The Uprights Read online

  THE UPRIGHTS

  By

  JAMES HILL

  The rights of James Hill to be identified as the author of this work

  has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Design

  and Patents Act 1988.

  A CIP catalogue record of this book can be obtained from

  The British Library.

  Published by SAPIENTUM BOOKS

  The Date

  50,000 BC

  The Place

  Somewhere in Southern Europe

  The Subject

  The Uprights

  1

  Togetherness

  It’s too far away. Nothing. Of no consequence. But then he’s not so sure. The nothing is becoming something. And the something has a terrible beak and claws. Not only that, where there’s one there are many. Worse, it’s coming in their direction. Soon, it – they – will be overhead. Circling. Watching. Wondering when one of those strange figures on the ground is going to moan. Stumble. Collapse. Try and get up. Fall again. Be left behind. They will have to leave him behind.

  “Wait. Stop. I must … talk to you.”

  At the head of the pack, Tahk wipes his forehead. He has no intention of doing what that miserable Ohp, with his irritating stutter, asks.

  “We’ve walked for nearly … two days. The old ones … can’t carry on.”

  The leader doesn’t respond. He has also seen the creature of the sky, but knows that to stop now means many might die. Not just one or two of the hunters. But many more. The females. The infants. Maybe the whole family.

  “It’s so … hot.”

  Of course it’s hot. The sun is hot like a fire. It is a fire. And it’s still high in the sky, burning their heads, their eyes, their arms, everything.

  “You don’t know … where we are, do you?”

  Tahk’s blood-stained animal-skin drags on the ground. He hitches it higher on his waist. Ohp is wrong to say that. Wrong to say anything.

  “You won’t stop for a … rest. You won’t answer me. You just keep walking. But you don’t know the … way.”

  Oh yes he does. Hasn’t he been coming here for longer than any other? And each time is the same. That is how he remembers the route. Why he reminds himself again. After leaving the cave, he turns to the side of his cleaning hand, follows the wide curve of their hill and passes the place of punishment. That much a young one could do. From this point though, he must use his experience, because many paths cross the high land and only one leads to the dry-bed of upright teeth and bones: somehow – impossibly – all of stone. But if he has chosen well, he can now safely drop down the far side of the upper slopes. Traverse the vast plateau with nothing but rock to walk on and an occasional dead tree for shade. Only then will he reach the valley of the beasts, with its river and grass and everything that is green.

  “I know you have no … interest in me, Tahk. B-but what about the rest of the p-pack. They’re exhausted. Need a drink. Think of them.”

  They’re thirsty. He’s thirsty. He wants to drink as well. Wet his lips. Ease his throat. Maybe if he does that, his head won’t hurt so much.

  “What do you say? Do we stop for a … drink?”

  His eyes sting. His ears throb. His head feels as if it is being pounded by clubs. The sun is burning him. Ohp’s defiance is making him angry.

  “We can’t go on, Tahk. We will die … here. In the open. We’re lost.”

  No, they aren’t. He’ll make sure of that. So he looks for that which should be familiar, but however hard he tries, he cannot see properly. What was one becomes two. Then one again. Dark becomes bright. Near becomes far. Colours fade and then seep away. Everything appears the same. The same colour. White and burning and not of this life.

  “Tahk. What is the matter with you? Are you … ill?”

  Ill. Maybe he is. He is certainly puzzled. What’s wrong with his head? With his eyes. Why is his mouth so dry? And the sun he has always trusted. What’s it doing to him?

  “Shall I take over? Do you want me to lead the p-pack b-back to the … settlement?”

  The sun. That’s what taunts his understanding most of all. How can it go to sleep at night and wake up in the morning? That’s what uprights do. Maybe it isn’t what he thought it was. But if it isn’t a fire, what is it? Nothing. Everything. Is that why it is making him so unsteady? So sick.

  “The hunters want to stop … now, Tahk. Go b-back. Next time, I will take them to the forest to the south. Not here. Not the valley to the … north.”

  Why can’t he see? Why does he feel like falling? Wait. What’s that over there? In the long grass. Coming closer. Is it a shadow? Is it moving? Is it anything? Should he run while he has a chance?

  “The hunters support … me. Not you. When we get b-back, I will challenge you in front of the elders. Then you will have to give … way.”

  It’s more than a shadow. More than a blur. It’s real and fast and heavy, and it springs at him before he can do anything. Before he can shout for help. It knocks him down. Pins him to the ground. Then the lion is at his neck. Gripping his neck. Stopping him calling. Stopping him breathing.

  “You are always the same. You stand and … you think. You never listen to me. B-but you lead us to hunger. Hunger and … death.”

  If he doesn’t breathe, he doesn’t live. Yet he can breathe and he is alive. He can also turn. Stride over to Ohp. Go up to Ohp. Raise his arm. Clench his fist. Curse him with all his strength. Hit him on the side of the face. Make him spit out teeth and blood.

