REAP 23

by J J Perry

“It’s more than you can count. Is there anything else you want?”

  “I want to hear stories today.”

  “Do you have one particular story you want to hear?”

  “The one about the evil man.”

  “There used to be a lot of evil men, Michael. Which one do you want to hear about?”

  “The fallen angel.”

  “I don’t want to tell that story again, sweetie.” She had created stories of the journey, of the changes they went through, of good and evil. “It makes me sad.”

  “How do people become evil?” Yvette asked, playing with a crude hemp doll.

  “They think more about themselves than about others.”

  Yvette stopped arranging the coarse long hair and thought for a moment. “Don’t we all do that?”

  “That is quite a question for a seven-year-old!”

  “Well, don’t we?”

  “That is how we start in life. But as you get older, you learn that love is placing someone’s life above your own. Love is serving someone else before yourself. Evil people cannot put others first. Or maybe they get tired of it. Love takes work. It’s a happy sacrifice and much more than just a feeling.”

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, Yvette, and you, too, Mikey.”

  “I would give up something for you,” Yvette said.

  “What would you give up for me?” Savanna’s gnarled fingers stroked the dark face of the brown-haired girl, looking for an answer in her deep brown eyes. She longed for a mirror to see how her daughter resembled her. She couldn’t remember how her own face looked.

  “Dinner. Well, maybe lunch. Yeah, lunch.”

  “That is so nice of you.”

  “I was kidding, Mom. I would die for you. I would.”

  “That’s so sweet. But if you did, that would ruin everything I have done. Because, Yvette, I have already given up my life for you and for many others including your children, your children’s children, and their children for all the years in the future.”

  “You’re not dead, Mom,” said Mike with a tone that said “stupid.” “You haven’t given your life.”

  “I gave up the life I lived far away to bring you to this place and to make way for others to live and not die. So I have traded one kind of life for the one I’m now living. The people who came with me gave up their lives for this,” she said, waving at the world around them, “and never got to see it. They love you too.”

  “Loved. They’re dead.” Yvette frowned.

  “Real love is timeless. I, more than anyone, know this.” She looked far away. “Today is a good time to visit the grave. Do you want to go for a little walk?”

  “I guess so,” Yvette said. Mike agreed. They started on a well-worn path around a patch of fruit trees that were about as tall as Savanna. They stopped to pluck some flowers at the edge of a field of planting, all the product of hours of clearing and difficult labor. They disappeared on the trail into the jungle. Fifteen minutes later, they came to a cairn of smooth stones set on a hill that overlooked a wide, smooth river. Below was a grassy field with an oblong pit within. A dome of pocked metal gleamed from the center. It was late afternoon, and clouds crossed the sun frequently. Savanna placed an armful of flowers on the pile, kissed her fingertips, and touched one of the rocks, discolored at that spot.

  “I miss you, Maricia,” she whispered.

  “Why do you talk to her?” Mike asked.

  Savanna answered after thinking for a moment. “When you speak with reverence to those that have died, to those who are not with you, it’s not talk. It is a prayer.”

  “So you pray to her?”

  “I guess I do.”

  “When you die, we can pray to you, then,” said Yvette.

  “We have plenty of time to think that through,” replied Savanna. “This is where you were born and where Mother Maricia died—down in that sunken part. The ship we came in sank into that depression,” she said as she pointed.

  “I remember it bigger than this,” Mike said, pointing.

  “It keeps sinking. I think it’ll be covered up after another flood.”

  “What happens when you die?” Yvette sat on a stone, looking deep into the pile.

  “We are made of earth. When we die, our bodies return to the earth.”

  “What about our thoughts?” Yvette looked sadly up to Savanna.

  “You are full of questions today, young lady. What about thoughts? Some thoughts might live forever. Maybe the essence of a person goes on forever. I still feel Maricia and Lucinda with me. I feel a little bit of Raul and Leila. My mother, father, and Sasha are still here.” She placed a hand over her heart. “Some people where I came from call that part of someone that lives after death a soul. I don’t have a better word for it.”

  Mike turned back from the river and faced the memorial shrine. He got close and put a hand on one of the stones. He whispered quietly, “I love you, Mom. I wish I could have known you. Mom Savanna, well, I love her too. I love the creek when it’s little. I like soft, warm rain, except when it goes on for days. I love the way clouds change as I watch. I love my life. Thank you for giving it to me.” He stepped away, solemn and dry-eyed. Not so with Savanna.

  They walked back slowly, picking a couple of pieces of fruit for dinner on their way. It was growing dark. There was the usual warm breeze that tickled the leaves into rustic laughter as Savanna and the two naked children walked into their home.

  18.1

  LANDING PLUS

  FOURTEEN YEARS

  “Adam, give me a hand,” Yvette implored. He reached out and steadied her as she stepped on moss-covered stone as they crossed the stream near their home.

  “Why are you calling him Adam?” Savanna stood above, watching the crossing across the area she and they had cleared.

  “You tell her, Adam.”

