Orrin tried to smile, but couldn't. “Yeah, I do.”
Neil was a God.
It was a good plan and if Neil was honest with himself, he was surprised it had worked. Maintaining the illusion was proving difficult of course, but intimidation went a long way in keeping spears at bay. There was nothing familiar nor comforting about Neil for these people, so he played on their fear as much as he could. From his white skin to his magic fire keeper, from his bizarre clothes to the souls trapped in his pocket, Neil was everything they never wanted in their midst. To amplify his effect, Neil took to silently staring at anyone who challenged his gaze while flipping his mobile slowly in his fingertips. The implied threat of having their soul torn from their body and encased in the device seemed to be effective enough a warning. Families were shifted to provide him room in the limestone cave, and they hurried away with their belongings, eager to be out of his sight. All eyes were averted, except those of the youngest children that were wide with fright and awe at the whisperings of their parents.
Now, the young woman with the blue feathers in her hair waited nervously at the perimeter of his hearth. She had brought a breakfast of fruits and smoked molluscs on a polished shell dish and Neil ate slowly, content to analyse the comings and goings of the tribe. In this world where his wits and keen observation were his only defence, he used them voraciously. They had already rewarded him with more information than he expected. This young woman for example, seemed as frightened of Charat as she was of Neil himself. The hunter preyed on her specifically, making sure it was she who brought Neil's food and drinks and emptied his toilet bowl each morning. Charat kept her close, and Neil could see why. The woman was alluring. She was strikingly pretty with pert breasts and the hide skirt she wore did nothing to stay Neil's imagination. Strangely though, as closely as Charat watched her, he was rarely kind to her. Apparently the red-beaded hunter was enjoying his newfound authority in more ways than one. The prospect of control over women, or at least this one, seemed to be as high on his agenda as killing the ape men. Neil pushed the empty plate away and the young woman took it, tripping as she scurried from him. He pretended not to notice.
It seemed the elders had designated Charat to be Neil’s point of contact. This was probably due to their unwillingness to be near him as much as Neil's own request. He had refused to communicate with anyone else. Neil needed to survive and Charat clearly craved power. There was an interdependency at play.
There was no overlap of language between them, so strategy was infuriatingly slow. Neil had no idea how the redhead had navigated the lack of communication. Of all the time he watched her, until now, he'd clearly underestimated the impact of the language barrier. She had seemed content to talk as if they understood her when clearly they hadn't. She'd accepted their dirty hands on her arm and their foreheads pressed to hers constantly. God knows how or why she put up with it. A weak mind, Neil supposed, and weak sympathies. It was difficult, trying to communicate with Charat, but he at least showed more intelligence than the redhead's menagerie. The hunter had a sharp mind. They shared the same intent, and that was enough.
Neil looked around the cave, noting its smaller size to the one of the Ebu Gogo he had spied on. There were more people crammed into it too; indeed, it was almost suffocating with humanity. The walls boasted dark brown and red paintings of human and animalistic shapes. Macabre stalactites dripped from the ceiling like teeth. Stalagmites clawed upward to meet their counterparts, occasionally joining and dividing the cave with hazardous columns of limestone. Shades of moss covered the walls of the cave and a damp smell clung to the air. There was also a more pungent, sinister odour.
Neil eyed the freshly cracked limestone wounding the far ceiling of the cave. Shattered rocks were strewn on the floor underneath the break. A loud drip of water fell incessantly onto the rocks from the fissure. It washed away blood.
Not only was the cave too small for the burgeoning population of humanity within its walls, it was unstable. A heavy crumble of rock had fallen during the night, leaving a messy reminder of the cave’s unsuitability along with a cracked skull. The unfortunate man who had been sleeping underneath it was now dead.
Apparently, this pleased Charat no end. The hunter strode imperiously to Neil and pointed to his mobile. Neil turned it on, flicking through the image gallery until he came to the redhead. Charat had held up his hand. Stop. He'd gestured between the dead man and the redhead, then to the dark cavern of Liang Bua cave behind her. It quickly became clear to Neil why the man was so willing to cooperate. His agenda was real estate. He wanted the spacious limestone cave by the river for his own people. Its resources and position were far superior to their own.
