Save The Pearls Part One

by Foyt, Victoria

  “That’s disgusting.” Sort of like how Bramford must feel. Suddenly, his temper didn’t seem so outrageous.

  Maria returned to the starting point. This time she vaulted over the imaginary snake to the other side. She smiled happily as she greeted dead relatives and friends.

  “A nice fairy tale,” Eden said, pleased at how well she had understood without a Life-Band. “Make it past the snake god and you live happily ever after. Fail, and you come back to earth as an animal. I guess killing animals is like killing your friends.”

  “It certainly explains why it was so difficult to obtain the DNA of an anaconda,” her father said. “Killing an animal like Coatlicue must be the worst sin of all.”

  Satisfied with their understanding, Maria bent down to finish her tasks. Eden’s father moaned as she began to lay thin strips of bark over the paste. His bloodshot eyes seemed to beg Eden to do something. If she failed him again, she feared he soon would meet Coatlicue.

  EDEN SAT on the steps of the main hut in the shade of a palm tree. She waved a fan she’d made of its fronds, stirring the hot, humid air. The unforgiving noonday sun bleached the compound with stark light. Her hair stuck to the nape of her clammy neck, the dirty dress, to her sweaty skin.

  The minutes slowly ticked by, cycling into hours, then long passages of the day. She never realized how long an hour was or how much time she had at her disposal. What had she done with all her time? She had frittered it away with fantastical World-Band experiences. That had helped bury her feelings—she could see that now. At least she hadn’t felt this stifling boredom.

  For the hundredth time her eyes searched the forest, and once more, she sighed. That dumb beast had been gone since yesterday afternoon. Where on Holy Earth was he? What if a real predator had killed him? She just couldn’t think of it.

  The children’s shrill cries caught her attention and she turned to see them scampering around the vegetable garden. They seemed content to play with whatever was at hand, a wooden tool or a cucumber to bat a bean pod into the air. Neither Maria nor Lucy, who tended the plants, grew irritated by the kids’ frequent calls, always ready with a patient answer or tender glance.

  In fact, the Huaorani met the most trivial events with a happiness that puzzled Eden. Maybe they didn’t know how boring their lives were.

  Carlito began to toddle towards her, dragging a large cucumber that was nearly as long as his leg. Its dark, glossy skin glowed in the sunshine, as if it were more than a vegetable. As if it were strangely alive. Carmen and Etelvina stopped to watch their cousin’s progress, their faces anxious.

  The determined boy finally reached the bottom of the steps with a proud smile. He dropped the vegetable at Eden’s feet, presenting his gift. She felt awkward as she picked it up, and yet, deeply pleased.

  “Gracias,” Eden said.

  Carlito’s wide, innocent eyes were insistent. Eat it. Even a toddler could make his intentions clear without a single word, apparently.

  “Why not?” she said.

  She brushed away the dirt as best she could and took a small bite. At once, the little boy began to retrace his wobbly steps. Mission accomplished.

  Eden ran her tongue over the wet, fleshy piece. Not at all like cucumber flavoring in meal pills. In fact, she liked the fresh, clean taste and took another bite. Maybe she’d try the other vegetables, too.

  Lorenzo stepped out of the shadows, startling her. She wondered how he’d reached the porch without her seeing him approach.

  “Hola, Eden.”

  “Hola,” she responded.

  He walked into the hut without asking anyone for permission, just as his mate often did. Perhaps their disregard for boundaries made them feel more connected to the world, allowing them to move through it with so little effort.

  Eden followed him inside, just as her father awoke from a nap. She feared these naps would get longer and longer until he wouldn’t wake at all.

  “Ah, Lorenzo,” he said, pulling a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “I wrote down a few supplies. Anything you need, Daught?”

  She gave him a blank look.

  “A la ciudad,” Lorenzo said, and imitated driving a car. He was going to the city.

  Eden’s heart skipped a beat. She asked when he would leave. “¿Cuándo vas?”

  “Ahora.”

  “Now? Right now?”

  “It could be a year from now,” her father said.

  “How is that possible?”

  “The Huaorani never use the future tense, you see. For them, only the present exists.”

