before the numbers of bones and teeth began to diminish. Finally, they were gone. In all, Tom guessed they’d strolled by a hundred miles of them. On the way, he couldn’t help but collect some specimens as souvenirs. One he tied with a length of entelodont sinew, and, making a loop with it, placed it around his neck. It hung proudly on his chest, a shiny, three-inch tooth from Isurus hastalis, a giant mako.

  “What do you think?” he asked Little, holding the tooth up for her inspection. She sat on her muscular hindquarters and looked at him bemusedly, then opened her mouth in that wide smile of hers. He, in turn, considered her as well. She had gotten big in the months they’d been trekking. He guessed her weight now at 125 pounds and growing. Solid muscle. And heart. Her fur was lustrous, her tail full, upright and proud. He was proud to have her. What a fine companion she’d been to him.

  By the end of the week, the countryside was regularly green again. Thanks to that rain and the river, they’d indeed had water enough to see them through the last of the dry lands. Rather than the flat world of the desert, gently rolling hills greeted their eyes, and endless miles of delightfully scented, tall grass prairie, strewn with wildflowers, waved in concert to the warm winds, sounding almost like a quiet ocean tide. Naturally, with the grass came the grazers in a diverse variety, and their numbers spread far out. Too, pools of water and small lakes became more frequent, as did Live Oak, Laurel, Palm and Pine woodlands and sclerophyllous shrubs. And fruit trees. Tom was overjoyed to have the avocados, sweet fruits and nuts back. He realized something else then: month after month, all this long journey, there had always been flowers. Even in the desert! With the equable climate, flowers must bloom all year here, he surmised with a smile.

  Still, had they continued due south or southeast, they would have remained in the desert, arid thornscrub community, a developing ecotone. There they would walk among such lonely herbage as Stenocereus thurberi, or Organpipe cactus, Pacycormus, the Baja Elephant Tree, Brahea, drought resistant Fan Palms, Lysiloma, also known as fern-of-the-desert, Prosopis, more generally known as Mesquite, Fouquieria, commonly Ocotillo, and Dodonea, aka Hopseed Bush, as well as various junipers, buckthorns, soapberries and others.

  Yet, while not following the desert, they were also beginning to move away from the coast now, at last leaving the great Temblor, as, having reached its southern limit, its shore continued due west. They were going southwest though. According to the PinPointer, Julie was near the coast, but the most direct path lie straight ahead. They still had two hundred miles or so to go. While the terrain behind them had been tough, Tom hoped that, if the territory ahead remained roughly like this, rolling grassland, and scattered lake and woodland, and there were no other major mishaps, they might make it to her camp in two to three weeks time. The prospect thrilled him.

  Tom began to think more about what he would do if and when he confronted Jaqzen. The red light no longer glowed when he switched on the PinPointer. It hadn’t for a couple of weeks now. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but thought it probably some sort of ruse. And it was likely that the Neanderthal had been keeping track of his advance too, and was preparing to cut him off. Or maybe he had finally discovered Julie’s trick and was triangulating. He prayed it wasn’t that. He had to keep on the lookout. Thus, Tom found himself watching the horizon closer, checking behind things, and listening for that which he’d not heard in a long time, another human voice. Jaqzen’s, though, was not a voice he wanted to hear. He kept the lock off his gun.

  The stress of the impending events taxed Tom’s energy almost as much as if he were suffering from dehydration. When he recognized it, he made himself stop fretting. If experience was the mother of knowledge, then preparation was the mother of courage. He’d experienced and learned a lot in his time on the trail. He’d grown. In many ways he was not the same man he used to be. He was stronger now, in body and mind. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to beat Jaqzen in a physical fight, but he was certain he could outthink him. That would have to be his strategy.

  My dear Julie,

  If only you knew what is going through my heart these days. I am changing. Transforming. Yet my love for you only grows. I just hope you will see that in my heart I am still the man you married, and that you will still love me for it.

  Be safe and strong and know that I am coming.

  Chapter 31

  Since he’d arrived, Jaqzen had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Indeed, the Miocene had turned out to be everything he’d hoped it would be. There was no limit to the game to be taken, and he’d left a long line of carcasses in his wake, most killed for the sport of it. If one wanted to, they might be able to find him via his trail of carnage. He only regretted that Julie hadn’t seen it.

  How he had hoped to get his hands on her, yet somehow she’d managed to elude him. He wasn’t used to tracking human prey in wilderness, but on city streets. Even so, it was inevitable, she would be his. He almost had her in that tableland, but she was cleverer than he’d assumed and had sent a stampede of horses his way. He shot to wound and drop her, then turned to flee and was knocked over and almost trampled. In a rage, he cut one of them down, but was aware that he was wasting valuable ammunition. Maybe that’s what she wanted. In any event, by time the dust settled she was gone. Eventually, though, she would tire of the chase and he would have her. Of that he was confident. It was only a matter of time.

