“I had two mothers,” Addison said, his dark eyes staring at the wall.
“What do you mean, two mothers?”
“Two mothers when I was abül, a boy. Lindsey was my mother. And Koina was my mother. She brought me to be with the yanop lop.”
“Yanop lop?”
“The people of the trees. Koina brought me from the place of ancestors to live with the yanop lop.”
Mr. Darnell frowned. “You think you have a mother named Koina?”
“Quentin! We have to go!” It was Mrs. Darnell. Every few minutes she would wake up and say something like this. She was getting worse.
For some time they all sat in silence. Bobby scooped another handful of khosül and shoved it into his mouth. He felt something hard. He worked the object out of his mouth and onto his palm. It was a shiny black oval the size of a quarter. He turned it over, and his stomach tightened at the sight of two large mandibles. It was the head of an insect. The head alone was larger than any beetle he had ever seen.
“What you got there?” Carlos asked.
Bobby couldn’t answer. He dropped the black head onto the floor for Carlos to see. Samuel had told them the khosül contained sago grubs. But Bobby had seen sago grubs in the market in Wamena, with their tiny black heads. An image popped into Bobby’s mind of an enormous white, legless, squirming sago grub with a head this huge. This was too much. He barely made it to the hut’s opening in time. He heard his vomit strike the ground just as he finished retching. Bobby sat back, panting from the effort. He had just ejected nutrients that he desperately needed. He would have to start again.
Samuel had left, saying that he would talk to the village elders about their situation. While they waited for his return, Bobby had eaten what he could and decided to explore every inch of the tree house. He even climbed the walls. There wasn’t really a ceiling. Instead, the walls sloped inward until they came together to form two points. He pushed his hand through the sticks and living vines of the walls and felt a rope above each point. The hut seemed to be hanging by these two ropes. Although thicker than the rope ladder, the cords seemed too thin to support the weight.
Mrs. Darnell was getting worse, while Ashley seemed to be improving. After Samuel had treated her with his medicine, Ashley had slept. She awoke after a short time and reported having the same dream, about stars and the forest and the thing in the tree house. This got everyone talking about it again.
“Do you think they’ll take us to the dream-tree?” Carlos asked.
Mr. Darnell said, “It was a dream. It may not even exist.”
“But the dream felt real,” Bobby said. “It’s like someone is trying to show us where it came from, and where it is now. The stuff came from space. It ended up here in the jungle. Maybe the Papuans found it and hid it in a tree so no one would take it.”
“Guys, you’re not thinking like scientists,” Mr. Darnell said. “We shouldn’t consider the most bizarre explanation first. It’s the simplest that usually turns out to be true.”
“Like what?” Carlos asked. They all waited for his answer.
“Like maybe it’s a medicine the villagers mixed together from things they got from the forest. That could happen. People are creating new drugs from rainforest products all the time.”
“When was the last time they found one that fixes broken legs?” Miranda said.
“And makes you remember your whole life,” Bobby added.
“And keeps people alive who should be dead,” Carlos said. He then looked at Addison.
Addison regarded Carlos without expression. But Bobby thought he saw something menacing in the blackness of his eyes. Although barely noticeable, it made Bobby avert his gaze so Addison wouldn’t look at him in such a way.
Mr. Darnell broke the silence. “I don’t doubt that we’ve been given an amazing medicine. And obviously it does more than heal wounds. That doesn’t mean it’s from space.”
“Perhaps soon you will have answers.” Samuel had returned. He climbed the last few rungs and stepped onto the floor of the hut. He spoke to Mr. Darnell. “You are to accompany me. Perhaps you may satisfy your curiosities while the indigenes satisfy theirs.”
“Lindsey is weak,” Mr. Darnell said. “She can’t climb down the ladder.”
“Your presence is sufficient at this time, Quentin. Your wife will be safe here.”
Mrs. Darnell tried to sit up. “Quentin, don’t leave.”
Samuel said, “Lindsey, you are as safe here as any place upon this world. The villagers demand to see your husband. There would be consequences should he refuse.”