  “Then how do you know when something will happen?”

  “I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

  But it did matter. Bramford’s words came back to taunt her. Leave if you want.

  That was exactly what she planned to do.

  “A comb would be nice,” Eden said, and mimicked combing her long hair, which had become a tangled mess.

  Lorenzo left as quietly as he’d arrived. Her father settled back into the hammock and closed his eyes. Eden returned to the porch, surprised by the startling change in the weather. In the short time she’d been inside, the sky had flipped over and now hid the sun behind a sheet of gray. As changeable as Bramford’s moods.

  Dark silhouettes of trees wove together like old-fashioned lace. Lightning cracked so near that she jumped. The sky burst open, pelting the ground with thick raindrops.

  Despite herself, Eden wondered where Bramford would find shelter. She pictured him lying across a tree branch, his powerful body balanced with effortless grace, licking his lips from some tasty treat. Her body turned to jelly.

  She started to go inside when a sharp movement near the gated hut caught her eye. She peered through the rain, uncertain of what she saw. It was Bramford, wasn’t it?

  He pounced towards the hut, and out of view. Eden watched, breathless, as he sprinted back. He lashed out but his punches only struck air. Was this some sort of primal dance or demonstration? Or was he trying to intimidate his prisoner, Rebecca?

  Lightning crashed down, illuminating him. Eden saw his wet face, mashed with hair, and forgot all about her missing twin. His strong legs kicked and jumped, making her feel small and delicate, and at the same time, aggressive and full of daring. An earthy moan escaped her lips.

  Bramford immediately zeroed in on her. She swore she could feel the heat coming off of him. Her yearning grew unbearable. Was it for her sake or Rebecca’s that she flew towards him? She no longer cared why. She simply knew she had to be with him, whatever that meant.

  She clattered down the steps into the rain. She didn’t heed her father’s call or Bramford’s warning growl. Neither one understood. For Earth’s sake, neither did she.

  Bramford leapt over the gate, running to meet her. Something wild and crazy came over her and she yelled his name. Did she hear a frightened cry answer from inside the hut?

  Bramford caught her in his arms. Through the crashing thunder she heard him say, “Go away, Eden.”

  And yet, he held her tight. His magnetic eyes burned into her. This time she knew without a doubt that he saw her. The Real Eden. It was all she had ever wanted.

  Why then did she struggle to see past him to the hut? She couldn’t understand why she said it, either; the words didn’t match her desire for him, but they came anyway.

  “Hello, Rebecca?” Eden called into the wind. “Are you there?”

  Her knees buckled as Bramford’s mouth found her neck. Sharp teeth grated against her skin.

  Maria appeared beside them, tugging at her arm, telling her to come. “Ven.”

  Bramford pushed Eden away. She slid down his legs and crumbled to the muddy ground, desperate to understand. She needed to talk to him, but he disappeared among the stormy shadows.

  Dazed, Eden followed Maria back inside, met by her father’s worried gaze.

  “What did you do to Bramford?” he said.

  “Rebecca’s there,” Eden said, numbly.

  “Ple
ase, leave it alone, Daught.”

  “That’s the way it always is. Just ignore it?”

  “Yes. I mean to say, no.” He blinked hard. “I don’t understand you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Eden hurried past him and curled up on poor Rebecca’s bed. Wrenching sobs hit her one after the other. The wind threatened to split the thin walls into pieces. Rain leaked through the thatched roof, pooling onto the floor.

  She shut out the storm and the whole crazy world. In her mind’s eye, she only saw Bramford’s piercing gaze. She ran her hands over her arms, recalling his indelible touch.

  Good Earth, she simply had to get away from him or she would die.

  Eden started at a sound and looked up to find Maria standing there. She averted her eyes, embarrassed by her uncontrollable display of emotions. Something soft fell on the bed beside her.

  “Para ti,” Maria said.

  For me?

  “Gracias,” Eden murmured to the woman’s retreating back.

  She slid her hand over a bundle of white fabric. A row of buttons. It was a dress. Rebecca’s dress!

