Human

by Hayley Camille

  The trek passed in silence. Krue walked ahead, refusing to acknowledge Ivy but for the occasional icy glance behind him. Although it was much less pleasant than the friendly banter she might have exchanged with Setian, Ivy was not entirely upset. It gave her time to think.

  Ironically, it was Krue’s own hostility toward her that sparked her realization. Karathah are nothing but poison to our land, Krue had once said. And he was right.

  The waterhole was poisoned. That fact was critically obvious, as much as it pained her to know it. Ivy had discussed the symptoms of the swift death with Gihn on numerous occasions. It couldn’t be contagious or those tending the sick would have contracted it too. The victims shared no peculiarity of diet or living conditions. It favoured men and women of previously good health, but no children or elders. Hunters were clearly the target and the only consistent links between them were the trails they took before falling ill. They were the strongest hunters, and as such, regularly ventured the furthest. The hot spring was apparently on the boundary of their territory and a favourite place to refresh during a hunt, to wash the blood and dirt from their bodies, or to take a drink.

  Why the karathah would deliberately poison a known water source for the hobbits was still unclear, but Ivy had no doubt a justification had been fitted to the crime. It had been done before. The heinous act of poisoning the most necessary of human requirements, water, was historically renowned in her own country. Humanity had no limits to its malediction. In Australia, it had been for colonial possession of land.

  Is that what they want? Land? The hobbits used so few resources as it was, but what else was worth killing them for? They had only their cave, their hunting territory and the trade goods. It didn't seem enough. But then, no justification is ever enough.

  They were nearly at the hot spring when Krue turned. His face slipped from suspicion to irritation in an instant and Ivy followed his line of sight. From where they had just walked, Kyah appeared in the lowest branches. Trahg and his tiny dusty-haired cousin Turi were clinging to the long hair on her back. They were all smiles.

  “Hiranah! We followed you!” Trahg looked inordinately pleased with himself as he tumbled off and grabbed her hand. “Kyah missed you so we came too.”

  Ivy scooped the five-year-old into her arms. “Trahg! It’s dangerous to be out here alone! What if a shirakan tried to eat you for dinner? Or if you became lost? You know better than this, Trahg. And dragging Turi along too -” Trahg rolled his eyes and wiggled out of her grip, keeping his hand wrapped around the amulet on Ivy's wrist. “I never get lost and anyway, it was Turi's idea.” Ivy raised her eyebrow at the smallest boy, who only buried his face into Kyah's back with a shy smile.

  “I see you found a new way to travel,” Ivy noted. Kyah didn't seem to mind the burden. On the contrary, she looked perfectly serene.

  “Turi got tired,” Trahg said, shrugging.

  “It is a stupid way to travel Trahg,” Krue growled. “It is too far for children to be alone and the karathah are nearby. They would kill you faster than the shirakan. I will make sure you are both punished by your mothers when we return.” Despite Krue's harsh words, Ivy saw an undercurrent of worry in his eyes.

  “I'm sorry Tua,” Trahg said, with a quivering lip. Although Ivy was familiar with the more respectful title given to elders, she didn’t often hear it.

  “Stay close and keep quiet,” he grumbled and turned away to continue walking.

  Trahg looked to Ivy with a frown. “I thought you came with Setian,” he whispered loudly, “he’s much nicer.” Ahead of them, Krue huffed.

  Ivy smirked and resumed walking, one hand wrapped tightly around Trahg's tiny fingers and the other hand loosely around Kyah's elongated ones. Turi stayed clinging to the bonobo's back, watching the goings on imperiously.

  Ivy stopped dead. “Krue, Wait!”

  The old man turned back, clearly annoyed by a second delay. “What now?”