  “I’m tired of being called Mikey. It’s a kid’s name, and I’m not little anymore.”

  That was apparent as Savanna looked at the pair. Yvette had breasts now, and he was also developing masculine characteristics that should have been covered by clothing, if they ever wore it. She had made them shirts and pants out of the skin of large animals that lived near the river and seldom came into their home area. They used it only when it was too cool, which was uncommon. Savanna wore a soft, thin leather jacket that reached almost to her knees. Savanna coughed. “Thank you for bringing the bananas. Did you see a spider?”

  “You mean one of those huge things as big as a hand?” Michael joked. “Not today.” Savanna coughed again, a loose rattle. “Are you OK, Mom?”

  “I’m fine, just getting old.”

  “How old are you?” Yvette asked.

  “We have been over this. Way too old.” She had aged quickly in the last fourteen years. Accelerated aging, she had been told, followed the hyper-hibernation. Her hair was white and thinning on top; her skin wrinkled, her knuckles knotted and stiff. She no longer dared to cross streams without a bridge or a steadying hand for fear of falling. Her back hurt; her vision and hearing were fading. She lacked energy and couldn’t sleep well at night but napped during the day. “Those bananas look delicious. Why did it take so long?”

  “We went farther away.” Yvette answered. “It was interesting to see some different scenery.”

  “I’m not sure it’s safe farther out.”

  “Adam wanted to go.”

  “I’m going to stop calling you Mikey. Mike is a good name. I think I’ll use it from now on.”

  “I like Adam.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.” She coughed again, this time for several seconds, and almost passed out. She turned and walked to the house, pulling the jacket tight. They caught up with her quickly. Yvette put a hand loosely around her upper arm to steady her. Within a few minutes, they were at the
ir home. Yvette walked off, while Savanna and Mike sat on wooden benches. There was a tattered book on a table.

  “Why is your book out?” Mike asked.

  “I was just looking for some instruction on making clothing again. I’m trying to make cloth. It’s more comfortable than leaves and skins.”

  “That’s the mess inside?”

  Inside the house, larger now with a floor off the ground and four rooms, were piles of material, flax and hemp fibers, a cotton-like substance, and a few kinds of animal hair. “It’s my project.”

  “The cloth we had wore out,” Mike stated. “What’s cloth made from?”

  “Soft fibers or hair. Some of the long vines can be shredded and woven into cloth. Some plants produce fluffy bolls that can be turned into cloth.”

  “How do you know so much?”

  “This book. It’s a teeny bit of the knowledge we brought with us.”

  “How did they make each letter so small and exactly the same?”

  “The book was printed by a machine.”

  “What’s a machine again, Mom?”

  Savanna smiled and looked around at the trees and grasses, rocks and rudimentary furniture she had built. “The water wheel is one. It turns in the current, and through the gears it grinds stuff up. A printer is much more complicated, but it puts ink on paper, making each page of a book.”

  “Who wrote it?”

  She looked at the title page. “It looks like a group of people did.”

  “How did they know so much?”

  “We kept all knowledge organized in machines. We didn’t need books then. We could just ask, and the information appeared on a screen. This book was made in case we lost the great source of information. We did. It sank into the bog near Maricia’s grave.”

  Michael rubbed his head as if it hurt. “Screens, machines, and beauty queens. I’ll never understand that world.” It frustrated her that the world she described they could never imagine.

  “What are you two talking about?” Yvette was back. “Flying here from that star you point out to us and all the lost knowledge and magic?”

  “I have never said anything about magic, Yvette. Michael was just asking questions.”

  “As usual,” she retorted. “The things you talk about from your past are hard to understand and sometimes hard to believe. That’s why I say magic.” She tossed her thick, tangled dark-brown hair. In the speckled light that filtered through the trees from the lowering sun, her beauty was astounding. “We don’t have much light left. Are we going to write before dinner?”

  “I think it is a little late,” Savanna replied. “Are you cooking something? I see you have a fire.”

  “I’m making a stew.”

  “That sounds good,” Michael said as he stood and stretched. He was handsome, a good blend of his fine parents, with long, gently, wavy, blond hair, blue eyes, and fair though tanned skin. His muscles were growing. He was turning into a man. Savanna knew that a conversation with him was in the near future. This could wait until she felt better. She knew that any excuse to put this off would work for a while. She had already explained part of the maturation process with Yvette when she asked about some bleeding. She couldn’t bear to discuss the mating aspect quite yet. She had managed to get them to wear loincloths. Michael carried a sling around his neck; Yvette, a long necklace of many loops of hemp decorated with dried berries and shells.

  With Yvette cooking, she relaxed and pulled a ragged piece of linen parchment from the back cover of the survival manual. It was from Sasha.

  The grapes were picked when we were somewhat young

  And innocent, grown far from where we dine

  Tonight. Before our day the vines were strung.

  The flow of time abets the finest wine.

  The months of our indulgence now are stored

  In oaken casks lain deep within our chests.

  A decade hence we’ll taste the space we toured

  And find if what we had was this life’s best.