  Eden held it across her hips, judging the size. The width fit her fine, but the dress reached almost to her calves. Was Rebecca taller, she wondered with a pang of disappointment. Silly, but she imagined that they were identical in every way. Then she recalled that the old-fashioned style was worn long.

  She happily slipped off her ruined dress and threw it in a corner. Let it rot. She wiped her skin clean with a blanket. A whiff of jasmine floated in the air as she slid Rebecca’s dress over her head. See? They both liked the intoxicating scent.

  Eden smoothed out the long skirt, surprised by its wide sweep. The fitted top scooped under her shoulder blades, exposing bare shoulders. A bright blue string threaded through the edge of the bodice—the perfect accent to her eye color, their color.

  She never considered how color or shape might affect her mood. Or how empowering such a personal choice could be. She thought of Aunt Emily, who had worn only white for many years, and in a similar style, too. Had such pretty clothes made her and Rebecca feel beautiful?

  The delicate dress swished, as Eden moved. So unlike the stiff, techno fabric she’d worn. Delighted, she began to sway. The skirt captured the soft air underneath it, brushing it against her bare legs. Once again, the jasmine perfume filled her head, and made her think that anything was possible. Even for her.

  Eden examined herself in the silver hand mirror, which was cracked thanks to the intrusive monkey. She smiled, pleased by what she saw. More than ever, she resembled the lovely Rebecca.

  Eden twirled around and laughed lightly. What would that callous beast think of her now?

  ONCE AGAIN, soft rustling sounds woke Eden. Probably that damn monkey, again. She noticed that it had pushed open the window mesh. Thin wands of early light poked through.

  There, by the window, she saw the dark creature moving. She heard something fall and roll across the floor. The animal turned towards it with a soft pleading sound. Spider monkeys were highly intelligent, but could they beg?

  “Shoo—go away,” she said with false bravado.

  Its frustrated begging increased. What could be so important to a monkey?

  Eden screamed as it darted towards the mysterious object. The animal screamed, too, and shot through the window.

  Curious, she scooted to the edge of the bed to see what it had dropped. She tapped her foot around the boards, which were still wet from the rain. Her toe met something thin and round. But as Eden leaned forward, her weight sent it rolling under the bed. Possibly, a well-worn stick, something a monkey would use to extract bugs from the ground. Or the pest might have stolen one of Maria’s tools. Not worth reaching for into the dusty hollow.

  If only Austin were there to protect her. If only she had paid attention to his warnings. Never again would she be blinded by pride. For Earth’s sake, she had bought into the hatred against her own kind. She had longed for a color-blind mate when she was more prejudiced than the worst of the FFP.

  She glanced at Rebecca’s portrait. Sorry, Eden’s eyes pleaded. Thanks to you, I’ll do better.

  She stepped to the window, surprised to see the compound transformed. Strewn with leaves and small branches from the storm, it appeared startlingly new in the soft blush of dawn. In the same way, Eden decided to shake loose old habits and thoughts. If she wanted to survive, she would need a personal evolution.

  Open your mind, Bramford had said. It seemed like strange advice from such a stubborn man. And yet, look at how brave he was in the face of unfathomable change. How did he do it?

  Of course, she had managed to retain her inner sense of normal, despite a lifetime of oppression, hadn’t she? Possibly, if she gave the Real Eden a chance to live and breathe, she might accept herself just as she was. If Bramford could open his mind, why couldn’t she?

  She looked towards the gated hut. Did poor Rebecca languish there, filled with similar regrets? How Eden longed to sit and talk with her, like sisters in an Old World novel. They’d laugh and cry over how foolish they’d been to fall for a couple of jerks like Jamal and Bramford.

  Eden spied a beautiful pair of snowy white umbrella cockatoos perched on a nearby branch. The male paraded back and forth with slow, deliberate steps to woo his female friend. He cocked his head to one side and gave her the eye-blaze, constricting his pupil to reveal the edge of the iris. If he succeeded, the two Cacatua alba would bond for life.

  If only Eden had another chance to find her true mate, she promised herself she would be wiser next time.

