As the morning stretched into afternoon, Samuel and a guy named Vututu left to get food and water. Vututu was taller than the others, even taller than Samuel, and he looked like he’d be a fierce fighter. The women seemed unwilling to let him leave the safety of the hut, and Bobby figured he must be married to one or more of them. Vututu took two spears, but Samuel took no weapons. As they left through one of the connected tunnels, the four women cried out—“Yeeee...” It was the same cry Bobby had heard in the middle of the night.
Eventually Carlos came over and asked questions about the Lamotelokhai. Did it really come from another planet? Why did it come here? Was it alive? Bobby didn’t have answers, so he tried telling Carlos about his progress with it.
Carlos twisted his face. “I don’t play Kembalimo, so I don’t get it.” He nodded toward the Papuans. “Why not just ask them to kill Addison? Instead of going to all this trouble?”
Bobby rubbed the scar on his chest and looked at the Papuans. Sinanie’s eyes met his and stared with no expression. Sinanie seemed smaller now, and older. Bobby stepped closer to the villagers and tried speaking to them. “Gu mbakha-to-fosu le-bo? Mba-mbam?” He wasn’t sure what the words meant; he just pulled them from his memory. He repeated the same words, and then added more: “Anggufa diabo?”
At first they just stared at him, but then Sinanie spoke. “Khofé mbakha mo-mba-té?”36
Bobby waited to see if a vision appeared in his mind but nothing happened. He shook his head. And then an idea came to him. These people could talk to Mbaiso, and now he could too. “Sinanie,” Bobby said. The Papuan looked at him. Bobby made the sign for Mbaiso’s name.
Sinanie’s eyes widened. “Mbakha-leké mbolop?”34
Bobby nodded. “Mbolop.” He then signed the names of the other two tree kangaroos.
Sinanie signed quickly and then waited. A vision appeared in Bobby’s mind of a tree kangaroo signing to a person. He realized the person was himself. “Yes, I talk to the mbolop.” Bobby sensed someone behind him, and he turned to see Mr. and Mrs. Darnell there. “I can speak tree kangaroo.” They seemed confused, so he said, “I’ll tell you about it later.”
Bobby turned back to the Papuans. Mbaiso had shown him a sign for Addison, so he used it. Then he used Mbaiso’s signs to describe Addison getting pulverized by men with clubs, and then himself holding a club. The villagers were now watching him closely. Bobby motioned once more: the sign for no. He shook his head. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”
Sinanie eyed him for a moment and then started signing.
In his mind, Bobby saw villagers. They talked and walked together. Some of them carried things, like water and animals they had killed. And there were women there, talking and smiling. The villagers looked up. Something fell from the sky into the trees. Bobby sensed that it was supposed to be an airplane, although it didn’t look much like one. A person walked from where the object fell. And there were others. They looked different from the villagers. Their movements were stiff and clumsy, and they had big heads. Bobby realized this must be how Sinanie saw them. As the people from the plane became clear, one of them stood out. It was Addison, but not Addison his friend. It was the dead, scary Addison—Addison the killer.
Suddenly the vision changed. The sky came crashing to earth, like ropes that held it up had finally broken. Villagers, trees, and chunks of earth began drifting upward as if gravity no longer existed, until the last remaining bits fell away into nothing. The blue sky below evaporated. And then there was only darkness and stars.
The vision dissolved. Sinanie’s hands now hung at his sides, and he said, “Ya nokhu wola-maman-é. Nokhu solditai imoné khomilo.”41
“So, what did he say?” Carlos asked.
Bobby turned to the others around him. “The world turned upside down, I think. Because we came here.” It was the best description he could come up with.
“That’s what Samuel told me,” Mr. Darnell said. “They’re convinced their world is eventually going to end, and that they should allow it to happen.”
“So they’re just going to let Addison kill them?” Carlos said.
“I don’t know,” Mr. Darnell said. “But we’re not letting that happen.”