  Now Tahk is sick.

  The emptying of what little is in his belly makes his head feel better, but the sun continues to press down on him. Mock his lack of understanding about seeing things and yet not seeing things. Being mauled by lions and yet not being mauled by lions.

  “Tahk. Tahk. You have killed Ohp.”

  The leader dismisses the accusation with a disbelieving snort. Even so he looks around warily. Above, at the vultures feathering their wing-tips. At Ohp, coughing and spluttering on the ground. At Ohp’s sons holding his head. But also at the other hunters. Rising to their feet. Beginning to move in his direction. To defend the one who is hurt. Attack the one who struck him down. No. No. It isn’t like that. Instead, the hunters’ weapons are by their side. Their faces show concern. Support even. Then he sees Dhi at the back. Always at the back.

  The older male glances at the younger one. It’s nothing more – just a glance. Yet it’s enough to encourage Dhi to push himself to the front.

  “Sit down, father. Rest. Have a drink from this.”

  He should feel happy. He has less pain now. He can see better. Most of the hunters appear to be loyal. Yet he remains confused and restless.

  “Ohp deserved your blow. He said things which should never have been said.”

  His son speaks well. It was right to knock Ohp to the ground.

  “Ohp can say what he likes in the settlement. In front of the elders. But he went against the family law to challenge you on a hunt.”

  Again he agrees with Dhi. But there is so much his son doesn’t know. Would have no way of knowing. And that is he already feels dead. His death – and how he is to die – has been decided.

  “We must carry on, Tahk. We are starving. Take us to the beasts.”

  Tahk looks at his son again. At the other hunters urging him on. At the near-empty skin bag holding its last sips of water.

  “Yes. Drink this, father. It will make you strong again.”

  Strong. Yes, he will be strong. He has always been strong. That is how he became leader. Why he is still leader. He isn’t dead yet. In any case, he might be wrong. Perhaps he won’t die as he has just foreseen.

  “Do you want more water, Tahk?”

  “Have some of mine.”

  “And mine.”

  “No. I have most left.”

  How can he not be strong when so many of the hunters offer him what is most precious to them? Their water. Yes. But also their trust.

  “Is it far? Which way should we go? Do we stop soon?”

  Tahk is pleased with his pack. Even so, he doesn’t immediately answer. Instead he goes over to his half-brother and helps him to his feet. Ohp doesn’t matter anymore.

  The only thing that’s important is feeding the family. He knows meat, not words, is what’s important.

  “Are we on the right path, Tahk?”

  Yes, he will drink what’s offered. And when he is clearer, make friends with Ohp again. Of course, he could have killed him just then. The elders would have accepted that. But he chose not to. Ohp is irritating. Always questioning his orders. But he is no threat. Hasn’t been since he was attacked. Lost an ear. Started speaking so badly. Besides, he is feeling better now. His head no longer hurts. He can see well. He has forgotten about the lion. Well, he hasn’t forgotten about it, but he will stop thinking about it. Even the vultures seem to have flown away.

  “Tahk. Where to now?”

  Still nothing is said, but the leader turns from Ohp and the other hunters. Walks to a fork in the track. Drops to his knees. Looks carefully at the ground. Picks something up. Examines it closely. Smells it. Tastes it. Stands up again. Only then does he speak.

  “This one. Yes, this one will take us to the valley. Follow me.”

  An order? It doesn’t seem so as Tahk doesn’t move.

  “What track, Tahk?”

  As has been happening so often, there is no answer. Only the beginnings of a purposeful movement of one who knows, however little he understands, it’s a lot more t
han any other.

  “Tahk.”

  “Wait. Wait. There’s something else I must do.”

  And with that, he turns to face a wind that is able to tell him many things. About the forthcoming changes to the colour of the leaves in the valley, of course. The arrival of the rain – or much more likely – its continued absence. Yes, that as well. But also the presence of so far unseen creatures. And to be able to do all that, he takes a breath. Then another. Not gasping and open-mouthed as had been the case on the last, steep rise. Now deeper. More measured. Through his nose. Down his throat. Into his chest. Then back up to his mouth. Savouring – distinguishing – recognising the odours. There are beasts nearby. It is just as he expected. Just as he thought before the sun did those terrible things to him.

  Now at last satisfied, he rejoins the others.

  “Look at this path. Back there it was one, but here it is two. And where it becomes two, a tree has fallen. Can you see?”

  The hunters gather round with growing interest.

  “I know now. This is the way we always come. The place the rock changes. Becomes darker. More bitter.”

  He allows them to return his gaze.

  “You can’t see it from here, but I can tell we are near the valley. I’m sure of that.”

  Chests fill and the grip on weapons tightens.

  “That’s where we will find our beasts.”

  Only now dare they smile. Not yet at him or each other. Nor in joy, but to show that, unlike Ohp, they never doubted their leader.

