Endangered

by Linda Chaikin

  “And no such fossil has ever been found?” asked Kash smoothly.

  “No. And anyway, it is not even logical to think that a scale can progress into a feather. A feather is a very complex structure that grows from a follicle, and this is the very opposite of a scale, which is a projection in the skin. And to my horror, I found that the fossil record was completely silent on this issue. In fact, it is silent on all other similar issues that one can think of. It has now been over one hundred thirty years since Darwin and the fossil record has been categorized, and many evolutionists have given up looking for missing links.”

  He emptied his cup of tea and looked at them soberly. “What the record shows is that there never have been any links. In fact, the fossil record is a record of extinction, not of evolution! Every paleontologist knows that at one time there were many times more distinct species than presently exist. This is true for both plants and animals. And not only that, but all species make their appearance in the fossil record abruptly—so that their evolutionary development is firmly grounded upon nothing.”

  He refilled his cup and leaned back, looking thoughtfully toward the open door. “Evolution has long been standing on a shaky foundation. Many of the best scientists sense this but have nowhere else to go—and no desire to go elsewhere. And so, the face that they present in public speaks with certainty about things that are scientifically ‘unverifiable.’”

  “Doesn’t the word ‘science’ basically mean knowledge?” asked Sable.

  “Quite so. Any scientific principle must be subject to experimentation. A principle is testable only if it is possible to conceive an experiment to demonstrate it.”

  “So that if the experiment failed—then the principle would be invalidated?” said Sable.

  “Yes, scientists say that the principle must be capable of ‘falsification.’ If it is not, then it is not a scientific theory.”

  “You mean,” asked Kash, “there’s no experimental way to demonstrate whether it’s true? Therefore the theory of evolution is not a scientific theory.”

  “Yes, I’ve known that all along. Evolution has never been observed, no experiment can be conceived to test it. But that never really bothered me because I thought it could be supported in other ways, by showing that it is harmonious with the fossil record. But one day I woke up and looked in the mirror and asked myself this question: ‘What one thing do I know about evolution that is true?’ After practically a lifetime of study I could not think of anything! It became a new awakening for me. My mind was suddenly free.”

  “What about the possibility of an intelligent creator?” suggested Kash.

  “Some of my former colleagues have taken that route, but to me it is too restrictive. It ultimately means that I must submit to a superior being. I don’t see that it is necessary for me to let any kind of god run my life.”

  “Well then, have you come to any new conclusions?” asked Kash innocently.

  “I have indeed. I have experienced a new awakening into the possibility of transcendent knowledge.”

  “Transcendent knowledge?” Kash asked with apparent naiveté. “How can this be obtained?”

  “Through contact with a spirit guide.”

  Sable leaned forward, looking from Dr. Willard’s smiling face to Kash. Kash lifted his tea and drank, watching her over the cup.

  “You’ve contacted a being you think is an angel?” she asked quietly.

  “We have, or I should say, he’s contacted us. Vince, too, has met our angel,” said Dr. Willard.

  “Met him? You had a meditation service?”

  “That is how we contact our spirit guide. Eventually, once we’ve proven he can trust us, we expect he’ll lead us to a higher form of knowledge than could ever be known by conventional methods. The world will be astonished as we prove the origins of early man. Arcturus has hinted that wiser beings from another planet first began the process of life on Earth. I’m certain that will prove a shock and disappointment to those who take the Bible literally—and to the evolutionists as well.”

  Sable looked at Kash, but he was unreadable.

  “A pity Vince isn’t with us,” Kash said. “We could have a jolly time as we sit about the campfire tonight discussing Arcturus.”

  Dr. Willard smiled indulgently. “Do I take it, Kash Hallet, you don’t think there’s anything to this spirit guide business? I assure you we are serious.”

  “I believe there’s a great deal to your angel, Dr. Willard, but we disagree on his mission and who may have sent him to win your allegiance.”

  “There are so many things that Arcturus is able to reveal that we need to tread carefully. We feel extremely privileged he has been willing to communicate at all.”

