Only one way to find out.
Just then, thunder clapped, and even as a scream rose up in her throat, she felt the brush of his hands along her sides. Maybe she wasn’t alone. She smiled as an expansive feeling floated through her. Like a burst of fire, but soft as melting wax.
Even more, his response gave evidence to support her theory. If she gave off subtle signs, why wasn’t the reverse also true? Why couldn’t she tap into her unknown senses and read such subtle signs? Maybe even Bramford’s. Open your mind, Eden.
Bramford leaned into the steepening angle, as the path rose. A stiff wind rattled the leaves and filled Eden’s head with his wild, tangy scent. An irresistible urge to run her hands along his face seized her. She clung to him, pressing her hips against the back of his neck. His breathing grew labored, and for the first time, he stumbled.
“I can walk if you’re tired,” she said.
He snapped. “I’m fine.”
“For Earth’s sake. I was just trying to help.”
“By running away?”
“You kidnapped me!”
A deep growl thundered through Bramford. He grabbed her waist—too tightly this time. Furious, she raised her arm to smack him, but he caught it without looking.
“I’m watching every move you make, Eden.”
She struggled against his tight grasp. “You don’t know a thing about me. You never will.”
He tossed her hand free and laughed bitterly. “This is my world. Nothing escapes me here.”
Really? Could he also see her absurd attraction to his beastly self?
BONE-TIRED, Eden slumped on Bramford’s shoulders, wondering when her nightmare would end. The uplifting effect of the açaí berries had worn off many hours ago. Bramford already had given her the last of the water. Her mind and body screamed for relief with every step he took.
Through the gathering darkness, she heard the quavering, mournful sound of the great tinamou, Tinamus major. It was a nocturnal bird, which meant twenty-four hours had passed since she had left home. It felt more like a lifetime, and even the tinamou’s song seemed to echo her despair.
At last, Bramford carried her along a foot-worn path that led into a small clearing. Eden lifted her head, dazed by a sublime sunset that trailed a fiery train of peach and red across the clear sky. She forgot her discomfort and the threat of radiation, if only for a moment. She simply stared, humbled by its perfection, though not in a submissive way. She felt small and human, but sort of good. Because if something so beautiful existed in the world, then maybe some part of her also held such beauty.
To her surprise, a young Indian woman stepped out of the shadows. Eden wondered at the lucky coincidence, and hoped she would lead them to food and water.
She greeted them with a simple hello. “Hola.”
“Hola, Maria,” Bramford replied.
He knew her, Eden realized, her hopes rising.
Maria wore the distinctive bowl-shaped haircut of the Huaorani. A strip of bark-like cloth hung around her wide hips. Her headdress of bright feathers and yellow Oncidium orchids seemed to contrast with her plain voice and mild demeanor.
She stared at Bramford with quiet reverence, warmly welcoming him home. “El Tigre es bienvenido a esta casa.”
“Gracias.”
Unlike her tribesmen, however, Maria cringed when she looked up at Eden. Fear lurked behind her startled eyes.
Was it because Eden now lacked a shed of dark coating? She didn’t mind not being the Jaguar Man’s sidekick, but she hated feeling like dirt.
Maria turned without another word and led them through a well-camouflaged gate. They entered an orderly compound that looked nothing like the decaying river settlement. In fact, Eden wondered if she was the first white visitor. Or hopefully, her father already had arrived.
The forest was cleared to form a large circle. In the middle a huge fire burned, casting a glow over a half-dozen neat, palm-thatched huts. Bramford seemed familiar with the place and headed towards the largest dwelling. Set apart from the rest, it was built on stilts with a wooden front porch. Eden wondered if it was his hut, although he hadn’t branded it as usual. But why this remote jungle hideaway?
Past the other huts, and directly across from Bramford’s, sat a smaller hut behind a vine-covered fence. Unlike the rest, it had no visible entryway, and Eden guessed that it faced away from the camp onto the thicket of trees.
At the far edge of the camp she spied yet another hut. Overgrown with weeds, it had a bar across a wooden door. Like a prison? Eden shuddered at the thought of being locked up there at the end of the world.