  And now that time had come; although it had taken him a while to figure it out, he knew where she was. At first it seemed that she’d been sounding from random points in her dash away from him, yet, in the last several weeks, a pattern had begun to emerge. She was not still heading north, north toward that blinking blue light, but was hovering somewhere inside about a twenty-mile radius. He knew that because her signals stayed within that same general area, week after week. True, they moved around, yet they never left that circular domain. She was in there somewhere, he knew, and he would find her. And when he did...

  It made him laugh, this vision of his, jamming meat down her vegetarian throat. She’d gag and wail, of course, like a baby. Sue me! he’d chortle. Then he’d take her and violate her, as he�
��d wanted to since he first laid hungry eyes on her. Like a wild horse he’d break her, break her spirit. Then, and only then, would she surrender, would she be his. No more of that uppity “professor” stuff here. There’d be no one to stop him, no one to protect her. He didn’t want to do it, but it was the way it had to be. Naw, he laughed to himself, he wanted to do it, and in the worst way.

  First though, he’d have to take care of whoever it was that was coming. That pulsing blue dot. Seemed they’d gotten his Strong Box note and decided to send someone anyway, but from a safe distance. Hundreds of miles. He chuckled. They must really be afraid! He hoped they liked that other note he left for them in his bungalow on the de Physica grounds.

  So who could it be, he wondered, another tracker like himself? Peterson maybe? Vegas? Or perhaps Abramowitz or Mossuel. It mattered not. Let him come. Jaqzen has no equal. More sport. And when I’m done with him, I’ll get the human race going again, bring back some civilization, my bitch and I. Then I’ll be King of the World.

  With a clever smile, he turned off his beacon.

  ~~~

  Now that the blue light was getting closer, Julie began to think about what she had to do. Would she be up for another long odyssey, for surely that was what was to happen? The Institute had sent another expert to bring her back, but they’d not wanted to risk landing him in the vicinity of the original Strong Box. Yet, why so far away she couldn’t guess.

  And now she was torn, for as much as she wanted to be reunited with her husband, she wanted to remain here, in her home. How could she go back to that nightmare world? It was likely that if she did, she’d never be allowed to return to the Miocene. The thought made her shudder. But on the other hand, maybe once they had everything they wanted, the samples, the video, her notes, they’d be grateful enough to let her and Tom come back here to live as repayment. They could keep their money. She’d have to wait and see what the blue man had to say. In the meantime, she readied herself for anything.

  Julie noticed that the red light that meant Jaqzen had not appeared in the PinPointer for weeks, and it worried her. Now she didn’t know where he was. Furtively, throughout these days, she glanced around, imagining him coming at her from anywhere. She wanted to keep Zephyr nearby, so that in a pinch they could make a rapid escape, but it seemed the boy was wandering farther away lately, toward a small herd of other Hypohippus that had shown up one fine day.

  On the other hand, maybe the end of Jaqzen’s beacon meant the end of Jaqzen. Much as she hated to think of herself as a vengeful person, she was astute enough to know that as long as he was alive she would have no peace. Or maybe there was a simpler explanation for the ending of the red beacon, maybe he’d simply lost or broken his PinPointer.

  That was certainly a possibility. In that case, perhaps he was still heading north, thinking he was on her (imaginary) trail. She hoped he hadn’t figured out her subterfuge.

  Day by day, Julie continued to refine her riding prowess. She spent two hours each afternoon on her stallion, for that is what he was, she noted, when he began to herd a group of females with him. He was a beautiful boy too, having fully recovered from his wound, and truly seemed to enjoy being brushed, whinnying his approval, prodding her when she lagged. Proud and strong, his tail stood erect whenever they rode. Then with the whole group, Zephyr, Julie and his five females, they’d run. The thunder of their galloping made every other animal, with the exception of the proboscideans, move out of their way. Then, dripping with sweat from their necks and sides, and the satisfying release of pent-up energy, they’d return home to drink at the lake and graze the swaying grasses.

  Julie made another friend during that time. The Miocene field mouse, Copemys. She woke one morning to find it sitting on the pillow near her head, chewing a pine nut she’d dropped. A slight shift by her sent it dashing under the blankets and she let out a yelp, pulling them off. It ran, but the following day was back, munching another seed she’d carefully placed next to her. Then, from beneath the covers, she slowly brought out more. And hence the start of a ritual, every morning the little mouse turned up and she’d feed it. Soon she was holding it, a tiny, quivering, ball of warmth.

  Always the scientist, Julie made a further discovery, wondering what had taken her so long. The broad-leaved deciduous trees in the mid-Miocene, or trees that would be deciduous in a colder world, were evergreen here. She happened upon the idea while noting that, unlike the deciduous trees of the future which lost all their leaves at one time, these trees, often the same species, dropped and regrew their leaves all year long like evergreens. Of course, she realized, why drop all your leaves when there is no need to, when you can still harvest sunlight, when you can still grow? That, in addition to the extra CO2 from volcanoes, would also help to explain the generally larger size of trees here. Leaves that remained on trees longer made use of a longer growing season, and that would naturally mean more growth.

  On the other hand, it was only when the year had advanced toward “winter” that they began to turn brilliant color before dropping. And what a glorious color it was! Then she’d stroll through her forests in rapture, as almost every hue of the rainbow fluttered and waved.

  Thus Julie continued, loving the earth, learning her ways. Yet the feeling of fear and expectancy, dread and anticipation, only grew.