  “And, of course, Vince also feels extremely privileged to support this endeavor?”

  “Without Vince and Katherine, we’d be left to run our research lab on pennies and promises. We owe him a great deal. One day, when our finds are made public and we’ve a number of wealthy donors, we expect to reward him properly for his faith in our work.”

  “And do you have wealthy individuals in mind who will be impressed with Arcturus?”

  “Oh yes. We have contacts in the entertainment world in the United States and England, not to mention some others.”

  Sable had excused herself and walked outside to where Dean leaned against a tree in the shade dozing. “Heard enough?” he asked sympathetically.

  She nodded. She didn’t think Vince was as beguiled by the supposed spirit guide as he was convinced that a large sum of money might be gained by investing in the growing “spiritual” work of the Toronto Research Lab.

  A few minutes later Kash walked up, and she met his gaze.

  Dean glanced toward the boma. “It looks like Dr. Willard and his niece could use a dose of truth.”

  “They’ve already heard the truth,” said Kash gravely. He looked at Sable. “Dr. Willard is the son of a minister. Now, of course, he’s proud to let you know that he’s way beyond such infantile beliefs. He’s on the verge of discovering transcendent knowledge.”

  Sable was sitting glumly on a rock, fanning herself with her hat. She knew she should feel some great emotional loss over Vince because he was enmeshed in a great deception, yet she had already suspected Kash of being right for days. Now that the facts were clearly set forth before her eyes, she accepted it calmly and felt little emotion except a strange release. Kash watched her, the irony gone from his eyes, as if wondering whether he might have offended her. She wanted to tell him he hadn’t, that he had done what was wise. She was secretly pleased that he had been strong enough and determined enough to make her face the truth.

  Dean seemed to guess they wanted to be alone and made an excuse to leave them and join Dr. Willard. “Do you believe in sudden repentance?” he asked, looking toward Willard. “Maybe I can make him see the light.”

  “Go ahead, try,” said Kash. “You’ll find him as dense as the Dead Sea. ‘Arcturus’ is as real to him as the god the Maasai believe lives on Kilimanjaro.”

  When Dean walked toward Dr. Willard, Sable was silent. Kash leaned against the tree, looking out toward the distant lake. For a minute he remained silent, too.

  The strangely shaped volcanic cones surrounding the lake looked like statues, bleak and dead, like the belief system that surrounded the small cultic compound. Sable stirred.

  “Are you unhappy about Vince?” Kash asked.

  She looked at him as the wind tugged at his shirt and dark hair, and she found herself warmed within by the deep blue of his eyes.

  She smiled. “Not in the way you ask. I feel sorry for his spiritual confusion, yes, but I’m not sorry I’ll never be Mrs. Vince Adler.” She hesitated, then said quietly, “I was mistaken to think Vince could ever replace the memory of a certain man.” She looked at him. “You were right when you said I walked into a relationship in order to forget what we had—what I thought we had lost.”

  “We didn’t lose it, Sable. It’s
still there, stronger than ever. It’s ours for the taking, if you want to try again.”

  Her heart hammered, and she swallowed, looking at her hands. “Do you?” she whispered. “Want to try again?”

  He straightened from the tree and reached down, taking both her hands and pulling her gently to her feet. “Do you need to ask?”

  “I just want to hear you say it.”

  Her eyes clung to his, and she saw everything she had ever prayed for and dreamed about.

  “I want you more than anything,” he whispered into the wind.

  She couldn’t speak. Their eyes held, and tears came to hers. Kash drew her swiftly into his embrace, and his lips took hers warmly, tenderly, saying more than words ever could.

  Sixteen

  It was past noon, and the sun was shining with hot brilliance as they landed at the small airstrip near Marsabit Town after a pleasant flight from Lake Rudolf. Dean, however, appeared anxious. “I’ve got to get back to Samburu to find Kate,” he told them with a grin that said his heart had already found more than he’d bargained for.

  “Tell her we’re safe and we’ll join her soon. I’m anxious to show the film as soon as we can and help Father document his findings on the elephants.”