Two little girls, naked but for the flowers in their hair, sprang from one of the nearby huts and ran towards them. Their shrill cries and happy, even exuberant, faces shocked Eden. She watched in disbelief as a scarlet macaw trailed after them like a multi-colored banner fluttering in the rosy light. It landed on the older girl’s shoulder, its long, graduated tail feathers reaching to her feet. Could an Ara macao possibly be a pet?
The children, maybe ages seven and eight, stopped and stared in amazement at Bramford. The macaw fixed one beady eye in his direction.
Bramford sounded hesitant as he greeted the girls. “Hola, chicas.”
“El Tigre,” Maria told them.
Wide grins split their small, round faces. But the excitement dancing in their soft brown eyes flamed out as they took in Eden. They began to tremble.
“Rebecca,” the older one said, the color draining from her face.
Eden felt Bramford’s shoulders stiffen. She glanced around to see if anyone was there but saw no one.
“Rebecca,” the girls called in unison, as Eden turned back.
Did they mean her? Was it the native name for some white-skinned animal? Whatever the reason, Eden understood that she terrified them. Not beastly Bramford. Just the ugly Pearl.
“Rebecca! Rebecca!” the children cried.
Bramford’s body began to shake with a thunderous roar and he dropped Eden into a vegetable patch. Maria seemed to scold the girls in a dialect Eden didn’t recognize. They grew hysterical, repeating the mysterious name. The pet macaw imitated them with loud, throaty squawks. The louder the noise grew, the more intensely Bramford roared.
Eden dusted herself off, more puzzled than angry. “Who’s Rebecca?” she said.
Bramford sunk his weight into a crouch and directed his rage at her. Eden’s knees wobbled. The name had struck a nerve in him. If she said it again, he might make her pay. He might grab her with those big, rough hands and pin her down.
Eden couldn’t help herself. “For Earth’s sake, Bramford. What did you do to this Rebecca to make the children so afraid?”
Just as she feared, he pounced on her. She screamed louder than the children. In a blink, he threw her over his shoulder and bounded across the camp.
My Earth, towards the prison hut!
“No!” Eden cried, struggling against him. “You can’t do this to me.”
“I can and I will,” he said.
Sure enough, he stopped beside the dreadful hut and pulled her down. She pounded her fists on his chest.
“Is this where you lock up your victims? You’re an animal, Bramford.”
To her surprise, he let her blows rain down on him.
“You’ve caused enough trouble,” he finally said, his voice ragged.
He pushed Eden inside and, before he closed the door, threw a handful of nuts and berries on the floor. Then he shut her in. With a thud, she heard the bar fall into place.
“Let me out!” Eden cried, banging on the door.
Only the wailing voices of the little girls, still calling Rebecca’s name, reached her.
She shook her head, dazed. What just happened?
Just like at the lab, Bramford had confined her to quarters. She examined the small hut. Air flowed through a high window but there was no way to reach it. She was trapped, like one of her father’s lab rats. Like that beast should have been.
Eden slumped
to the ground, humiliated. The unfamiliar sting of tears surprised her. She let them spill down her cheeks, tasting their salty wetness with the tip of her tongue. She hadn’t even cried when her mother died. Emotional relief always had been an oxy-drip away.
But not for her mother, Eden recalled. Near the end she had refused to take it.
—I want to feel something, even pain.
Naturally, she had cried all the time, which had embarrassed Eden. Her father hadn’t hid his displeasure. Grim-faced, he had left for the lab because random chaos ruled the world. If he could identify and catalog the chaos, he might establish order. That was all that mattered to him.
Alone, Eden had attended to her mother. For weeks she had puzzled over why her mother smiled, even as she cried. One day she’d found the courage to ask.
—Why are you smiling, Mother?
—Because I have hope.
—For what?
—For love. For even more after this life.
Years earlier, Eden had undergone the mandatory death experience and knew to expect only a calm black void. To appease her mother, she’d nodded vaguely.