Bobby turned back to the Papuans. He started to sign that he needed Sinanie’s help, but then he stopped. He sensed a change. The air became still, as if all breathing had stopped. He spun around. A dark figure entered from one of the tunnels. It was Addison, his muscled figure looming menacingly in the hut.
They all stared, speechless. Addison had changed even more. The leather pouch that had covered his privates was gone, and he wore a crudely fashioned penis gourd. His skin was darker, or maybe dirtier. His arms seemed even longer, and his hands grabbed the floor as he bent over like an animal and went straight for the Lamotelokhai. Bobby felt an urge to turn and run. Addison put a hand on the Lamotelokhai. With his other hand he shifted invisible objects in the air.
Addison was talking to the Lamotelokhai, learning, gaining strength, maybe even instructing it to kill them. Someone had to stop him. Bobby stepped forward. “Addison, we need to talk.”
Quentin stared at the creature. It was not Addison, yet it was. His son had become a horrifying, murdering monster. And now the only way to stop him was to kill him. How could a father do such a thing? Quentin shut his eyes and remembered Addison as he had been: pointing wide-eyed at a birthday cake in the shape of a bear; screaming with delight at catching his first fish. That was the real Addison. But when Quentin opened his eyes, the boy was replaced by something dreadful. The face was still mostly Addison’s, but it held no innocence. Instead it seethed with hatred, or perhaps insanity. Insanity was easier to accept.
Addison was dead. Quentin would do what he had to do. This thing had murdered innocent villagers, and then Miranda. It intended to kill them all. Addison was dead.
Bobby was the first to act. “Addison, we need to talk.”
Addison took no notice as Bobby approached him. One of his hands rested on the substance and the other seemed to be moving invisible objects in the air.
“Addison,” Bobby said.
Addison shot a glance at Bobby and curled his lip, like a dog defending its food.
Quentin started to speak, but Bobby held up a hand to stop him.
“I can help you, Addison. I’ve played Kembalimo, too, for even longer than you have. It’ll be better if we do it together.”
Addison seemed to consider this. Then he turned back to the substance. “Too late. I don’t need help.” His hand continued its peculiar movements.
The hut became unnervingly silent. The Papuan women slipped into one of the tunnels, leaving only four men standing with their spears held ready.
“There’s a better way to do that,” Bobby said. “A faster way.”
Addison stopped. He glared at Bobby. Whatever Bobby was trying to accomplish, Quentin thought it was too dangerous. Addison could turn on him as quickly as he had on Miranda. Quentin moved to intervene, but Bobby motioned him away again.
“There’s a better way,” Bobby said. “I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out.”
“What way?” Addison demanded.
Bobby stepped even closer, now within Addison’s reach. “The tree kangaroos. They can help us talk to it.”
Addison’s hand dropped to his side, hanging to his knee. “Mbolop?”
“Yes. The mbolop taught me their language. And they’re connected to the Lamotelokhai somehow.” Bobby touched the Lamotelokhai, and Addison struck his hand away. Bobby clutched his hand but didn’t back off. “It’s true! Mbaiso is made out of this same stuff.” He pointed, this time without touching. “You can see for yourself. Just go find one of the tree kangaroos. They can show you.”
Addison flung himself onto Bobby in an explosive blur, striking his face and knocking him to the floor. Again the violence caught Quentin off guard. He should have seen it coming, but he couldn’t let go of the
boy Addison once was.
“Yu khokhukh-telo-dakhu dialun,” Addison growled as he pressed Bobby against the floor. “Where is the mbolop?”42
Bobby struggled to free himself. “I don’t know! You have to go find them.”
Quentin rushed forward and shoved Addison off of Bobby. Addison attempted to rise, but suddenly the Papuan men were upon him, forcing him back with the ends of their spears. Addison thrashed at the spear shafts, but the tips penetrated his flesh and pinned him to the wall.
Bobby crawled to a corner of the hut. His face throbbed and his mouth was bleeding. The Papuans held Addison against the wall while Mr. Darnell tried to calm him down, but it wasn’t working. Addison thrashed and growled.
