Obsolete Theorem

by Stan C. Smith

  Lincoln almost suggested they leave the drone behind but decided not to bother. Skyra had already demonstrated she would carry Ripple if she had to.

  “We have to do something different,” Lincoln said between breaths as they started up yet another hill. “If we keep this pace, they’ll catch up.”

  “The sun will soon hide itself,” Skyra replied.

  Lincoln glanced at the sky. He hadn’t realized it was getting so late. “Will your people stop chasing us then?”

  “No, but the sun will no longer show them our tracks.”

  He hadn’t even thought of this. Neanderthals, of course, didn’t have flashlights. Once it was dark, he and Skyra and Ripple could keep moving, leaving the hunters far behind. Lincoln figured he was incapable of finding his way back to his team in the daylight, let alone in the dark, but perhaps Skyra could. If not, maybe Ripple could. Apparently, Lincoln’s future self had equipped the drone with some kind of magnetic pole positioning sensors.

  When they reached the hill’s summit, Lincoln saw that the sun was still about half an hour above the horizon, which meant it would be an hour before the growing darkness would hide their tracks. They would have to outrun the hunters for another hour, maybe longer if Neanderthal night vision was better than that of his species.

  Still running, although at a slow jog, the group moved over the hilltop, into the next valley, then over the next hill. Skyra had stopped talking, evidently focusing all her energy on moving steadily forward.

  They crossed two more hills as the sun moved with excruciating deliberation toward the horizon. The light was definitely fading, and it seemed to Lincoln that the hills were becoming shorter. He figured soon they would be out of the hills and on the wide river plain. As they ascended yet another hill, Skyra slowed to a walk, obviously too fatigued to continue running. Lincoln grabbed her hand and pulled her along, hoping she would understand he was just trying to help her keep moving.

  “I am at five percent power,” Ripple announced as they crossed the hill’s plateau. “Soon I will insist the two of you leave me behind.”

  Lincoln didn’t bother formulating a response. His ongoing struggle to suck in enough air would make his words incomprehensible anyway. As they started down the far slope, he spotted a stream in the valley below. He almost shouted with relief. Perhaps it was the same stream where they had eaten crayfish the day before. If so, they had covered more distance than he thought. If not, the stream would still provide much-needed water and perhaps a chance to throw off their pursuers.

  Without slowing down, Skyra plunged into the stream and threw herself face first into the clear water. Lincoln was hesitant to get his makeshift footwrap wet, but there was no avoiding it, so he dropped his bow and the two arrows and followed her in. He stretched out beside her and allowed the cool water to run over his entire body. He looked back toward the shore. Ripple was inserting one of its temperature probes into the water. Unfortunately, the group wouldn’t be staying here long enough for the drone to substantially increase its power level.

  Lincoln drank deeply, rejuvenating his senses and reacquainting his sandpaper-dry throat with cool moisture.

  Skyra got to her feet and helped him up. She pointed downstream. “We will walk in the water. The hunters will know this, but they will not know how far. They will search the sand until they find where we left the water. The search will slow them down. When they find our tracks, the sun will not be in the sky to show them the way.”

  He nodded. “Just what I was thinking. Let’s get moving.”

  “Ripple, come into the water,” Skyra said.

  “No,” the drone said. “I will not.”

  Lincoln and Skyra exchanged a glance.

  “We have a plan,” Lincoln said. “We’ll—”

  “No. My power level is critical. I am slowing you down. I will slow you down even further if you carry me. I will not allow it. I will find a safe place to replenish my power, then I will catch up to you at the hill of rocks where you left the others of your team. Skyra and Lincoln, you must stay alive, and you must take care of each other. You are both important.” Without another word, Ripple retracted both its temperature probes, backed away from the stream, and took off at a gallup, running upstream parallel to the water.

  “Ripple!” Skyra shouted. She started for the stream bank.

  Lincoln caught her arm. “Maybe we should go on. Ripple can catch up.”

  She hesitated and let out a deep growl.

