The Last Neanderthal

by Claire Cameron

  As Runt shuffled along under his heavy pack, Girl felt increasingly antsy. The last two days of their journey were especially hard. When the sun was this high, it was strong enough to make large cracks in the river ice. Once the ice had melted, the fish would run and the games would begin. Girl worried that the action might be starting without them. If a sturdy young Big Mother appeared, she might claim the best family before Girl even had a chance.

  It ended up taking three suns rising for them to make it to the meeting place. They traveled down to a lusher flank of the mountain. The river ice had broken by the time they arrived. The bush was dense, and the bugs swarmed around their heads in a cloud. The water ran fast and wide.

  When the season was right, all the families came together at this spot where the forks of the rivers met. Girl could remember when as many as five families had gathered. Last year only two other families had appeared. There were stories of many more, though that hadn’t happened in her lifetime. Big Girl, her sister, had become a Big Mother and now headed up one of the other families. When Big Girl left the meeting place last season, her belly had just been starting to round out with a child. Girl wondered if there might now be a plump baby to hold. She remembered the soft skin and downy hair of infants she had snuggled at the meeting place, and she put her hand on her own belly. Until that moment, she had only worried that she was growing bigger. She wondered if she should feel proud.

  In Girl’s mind they were late, but she guessed not in the minds of the others. She rounded the last bend and looked out at the broad riverbed, a yawning slice of silt, rocks, and sand through which the heavy spring waters ran. She felt glad to be there again. The air carried the heavy southern oils in the pine, the scent of berry buds, and cool whiffs of the very slightly salty water. It brought back all the feelings she had had here before. Like a cluster, the families crowded into her head. While she gave them little thought at other times, now she could see each one of their bodies in her mind.

  Those smells and sights brought back other things. She quickly remembered where the biggest berries hung. She eyed her favorite blackberry bush, often among the first to release its fruit. The stone platform that Big Mother preferred to stand on in the rapids might be less slimy this year. It was a good steady base, the perfect spot to stand and catch fish as they lunged by. Girl’s mouth watered in anticipation.

  But when Girl and Runt came down the last rocky slope to the place where the river spread out, she was surprised to see that there were no shelters along the edge of the brush. Usually the families built temporary shelters in a row near a band of rock. In front of that lay the pebble beach, which stretched a long way to the river. This was like an open field where all the action took place: the sniffing, the circling, the fighting, the choosing of mates, and sometimes the mating too. Everyone knew what was happening and took a keen interest. This wasn’t seen as snooping in the least. The speculation and gossip that spread among them had a purpose. They might throw support behind one Big Mother and feed her. Or throw small rocks at another to discourage her bid. It was rowdy and bold and brutal action. And it was important to them all. Their fates hung on the outcomes.

  Girl picked a spot against the band of rock, a good one, but not the best. She didn’t want to send a silent challenge to the Big Mother who arrived next. But the patch of land she chose jutted toward the river with the rock at their backs and gave a wide view of everything around them. She tied green branches to make a frame. Over this, she spread a thin hide. Using twine made of vines, she tied the hide to the branches. The vines would constrict as they dried and tighten the bind. The inner hide was so tight that when Girl gave it a smack, it bounced under her palm. Over this, she and Runt heaved a thick hide, still full of bison oil to keep out the rain. Inside, she spread boughs and placed the sleeping hides on top.

  Wildcat poked his nose out from behind a bush and chirped. Girl stuck her head outside of the flap to see. He gave Girl a slow blink, signaling his approval of their chosen spot and letting her know that he would be back for scraps of fish. With that done, he dashed off, likely in search of a mouse.

  Runt made a place by the door for their spears. He put flat rocks by the nest for their water sacks, horns, and his shell. He made a ledge in the middle for the lamp, a lump of bison fat with a wick made of twine sitting on a flat stone with a depression in the middle. The lamp was good to have, a sign of their relative strength, though they wouldn’t need it much. The sun stayed up to watch the fun at this time of year. They would have more than enough in the way of light.

  They would cook outside on the pebbles along the river, as the clouds were high and dry. Girl dug a shallow hearth. They both collected an ample supply of wood. And by the time this moving-in was done, they were tired and happy. They were ready. They sat by the fire and waited for the others.

  The first to come weren’t the ones they’d expected. A family of brown bears pushed through the thickets on the other side of the river. It was their usual pattern to come after all the families had arrived. They liked the families to find their places first, as it was long established that the upright walkers could be skittish and defensive little beasts. If the families were settled, then it was easier for the bears to give them adequate space. That, in turn, kept everyone out of trouble. The bears’ willingness to come to the fish feed second was a show of their strength. With their powerful muscles, large teeth, and sharp claws, the bears had little need to worry about getting enough fish.

  Girl and Runt sat and watched the bears come. To Girl, they felt like old friends, as she saw the same ones year after year. They were great, lumbering beasts when compared to the family. Though they did somehow remind Girl of Big Mother in her later years. Maybe it was the way they rolled on their hips as they walked. Their heads and their snouts were much larger, though. It was strange that the bears had come before the other families. Girl lifted her lip to the wind, but sensed nothing new.