  “This,” Ivy whispered. Where she had stopped, a mass of creeping vines suffocated the undergrowth and spiralled up the trunks of ancient trees. Hidden in the long leaves and confetti of leaflets that the vine produced, were bright red flowers. The flowers should have sparked the panic that now rose in her chest. But no, they looked as innocuous as any other in the greenery. It wasn't the flowers, nor the leaves that Ivy had examined under a microscope in her laboratory not more than a month ago and forgotten. It was this. Cherry red seeds. A single black spot glossing one end of the hard shell. They hung in profusion from the underside of dry, splitting pods and it suddenly occurred to Ivy why these seeds would indeed not make a nice necklace. She knew this plant. It topped her botanical reference chart of phytoliths in the residue lab. Ivy had identified plants of importance to native Indonesians for food, medicine or utility in anticipation of the stone tools she was expecting from Flores. Each crystalline phytolith was unique to a species level and could be identified even thousands of years after the organic body surrounding it in life had decayed to nothing. Every plant on that chart was important. But this one topped them all – and for a very good reason.

  This was the Rosary Pea. Exotic. Beautiful. Fatal.

  As the pieces fell into place, each one felt like a glass shard to Ivy's heart. This was no ordinary plant. Abrin, the poison within its gilded skin, was seventy-five times more potent than its mephitic cousins. As little as three micrograms of the substance could kill a human adult, less than the amount contained in a single seed. To remove the toxin from its hard case was to risk death itself. In her modern world, Ivy learned there had been fatalities caused by simply pricking a finger while drilling a tiny hole to bead the pretty things for jewellery. To ingest the toxin of the Rosary Pea seed was to trigger a debilitating breakdown of every cell in a person’s body, as each cell was stripped in turn of its cardinal ability for protein synthesis. The bloody vomiting and diarrhoea, seizures, hallucinations and fluid within the victims’ lungs would begin after only a day. Within a week, the liver, kidneys and spleen would shut down. There was no antidote and no way back from the pain. There was only death to hope for.

  A Swift Death.

  Ivy gingerly touched the glossy seeds hanging from their broken pod. The cherry red and black markings no longer seemed beautiful. She recognised their true intention - in nature, they symbolised a warning. Ivy couldn't hold back the shiver that traced her spine. Like an inverted black widow spider. Yes, nature did have a way of imitating life - and death. There was no relief in the validation of Ivy's suspicion, in fact, she would desperately rather have proven herself wrong. But it all fits. Abrin dissolves in water. It remains stable through heat and time. Even diluted it was more than enough to murder. It was the perfect weapon.

  Urgency stung her into action.

  “Trahg and Turi, hide! Stay here with Kyah until I return. Do not follow me.” The waterhole was close. Ivy needed evidence. Only then would she tell Krue and the remainder of the tribe that they had so much more to fear than the loss of their forest. They would now fear genocide. Evidence. Only then would they truly believe her. Ivy raced ahead in the direction they had been travelling and with a snarl of annoyance, Krue followed.

  Ivy burst through the trees into the clearing. Low movement by the hot spring startled her and Ivy tripped, landing heavily on her knees in the grass. A Komodo? She scrambled up again, wide-eyed and panting, realising her carelessness and bracing for an attack. She instead met the eyes of a man. A karathah man. He had jumped to his feet at her sudden appearance, scattering a handful of red seeds to the muddy bank, and now he stood tall and rigid with a look of horror frozen on his face. Ivy recoiled at the sudden strangeness again at seeing another person as tall as herself. Weeks of towering over the hobbits had reconditioned her to a new normality and she stared at the man, unable to pull her eyes away. His skin was dark and smooth and his eyes bright. His face was chiselled, with high cheekbones and cropped thick, wiry hair. Long strings of red beads hung from his hair. Ivy realised, with a sick
ening jolt, that the beads were all too familiar. Rosary Pea Seeds. Dozens of them, threaded tightly and falling to his shoulders in a bunch.

  As the man drew his eyes from Ivy’s pale feet up to her blazing red hair, he recoiled. Instinctively, Ivy tightened her fist around the spear. The man’s eyes flicked back to his own spear against the tree behind him.

  Ivy’s muscles contracted, ready to defend herself. The man copied. He growled, menacing and deep in his throat like an animal.

  With a shout, Krue charged out from the trees behind Ivy. He was yelling, furious at having been left behind. Krue followed her line of sight to the karathah man beside the waterhole.

  The two hunters, so unequally sized, locked eyes and Ivy watched, horrified as the karathah's pupils narrowed and his lip curled into a sneer. Then he dragged his scrutiny back over Ivy's body as if surveying her in a new light. She spun to face Krue, who had pulled up short beside her. Dear God, no. Krue's round eyes burned with pure hatred.