Neil suspected that Charat had been working to this goal for some time. Judging by the hunter’s apparent frustration, the elders had been overly tolerant of the Ebu Gogo, and hesitant to disturb the status quo. But that was changing. Somehow, the Ebu Gogo had defiled a long-held peace. Neil suspected the murdered female had provoked the undercurrent of resentment. Now, the ape-men had brought the woman into their fold, bringing it to a head. The Ebu Gogo had become a threat.
Not long after, the dead man was carried outside. Charat had motioned Neil to his feet and flexed his jaw. The hunter swept his arm across the grieving inhabitants of the cave. He pushed Neil forward. As flames ritualistically devoured the dead man’s flesh, Neil seized the opportunity he’d been handed and lived up to his end of the bargain.
“Ebu Gogo!” He pushed the photograph of the redhead and the Ebu Gogo before their grief stricken faces. “They bring evil spirits! They destroy your home!” Beside him, Charat bellowed what Neil assumed was his own version of the words. The morning’s death took on a whole new meaning. An accident of nature had become an act of evil spirits. Retribution was required.
Neil shook his fist, then pulled Charat's knife from his belt. He turned to the entrance of the cave. With quick carvings in the rock, Neil shaped a large teardrop. He smeared scalding ash across its middle from the pyre, colouring it black. He yanked a shelled necklace off a nearby woman and held it up for all to see by its leather straps. Neil had already made it clear to Charat that the amulet was the only bounty he required. Charat also knew whose neck must be broken to acquire it and seemed only too pleased to accommodate Neil's request. Now, Neil counted on Charat to translate his desire in a way the humans would respond to. By inciting war.
“The Ebu Gogo are bringing death upon you! They cast evil spirits to ruin your home! The white woman is evil!”
Although he knew they didn’t understand his words, it didn’t matter. Actions spoke louder.
Neil dangled the necklace over the shape he'd drawn on the rock. The polished mollusc shell fit over the etched amulet. Stab! The sharp flint of Charat's knife shattered the shell as he thrust it in. It stayed there, embedded in the crumbling limestone.
“We must steal the woman's power! Kill the Ebu Gogo that protect her! Save yourselves!” The veins were straining in Charat's neck as he yelled in turn. Neil had no doubt of their persuasion as war cries erupted around the funeral pyre. The foul smell of burning flesh finally overpowered the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The body was engulfed in flames. Neil swallowed back vomit, determined not to show any sign of weakness. He spat at the etching on the wall, then turned away in mock fury and strode beyond the tree line, out of sight. As soon as he was alone, Neil heaved and emptied his stomach into the bushes. They're going to kill her for me. They're going to kill her. I'm a murderer.
This was not the normal price of ambition. He had never asked for any of this mess. But what of survival? Her life is the price, isn't it? I deserve to survive. Benjamin deserves to survive. Oh God, what would he think of me for this? Will I still be a hero in his eyes? Neil resolved never to tell him.
He collapsed back against a tree. As he sat, willing his heart to slow, Neil became aware of Charat’s presence once again. Although Neil was free to wander, Charat was never far behind. A
God he may be to the others, but to Charat, Neil was a contrivance that he could not afford to lose. By the look on his face as he sat beside him, the hunter was pleased with their performance. His jaw jutted proudly and his eyes spoke of success. Neil took a deep breath.
He dug his fingers into the weedy ground feeling for stones to use as markers. After a minute, Neil ripped the mosses away between them and smoothed out the ground. He tossed a collection of small and larger rocks onto the soil. They had played this game before, and Charat now understood the symbolism he used in strategy. Neil gathered the smaller rocks under the hollow of his palm.