Bobby made his way back to the tree trunk at the center of the hut. This might be his only chance to do what he knew must be done. He laid his hands on the substance, and the symbols appeared in his mind. But where to begin? He thought of the questions Carlos had asked him. ‘Where did it come from?’ ‘Was it alive?’ Bobby had been so busy making the rules of his lingo that he hadn’t considered that he might be ready to actually talk to it. He shoved the symbols to move them into piles. He stopped. No. Talk to it. Tell it what you need.
He moved the symbols, forming a simple sentence: “I am Bobby.” And then a question: “Do you understand me?” Bobby stopped and waited. The struggle with Addison behind him was making it hard to think. And then the symbols moved without his help. They formed a group before his eyes. Bobby stared at the message.
It said, “Yes.”
Quentin and Lindsey tried reasoning with Addison. They told him they loved him in spite of everything he had done. Addison didn’t seem to hear any of it. The four spears dug into his body.
If the villagers ran Addison through now, perhaps they could kill him and be done with it. When Quentin looked at them, the one called Sinanie nodded toward Bobby, who was now standing with his hand on the Lamotelokhai. They were waiting for Bobby to do something.
Quentin turned back to his son. “Addison, do you understand that they are going to kill you? Listen to me. There has to be another way!”
Addison’s eyes showed no recognition, or sorrow—only anger. “It’s mine,” he hissed. Still staring at Quentin, he grasped one of the spear shafts and pulled hard, forcing it through his own body and the wall of the hut, and pulling the villager who held it closer to him. There was a moment of stunned silence. The Papuan holding the spear was now within Addison’s reach. With astonishing speed, Addison grabbed the man and pulled him closer, biting him viciously on the face. The other Papuans loosened their grips to help the man.
That was all it took. With an explosion of ferocity and swinging fists, Addison was free and the men were pushed back with their own spears. One of the spears still hung from Addison’s body and he yanked it out with one hand. Blood flowed from his abdomen and ran down his legs. His chest heaved with the effort of breathing, and for a moment the gurgling sound of this was all Quentin heard. Addison’s shoulders then slumped and he coughed, spurting blood onto the Papuans’ faces as they watched. He let the spear fall to the floor.
The hatred was gone from Addison’s eyes and he looked almost human again. He approached Bobby, shoved him out of the way, and plunged his hands into the Lamotelokhai. He tried pulling loose a large mass, but the stuff seemed to hold tight. As he pulled at it the Papuans grabbed their spears and moved in to attack. But the stuff came loose and Addison turned to face them. They stopped.
“I’ll kill all of you,” he said. He then backed away and stumbled into one of the adjoining tunnels.
Bobby watched Addison leave the hut. Addison’s wounds would not be fatal, and he would come back. Bobby was sure of that. Bobby would have to be ready for him, so he returned to the Lamotelokhai. The stuff had smoothed itself out where Addison had removed the chunk, and it looked the same as before.
The Lamotelokhai had said, “Yes.” A lump of clay stuck to a tree in the middle of nowhere actually understood him. Bobby arranged symbols to ask another question: “Did you come from space?” He had a hard time with space. It was more like, away from the earth.
Again the symbols responded: “Yes.”
“I knew it!” Bobby said to himself. He asked another question: “Are you a computer?”
“Yes.”
Bobby had been right about this, too. Then another of Carlos’s questions came to mind: “Are you alive?”
“Yes.”
Bobby frowned. Maybe the stuff didn’t really think after all. Maybe it just agreed with everything. Bobby thought hard. He asked: “Am I a computer like you?”
“No.”
Bobby’s excitement returned. “My friend has changed. He kills people. Did you know that?”
“Yes.”
“My friend is Addison.” Bobby made a name for him. “Did you do something to Addison to make him change?”
“Yes.”
“Did you give him part of yourself to help him kill people?”
“Yes.”