Mr. Darnell hugged her and whispered something in her ear. He stood and faced the rest of them. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
As Mr. Darnell climbed down the ladder, Samuel waited in uncomfortable silence.
“Samuel, what’s going to happen to us?” Mrs. Darnell asked. “The truth.”
“The truth, Lindsey, is that I do not know.”
“What will it take for them to help us get home?”
“That would require the merciful hand of God himself. But as I’ve told your husband, God does not inhabit this place.” He gripped the rope ladder, but Mr. Darnell was still climbing.
Mrs. Darnell didn’t give up. “Samuel, you seem like a civilized person. Why won’t you help us?”
“You misunderstand me, dear Lindsey. It is for the sake of the civilized world that I believe you should not leave this place.” The rope ladder went limp, and he stepped into a rung. “You should not judge me too harshly. Nor should you judge the Papuans. The civilized world, which you speak of so fondly, would be a changed place were it not for their secretive nature. It may not be wise to reveal what they hold secret.”
And then he was gone. Bobby watched the rope twitch as Samuel descended.
“He won’t listen.” Addison spoke so quietly that Bobby almost missed it.
“Who won’t?” Mrs. Darnell said.
“Father won’t. The Lamotelokhai will talk to him, but he won’t know how to listen.”
Carlos said, “What’s the lamb-oh tell-oh kye?”
Addison turned to him with eyes as cold and black as space. “The Lamotelokhai talks to you when you sleep. I know how to listen. I should be the one to see it, not my father.” Then Addison looked directly at Bobby. “You know how to listen, too.”
Bobby felt his face flush. “What do you mean?” He looked around at the others. “What about them?”
“They don’t matter.”
“Screw you, Addison,” Ashley said.
Carlos spat on the floor. “He’s brain damaged.”
Mrs. Darnell said, “Stop it! Addison’s not well. We need to get him home.” She eyed Carlos. “Can you understand that?”
Carlos shrugged. “Sure.”
Addison stared at them, but something about his eyes made it seem like he didn’t really see them—or didn’t care. “I am staying,” he said.
Mrs. Darnell closed her eyes. “No, Addison, we’re all going home.”
“It is wrong to go home now.”
Miranda spoke up. “How can it be wrong? Our families are worried about us. At least you have your parents with you.”
“They won’t want you there,” said Addison. “Not now.”
The back of Bobby’s neck tingled.
Mrs. Darnell said, “Sweetie, you’re scaring everyone.”
“Mother, you can’t remember.” Addison’s voice was louder now. He turned to Bobby and the others. “But they can.”
Mrs. Darnell looked like she might cry. “You’re not making sense. Please stop.”
Addison didn’t stop. He stood and approached Carlos. “You can remember. Before the pesua crashed. Gekhené pesua im-le. You saw the other airplane.”26
Carlos’s hands were fists. His brows scrunched up, like he was trying to remember. He closed his eyes. When he opened them they were wide with terror. “No!” he cried. “Roberto! He’s not…” His words turned into sobs, and
he crumpled to the floor. He sat in the corner, crying and holding his hand like it was smashed all over again.
Addison turned away from him toward Bobby. “You can remember,” he said. “You’ll see.” He came nearer.
Bobby felt trapped. He backed up and almost stepped into the opening in the floor. He grabbed the rope ladder to keep from falling.
Suddenly Ashley was between them. She pushed Addison, saying something about how they’d be better off if he’d go back into his coma.
“You can’t remember,” Addison said to her. “But Bobby can.”
Bobby started climbing down the ladder—to hell with Addison and all the fighting.
Ashley’s face appeared in the opening above him. “Bobby, where are you going?”
“I want to be alone.” He heard Mrs. Darnell’s voice, protesting. “I’ll be back. Tell her not to worry.” He didn’t look up again.