  “We must march some more. Not far. There’s a big rock ahead. When I get to the top, I will be able to see everything.”

  He has delayed enough. He has said enough. It’s time to get on with the hunt. He will take the pack to the outcrop and while the others wait at the bottom, he will prove he is right.

  It doesn’t take long to reach the promontory. And as the others watch, Tahk puts his things on the ground. Asks for the last of the water. By now, most share his excitement. Only Ohp remains unmoving. Well, not totally unmoving, because he is still spitting out blood. It’s just that he doesn’t join in with the other hunters. Besides, he has much to think about. He hasn’t been put to death, but he has been humiliated. Perhaps it would have been better if he had been killed. No. No. That wouldn’t have been good. If he lives, he can regain his strength. Challenge Tahk again. But next time, he will make sure he speaks to the other hunters first. Explain why his half-brother is failing them. He now knows he cannot do it on his own. With the support of the others, he cannot fail.

  He thinks and he plans and for the first time on the trip, feels content. Then something catches his attention. And what he sees, in the instant of recognition makes his mouth go dry. His chest bang in fear.

  His instinct is to back away, but something pulls him closer to the very thing that repulses him so much. Why doesn’t he look aside? Move aside. And what has happened to Tahk and the other hunters? Just a breath ago, they were in front of him. Talking to each other. Checking their limp bags for the last drops of water. But now they have disappeared from view. Become silent. Left him – alone – with the creature.

  It’s small. He knows it’s small. Yet now, somehow, it looms so large it fills his whole world. There is nothing else except him and it and the banging in his chest. And the knowledge it can kill.

  He stares and he swallows, and likes what he sees even less. Then, touching the scar where his ear should be, Ohp understands. It’s not the creature’s squat black body that so terrifies. Nor its many legs. Its hairs. Anything about its appearance. It’s what it does. Hiding. Deceiving. Striking from the shadows.

  Even worse, it lives and kills and dies in total silence. Not for this beast, the panting of effort when it runs. The gasping of fear if taken by surprise. The grunting of satisfaction as it claims another victim. There is nothing. Not like the other beasts the uprights know and respect. This one does everything without a sound.

  Silent. Unmoving as the rock. Throwing a shadow so much bigger than its body. But that is how it was. Now, suddenly, it’s different, because without warning, without reason, it scuttles across the face of the promontory. And disappears into a fissure.

  Only now does Ohp allow Tahk and the others back into his life. Not that they know they have been away. Or that Ohp has seen what they all must dread.

  But he tries to understand some more. And to do that, he looks at the other hunters. At their faces. At their eyes. At Tahk’s eyes. Did he notice the creature too? Will he know where it’s safe to go? Should he shout out a warning in case he didn’t see?

  As always at times like this, he hesitates. What’s best for Tahk? What’s best for him? He can’t decide. Yes, he can decide. Tahk will be allowed to do what he must without a word being said.

  In spite of his tiredness, the leader climbs with energy and agility. At least that is how it appears at first, but soon, when he is still some distance from the top, he hesitates. Slows. Stops altogether. Now completely motionless, he seems lost in thought, as if trying to think back to every stone, every tree, every bend of the track. Or is it to understand what passed across the very edge of his field of vision before? Without trace. Almost without trace.

  The others are impatient at the delay. Cannot understand what their leader is doing. Begin to wonder if Ohp is right about the valley.

  Only now aware of the restlessness below, Tahk tenses his muscles. Prepares to continue his journey – not that he knows why he paused.

  There isn’t much – just a shift of his weight – but that’s enough to rekindle the others’ expectations. And such hopes are rewarded, for within a breath or two, Tahk is back to his earlier rhythm – gripping –pulling – lifting – his heavy body up the face of the crag.

  Witnessing the powerful movements once again, the hunters start to breathe more easily. Relax their shoulders. Even allow relief to wet their eyes.

  Then Tahk calls out and what he says makes them thump each other on the back. It is just as he said it would be.

  “I can see them! I can see them!”

  He is pleased and excited, and doesn’t mind showing it.

  “I told you this was the path to the beasts. The way to feed the the the …”

  His words are brought to a stuttering halt, not by what he sees, but by what he feels. The sensation of a nip. A stab. Two sharp points coming together. And somewhere far away, in another place, a big toe starting to throb.

  A big toe? It isn’t his toe. It can’t be. Not now. Not when he hasn’t yet reached the valley. Claimed his prey.

  “Come here. All of you. Look at the beasts. There’re more than we can eat.”

  But the toe is his toe. And it hurts badly. Very badly. Maybe it will kill him. No, he won’t be like that. He will think of something else. Tracking, hunting, chasing: anything to take his mind away from his foot. And as he visualises himself at the head of the pack; stoning a beast to death; cutting meat from the carcass; the pain lessens. Allows him to order the hunters to join him, almost as if nothing has happened.

  Only Ohp stays behind, stolid and ill-tempered. And thinking. Always thinking.