—Eden, don’t you remember what Aunt Emily said? ‘Hope is the thing with feathers / That perches in the soul, / And sings the tune without the words, / And never stops at all.’
Nonsense, Eden now thought, brushing away her tears. For example, to which species of bird did Aunt Emily refer? Eden’s father was right. She needed to organize her chaotic feeling with logical thought.
And yet, she found herself longing for the warmth of Bramford’s body and the tingling excitement of his touch. She strained to listen outside, hoping to catch the sensual purring sound that drove her crazy.
Could a little bird called hope possibly sing for her?
Eden gathered the food Bramford had left; surprised that even in his fury he’d thought of it. It suggested that his mind was still more powerful than his raw emotions. Therefore, from now on, she would use pure objective reason to tame the primitive creature. No matter how wild he became, she would remain cool and objective. She wouldn’t give in to the base emotions that threatened to swamp her logic.
Mind over body would save her.
EDEN TURNED in her sleep, enjoying what she thought was a fantasy on the World-Band. I’m running across a beautiful, shaded, grassy field that slopes down towards an endless sky. Then she heard a knocking sound and woke with a start. She took in the dirt floor and the thatched roof, her new reality coming back to her.
Then what was that? Eden wondered. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the sweet images. Slowly, they began to flicker in her mind.
Why, Bramford is chasing me. I laugh as he tumbles with me onto the grass. We roll like playful kittens. He’s smiling at me, really smiling. I’m so happy, I feel as light as a feather.
Eden’s eyes flew open as she grinned. It was a dream, wasn’t it? She had been dreaming in her sleep—and at nighttime, too.
She recalled that long ago, before the aid of oxy, people were prone to such mental distortions. And yet, this dream delighted her. Her happiness in it felt almost real. Certainly, her romantic experiences with Jamal paled in comparison. The grassy knoll appeared more vivid than any heathery cliff she’d seen in Old England. In fact, the dreamy sensations of Bramford’s touch still lingered in her body.
Again, she heard a knock.
“Eden?” a man’s voice called.
She jerked to her knees and the blood rushed from her head. Woozy, she braced her palms against the ground. She heard the bar being lifted. The door opened and she blinked as daylight flooded into the tiny hut.
“Lorenzo?”
“Hola.”
Eden tensed, recalling the girls’ violent reactions to her white skin. The gentle warrior only smiled. Touched by his kindness, she smiled back.
Then she saw that he was naked except for a thin rope around his groin. She stumbled to her feet and leaned against the wall, her cheeks flush. Her brain sent out a jumble of distress signals—food, oxy, sleep.
Luckily, she recalled a few Spanish words she had learned whenever her sensors had translated.
“¿Mi padre?” Eden said, concerned for her father.
“Okay,” Lorenzo said.
He handed her a coconut bowl filled with lumpy chicha. Once again, the sour smell repulsed her, though her stomach rumbled with hunger. Already, the torn, dirty dress was slipping off her frame.
Eden dipped a finger into the unappetizing mess, hoping she wouldn’t pull out a bug. She tasted it, tentatively. Like vomit, she decided, spitting it out.
Embarrassed, she stared at the floor until she heard a shuffling sound. She looked up to find Lorenzo gone and the door open. Had he meant to free her or simply forgotten to shut it? Eden dropped the bowl and dashed outside.
Lorenzo waited beside a stately royal palm, smiling as she came up beside him. No judgment or anger. Just acceptance. She thought she might cry again if he showed her one more ounce of kindness.
He led her through the compound, taking care to skirt the sunlit center. Eden walked gingerly, wishing she hadn’t lost her shoes. The dirt clung to her bare feet, filling in between her toes. And yet, the shaded earth felt cool against the soles of her feet, and somehow gave her a weighty feeling, like she mattered. She even found the temperature outside almost pleasant, and breathed in the sweet-smelling fragrances that laced the air.
Another day, and it hadn’t killed her. Not yet, anyway.
Eden heard a small child’s cry and turned to see a naked toddler standing in the vegetable garden. The boy tunneled under the arm of an Indian woman who looked up in surprise from her work.