After reaching the forest floor, Bobby sat at the base of a tree and rested his head on his knees. Why did Addison want him to remember the plane crash? Why was he talking about another plane? There was no other plane, and they hadn’t seen or heard any since the crash. He pulled up the memory, and like all other memories, the events appeared in complete detail. He was sitting in the hot plane, waiting to take off, hoping he wasn’t in trouble for making everyone late. Then they were flying over the mountains. He was talking to Mr. Darnell.
Bobby knew what would come next, and panic swelled in his chest. It was no wonder Carlos had freaked out in the tree house. Bobby tried to calm down. The plane crash was in the past. There was no reason to be afraid now. He swallowed hard and went back in time.
He stared out the window at the jungle below, listening to the engines. Mr. Darnell said, “I’m sure you guys have a great story to tell about your morning.” Mr. Darnell was kneeling in the aisle. “Yeah, I guess,” Bobby said. “Well, I want the full story tonight. That’ll give you guys a chance to get it straight.” And then it happened. Bobby’s vision blurred and everything went blank. The next thing he knew, he was staring at a stream of brown stuff streaking out of the plane’s engine outside his window. “Mr. Darnell,” he cried, “something’s wrong!”
It felt so real that Bobby was shaking, so he opened his eyes. He hadn’t remembered blanking out like that before. Intrigued, he took a deep breath and went over it again in his mind. This time he remembered more. There were strange shapes moving in front of his eyes. He couldn’t tell what they were. So he sat up straight against the tree and clenched his fists. He closed his eyes and put all his effort into the memory.
“…That’ll give you guys a chance to get it straight,” Mr. Darnell said. Bobby smiled, staring out the window. And then the blankness washed over him. It felt like that instant of dreamlike feebleness at the top of a roller coaster just before the plunge—helpless and barely aware. There was a shape there, just outside the airplane. It was confusing because the shape seemed so close. A flash of white; a curved edge of something dark; some bits of blue, maybe they were letters; several dark oval shapes in a row. And within one of the ovals Bobby glimpsed another shape. It was a face.
Bobby bolted upright, hitting the back of his head against the tree. Addison was right; there had been another plane. And someone in the plane had been staring right at him.
Muddy water of the Méanmaél churned past as the tree kangaroo made its way along the river’s bank. It emerged from the brush and stopped before eleven small mounds of soil and plant material arranged in two parallel rows. One row contained five, conspicuously missing the one mound that would balance the two rows. The mbolop relaxed its forelimbs, releasing a collection of sticks, bark, and leaves onto the ground. A second tree kangaroo appeared beside it and dropped a similar collection. And soon a third joined them, adding more collected items. The creatures pushed the loose pieces together, arranging them into a mound that completed two rows of six. The other two kangaroos hopped to the water’s edge, pushed their snouts under the surface for a moment, and then returned and let fly streams of water from their mouths onto one of the mounds. They returned to the river repeatedly to do this for the other eleven mounds. The first kangaroo, known now to the newcomers as Mbaiso, dug into its belly and pulled free a chunk of its own flesh. This it dropped onto one of the mounds. It methodically moved to each mound and did the same thing.
Finally, the tree kangaroos sat back and stared at the mounds. While the other two sat perfectly still, Mbaiso fidgeted. It understood the need for the task at hand, to periodically replenish the local Aiyal, the creature Samuel called a bandicoot. But Mbaiso’s thoughts were engaged with other matters. The new visitors were turning out to be surprisingly diverse, each of them revealing exclusive behaviors and abilities. This made it difficult to generate predictions. Any one of them could alter the course of events in so many ways, making for a most interesting and volatile situation.
The younger one called Bobby was proving to show some promise. Perhaps it would be allowable to push him in directions that could reveal more of his potential.
Mbaiso signaled for the other tree kangaroos to follow, and they left behind the twelve mounds, which were just beginning to change their shape.