  The bears’ side of the river also had a stretch of pebbled beach with ample space. Girl saw a female who now looked to be a Big Mother. A pair of young cubs scampered by her heels and chewed at her legs as she tried to walk. Runt was the same kind of pest—if only he had such fuzzy ears. With her hand, Girl felt the slight curve of her own belly.

  A large male stood farther off. If Girl was right about who he was, he had been much smaller the year before. He wasn’t the father of these cubs, as he hadn’t been big enough to win the right to mate the year before. Now a great hump of fat sat on top of his shoulders and neck to show his success. It was easy to admire.

  The mother bear caught the scent of the big male too. She eyed him suspiciously. Girl knew that the male bear might kill the cubs for the chance to mate. She had seen it happen with her own eyes. Big Mother had sounded a call when the trouble across the river started a few years before. They had all scampered up looking trees to watch and make it clear that they would stay out of the way. That was how the two groups lived easily together. They made sure to give each other space.

  At a time like this, with plenty of fish to go around, the male might not go for the cubs. Especially if the numbers of fish were up, he might focus on keeping his coat glossy and putting on fat. But it was always hard to know what he would do next. He had his own life equation that needed to be constantly adjusted for balance. The mother would need to watch her cubs, just as Girl would watch Runt.

  While they waited for the families and for the fish, Girl showed Runt how to make a net. They waded upriver into the shallows where the riverbed bent like an elbow. Inside the crook, the still waters allowed for reeds to grow. They used their stone teeth to slice them off at the base. They brought these to the hearth, where Girl had set the frames they’d made from green branches. She placed the first reed across the frame, doubled it over the edge, and brought it back. Then she did the same on the other side. When one row was complete, she wove the next row of reeds at a right angle to it. Soon, she had a large, flat basket with slits to let the
water run through. It would last just long enough to catch all the fish they could eat.

  The first fish showed up a few days later. It was the bears that alerted them. A lone fin wiggled its way upstream toward the falls. A few of the younger bears leaped and pounced after the fish, trying to pin it to the riverbed with their claws. Girl was dozing on her back in the sun. Runt punched her arm and pointed excitedly. He started to chatter and chirp about the fish and begged her to run over. He wanted to join in too.

  Girl looked across at the older bears. They also lay in the sun. The mother gave her belly an absent-minded scratch. They knew what Girl knew, that a lone fish was very difficult to catch. It wasn’t worth the energy. They needed to wait until the river became thick with the bodies of fish.

  A heavy rain came the next day and Girl and Runt stayed in the hut to wait it out. Wildcat preferred to hang back from the river, as he didn’t like cavorting with bears, but he joined them inside the hut to save himself a soaking. Girl struck a flint rock to make a spark. She blew on a handful of dry twigs to coax a flame and lit the fat lamp on the ledge. Big Mother had told Girl stories about the fish with her shadows. Now Girl used the shadows cast by her hands to tell Runt: After collecting the salts of the sea, the Big Mother fish brought her eggs back to her part of the river. The fish of the same family followed the mother home. The Big Mother fish decided it was the right time and spread her eggs. She died soon after that, and the rest of the family died too. The dead bodies of the family became the food for the babies. In that way, the fish were like the family. They gave everything they had to feed and grow their young.

  As Girl told stories that day, it rained and rained. The water level rose quickly, enough to allow the fish to make their way through and up the shallows lower down the river. When the sun rose the next day, the river came alive. The first few fish took a leap at the falls. The bears got up and started to pace back and forth along their side of the bank. Girl was glad to see the fish; she felt as though they were old friends. The anticipation of food and warm flooded her, and she sprang to her feet. She grabbed the reed basket and prodded Runt to come.

  Girl took one last look up the valley. She curled her lip up to feel for anything she might have missed and watched the leaves on the trees. There was no warm meat making its way to the meeting place. The run was starting and they were the only ones who had arrived. This gave her chest a feeling of emptiness, like the fire had gone out.

  The bears had lined up on their side of the falls. The fish that had made it this far looked big. A fish body leaped, a band of muscle that used its tail to push up through the air in flight. The fish knew the game with the bears. The thinking ones did small jumps first. They would eye the bears and aim to jump past the snapping jaws.

  But the sheer number of jumping fish meant that the bears quickly started to catch them. Girl knew it was time. She sat Runt on the rocks with a large stone in his hand. She eased out onto the slick ledge. Big Mother had earned this spot through years of snarling, spitting, and beating. With the old woman gone, Girl had expected to have to fight for it again, but no challengers were there to step up. She gained the ledge and held up her reed basket to catch the fish.

  A few fish jumped, but Girl didn’t lean out for them. There was no need to risk feeding the hungry river with her own meat. She would wait and time it just so. And soon, a fish as large as her arm jumped close by. She placed the basket underneath in a neat sweep. The fish landed, and the water it brought with its body ran through the reeds. Still, it was heavy. Girl said, “Oomph.”

  She turned and dumped the fish out beside Runt, who put a foot and a hand on the large body. He lifted the rock and brought it down, but his muscles were too small. The rock only glanced off the large fish head. The gaping jaws with long saber fangs came perilously close to his thin arm. So Girl took the rock and gave it a knock in just the right spot. The rock cracked the fish’s skull and smashed its spine in one swift move. Runt threw up his hands and cheered.

