[50024 Years Ago/ Three Days Later/ The Lake]
Heba awoke from a vivid and disturbing dream. She threw off her pelts and slipped out of her yurt, the one she shared with another young woman of marrying age, Bali. Bali was still asleep.
Heba looked around in the bright morning light searching for something, though she couldn't remember what. She looked to the many huts that were being constructed, the huts that were turning the camp into a village. She looked past these to see three older boys walking along the beach to the east.
"That's right," she said. She remembered that scene, that exact scene. It had been one of many she'd dreamt of. The other scenes came back, one by one. Most of them were confusing, but all of them were important.
She knew this to be true from past experience. Listening to her dreams had saved her from drinking the water from the waterhole. It had smelled good and had been crystal clear, but she had known it to be poisoned. She'd warned her tribe, but they hadn't listened.
Her dream from last night had been another warning.
She gritted her teeth in determination. She wouldn't fail again.
An image of the strange white tree arrived within her mind. She went to the tree with its two trunks, and within its rectangular shadow was a cluster of blue-tinted mushrooms that had sprung forth after a heavy rain unusual for this time of year.
Heba smiled and knelt down and scooped all of them up. She squeezed them, crushing them to give a thick blue juice that filled her cupped hands. The juice gave off a strong fecal smell tinged with a sweetness that made it that much worse.
She grimaced and nodded knowing this is what it should smell like, then she thought of what else the dream had said to do. She stood and went to Tagi who was watching her three boys far away and still heading east.
"Matron," Heba said, "you need to have your sons put this on their legs and feet."
Tagi turned to Heba's upraised hands filled with the blue stinky liquid and received a full burst of the fumes.
"Gods, Heba," she said, stepping back. "What are you doing?"
"Your sons are going to the island in the river," Heba said. "Aren't they?"
"Yes," Tagi said. "The chieftain wants to know what's on it. Why are you holding that? It smells like dung."
"I know, but they need to put it on their legs and feet to protect them."
People were gathering around now. Some were laughing.
Tagi looked to them, then to Heba. "You are a crazy girl. Get out of here." She pushed Heba's arms away, spilling some of the liquid.
Heba avoided the splash, then huffed. She couldn't think of a way to make the tribespeople believe in the prophetic nature of her dreams. She looked to the three young explorers. She couldn't hope to catch them.
She closed her eyes to Tagi's scornful look and focused away from the growing laughter of the crowd, and a thought came to her, powerful and triumphant.
"The blue stuff isn't for the boys, it's for Mike!"
Heba spun about and went to where she knew he would be.
"Yes, give Mike some of that smelly stuff," Tagi said. "He'll love it."
There was great laughter now.
Heba shook her head, trying not to feel embarrassed, trying not to give up on what the dream had told her to do.
She walked along the beach, careful not to spill the rest of the fluid, then down a sandy slope to a large rock that was shaped like a massive tree stump. People had begun calling it Stump Rock. She went around it to find Mike reclining in the shade and holding a long stick. A line went from the stick into the water.
Heba paused to study this oddity. "What are you doing?" she said.
Mike had been half-asleep. He yawned and said, "I'm fishing."
"But you don't use a net or a spear. What is that?"
"I call it a fishing rod. It holds a line of gut. At the end of the line is a hook made of bone to catch the fish."
"A hook," Heba said. "Yes." There had been a hook in her dream.
Mike stood, then jerked back on the fishing rod. To Heba's surprise, a large fish came hurling out of the Lake to land on shore. It flopped about as Mike smiled to it.
"Wow," Heba said.
Mike hadn't looked at Heba to this point, but now he was startled to see her with her hands together and uplifted and painted blue. "What's that?" he said.
"It's from a dream I had," Heba said.
"You have strange dreams."
"Yes, I do."
"Where did you find that liquid?"
"In mushrooms," Heba said, "but that's not important right now. You need to put this on your legs and feet."
Mike looked at Heba, then at the liquid. "Are you having fun with me?"
Heba snarled, then cried out, "No!" Her voice echoed.
Mike stepped back from the look on Heba's face. It was angry and confused and pleading.
"I have dreams, Mike," she said. "When I listen to them, things go well. When I don't, they go badly. Sometimes they go very badly. Now, my dream last night says you have to put this blue stuff on your legs and go and help the three sons of Tagi. They're going to the island on the river."
"Why do they need my help?" Mike said.
"I don't know."
"Okay, then how does the blue stuff help?"
"I don't know."
Mike chuckled and pushed back his thick locks from his face. "This is the strangest thing I've ever heard of."
"Please, Mike," Heba said. Tears were standing in her eyes. "Please?"
Mike looked to the distant group of people who were watching and grinning, then he looked at Heba and the liquid in her hands. He sighed. "Okay, fine, put it on me."
Heba knelt and painted Mike blue from his knees down to his feet.
"Gods," he said. "That smells awful."
"I know," Heba said, going to the water's edge to wash. Once she had the blue color off her hands, she stood and looked around.
"What are you looking for?" Mike said.
"A hook," Heba said and ran off.
Mike looked at his blue legs and heard the growing mirth of the tribe.
Heba came back carrying a branch three times her height. It was a straight branch, old and dry but solid, and it was free of any smaller branches. One of its ends was hooked.
She spun the branch around, looking at it, and nearly hitting Mike.
Mike ducked. "Hey, watch it."
"Sorry," Heba said. "Give me your knife."
Mike gave her his knife, feeling he had no choice but to help this woman who seemed to have gone crazy.
Heba used the knife to cut a notch in the end of the hook. She made a few modifications, cutting away slivers of wood, then she said, "There we go." She handed the knife back to Mike.
"So, we're done?" Mike said. "I have to clean my fish. And my legs."
"No." Heba handed the stick to Mike. "You have to go save those three boys."
Mike took the stick as Heba looked at him in anticipation.
He turned to see the length of beach he'd have to travel to reach the river, then he saw the length of beach he'd have to travel to pass the tribe. It would be humiliating. His mind told him to drop the stick and dive into the Lake and wash off, but his heart told him to do what Heba asked.
After a long pause to look into Heba's eyes, he listened to his heart.
"All right," he said, uncertain of what else to say, then began jogging along the beach, his blue legs glistening, the long stick bouncing in rhythm to his steps.
"Thank you, Mike," Heba said.
Mike gave a wave as he looked straight ahead, blushing, and listening to the laughter from the tribe.