  “Sure.” He looked at Kash. “You won’t need my help with Mr. Dunsmoor and the herd?”

  “We’ve a dozen Kenya Rifles militiamen waiting at the outpost near here to assist us.”

  Dean gestured his salute and climbed back into the plane to take off as Kash and Sable retreated a safe distance away. Minutes later, they stood watching as he circled the strip, climbing and heading south to Samburu.

  After visiting the park store for gear, Kash and Sable rented a Land Rover and drove north from Marsabit Town.

  Out on the African plain the desert breeze stirred the feathers of a flock of black rooks that perched on dead-looking limbs of a thorn tree. A zebra’s harsh barking sound awoke some white egrets, which spread their wings and flew southward while a small herd of oryx fled in all directions, the hot dust blowing under their hoofs.

  Heading toward Mount Marsabit, Sable saw the odd-shaped pyramids and balanced rocks she’d heard about from her father. The stone appeared to take on mysterious forms in the bluish desert haze among low thorn scrubs, toothbrush shrub, and desert rose with pinkish rubbery stems. Poison sap grew in abundance, and Kash told her it was used by the nomadic tribes to poison their arrows.

  Sable pointed to an odd sight—several inches of grain chaff circled a giant hole in the red sand.

  “Harvester ants,” said Kash. “They gather kernels from the thin grasses and leave the husks.”

  By late afternoon, the mountain ramparts of the Matthews Range rose up in the west, casting purple shadows, and on the plain among sparse isolated bushes, pairs of dik-dik stood seeking refuge from the sun.

  The Merille River ran down from the mountains in the rainy season, but now members of the Samburu tribe were out digging for water in the dry riverbed. Sable saw their tall bottles made of leather, three and four feet high. Other Samburu sat resting beneath a tree near the bank. The young boys’ heads were shaven except for one lock of hair, and they wore thin beads and earrings made from river shells. The girls were dressed in leather aprons with a cotton cloth tied at one shoulder.

  “Unmarried girls are painted red,” said Kash.

  “I wonder why?”

  He smiled at her. “It makes them easy to locate.”

  Sable was sure that wasn’t the real reason, but she noticed that some had tattoos on their bellies as well and was relieved when he didn’t comment. Married women wore what looked to her to be a heavy collar made from the doum palm fiber and decorated with large, dark red beads. Their arms were decorated with coils of silver steel and golden copper. A woman carrying an infant in a sling wore thin green beads. Men and women wore metal anklets, bead headbands, and copper earrings; she noticed a Samburu moran had an ivory ear plug and a string of beads that ran beneath his lip and back behind his ears.

  “After all this is over with Father and the elephants, I’d like to try to arrange a film showing here. Do you think we could?”

  His eyes teased her with a warm blue glint. “We’ll get married back at Samburu, then I’ll take you on film-showing expeditions from here to the nomads of the Kaisut Desert.”

  Sable smiled, her eyes holding his. “I might just take you up on that.”

  In the distance a Samburu herdsman stood leaning carelessly upon his spear, his ankles crossed in a stance that was characteristic of warrior herdsmen from the Maasai to the desert nomads.

  Mount Marsabit arose from the desert with green foothills climbing in steps toward isolated cones. The air was cooler now, and in a meadow, a lone bull elephant stood with lopsided tusks. This was the high oasis Sable’s father spoke of in his letters where the elephants congregated away from the threat of man. This was where the big elephant Ahmed lived, whose tusks were estimated at 150 to 170 pounds each—and this fact alone made him a target for poachers.

  Mount Marsabit was the place of volcanoes, of the sweet lark song, of red and blue butterflies, and the last home of the great elephants. And far below, the whitish desert vanished into desolate nomadic horizons. There were green meadows filled with copper-colored grass, blue thistle, common blue morning glory, vetch, sweet pea, and the curious insect-simulating verbena with flowers fashioned like blue butterflies, even to the long curling antennae.

  Kash told her about one type of cow pea with large curled blossoms. “To each blossom comes a golden-banded black beetle that eats the petals; each beetle is followed by one or more ants that appear to ‘nip’ at its hind legs to speed its progress in order to obtain a residue from its thorax.

