Michael J Lee
EARTHRISE 2036
Arise, Earth, before the Dark Force returns.
I
ONE MILLION YEARS AGO
CHAPTER ONE
THE PLANET WAS POISED in space. Long ages ago, its landmass of Pangaea had broken up. Beast and early man were still on the move, searching for fresh green matter to eat, as glaciers melted in one time, or sea levels fell in other eras to create bridges to new lands.
And out on the southern grasslands there was only one law: don’t get overtaken by anyone. In this time of seismic change, when the ape-boy Ayak was soon to become a man, the land was like an arena in which species of all kinds were competing to see who could survive. It was when life and death, success and failure, lived side by side. Whatever nature gave, it could just as easily take away.
The gift above all others was the breath of life. It was worth fighting for just to feel your heart still beating inside you. And in the race for existence what counted was how fast you could move.
Ayak, too, bristled with the mystery of irresistible energy pulsing inside him.
The mountain to the North seemed to mark the end of the world for these creatures. What lay beyond such a vast wall of rock, towering over this land for more than two billion years, but the Great Unknown? When the Sun fell from the sky each evening, the big mountain face became black and brooding. During the day, though, its steep, bluish-grey slopes and crags glinted in the sunlight, giving off a calm atmosphere. And just before summer thunderstorms, it nearly always shimmered dreamlike in the hazy heat.
Below it, were the rolling hills and ridges which formed a basin of life for animals, birds and hominids. The open plains were dotted with thorn-trees, wild olives and stinkwoods staked into the ruddy soil near well-watered valleys and the sheltered slopes of woodland.
On this hot, thriving grassy land lived elephants, giant horses and other equids, short-necked giraffes, spotted hyenas, wild oxen, wildebeest, hogs, multitudes of antelope, baboons, apes, monkeys, porcupines, rock rabbits and hares. The five most feared beasts of the time were the big buffalo, with horns as long and sharp as spears, leopards, giant wolves, the fast, long-legged hunting hyena and sabre-tooth cats, the most powerful predators out on the plains.
Summer was fast approaching. Ayak’s father, Tor, realised from past experience that the season would bring its customary thunderstorms. Those flashes in the sky and booming sounds had always frightened his young son. Of course, the ape-boy had long forgotten about last year’s thunder and lightning. But as the days turned, Tor sensed the air getting heavier with heat and moisture. Above them, the rain clouds would gather on most afternoons. The summer storms in these parts typically came in short, intense bursts and then suddenly cleared away.
The time was coming to show his growing youngster how to fight fear. No more running away from the storms. No more quaking or cowering. Tor planned to take him out from the cover of the woods during a thunderstorm. All the beasts would flee but he and his son would stand their ground. They would look up at the angry sky and let it damn them if it wanted. They would ride out the storm.
In this manner, Tor believed, strength of spirit would pass down from father to son. There was no other way he knew. First, he would hold his boy to stop him trembling. Then he would let him stand alone, next to him, holding only his hand. Finally, when the sky roared at its loudest, he would let go.
Such was his sacred duty. For terror was the enemy. It was what made the animals and hominids run when threatened, exposing them to attacks from behind. In this way, fear turned you into prey. Increasing your chances of being killed… Tor would never allow Ayak to grow up to become just another hunted creature on the grasslands. He would teach him to face forwards, even in the face of oncoming danger.
A long time ago, his father had done the same for him. He could still remember. The perspiration of his fear had mingled with raindrops cascading from the booming clouds. After an hour of the downpour, he’d begun to believe it might have washed him free of that painful feeling of being scared. He’d always hated that feeling. It made you feel so inferior. As the squall subsided, he’d looked up into the sky without fear. He’d walked home with his head held high. No longer did he seem so submissive to the forces of nature. He’d passed into a greater mastery of life. He wasn’t as small as he’d always thought.
Kyra, Tor’s partner, and mother to Ayak, didn’t know that this initiation was about to happen. It was the father’s secret. Such a practice, though, would’ve gone against all her instincts.
She was a faithful friend to Tor, as well as a good gatherer of plant foods, berries and herbs. She could also catch lizards, terrapins, moles, snails and other small, edible creatures.
But the way Tor had worked it out in his mind, she’d never know what had happened. The event would be over before anyone else even knew it had occurred. During the chosen storm, he would stand and be resolute. Together, father and son would stay strong.
In his wildest dreams, Ayak couldn’t have suspected what was about to happen to him.
The hominid boy was a smaller, smoother version of his master, with the same long, wiry arms, and slightly curved fingers for gripping branches and elongated thumbs for using tools. Although he was only thirteen years old, his thighs and calves were already muscular. He stood at just over 5 feet tall, almost the height of his mother. Standing at this level, which had once seemed so towering, had given him a new sense of importance.
Tor and Ayak had low foreheads with slightly protruding brow ridges, as well as wide, flattened noses and square, well-shaped jaws.
They were athletes of their habitat. They were always on the move, foraging or hunting for food, whether in woodland, down near the river or out on the savannah. They would climb trees for safety. Up in the trees, they could enjoy times of relaxation together.
In expeditions, Tor had taught his son where to look for tortoises when larger game seemed hard to come by. Occasionally, they hunted baboons. That was at night while the troop was sleeping. From time to time, they’d also caught rabbits, rats, mice and lizards. And when they were desperate, they could always just eat termites, snails and even spiders, lowly creatures right near the bottom of the food chain.
The hominids’ lithe bodies were brown as the bark of trees. More often than not, their dark skins would glisten in the baking sunshine, even when they were resting in tree shade. For you couldn’t remain stationery too long. Not in this world. That was a sure way to become someone else’s target. Don’t get noticed. Blend in with everything. Keep moving.
Be like water. Be like clouds. Not like rocks, stones and boulders, or grass swaying helplessly in the wind.
Wherever he went, Tor carried a spear with him. Its large, pointed head was made of chipped and sharpened stone.
He didn’t like using discarded bones as weapons. They were scattered freely around the landscape, for death was everywhere, as far as the eye could see. Firstly, the bones broke easily unless they were large and thick. Secondly, there was something uncomfortable about it he didn’t fully understand. What if the bones still contained traces of the memory of the creature whose breath had flown into the sky, leaving behind only broken pieces of their body? After all, wasn’t he made of bones as well? He could feel them under his skin. He, too, would one day leave behind his own bones on the ground. It just seemed so much better to use stones from the land as weapons to kill and as tools which made their hands and arms stronger. Stones had no breath in them.