  Soft voices floated in the air, and she turned to see Lorenzo and Charlie leaving their huts. They wore ragtag clothes—their city clothes. They were leaving, she realized with a jolt. Here was her chance to escape.

  They stopped beside the fire pit as their faces registered surprise. Then Eden saw it too. The carcass of a massive bird, nearly three-and-a-half feet long, lay on the ground. It was a harpy eagle, the world’s most powerful raptor and one of Bramford’s genetic donor species. The bird’s showy, feminine crest of head feathers contrasted with its stern vulture-like features, bringing to mind a harpy, the half-woman, half-vulture creature of Greek mythology. Dark wings splayed open like huge, angry hands. Blood dripped from vicious bite marks on its neck.

  Bramford’s bites, Eden realized with dread. He had begun to gather the DNA her father needed to continue the adaptation. One down, two to go. If he also captured a jaguar and an anaconda, the balance in him would tip forever from man to beast. If he failed, he’d be lunch. Either way, he was doomed to a cruel fate.

  Eden heard Lorenzo murmur, “El Tigre.”

  She followed their gaze, as they scanned the area. But Bramford was nowhere in sight. Probably gathering his energy after what must have been an incredible fight. Harpy eagles nested in trees over a hundred feet high. It was no small feat to capture one.

  Eden imagined Bramford stalking the raptor, as it tracked its own prey, possibly a sloth or monkey. He must have ambushed the surprised eagle with lightning speed and impeccable timing. She shuddered to think of the actual attack—Bramford’s springing action, the desperate harpy flailing its long talons in defense, the bloodthirsty roar as Bramford lunged at the huge bird. Hot and dizzy, Eden leaned against the window to catch her breath.

  The brothers hefted the heavy carcass, carrying it over their shoulders towards the laboratory. Soon, her father would discover the prized specimen as well as Eden’s absence.

  When the warriors returned, she would follow them into the jungle where hungry predators and poisonous animals waited. The idea paralyzed her. Why couldn’t she just stay there at camp and wait for a better option? She was just a Pearl, after all.

  And yet, she could almost hear Rebecca nudging her. Remember your promises, Eden.

  True, not all Pearls were cowards. Some, like her mother, were brave. The image of her diseased body, soft and useless against the hard utilitarian furniture, c
ame to Eden. Her curled posture had formed a question mark that punctuated Eden’s terrified thoughts. How would she go on after Mother was gone?

  —Please, brush my hair, Eden.

  —Won’t it hurt?

  —Not if you’re gentle.

  She had lain still, smiling, always smiling, while Eden brushed the dry strands, easing over the scorched scalp.

  —Tell me. Are you afraid, Eden?

  —Sometimes.

  —There’s nothing to fear. I won’t be far away. You’ll see.

  How happy she’d seemed, despite the sorrowful words she had quoted from Aunt Emily’s poem.

  —‘Because I could not stop for Death, / He kindly stopped for me; / The carriage held but just ourselves / And Immortality.’

  Of course, the notion of a soul living past the grave was as illogical as love. Still, Eden admired the fearless grace with which her mother had made her exit. The least she could do was be brave.

  Just as she expected, Lorenzo and Charlie reappeared, heading towards the main gate. Time to go, she told herself.

  She took one last look at the painting of Rebecca gliding through the forest beside the protective jaguar. See how easy it is?

  Eden quietly entered the main part of the hut, greeted by her father’s gentle snore. The wounded leg jutted out over the edge of the hammock. His ravaged face broke her heart.

  Especially to save Father, she must be strong.

  Hurrying outside, she glimpsed the men passing through the main gate. From one of the huts the little girls’ singsong prattle floated into the air. Any minute they might spring outside. Eden could just imagine their horrified reactions to seeing her in Rebecca’s dress.

  She sprinted down the steps and hit the ground running. Mud splattered on the white dress. But she couldn’t think about that now. She wove through the shadows until she reached the gate. Ahead, she saw Lorenzo and Charlie turn down the mountain path.

  As she stepped outside the compound, she heard a high-pitched cry. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see the two sisters’ troubled faces. Instead, a sharp movement near the gated hut caught her eye.