  “If you go out the next day,” said Kash, “you’ll find the flowering is over and the beetles are gone.”

  The creation of God is truly amazing, thought Sable.

  The roads of Marsabit were patrolled by the Kenya Rifles militia, and Kash pulled over to ask the soldiers if they’d heard from Mateo, Kash’s Maasai partner.

  “He’s here now, arrived last night from Samburu.”

  Sable also learned that a herd of huge elephants including Ahmed had been spotted. Did this also mean her father was in the vicinity?

  Later, as Kash and Sable waited by an olive tree with a view of a river, sheltered from the wind and sun, they listened for sounds in the great silence. An amethyst sunbird flitted past; a crimson butterfly landed for a moment on her hand. She breathed wild jasmine, watched the grass ripple, and listened to the music of the coot birds coming from a tall lava crater. They waited, hoping to get a glimpse of Ahmed, who did not appear. Few forests were as still and tantalizing, and the silence intensified the beauty that was endangered by poachers.

  The last habitat, she thought, and felt overwhelming grief as she realized how fragile it all was. How quickly it could slip through man’s fingers and be no more.

  They camped with Mateo and the Kenya Rifles that night and enjoyed their company. The next morning while it was yet dark, Kash left the Land Rover at camp and led her on a walk toward the river. She said nothing as they walked through the grasses and doum palms to the bank, where a boat with oars waited.

  Where did the boat come from? she wondered. Did Mateo arrange it? She looked at him for an explanation, but as yet he said nothing.

  Kash gestured his hand good-bye to Mateo. He would remain behind on lookout, watching the road from Samburu. As soon as Browning’s crew and trucks were spotted, Mateo would bring them word at Skyler’s camp.

  She was sure Vince would be with Browning and the others when they arrived to hunt the elephants.

  Kash helped her into the small boat and began rowing between thick, darkly silhouetted trees where the morning stars still shone brightly overhead. He rowed around a bend, and as the river widened and the sky grew lighter, she glanced about and spotted a hippo.

  The sun was breaking with sudden boldness, even as it
had set without fanfare, and monkeys screeched, swinging in the branches that extended out over the riverbank. Crocodiles slid off into the muddy water, their jaws snapping, as though irritated by the human encroachment. As they floated past, Sable held her breath, watching uneasily as another gray hippopotamus sought to bury itself in the water and mud, little showing except for its wide-spaced eyes, which appeared to stare at her.

  Not far ahead, a motorboat was docked, and a Samburu tribesman was standing guard. Kash tied the rowboat and helped Sable into the larger boat. A minute later the two of them were moving quickly down the river with Kash at the wheel.

  Sable, more comfortable now, looked about, not at the hippos, but at the green-black trees growing along the bank.

  “Look in that case,” Kash called above the hum of the motor. “There should be some things for coffee and breakfast.”

  “Where are we going?” She knew but wanted to hear the glad news at last.

  “To meet your father”—he smiled—“the elephant man.”

  She smiled at him over her shoulder, then went about to get a propane stove going and the water boiling. “I won’t ask you how you arranged all this,” she called.

  “I didn’t—not the boat and food anyway. Skyler did. Mateo arrived earlier and told him we were coming.”

  When the coffee was done she poured two mugs and brought him one at the wheel. “Breakfast is boiling,” she said easily, trying not to notice when his warm hand brushed hers and she felt alert to him. Their eyes met and caressed, then she quickly looked away, sipping the too hot coffee.

  “Boiling?” he asked with a lifted brow.

  “Eggs—in water,” she said with a smile. “That’s all there was.”

  As the boat progressed, she listened to the familiar animal noises she had grown up with echoing through the bush country of East Africa. Strands of her long hair stuck to her neck in the muggy dampness of the morning. The boat wound through the heart of the Samburu and Isiolo game reserves bordering the volatile area of the Northern Frontier District near Somalia. There’d been tribal unrest in the region over who had rights to the territory, and while matters were generally quiet now, fighting could erupt again.