Bobby stared for a moment. “Why?”
The answer came instantly. “Addison asked.”
Bobby frowned again. This didn’t seem right. He arranged symbols. “It is bad to kill people.”
There was no response, so Bobby tried again. “Did you know it is bad to kill people?”
“I cannot know what is bad.”
“Why?”
“A thing that is bad now is not bad after time. A thing that is bad for you is not bad for another.”
Bobby considered this. The Lamotelokhai was right. He was, after all, going to ask for its help to kill Addison. But that was to stop Addison from killing more people. Bobby suddenly felt uncertain. He shuffled the symbols. “Can I ask you to help me?”
“Yes.”
“Addison is going to kill me. Addison is going to kill the people who take care of you. Addison is bad.” Bobby waited but nothing happened. It had been hard to make these thoughts and he wanted to be sure he was understood. “Did you know that Addison wants to kill people?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that is a bad thing?”
“I cannot know what is bad.”
“Can you change Addison to the way he was before he was hurt?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I cannot make something I do not know of.”
Bobby felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to face Mr. Darnell.
“How’s it coming?”
Bobby had been concentrating so hard he had almost forgotten where he was. He looked around the hut. The four women had returned. They sat on the floor behind the men, silently watching. “It talks to me,” Bobby said. “I can ask questions and it talks to me.”
Mr. Darnell lifted his brows. “Did you ask it about Addison?”
“It says it can’t fix him. It doesn’t know him from before the crash.”
Mr. Darnell looked down at the floor. “Bobby, I think Addison is going to keep coming back. We can’t let him do what he’s trying to do.” He squeezed Bobby’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “All your other questions can wait. We need something that will stop Addison. Can you ask it for that?”
“I think so.”
“Then please try. If it gives you what we need, give it to me. I’ll use it.” Mr. Darnell squeezed his shoulder and then walked away.
Samuel and Vututu returned with a skin bag filled with water and another ball of khosül. They unwrapped the leaves from the khosül and passed it around, but no one seemed to be hungry. After Mr. Darnell had explained the confrontation with Addison, Samuel came over to watch Bobby work with the Lamotelokhai.
“Couldn’t you do this faster than me?” Bobby asked. “Or couldn’t they?” He nodded toward the Papuans.
Samuel said, “As a general rule, they do not communicate directly with with the Lamotelokhai. As for me, I have spent many years learning to use it primarily f
or tasks involving production of food.” He paused. “On occasions where I have attempted more remarkable efforts, the results have been rather grievous. But you, Bobby, possess a faculty for comprehending the Lamotelokhai that bewilders me. The indigenes believe you are a departed ancestor, returned to the living earth for this very purpose.”
“I’m just a regular kid,” Bobby said.
“Still, it seems that something in your schooling or your inherent nature has prepared you for the task. And I fear that the indigenes’ weapons are not sufficient to stop Addison’s murderous amok. There is urgent need for a poultice tailored for encumbering him.” He stopped and eyed Bobby like he was waiting for an answer.
“I’ll try,” Bobby said.
Samuel nodded slightly. “Very well. And now I must call upon one service of the Lamotelokhai that I hoped I would never again employ.” He moved to the wall of the hut and pulled a lump of the stuff from his pouch. After sitting on the floor he began shaping it with his hands, stretching it out like a long rope.
Reluctantly Bobby turned back to the tree. Everyone expected him to do this, whether he wanted to or not. He concentrated, trying to think of another way.
Mrs. Darnell interrupted his thoughts. “Did you hear that?”
Everyone became quiet. There was a voice, very faint. “Help me! Father, help me!”
“Quentin…” Mrs. Darnell whispered.
The cry came again. “Help me! Father, help me!”
Mr. Darnell’s face went pale. “It’s Addison.” He headed for one of the tunnels.
“I’m going, too,” Mrs. Darnell said.
“This is ill-advised.” Samuel rose from the floor.
“We can’t just ignore him,” Mr. Darnell said.
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