  When Girl turned back for the next fish, she was surprised to see that the mother bear had moved quite near to her ledge. It was a new thing for the bears to come so close. The mother raised her snout and caught Girl’s scent over the water. Girl did the same and in this way they compared news. Girl felt the mother was doing well and nodded in a show of respect. She hoped this might avoid any sort of challenge of position. While it was clear that Girl would never win in a fight, they both respected the dangers of breaking their truce.

  The mother bear also sniffed curiously. She held up her nose and lingered in a way that reminded Girl of Big Mother. Had this bear eaten her mother’s meat? Was the old woman inside? It was rare for the bears to pass by the land of the family on their way to the fish run, but they might have. Rather than feeling disturbed at the thought of the family being meat, Girl hung on to the idea. Her feelings about death and the way that a body died were flexible depending on the circumstances. In the best times, when there were lots of living bodies available, she would have buried Big Mother, maybe under a tree if one had come down. But after the leopard attack, Girl had only dragged the bodies of Him and Big Mother farther into the brush. To find the right tree and dig a hole took a lot of work. It was a job that would occupy the only adult pair of hands, which needed to be busy with getting food and keeping Runt safe. She didn’t have such luxury.

  The idea of this bear bringing part of Big Mother to the meeting place in her belly felt efficient, since Girl couldn’t have carried the body. She found herself trying to feel Big Mother in this bear. The bear dipped her head and seemed to eye Girl’s belly. Balancing the basket on a knee, Girl put a hand to her own belly.

  “Ye.”

  It was the first time she had acknowledged that the baby might be something separate from herself. It was more than a belly. This baby would come out from between her legs and become a body that could later walk away.

  By nighttime, they had caught more fish than they could eat. They gorged on the sweet orange flesh. They found the sacs of eggs and popped the globes between their teeth. Wildcat came for a piece. As she was cautious, Girl put a few strips of fish by the fire to dry. Later she would cache them in a tree just in case, but food was in abundance. There were no other hungry mouths on their side of the river. They could eat until their bellies were round and their limbs as wide as the river itself.

  Girl lay back in the hut that night, held Runt’s sleeping body, and tried to connect to his dreams. There was nothing. She couldn’t feel any other body with her mind. Despite the baby growing inside her, she was alone.

  Pressed Particleboard

  By Sunday, I had calmed down enough about Caitlin and the management of the site to start worrying about more important things again, like storage. Simon agreed to one last act before we left for home. He would drive me to the Ikea box store outside of Avignon.

  On the drive, Caitlin’s voice kept playing in my mind. She had mentioned there would be a videoconference with the museum committee the next day. I was filled with dread at the thought of not being part of it.

  “Bringing a journalist to the site?” I couldn’t keep my thoughts in. “It shows her lack of judgment about the scope of this project. I doubt she has any idea how controversial my interpretations of the findings might be. People resist the idea of being close cousins to Neanderthals because of how the species has been characterized in the past. No one wants to think of himself as a hairy beast.”

  “Rose?”

  “Simon?”

  “I wonder, given your state, how much sense does it make for us to be going to Ikea right now?”

  “My state?”

  “You are pregnant. We are broke.”

  “I’ll expense the purchase to the project.”

  “Can we expense meatballs too?”

  “I wish you could have the baby.” I looked out at the blur of landscape speeding by. “You’d be much better suited to it, don’t you think?”

  “Oh yes, I’d be great
.” Simon gripped the wheel. “I’d be barefoot, pregnant, and alone in our flat wondering when my husband might come home.”

  “Why barefoot?”

  “Since you have turned into a ferocious beast, Rose, you will have eaten my slippers for breakfast.”

  “At least I’m not hairy.”

  We passed a lavender field in bloom, clutches of fragrant purple plants in obedient rows. A stone cottage was nestled in the midst of it, looking squat and solid, like it had spent all its years refusing to budge.

  “Caitlin is a reputable scientist, though. Am I right?” Simon asked.

  “When it comes to gibbons, she’s the best.”

  “Wouldn’t the museum appoint someone capable?”

  “Maybe not.”

  “Do you doubt her because she’s a woman?” He flashed a triumphant smile.

  “I’m too evolved to take that bait.” I sighed. “Though, to be honest, it’s an important thing to ask. I do think Guy has purposely appointed a nonexpert in order to leave a gap. It’s a power grab. That gap leaves room for experts to weigh in and for Guy to decide what he wants to do based on how it will affect visitor numbers or his private funders’ hearts. There is a videoconference planned for tomorrow. One of the expert consultants they hired will be on it. Isn’t that convenient?”

  “Do you know what the expert will say?”

  “He hasn’t shared his results, but I know he’s being paid by Guy. He will say whatever Guy pressures him to say.”

  “Guy?”

  “Guy Henri.”

  “That curator from the museum in Arles? I didn’t know you were working with him.”

  “Caitlin won’t know how to interpret the expert’s opinion. The science will get left behind. And so will my reputation over the long term.”