Mammoth Book of Apocalyptic SF

by Mike Ashley

  Jade returned with another fish and skipped around while he persuaded his body to stand upright. He killed both fish with practised efficiency, then put them in a net.

  "Let's eat outside," Kuri said, knowing that would please her. He collected a knife and his cooking gear and went through the tunnel.

  There was an evening wind blowing in from the lake, bringing the soda tang of its water and the sulphur of the volcano. The smell increased his thirst.

  "Drink, Jade," he croaked, "water this time." He cleaned the fish and lit the stove while she fetched a pouch of fresh water from the purifier. Dropping the pouch in front of Kuri she ran, snarling, at a couple of vultures that were eyeing the fish. They flapped off, one remaining at a distance, shrouded on the dusky sand, the other swooping in low watchful circles. Kuri drank deeply, then tossed the fish into a pan, where they sizzled. The entrails he threw to Jade, who worried them enthusiastically.

  The music of the west window rose to a crescendo. Kuri turned towards the lake. All the brilliance of the windows on the eastern side had been quenched by approaching night and from his point of view the building was in shadow, silhouetted against the western sky. The west window itself was hidden by the dark beehive of his home. Behind it the waters of the lake changed from jade to molten crimson as they received the sun. Lapped in harmony, he grinned for sheer joy. The sound of the west window was perfect; but when he thought of the east - something still lacked. He frowned and turned back to his cooking. "I'm not hungry," he repeated under his breath.

  As if they had heard him a flock of tiny birds flew in from the lake, shrilling above the sonorous tones of the window. Most darted straight for their roosts in the thorn bushes and palm trees along the shore, but a canny few landed on the ground beside Kuri and bounced up and down waiting for scraps. Kuri tore off a chunk of fish, put a morsel in his mouth and scattered the remainder well clear of Jade. She was crouched beside him, grooming herself. Now her ears pricked and she stretched, unsheathing her claws.

  "Leave them, Jade," Kuri said. "Fish is much nicer." He gave her a piece, and she tossed it into the air to cool it, catching it deftly, then eating it with little growls of pleasure. Kuri swilled the last of his mouthful with the aid of another drink of water. The music trailed away. He turned back once more. The water was now darkest indigo, the only other colour a dusky ember-red gleaming fitfully from the volcano. The birds retreated and were silent. He heard the lapping of the water, the soughing of the wind, Jade's sleepy purring. He smiled down at her, the thing he loved best. Everything was as it should be, as it always had been, throughout his long life. Death would come when it came.

  He looked eastwards where the stars were already brilliant.

  Something was different, an unfamiliar celestial body, faint, haloed in white.

  Were his eyes failing at last? No -everything else was as sharp and bright as usual, the stars, the planets, the orbiters that his ancestors had sent into space thousands of years in the past. But now there was a new thing in the heavens.

  Nearby he heard the cough of a fanged leopard. He whistled for Jade and the two retreated indoors.

  After three nights Kuri realized that the new star was a comet. Each night it was bigger, at first a hazy patch of bright light, then round like a tiny sun, surrounded by a white corona. On the third night he saw the tail, spreading out, spangled by the stars, then lost among them. He had little knowledge of such things, whether this one had been predicted by astronomers or was a new visitor to the sky. Was it hurtling towards the Earth on a path of destruction or would it pass him by? Were there any wise men left alive to solve this riddle? Or was he the last human stargazer to see and wonder?

  The next morning he donned loose trousers and went to saddle up his reluctant dromedary. She had been free for so many weeks that, apart from coming to him for titbits, she had decided to ignore him. She had also elected to forget her name, "Beast" (short for "The Beast Who Spits") because that was what she did best.

  Each time Kuri approached her she lumbered off to a safe distance, then stopped and stared superciliously. Jade was no use in this situation. When she perceived Kuri's difficulty she tried to help but the dromedary spat with supreme accuracy and, when the adapt approached snarling, lashed out dangerously.

  In the end guile and persistence won but not before the cool of the morning had been burned away. By then Kuri was gasping painfully and his sweat-soaked trousers clung to his legs. Determination burned through his pounding headache. The work could not wait. Grumbling, the dromedary knelt and he climbed up. Jade yowled piteously but he told her he would be back for supper; she was to catch some fish and watch out for crocodiles.

  Once started, Beast trundled down the familiar road and Kuri rested, even slept a little, huddled under a blanket and with his hat jammed on his head. When he opened his eyes again the lake had disappeared behind the hills. The air shimmered. Even the sound of the dromedary's footsteps was stifled. Her rancid smell enveloped him like a filthy cloak. He flapped his hat at the flies hustled around his eyes. He reached for a water pouch, draining it in a few gulps. They passed a troop of baboons, lolling in the shade of a rock, too idle to pester him for food. The only living things in the sun were two basking mambas, coiled like black ropes.

  They reached the city by early afternoon, descending from the barren hills to a sudden oasis, a ring of green foliage and coloured blossoms, its walls. To Kuri it was simply "The City", the only one he had ever seen, although he knew that it was one of many and that once it had had a name. The gateway was in the form of a rearing elephant, one foot raised. But there was no malice in the gate. It recognized the visitor and trumpeted a fanfare of welcome. He and the dromedary passed easily beneath the archway of its legs. Kuri did not so much as glance at the massive stone foot poised above him ready to crush any intruder.

  As always the city was full of life. Birds fluted and chirruped from every tree. Jewelled carp flashed in the shaded pools and streams. Butterflies drifted on the air like floating blossoms. On the paving there were black-eyed snakes and amber scorpions. Baboons, jumping from the trees, noisily demanded attention. He glimpsed wandering smallbuck at each turn of the way.

  But there were no other humans, ever.