Real food—maize, sweet potatoes, chili peppers and peanuts. What Eden wouldn’t give for her daily meal pills.
“Lucy y Carlito,” Lorenzo said, nodding towards mother and child.
She smiled at them, but they simply stared. Were they also thinking of the dreaded Rebecca? Eden turned away with a deep sigh.
She followed Lorenzo round a bend onto a narrow path lined with giant bird of paradise plants. Huge flowers with dark blue beaks and spiked white helmets peered down at her like haughty women. Several yards ahead, Eden saw another clearing in the jungle around a wooden, dome-shaped structure. Thick, antiquated solar panels covered the roof over which a cloudless blue sky soared.
At her questioning glance, Lorenzo explained. “Padre.”
Eden’s step quickened. She peeked inside the door to find a rudimentary laboratory large enough for three or four workers. Light streamed in through the tinted panels, bathing the room in soft, amber hues. A few crude wooden desks, gathered in the center of the room, housed old-fashioned boxy computers and hand-held microscopes.
A big step down from the sophisticated laboratory of REA, Eden thought. And yet, her father already seemed at home. He sat at the main desk, against which a crude crutch leaned, deep in conversation with Bramford.
The beast’s naked back was to the door. Eden’s stomach somersaulted as she traced the line of his muscles. Just hungry, she told herself.
A slight twitch of his head told her he had registered her presence. But her jailer ignored her. Probably too ashamed to face her.
“Daught!” her father said, turning to her.
“Hello, Father.”
In just one day he’d grown feeble. Pain clouded his eyes. His face had a waxy cast. He looked sharply away. Probably to spare her from his weakness.
“What’s that?” Eden said, pointing to a patch of yellow-stained goo that covered his wounded leg.
“An herbal poultice,” he said. “Maria prepared it. I expect it will draw out the toxins.”
“You’ll assist your father here, Eden,” Bramford said over his shoulder.
If she had hoped for an apology, she realized he wasn’t going to offer one.
“Does that mean I’m freed from prison?” she said.
Her father began to blink rapidly, though he continued to avoid her eye. “Prison
, Daught?”
“Didn’t you know? Either our host thinks I can escape this hellhole or he’s a sadistic beast.”
Bramford jerked around, trapping her in the crosshairs of his gaze. “I’ve seen what you’re capable of, Eden. Just don’t forget, I’m watching you. Do you understand?”
“I understand that your power has driven you berserk.”
He growled menacingly. His eyes blazed with hot light. A secret smiled tugged at Eden. She might be powerless, but she sure could get under his skin. She strolled past him, inches away, and flicked her hair against his chest.
Go ahead, do something.
Instead, his anger softened to a frustrated moan. Her heart skipped a beat and she wobbled onto a stool. So much for mind over body.
“She understands,” her father said, his gaze unnaturally fixed straight ahead. “Don’t you, Daught?”
She could have been killed in the jungle for all he knew. But let’s not upset the prized prototype. And why wouldn’t he look at her? With a sick jolt, she realized that her white skin embarrassed him. She stared at the ground, wishing just once he’d accept her for who she was.
“I understand very well, Father.”
He wiped his glasses on his shirt and resumed his conversation with Bramford. “You see, you present the full capabilities of Homo sapiens as well as the leading animal’s characteristics, namely the jaguar—”
“But can you reverse the process, doctor?”
Her father hesitated, checking his notes. Eden’s urgent, heartfelt response surprised her. Say no, Father.
“An interesting question,” he finally replied. “Even at stage one the projection for reversal was slim. In your advanced adaptation the mostly likely outcome will be the demise of the subject.”
“What you’re saying is a reversal might kill me?”
“Correct.”
“Otherwise, I’ll remain like this…” Bramford grimaced. “This animal?”
“Exactly. An amazing interspecies adaptation.”
Eden resented the feverish glow in her father’s eyes. Far from ruining their lives, the accident had provided him with the opportunity for scientific investigation and possible glory.