“Ebu Gogo,” he said, gesturing at the rocks. Charat nodded, popping a dried betel nut into his mouth from a pouch and beginning to chew. Most of the tribe chewed constantly. The dark red juice stained teeth, lips and tongue and often dribbled from the corner of their mouths in macabre bright red before the inevitable spit onto the ground. Charat did just that, as Neil arranged the larger stones around the front and sides of the smaller collection under Neil's curled palm. One by one the attacking force was shifted toward the metaphorical cave. “Charat - Charat’s men.” Yes. The red-beaded hunter nodded with a gleam in his eye. Confident he was being understood, Neil played out his strategy, and the Ebu Gogo pawns were swiftly fallen.
Let the games begin.
A megalith of slated stone shadowed the tribe gathered beneath it. The sun was split blood-orange against its back as evening fell. Two great skulls rested on either side of the stone, one pointed to the rising sun and the other to bid it farewell. The skulls were long and flat, with great orbs where eyes should be, and each held a burning wick of fire instead. Flames licked through the lattice of cavities and the jaws of short, serrated teeth that had been propped open for effect. Neil guessed they were reptiles, not as long as an alligator, but much larger than a snake. He couldn't help but be grateful he was no longer sleeping in the undergrowth while creatures like these were around. The megalith itself was imposing, haphazardly designed with jutting edges and carvings in the rock. It was positioned a short walk toward the north of the cave mouth, so Neil hadn't seen it when he'd been brought as prisoner from the South. Offerings of animal flesh, shells and flowers were scattered at its base, no doubt as appeasement to some ancestral spirit or deity. I wonder if they'll build me a stone pile when I'm gone too? he wondered idly.
An elder stepped forward and the tribe fell silent. With the quiet came anticipation and after a few minutes, foreboding leached through the crowd to claw at Neil's gut. What are they waiting for? He felt Charat press close beside him, spear in hand, and Neil swallowed hard. Have I played the wrong card? When the hunter had disappeared earlier to discuss Neil's plan with the elders, Neil never questioned his loyalties. But the man was more assured lately, in position and demeanour. Only Charat knew of Neil's false immortality. The others believed it; they believed Neil was a god. Has he changed his mind already? Given up our alliance for some other promise of power? Charat knew he could damage Neil as much with his words as his spear. Either way, I'm dead.
From somewhere in the centre of the group, a terrible wail broke the night, sending a surge of adrenaline through Neil's veins. His knees jerked, preparing to run. But the scream was purely ceremonial it seemed, for a moment later a handful of other voices followed, including Charat. He held the long braid of ape woman hair above his head and thundered above the rest with a cry for the dead man killed by the crumbling cave. It was a promise for retribution against those blamed. Neil suppressed a shudder and swallowed hard. He summoned his own voice to aid Charat's. The other man swelled with vindication.
The elder standing before the megalith pushed his chin upward with an air of authority and began tossing handfuls of the dead man’s crushed skull onto the offering place. The remnants of his cremated body had been buried, and now they called for his spirit to join the ancestors. Neil startled as a cacophany of bats suddenly took flight, screaming overhead in a great black cloud. A few faces away, the woman with the blue feathers caught his reaction and looked surprised. She quickly turned away. Get a grip. Nothing scares a God. Neil quickly settled an intimidating scowl onto his face instead.
A second wail sounded. This time, a boy was brought forward. He was trembling and looked no more than twelve. Like Benjamin. The child stood resolutely before the elder, but his eyes were shut tight. Slice. His skin was split in three shallow markings across the crown of his left shoulder. His back and chest turned bright red as he faced his tribe. An older woman wept with concern while the remainder cheered at his bravery. The boy faltered, knowing the other shoulder was due too. His eyes watered with the pain and his bottom lip quivered. The elder looked to Charat for approval and the hunt-leader nodded grimly. Slice. Slice. Slice. It was done. Apparently, this child was now a hunter and would be allowed to partake in the ceremony, in honour of their upcoming ambush against the Ebu Gogo.
