Ted Kosmatka - Prophet of Bones

The old man threw the last chunk of meat through the bars. The cat was on it in a flash of movement. A moment later, the meat was gone. “Now this one, this half lion, I’m not sure of. Is it like its father, I wonder?” The old man stared at the big cat. “If so, I don’t see it. Or maybe it’s too sly to let me see.”

The big cat resumed its pacing.

“That lion,” Gavin asked, “where is it now?”

“I killed it,” the old man said. “That was a long time ago.”

They watched the big cat in silence.

“There is an ancient proverb,” the old man said at last. “Begrudge not the lion’s existence. Be thankful God didn’t give it wings.”

The old man started coughing. He reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out a blue handkerchief. He coughed into the blue cloth for a moment and then wiped his hands meticulously with it before putting it back in his pocket.

Seconds more passed in silence as they watched the big cat pacing, and Gavin realized that the old man was waiting for something.

“Flores, sir?” It was the only way to encapsulate the question, the only way to phrase it in its entirety.

“Things went badly in Flores,” Martial said.

“They did.”

“People died.”

“Yes,” said Gavin.

“The reports I read made me very unhappy. It was a mess. Come, there’s something else I want you to see,” the old man said. He turned and headed farther up the trail.

Gavin followed. Here the trail was well marked, a short path through a stand of trees to another ring of cages.

There was a paddock and, inside it, a small group of horses. Looking closer, Gavin noticed a small zebra mixed in with the herd.

“The horses are a special treat,” Martial said. “The meat is delicious, by the way. Zebras hybridize very easily with horses, did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“The offspring are sterile, of course, but they’re strong and healthy. They grow large. The stripes are codominant, extending up the legs but usually without spreading over the torso.”

Gavin watched the herd graze.

“Do you know what you get if you shave a zebra?” the old man asked.

“No.”

“A zebra, still. The stripes are on the skin as well.”

Gavin nodded.

“Horses, zebras, and donkeys all hybridize easily. All you have to do is put them in the same enclosure. Lock them up together, and they take care of it. No cloning required. Nothing fancy. Put sperm in contact with egg, and Mother Nature handles all the heavy lifting. As species, they aren’t particularly closely related to each other, separated by nearly eight percent of their genomes. A donkey is as different from a zebra as an orangutan is from a gorilla.”

The old man led Gavin past the paddock, toward a row of large cages attached to a small building. The cages were obviously runs of some sort. Whatever animals they housed were hidden in the building.

These cages were taller. The bars closer together.

The old man gestured toward them. “I wouldn’t get any closer to the bars. They’re very fast when they want to be, and they have access to their run; I see the door is open.” Ignoring his own advice, he took another step forward. “Chimps,” he said. “Have you ever worked with them?”

“No.”

“They are fucking bastard animals.” Spittle flew from the old man’s mouth when he spoke.

The sound of his voice drew them.

They entered the runs through a small steel door in the side of the building. Four of them, one after another, knuckle-walking the packed earth, moving in single file. They stopped a few feet from the bars, staring out at their visitors. Then the largest chimp sat, seeming to lose interest.

“No closer,” the old man muttered. “If we went just a few feet closer…” His hand reached out, trembling slightly. A sheen of sweat covered his scalp. “A few feet closer, and it could reach us through the bars.”

Martial dropped his hand to his side. “The chimp is a strange creature. Very like the lion in some respects.” He chuckled, with a bitter, humorless sound. “It has the ability to be offended. It can hold a grudge. But it is in some ways more dangerous.”

“More dangerous than a lion?”

“It has one major difference from the lion. It can feign docility, you see.” He waved a hand in the direction of largest of the chimps—a thick-limbed, muscular form squatting in the dirt. “This one here… is the worst of our pets. It bit off the face of one of our keepers. It bit off his fingers and his toes. It broke his arms. But it left him alive. Why would it do that?”

“I don’t know,” Gavin said, resisting the urge to step back from the man who sweated and shook before the cage.

The beast looked dumbly on. Gavin watched it, its dark eyes following the old man’s face.

“I am not so good at feigning, Gavin. I never have been.”

“Sir?”

“And there are certain things coming. Things I will need help with. Can I count on you?”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean it. I am not the man I once was. I have become impatient in my increasing years. I have no patience for fools. I am not a politician, and yet I am forced to deal with politicians.”

“I understand, sir.”

“I will need you here from now on.”

Gavin stared at him, uncomprehending.

“An executive position, you might call it,” the old man continued. “There are difficult things coming, and I can use a man like you. I will need you here full-time from this day forward.” There was finality in his tone. Gavin realized this wasn’t a suggestion.

“But my… my work,” Gavin stammered.

“Will continue. Will expand. You’ll find opportunities here that you never knew existed.”

There came a howling again from the distance. The same strange, twisted cry.

“Things you never dreamed of,” the old man said. “But I need two things from you.”

“What?”

“Loyalty. Commitment.”

“You—”

The old man held up one hand to stop him. “Do not say it unless you’re prepared to back it up.”

“You’ve alway s had that, was what I was going to say. But this is a different kind of arrangement than what we had before. I have my career, after all.”

“You do,” the old man said flatly. “You still have it.”

Gavin stared at the old man. The grizzled old visage.

“And if I don’t come?”

“Then who can say.”

Martial turned back toward the chimps. “But that’s the stick, Gavin. You haven’t seen the carrot. There are things happening that you couldn’t possibly guess at. Important things. Things that you’ll now be a part of. Things that will change the world.”

Gavin was silent.

The largest chimp rose and moved closer to the bars.

“You’ve been on my payroll, in some capacity or other, for the last twenty years, but only in a part-time, as-needed capacity; it’s time you received a promotion. Do I have your commitment?”

In the end, there wasn’t a choice. When working with Martial, there was never a choice. Gavin wondered, vaguely, what he was losing. What was he giving up? “You have it,” he said.

“Good,” the old man replied. His tone was matter-of-fact. “Then that is settled. Now, about the subject of Flores, which you mentioned. The reports I’ve read are serious. Very serious indeed.”

Gavin said nothing.

“It couldn’t be helped,” the old man said. “Everything that happened. I want you to know that.”

“I don’t understand,” Gavin said.

“Who controls the bones controls their interpretation. You understand that, do you not?”

“Yes.”

“We got word that the Indonesians were going to shut down the dig, so we had to act. Still, death wasn’t part of the plan.”