  ~~~

  It had been many months since Tom first set out. Far longer than he’d expected. And of miles, he had no idea. He’d not even remembered the pedometer until weeks after he left. By then he thought, why bother? That original 653 miles — as the crow flies — likely had become a thousand, or more.

  As they closed in, Julie was taking a chance by signaling more often. Every three days or so. It was a big risk. Still, Jaqzen had not found her.

  Yet, what an experience it had been! When he thought back to all of the adventures, everything he and his best friend, Little, had been through, he marveled. Terror and elation, sickness and strength, danger and profound peace. In less than a year’s time, Tom had learned more than he could in a hundred future lives, had faced more than any other person from the Anthropocene ever could.

  He recalled, with a shake of his head, all of the many false starts they’d endured, the near tragedies.

  There was the time he’d almost burned down a forest. The days were long and hot and the grass dry. Having built an evening campfire as usual, Tom sat on a log near it, bone tired and head nodding. Oblivious, he had not even heard Little’s bark, had no idea until she physically yanked him backwards by the collar. He jumped up, and, seeing the spreading blaze, stomped it into oblivion. His palm tree shoes though were toast and his feet burned. But it forced him to fashion his first pair of moccasins, a shoe type which he still wore.

  On another occasion, while on a jaunt through a canyon in the Mojave, Tom looked up to the sound of rolling thunder. It hadn’t rained for sometime, then suddenly did that morning. Yet, now the sky was sunny and clear. It puzzled him. An earthquake? Still the sound of thunder increased. Then he thought that it must be a stampede. Up, he and Little ran, up the side of the gorge, just as a wall of water shot by, a flash flood that fell over itself in a mad rush down the ravine, pushing a host of rocky and woody debris ahead of it. And, suddenly as it came, it was gone. “Well,” he’d remarked to Little, “that was interesting!”

  Then there was the Amphicyon battle they’d witnessed months previous. In an opalescent woodland they’d ambled, through sun and dappled shade, light and shifting shadows, heading toward a crystal pool in a clearing. The sky was a sweet, turquoise blue, the air, breezy and cool, and Tom, in another rapture, was humming and strumming his board piano. But it could be dangerous to let one’s guard down in the Barstovian. From nowhere, a tremendous roaring, a horrible snarling spun the hiking pair round. Two big males that happened to cross territories, and then paths, were now engaged in a fight to the death.

  The hikers dashed behind some trees and Tom ripped the gun out of its holster. The volume of roar
ing was so tremendous however that, as he had at other times, Tom stuck fingers in his ears, this time dropping the gun. Fortunately, it did not go off, and he picked it back up. Little was on maximum alert, her hackles fully raised and eyes wide. She’d wanted to run, and almost did, but returned to stay by her human. Then he saw them, the terrible beasts, as they bit and locked onto each other again and again, their eyes mad with fury. The movement was incredibly fast, and within seconds, blood flew in sprays coming from both beast’s shoulders and necks. Suddenly, one stood on hind feet and swiped a mighty paw at his opponent, knocking him down. A hit like that would have ended Tom, he knew. Or Little. But the other sprung up again at his enemy’s throat and sunk teeth in.

  Tom did not want to wait around to see the outcome, fearing that the dreadful winner, still amped with adrenaline, might come after them. Quickly, using the trees as cover, they ran, and continued running until they were past a hill and deep into a canyon, far from the awful clash. Tom’s heart and muscles, though, were strong, and at the end of it, rather than exhausted, he felt invigorated.

  In all honesty, however, these episodes of fright were the minority, and though they stood out in his mind, most of the time peace reigned in the Luisian.