  “It’s what Ripple wants us to do,” he added. “Please, Skyra, we have to keep moving.”

  “Skyra-Una-Loto!”

  Lincoln snapped his head up. The voice had come from the hillside. In the growing darkness, it took him a moment to spot the four approaching Neanderthals. They were less than two hundred meters away. The stream would not throw the hunters off their trail after all.

  Skyra growled again, this time more menacingly. Then she screamed a string of words in her own language at the approaching hunters.

  As they ran down the hillside, one of the men shouted words back.

  “What did he say?” Lincoln asked.

  “Durnin does not believe I intend to kill you. He comes to kill you himself. You must run, Lincoln. I will stop the hunters.”

  Panic gripped Lincoln’s already-constricted chest. “No! You’re coming with me, remember? That’s what we agreed.” He started pulling her across the stream.

  Lincoln heard feet pounding the gravel. He turned and saw Ripple running back toward them. “Skyra, Lincoln, you must not be here. Hyenas are approaching. They are hunting, making their way this direction along the stream. You must go.”

  Lincoln’s eyes were drawn to something moving to his right. Dark shapes were emerging from the brush beside the stream. The hyenas were already here, at least four that Lincoln could see. They appeared mostly as silhouettes in the fading light, but Lincoln could tell they were larger than modern hyenas, appearing to weigh well over a hundred kilograms each. Two more emerged behind the first four. The creatures were creeping forward, as if they were sizing up Ripple, Lincoln, and Skyra.

  “If we run now, the hyenas will chase and kill us,” Skyra whispered.

  Not running was easier said than done—Lincoln’s instincts were commanding him to flee. He forced his legs to stay still and glanced at the Neanderthal hunters. They were at the hill’s base fifty meters away and still approaching, oblivious to the pack of hyenas.

  “Skyra-efop-epalap-lup-bolup,” shouted one of the hunters.

  The hyenas stopped in their tracks and turned to look at the hunters.

  Lincoln, sensing that Skyra was about to shout, put a finger to her lips. “Shhh.” There was no point in drawing back the hyenas’ attention.

  The Neanderthals stopped. “El-de-né!” one of them said. Finally they had spotted the hyena pack.

  Ripple’s feet scuffled in the gravel as the drone turned and saw the hunters for the first time. The drone spoke with a subdued voice. “Skyra, you have a disturbing talent for attracting mayhem.”

  For several long seconds the hunters, hyenas, and Lincoln’s group engaged in a silent, three-way stand-off.

  Ripple took off running straight for the Neanderthal hunters. At about twenty meters, the drone emitted a cry like a mewling calf.

  This was just too tempting for the hyenas—they charged after Ripple.

  Still running and crying, the drone abruptly activated its vision light, illuminating the four Neanderthals against the darkness behind them.

  “We must run now,” Skyra hissed. She pushed Lincoln toward the opposite stream bank.

  He considered going back to the other shore for his bow but decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

  As they jumped from the water onto the gravel, the scene behind them erupted with hyenas’ growling barks and men’s shouts. A hyena began howling in pain. A man screamed. Ripple’s mewling cry was drowned out by the chaos of a life-and-death struggle.

  Lincoln and Sk
ya ran hard. He was vaguely aware that his right foot throbbed with every step, but adrenaline and raw fear drove him to keep up with Skyra’s sprint. His footwrap was now wet, but that only made it cling to his ankle more tightly than before.

  They cleared the first hill, ran across a narrow valley, and over the next hill before Skyra showed signs of slowing down. Lincoln could hear her panting beside him, but she kept running.

  They ran and ran, kilometer after kilometer. After a while, the hills were no more than gradual rises. Several kilometers after that, the two runners began making their way across the relatively flat river plain, avoiding treacherous rocks only by the faint light from stars and a sliver of moon.

  Skyra began to stumble, showing signs of extreme fatigue. Lincoln was hardly surprised—he estimated they had run nonstop for at least ten kilometers since leaving Ripple and the stream. Neither of them had tried to speak during the last half hour.