  Kuri steered his animal between a towering basalt jackal and a fanged leopard formed from living bone. Wild adapts peered from the windows of both. He smiled and waved to them, pleased that they, rather than the baboons, had found a way inside. The dromedary continued along the familiar way, following the curves of the Great Snake Building and reached a courtyard surrounding a central pool. Here he dismounted, leaving her to drink and graze at will. He lowered himself, gulping clear water from the pool, then pulled himself onto a marble bench in the shade of the palms and oleanders. He lay inert, cooled by a breeze that was free, here, from 'the taint of the volcano. When his strength had returned a little he made for the largest of the buildings framing the courtyard, a giant crystal made in the shape of a krar; the place where ringlass was still being formed, year after year, century after century.

  He knew exactly what he wanted.

  It was dusk as he reached the lake. Beast had been wayward again and difficult to catch. He had stopped several times on the way to rest and drink. Now the volcano's fumes were black against the first stars. The comet already blazed in the eastern sky behind him.

  There were two shapes in front of his house. The smaller bounded towards him uttering squeals of delight. He clambered down, carrying a basket of the new ringlass, then he dismissed the dromedary with a slap on the rump. She loped off, grunting. Jade was upon him, springing onto her hind legs, trying to lick his face. The second, larger adapt hesitated, as if making to run away, but remained. Kuri heard a faint growl. The creature's tail was held high, bristling and defiant. It called to Jade, a plaintive mew. She looked back and answered, then darted away, stopping and looking back at Kuri.

  "It's good, Jade," he said. "It's Brown Boy, isn't it? Go with
him." But Jade, after touching noses with the other adapt, ran back to Kuri. Brown Boy trotted off into the shadow of the reed beds, from where he continued to call at intervals.

  She had caught more fish for him but, when he had cleaned them, he found himself unable to eat. Jade, as usual, devoured the entrails but she was clearly worried, running up to him, saying, "Kuri eat. Kuri eat." When they went to bed she nuzzled against him, but he said, "I can't make love to you any more, Jade. I'm too old, too tired." He stroked her belly.

  He heard the other adapt calling from the reed beds. "Go with Brown Boy. He will give you cubs," he whispered.

  But she would not.

  Kuri continued his reconstruction of the east window. He removed the centre of the solar shape, now a corona of pale golds and oranges, then fitted the inner circle with tiny beads of plain ringlass, something he had never used before on any of the windows. As he tuned this new work with his krar his absorption deepened. He did not stop to eat - had no desire for food. Instead he drank -water, juice, more water. Even Jade's plaintive cries failed to distract him.

  By night the comet grew until its light was bright as moonlight.

  Kuri completed his work on the third day. The new ringlass chimed in tune with the krar; the outer rings of coloured glass resonated in harmony. He was satisfied.

  At sunset he found himself unable to stand. He crawled through the tunnel, then knelt on the sand facing the lake, waiting for the night. For the last time he watched the sun plunge towards the water and stain it red as blood. He heard the farewell song of the west window. Jade crept up and crouched beside him, whimpering. He patted her head.

  Darkness fell.

  Then there was a new vibration, faint at first but soon emerging high and clear, like the resonance of a glass harp. A light rose behind Kuri but he did not look back but gazed transfixed at his creation.

  The light struck the East Window. He saw the comet, brilliant as a second moon, reflected in the diamond-white centre. He heard a voice reaching towards Earth from the depths of space, growing louder and clearer. The outer circles of the window chimed in marvellous harmony. And then, new and unexpected, the other windows took up the song - the blazing chords of the South, the wayward dissonance of the North, the trumpeted glory of the West. The dark dome vibrated, wavering before his eyes. He knew that startled birds took flight from the reeds, jackals cried in the distance. He could see shadows beside him. He realized that Brown Boy was beside Jade, that a small troop of adapts had formed a semicircle in front of the house.

  But this was only a dim halo of awareness at the fringes of sight. With all his being he gazed at the window on to Paradise, heard the music of the spheres.

  He slumped forward.

  In the morning Brown Boy called to Jade to come with him. She had lain the whole night in vigil beside Kuri's body, crying his name. Brown Boy nuzzled her gently. She looked up at him, questioning, pleading, her eyes reflecting the colour of the lake. She rose and stretched, then paced with drooping tail to the edge of the water. He followed her and like her, scooped a mouthful of pumice pebbles. Following her lead he deposited them on the curled body of the last in the line of his creators. Jade ran back for more pebbles. Brown Boy lifted his head and called. More adapts emerged from the reeds.

  Soon Kuri, the last of his kind, lay buried in the very place where his primal ancestors had first lifted their heads from the earth to ask "what?" and "why?".

  The adapts spent one more night gazing in wonder at the white blaze of Kuri's window, swaying to the music that stirred their blood. At last Brown Boy looped his tail about Jade's shoulders and drew her away to begin a new life.

  The windows of Kuri's house continued to greet each phase of the day but as the newcomer faded the white heart of the East Window became silent until, perhaps, in the years to come the comet should retrace its path, to remind the Earth of the beings that had ruled it for so short a time.

  But now the star that had been called Wormwood continued westward across Africa. Its brightness startled flocks of birds into wakefulness, caused great beasts to trumpet and bray, glinted in the eyes of prowling raptors and hopping rodents. It traced a path of wandering silver across the ocean, glinting on metalled dolphins and the gauzy wings of flying-fish.

  Somewhere along the coast of Brazil a group of tree-like beings waved their branches in the wind. The branch tips brushed against each other, connections that wound and unwound. As the comet poured its light over them, the light-sensitive tips quested upwards. Others whipped out, clasping their fellows. "What?" they whispered. "Why?"