  “Tikan.” The name fell from his lips like a prayer. “Mira hea, Tikan.”

  Ivy didn't need a translation. The pain was carved into his face. My child - Tikan. The ghostly fingers of his ruined hand gripped the spear shaft as he tore his fury from the man's eyes to meet Ivy’s. There was no fear, none at all. Only accusation. Betrayal. He spat at her feet.

  “No, Krue!” He moved fast, launching forward and hurling his spear toward the man beside the waterhole. The Homo sapien was faster. He sprang aside, anticipating the spear which landed with a thunk into the tree trunk behind. He dropped to the grass grabbing something, then hurtled himself toward the hobbit. Ivy leapt between them as the karathah man bore down. With gritted jaw and a snarl his intent switched to Ivy as he raised a thin bladed knife high above his head.

  With an ear-splitting screech, Kyah barrelled by Ivy's side to aid her defence. Ivy screamed, both for Krue in his blind rage and Kyah in her blind protection as she strained to reach the man's knife. Kyah leapt toward the hunter, knocking Krue off his path with such force that he fell, snapping his head onto a rock at the edge of the waterhole. He stayed there, unconscious.

  Ivy felt the full force of the karathah’s weight as he knocked her down. Her own spear fell out of reach. The man spat words into her face as she struggled to push him off. He grabbed Ivy’s throat with one hand and brought his knife down hard with the other. Ivy grabbed his wrist with both hands. He stabbed at the air in front of her chest forcing the knife down. Ivy struggled to push it back, reeling. Her lungs felt as if they would burst. Suddenly the added weight of Kyah was on them. The bonobo threw her fists against the man's back, pummelling him. White blurred the edges of Ivy's vision. In desperation, she brought her knee up hard between the man’s legs. His limbs crunched inwards giving her a split second of relief. She heaved air into her lungs, choking on it as it came. Ivy pushed the man aside, blindly punching and kicking him off. He screamed in pain as Kyah's sharp canine’s found the wrist that held his knife. The blade fell to the ground. Ivy snapped her elbow to his nose, hearing a sickening crack as his septum split. She pulled herself shaking to her feet. The man was struggling to knock Kyah away.

  “Kyah - No!” Still screeching in fear and possessing far beyond the strength Ivy had herself, the bonobo responded. She retreated a few steps away with an open mouthed grin of fear. Ivy grabbed her spear from the grass. A glint of stone at her feet revealed the hunter’s knife. She threw herself onto it as the man reached out. She flattened his hand underfoot and picked up the knife. With a weapon in each hand, Ivy aimed both at his exposed neck. She carefully flicked the spear through the curtain of red beads in his hair.

  “I know what you've done,” Ivy said.

  Ivy knew he couldn’t understand her, but still, she was compelled to make him bear the accusation. There was no doubt in her mind this man had poisoned the hot spring. The seeds he had dropped were the same as the empty husks he wore shamelessly threaded through his hair. Fatal. He was responsible for the deaths of at least twenty hobbits, and, with a sickening twist of her gut, perhaps Krue indirectly as well, who still lay unmoving by the rocks. The hobbit’s reaction had been instant; he had recognised this man. With the beaded hair and arrogant sneer he wore, Ivy wasn’t surprised. She would never forget his face either. Ivy guessed that Krue's missing fingers and murdered daughter were somehow linked to the karathah that now lay sprawled before her.

  “You killed them. Why? What’s worth killing for?”

  The man snarled in response, his eyes darting away, assessing his options. He was clearly outnumbered and had lost his knife. Ivy saw his spear, twice the length of her own, still leaning against a tree near the water’s edge. She had caught him off guard and knew she wouldn't be so lucky again.

  “Go!” She prodded her spear against the man's bare neck and he scrambled to his feet. “Leave!” Recognising the escape she was offering, the hunter gave Ivy and Kyah a final look of cold calculation. Almost against his own will, he turned and ran. He was gone within seconds. Kyah shrieked after him into the forest, then turned and raced back the way they had come. Ivy guessed the bonobo wanted to check that Trahg and Turi were still safe, wherever she had left them. Ivy rushed over to Krue.

  The hobbit was breathing but unconscious. A dark bruise was swelling on the side of his head.