  “Okay, we need to rest,” Lincoln said, grabbing Skyra’s arm to slow her down.

  She stopped then dropped to her hands and knees.

  Lincoln kneeled beside her. “Maybe they’re not even coming… the hyenas attacked. And it’s so dark… our tracks.”

  She continued gasping for air.

  He put a hand on her back. The furs of her cape had parted, and his fingers pressed against her skin, which was warm to the touch and slick with sweat. “Are you okay?”

  “I have never run so far before,” she replied between gasps. “Veenah’s strength is truly within me.”

  Lincoln wasn’t sure how to respond to this, so he said, “I have to admit I’m lost. Do you know where we are?”

  She pushed herself up onto her knees and scanned the dark, rocky expanse before them. She pointed. “Your tribemates are that way.”

  “Are you sure? It all looks the same to me.”

  “No, I am not sure. I will need the sun’s light to be sure.”

  He tapped his watch, which indicated the local time was 10:31 PM. On the previous two mornings the sun hadn’t appeared until about 5:30 AM. A lot of hours of darkness were ahead. “If your tribemates survived the hyenas, they would have to wait until morning to track us, right?”

  Skyra grunted and got to her feet. She took a few wobbly steps with her eyes on the ground. “This night is too dark for them to follow our tracks.”

  He got up. “We can’t keep going like this. Our bodies need to rest.”

  She turned and scanned the area again. After a few moments of silence she sat on the ground and crossed her legs. “We will rest here.”

  “Here? Don’t we need to make a fire? You know, to keep predators away?”

  “If my tribemates are coming for us in the dark, they will see our fire. We are not near water, and we are not near trees or caves. Predators do not have a reason to come to a place like this. This night has no wind to carry our scent. We will be safe here, maybe.”

  He sighed and sat down beside her then shifted back and forth to find a spot with fewer jagged rocks pressing against his bare skin. He was dehydrated and hungry. His core temperature was returning to normal, and despite the lack of wind, his sweat was evaporating, cooling his naked body even faster. He would start shivering soon. It was going to be a long night.

  Skyra stretched out on her side and rested her head on a portion of her fur cape.

  “I should have stopped you,” Lincoln said. “Ripple told me to stop you from taking Veenah to your people. Ripple was right, but I didn’t listen. I’m sorry, Skyra.”

  She lay motionless without responding. Even in the darkness, he could see her large eyes gazing at him.

  “What did you mean when you said your people will take you back because you are in your ilmekho? What is ilmekho?”

  She didn’t reply for many seconds. Finally, she said, “Nandup women are of breeding age after they have lived through twelve cold seasons. But Una-Loto men will not put a child in a woman’s belly until she has lived through twenty cold seasons.” She paused, thinking. “When a man puts a child into a younger nandup woman, the child might die. Sometimes the young woman will die also.”

  Lincoln knew Skyra was about twenty years old, but he certainly didn’t want to tell her how he knew. “So, you have lived through twenty cold seasons, and that means you are now in ilmekho?”

  “Yes.”

  This meant she was now fair game for the men of her tribe. Lincoln felt a strange, illogical sense of relief that Skyra was no longer among her own people. “Do your people get married?”

  “I do not know married.”

  “Do your people become a couple—one woman and one man—and live together? Have children together.”

  “One woman and one man?”

  He took this as a no but decided to persist. “My people form pair bonds—usually one woman and one man. Often the couple will stay with each other for the rest of their lives.”

  She raised up onto one elbow. “You know who your birthfather is?”

  “Yes, I know my father. My mother and father have been married for forty-six years.”

  “El-de-né! Has your birthfather put children in the bellies of other women?”

  “Only in my mother. Nine children, actually. I have seven brothers. Do you remember me telling you about my sister? I used to have a sister, but she died when I was young.”

  She seemed to think for a few seconds. “Your sister died, and my sister died.”

  Lincoln wasn’t sure how to respond to this. “Yes.”