  Our youthful hearts and views are changed for life;

  Tomorrow we will part on paths unknown

  To us, as first loves, not as man and wife

  By your choice. We’ll sip Bordeaux alone.

  Three years in oak, another eight in glass

  Forever our memories will last.

  Her vision misted, her throat constricted. She began to cry. Slowly, her body began to shake and tears flowed freely down her dark cheeks and onto her neck where loss of pigment had lightened her skin. After a minute or so Michael noticed and came close. He put a hand on her back as she sat on a makeshift chair carved from a log and cushioned with small reeds. He said nothing, for which Savanna was grateful. He must have learned from experiences past.

  He looked at the paper and tried to pick it up. As he lifted it, Savanna pulled back. The paper first ripped and then dissolved into flakes that wafted in the gentle breeze. Savanna watched it float away into the field and trees with only a tinge of sadness. She knew that moment would come. It was today.

  “I’m so sorry,” Michael said.

  “It doesn’t matter. I have it memorized.”

  “What was it?”

  She looked at the vanishing flecks. “It was just a silly poem written when I was young and stupid.” She looked at Michael. “Now I’m old and stupid.”

  “Mom,” he chastised, “you’re the smartest mother I have.”

  It was a standard joke. Nevertheless, it made them both comfortable.

  “I feel like making a trip to the memorial,” Savanna said, moving painfully to a standing posture.

  “Right now? It’ll be getting dark before long.”

  “That’s OK. We know the way, and the moon is almost full.”

  Michael called to Yvette and had her move the pot to the side of the fire and join them. A delicious smell was steaming from the kettle. They began the ten-minute journey. “I’m really sorry about the paper,” Michael apologized again. “What was the poem about?”

  “It was from my first real boyfriend when we broke up.”

  “Broke up?” Yvette asked.

  “Boys and girls, young men and women, really, would spend time together to see if they could fall in love.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  Savanna really did not want this conversation.

  18.2

  About halfway to the cairn that watched over the final resting place of the crew, they came across a mother and a cub on the trail. The big cat roared and bared its teeth, crouching low. They stopped.

  “What do we do, Mom?” Yvette asked.

  “Back away slowly. Michael, make yourself as tall and as big as you can. No one look at the cat in the eye.” She was already backing away.

  They followed suit. “If we stay close together, it probably won’t attack.”

  It roared again, loud and fearsome. It took a few steps toward them. “What if it does?” Yvette asked.

  “You two run for home.”

  “What is it?” Michael asked.

  “Some kind of panther. It eats little animals.” Probably some not so little animals, she guessed but left that thought unsaid.

  “It’s beautiful,” Michael said. “I’ve never seen anything so black.”

  “Keep moving and don’t look it in the eye.”

  It was soon obscured from view.

  “Did you see its eyes?” Michael asked. “Fierce yellow, they were, and so intense.”

  “I wonder why it’s here?” Savanna wondered. “I’ve heard some in the distance but never so close.”

  As she said that, another roar answered, not far behind them, in the direction of their home.

  “This is not good,” Savanna said.

  “Are they dangerous, Mom?” Yvette asked. “They only eat little animals
, right?”

  “I don’t know what these guys eat. Just to be safe, we should assume they could eat us.”

  Michael took the sling from off his neck and pulled a round rock from a pouch on his loincloth. “You’re going to need bigger rocks, Adam,” Yvette said.

  “Look for some sticks, you two,” Savanna directed. “About this big around.” She pointed at her wrist.

  The mother roared again, but it seemed farther away. Still, it shook the jungle around them. Michael and Yvette looked through the dense underbrush as Savanna looked both directions on the trail. To her dismay, another large black cat padded around a bend in the trail and then stopped. Its head was large, and its eyes narrowed into slits. It looked quickly around and then crouched, moving silently toward her.

  “There’s another panther on the trail,” Savanna said, holding her ground.

  “Duck,” said Michael, behind her. She heard the sound of a spinning sling and crouched. The panther began to trot and then run toward them. Michael let loose with a grunt. Savanna saw only a blur and heard a whistle. The projectile hit the animal on the shoulder, making it only angry. It was close when Yvette stepped out of hiding and onto the trail with a long straight stick. The back end was against a tree trunk. The front was broken at a shallow angle, sharp. She swung it into the path of the panther and caught it on the chest in the air, one leap away from her mother. The stick bent but did not break. The panther twisted and flailed with its paws when it hit the ground, partially impaled.

  It roared, its breath on Yvette as she disappeared back into the underbrush. Savanna heard the sound of the sling and moved off the trail as well. Michael yelled a primal growl as he flung the larger rock that hit the head and bounced off into the trees.

  The panther looked at Savanna, now standing tall with her arms above her head, and at Michael, who again bellowed his own curdling howl, and padded away, bleeding and defeated, a spear that would soon steal its life dragging in the dirt.

  Stunned, Savanna collapsed to a cross-legged sitting position in the middle of the path. Yvette came again into view. Michael panted through flared nostrils. The two of them knelt next to Savanna.