  “You're going to have a terrible headache old man,” she said. Ivy rearranged his limbs so that he was curled on his side and then walked over to the karathah's spear. It was slender and ornately decorated with a delicate stone tip. The hobbit-made spear she carried herself was crude in comparison.

  Holding a spear in each hand - one hobbit made, strong and utilitarian; and the other sapien made, beautiful and fast - Ivy had never felt more conflicted. One species was killing the other.

  Systematically. Deliberately. Violently.

  Even without the aid of poison, Homo sapiens would come to triumph through their own ingenuity. They were an adaptive species, prolific and clever. Unstoppable. The hobbits could change, but had done so only when they had finally recognised their handicap. They chose change because they were desperate to survive. It should be too little, too late.

  But Ivy was giving something which was not rightfully theirs. The adaptive knowledge of another hominid.

  The very ones that were killing them.

  On the ground was a wooden bowl, again, intricately carved. It was over half full of the Rosary Pea seeds. Beside the bowl was an awl. It was made from bone, finely ground to a needle point. It was sharp and strong enough to pierce the black, glossy shells. Ivy guessed that he simply threw the punctured seeds directly into the water, letting the poison leach out. A quick look confirmed her theory. A handful of seed husks had already been washed into the pool crevice by the movement of water. Ivy stripped several large leaves from a nearby tree and wrapped the bowl, awl and some of the whole seeds tightly within it. She wound the package tightly with dry grass. At least she now had evidence.

  Kyah returned. Turi and Trahg were again travelling on her back. Ivy took Trahg's tiny hand with the amulet between them.

  “What happened to Krue?” Trahg’s bottom lip trembled. Clinging in front of him, Turi watched with eyes like saucers.

  “Kyah accidentally knocked him over and he hit his head,” Ivy said. Trahg stiffened slightly on his bonobo perch.

  “She’s never hurt anyone before,” Trahg said.

  “She didn't mean to hurt him,” Ivy assured the boy. “She was trying to help him. There was a karathah hunter here - a bad man. He’s been turning the water bad and making our hunters sick. That's why they were dying.”

  “And Kyah killed the karathah to save Krue?” The boy looked curiously around the waterhole clearing for a body. Death had never been hidden from him before.

  “We didn't kill him, we chased him away.”

  “You should have killed him. Krue would have killed him,” said Trahg.

  “Yes well, Krue was hurt and I, well, I decided not to.”
<
br />   “But why?” Trahg said stubbornly. “The karathah are stealing our land. I heard Gihn say so. And you said he killed our hunters.” Trahg puffed out his little chest proudly. “I would kill him back.”

  “Then you would die, Trahg,” Ivy said, sighing. “The karathah are much too big for you. And you too Turi,” Ivy added to the littlest boy who was nodding emphatically to Trahg's declaration.

  Was it that simple? I would kill him back. An eye for an eye. Could this struggle for survival only end with warfare? Ivy shuddered at the memory of the man with his hands around her throat. The Rosary Pea braids had hit her face as she struggled. The poison in them was indestructible. Like him. Like the species he belonged to. I fought him with my bare hands. The memory brought bile to Ivy's throat and she turned away from Trahg and closed her eyes tight against the rising nausea. Now that she was safe and she had the evidence of his attempted genocide, her nerve failed her. Ivy's hands began to shake. Could I have killed him? Would I have been justified if I did? He tried to kill me. Yes. My life is worth fighting for. Ivy took a deep breath, calming her nerves. He was killing them. They deserve to live too. She had never felt so dislocated from her own species. No, not all of them. It's just one man.

  Ivy surrounded herself in thoughts of a different man, in a different place, and a different time.

  Eventually, her breathing evened out and she gathered her resolve. Ivy tied the two spears to her back using a spare strip of hide from Krue's utility belt. Krue stirred slightly when Ivy moved him, but remained unconscious.

  “We have a problem,” Ivy said to the waiting boys. Trahg had climbed off Kyah and taken her hand. “Krue was my guide, so we're just going to have to wait for him to wake up.”

  “You’re lucky we came then; I can show you the way!” Trahg announced.

  “No, it's too far, you'll get us lost.” The little boy looked offended.