  “When a woman of my tribe is in ilmekho, the Una-Loto people have a celebration for many days. The celebration begins when the tribe kills a woolly rhino or a mammoth. That is how important the celebration is. After the work is done, my people eat and eat and eat even more. They tell stories, and they laugh. The dominant men challenge each other to see which man will be the first to take the woman to his shelter to honor her ilmekho. In his shelter, the man tries to put a child in her belly. After he tries to put a child in her belly, the other men challenge to be the next man to try. Then they challenge to be the next, and then the next after that. It is a time of much celebration.”

  Except for the woman who happens to be in ilmekho, Lincoln thought to himself. Then he thought he might be making an unfair assumption, so he asked, “Skyra, did you enjoy your ilmekho celebration?”

  She lowered her head back down onto her cape. “Skyra and Veenah were in ilmekho before the bolup men raided Una-Loto camp, but our hunters had not yet killed a woolly rhino or a mammoth. The woolly rhino and mammoth do not easily give up their meat and fur and bones.”

  “I see. So, you haven’t had your celebration. Then today you returned, and you killed a woolly rhino, which should have started your ilmekho celebration.”

  “Yes. Some of my tribemates do not care if I live or die, and they did not care if Veenah lived or died. But the men of Una-Loto wish to start my ilmekho celebration. Veenah was tainted by the bolup men, Skyra was not tainted.”

  Lincoln was beginning to see why the hunters were being so persistent in their pursuit.

  “The Una-Loto men will kill you, and they will take me back,” she added, as if this weren’t already clear enough.

  “Yeah,” Lincoln said. He curled up on his side on the gravel. The ground was still warmer than the air, which helped a little, but sleeping this way was going to be impossible. He thought about the pursuing hunters. Could they have escaped the attacking hyenas? Even if they had, the hunters were now far behind. Lincoln fully intended to return with Skyra to his team then to the T3 long before the hunters could catch up. If everything went well, they would jump back to Lincoln’s lab, arriving a few minutes after they had left.

  Deep within his consciousness, though, Lincoln did not believe this was possible. Perhaps he was simply too stubborn and prideful to admit his Temporal Bridge Theorem was flawed, even though Ripple had said it was, and even though Ripple’s and Skyra’s remains had somehow existed in the same timeline Ripple had jumped from. It
defied logic and mathematics. By their intrusive actions, Lincoln and his team had now significantly impacted this timeline. Hell, even if their actions were not significant, random events during the next 47,000 years would result in a future drastically different from their own. There was no telling what they’d find when they jumped back to the future, if they even could.

  Still, they had to try. Whatever they might find, it would surely be better than this place of savagery and death.

  Her voice broke the silence. “Skyra and Veenah used to sleep together to stay warm on cold nights.”

  “I’m really sorry about your sister.”

  “This is a cold night, and Veenah is gone.”

  He lifted his head slightly and gazed at her dark form.

  “My people took away your skins,” she said. “On this night, Skyra and Lincoln must sleep together to stay warm.”

  Lincoln felt his heart accelerating. Was she serious? Should he be a gentleman and refuse? Skyra probably had no idea how suggestive such words would be in his world. Clearly she meant nothing more than what she had said—they must simply stay warm. Why in the hell was he overthinking this?

  Skyra shifted closer to him, and he moved closer to her. She grabbed his arm and pulled him against her, then lay on her side facing away from him. He pressed his body to her back, already feeling her substantial warmth. A few seconds later she sat up and pulled her cape off over her head. Then she lay back down, positioning the furs over both of them.

  Lincoln put his arm around her chest and pulled her closer so her bare skin was against his. Gradually, his heart slowed until he no longer felt it pounding against his ribs. Her skin was softer than he’d thought it would be. Her hair smelled slightly of sweat, but it wasn’t an unpleasant smell at all. As they lay together in silence, Lincoln’s apprehension and confusion slowly transformed into contentment. Maybe he’d be able to sleep after all. He shifted his body slightly, finding a position with fewer rocks poking into his skin.