Chapter Twelve
Samuel led Quentin to another tree house, and they climbed a rope ladder. Quentin removed his hiking shoes this time, and the climb was easier although this hut was even higher than where they had slept. Waiting for them there were two Papuan men Quentin had not seen before. One had multiple coils of white objects strung around his neck, making a wide collar that covered his shoulders and upper chest. The other had only a few strands of cord around his neck, with dark objects hanging from them. But in his hair were dozens of white cockatoo feathers, sticking out in all directions, similar to the green feathers worn by Sinanie. Both men wore short, functional penis gourds that were intricately painted or carved.
After appraising Quentin’s appearance, the men began questioning him. The questions came rapidly, and some of them seemed irrelevant to Quentin. Surprisingly, Samuel did not seem to have full command of the tribe’s language. He would hesitate often, apparently querying the tribesmen to decipher their meaning. In Quentin’s opinion, this was a strike against the credibility of his claim of living with these Papuans for a hundred and fifty years.
“Gu laleo lai-ati-bo-dakhu. Lele-mbol-e-kho-lo?” the men asked for the third time. By now Quentin knew what it meant: “How are you coming to us, as a man or a spirit?” He had already told them he was a regular, living man.
“They believe your son, Addison, to have risen from the world of the dead,” Samuel said. “And they surmise, therefore, that you are, one and all, spirits.”
“Addison was cured by their medicine. They’re the ones who gave it to him. Why would they think he has come from the dead?” Even as he said this, Quentin remembered that Addison himself had said he had been to the place of the dead.
“Sinanie applied the ointment as a kindness to your wife, who was distraught over your son’s death. They believe the boy was already dead at the time.”
Quentin eyed Samuel. “Do you believe that?”
“I have seen many things I once believed impossible. But notwithstanding my opinion, I fear they believe you are a spirit, Quentin. Perhaps no amount of arguing will convince them otherwise. It might benefit you to simply concede.”
“Will it help us get to civilization if I’m a spirit? If so, then fine, I’m a spirit. We’re all fucking spirits.” So far Quentin hadn’t given a single answer that seemed satisfactory to them.
They asked if Quentin had come because of the Lamotelokhai. Samuel explained that the Lamotelokhai was the source of the ointment. Quentin answered that he had no previous knowledge of the stuff. They asked if he were the creator of the Lamotelokhai. Quentin told them no, he had no idea what it was or where it came from.
The questions continued, and Samuel translated.
“What message from our ancestors have you brought us?”
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Quentin repeated that he was a real man, and had no message for anyone.
“You have brought hurt with you. Did you come to kill us?” Samuel explained that shortly before the plane crash, one of the Papuans had been hurt and another killed.
Quentin said he knew nothing about that, and he meant them no harm.
“Can you be killed?”
Quentin answered yes.
“When we kill you, will the world end?” Samuel explained that the end of the world was a concept deeply rooted in their belief system. They believed this event to be inevitable.
Quentin said, “Are they waiting to kill us because they think it might end the world?”
“Quite the contrary,” Samuel said. “The one man who will end their world is the same man they will most definitely allow to live.”
Quentin shook his head at this illogical answer. “Help me out here, Samuel. How can I convince them to let us leave?”
“I believe there are two ways that you may be safe. The first would require you to be the very man they believe will someday come, the man who would end their world. I doubt that to be the case. The second would require you to remain here, as I have. And there are ample doubts regarding that, considering the size of your party.”
Quentin felt panic beginning to well up from his center. “Then we’ll find our way out of here on our own. We won’t tell anyone about this village.”
Samuel shook his head, frowning. “They would not run such a risk. Surely you can see that. Consider the great lengths they have taken to remain concealed.”
Apparently they would have to escape without the Papuans’ knowledge. This seemed impossible, but again Quentin began running assorted scenarios through his mind.
The questions continued. The Papuans wanted to know if they themselves would now grow old. They wanted to know if more spirits would come. And they wanted to know if Quentin was an ancestor of Peter.
Samuel explained. “Peter was a poor fellow who ventured up the river perhaps half a century ago. He was a brave man, whom the indigenes spared for a short time before ultimately deciding his fate.” Samuel shifted uneasily.
Diffusion Box Set Page 14