Neil stepped further back from the cheering spectators, uneasy. In his pocket, he found the silver lighter and felt the cursive engraving with his fingers. He's just a kid. Just a boy. Neil willed himself to continue the pretence. It’s my only way out of this psychotic hell-hole. My only way to get home.
Taking a deep breath, Neil pushed forward until he was standing beneath the stone. He signalled imperiously to the new hunt leader. “Charat! Begin!”
Charat took up the command and the tribe circled out, widening the fighting space around the megalith. Fire sticks swirled as the hunters leapt forward, eager to be the last one standing. One by one, the contestants tested their strength against one another. Each man wore a wooden mask and dodged and hit with blazing flames and fists. They were impressive, not least of all Charat, who brought his fist so hard to the side of one man's head, he was dragged away unconscious. No other man could beat Charat and he roared with victory. The hunter shot a gloating look to the blue-feathered woman and she shrank back as her young friends giggled.
A new test of skill began. This time the hunters leapt and ducked, brandishing carved whips with painful accuracy against their opponent’s body. Neil watched mesmerised. At least I picked the winning team. The thin, trailing leather flew gracefully through the air, leaving a lacework of bloody cuts in its wake. After what seemed like forever, the exhausted victor was celebrated and a feast began.
Not a single twig cracked underfoot as they made their way along the river. Dawn was not long due. There were only six hunters, Neil had insisted on that. A bloodbath wasn't necessary; this was simply an… eradication of pests. Six men would be enough to get the job done, including the youngest recruit, who looked more terrified than useful. Neil had insisted on the fastest runners. The ambush would be swift and then the perpetrators gone. Charat had wanted more of course, the man craved warfare like a drug. But Neil won. After all, he was a God.
Insects chirruped and shuffled over decaying leaves in the dark and far above, bats clamoured in the trees searching for fruit. Neil hurried to keep up. In his memory, the CEO's accusations mocked him over the hazy tinkling of champagne glasses. You’re losing your edge, Neil. You’ve let yourself go and you’re sure as hell not taking us all down with you. Neil lifted his chin indignantly and scowled into the darkness as he paced silently behind the others. He ducked under an overhanging branch and swept vines from his path with a strong arm. Losing it my arse….
To strike just once and succeed was Neil's preference, of course. He knew his Art of War rules well. 'If he is taking his ease, give him no rest'. During Neil's career, the wisdom of ancient military general Sun Tzu had been invaluable in conquering wars of business and politics. Real warfare, its intended purpose, seemed to give the words more weight. It was no longer just a power game; it was a game of death. Neil wouldn't be instrumental in the attack though; he only came to see it done. He had come to claim the amulet from her body.
Charat appeared beside him in the dark and held up his torch. The whites of his eyes were ghostly. Conscious of their audience, Neil pulled the cigar
ette lighter from his pocket and with a flourish, lit the end of the torch. As it burst into flames, the hunter’s face appeared in sharp relief against the darkness, then disappeared again as he turned the flame to his comrades. They each met the torch with their own. Within seconds, a half dozen faces shone with grim readiness, each one illuminated by two blazing torches.
The strategy was to drive them out and kill as many as possible in the process. Neil knew that the redhead slept toward the rear left wall, trapped by numerous hearths and obstacles, not least of which was her own conscience. Neil had watched her well enough to guess she'd be the last one out and therefore the first to die. The Ebu Gogo were defenceless. The river was too far and any that weren’t killed tonight would surely leave the cave forever. Charat can have his real estate. I get my amulet. The plan was flawless.
Each hunter crept to the top of the steep entrance. They threw their torches hard and fast into the wide mouth of the cave, then dashed back into the darkness. With each torch, a thinned bladder of oil was also aimed at its landing place. The bladders burst, exploding into flames. It had been pre-decided that sleeping mats of dried grass, oiled hide covers and bamboo spears would be the first targets. Neil quelled his guilt at aiming for a sleeping bed. Not a bed, a nest really. They're just animals, after all. He'd hunted before. Ducks, foxes, kangaroos. This is no different.
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