Beginning of Time

And I was tired, so tired. I had no idea what new dangers and difficulties faced me now, but I decided that I would face them—that I would find this Sharpspear and lie under him—and then maybe he would let me go, go to another world. Surely whatever world there was out there after this one, it would be less cruel to me than the one I had existed in to now.

When I got to the back of this chamber of the cave, I saw that there was another chamber beyond it. And that the second chamber was filled with the light from the dancing orange and red miracle that some of the worlds I had lived in seemed to know how to make—but that my own world of the Others did not.

The Sharpspear was crouching, facing the wall of the cave. The wall was covered in colorful drawings—drawings that started to flood back into my memory as both my mind and eyes cleared.

Big Stick was painting on the wall. A new episode to our story. The story of my return to the cave. And to him.

He turned and looked at me and opened his arms wide. I looked down at the stick I was leaning on. It was Big Stick's carved cudgel.

Chapter Four: Present Time

"I tell you I did not undermine you in the acquisition of those stone carvings. I would never do anything like—"

"Gloria told me, Timothy. She told me that you revealed our bid to the Houston Museum so that they could outbid us."

"Gloria is a bitch, Jay. If anyone did it, she did. You know she's been trying to break us up. I think she has eyes for you herself."

"Here, give me a leg up. It looks like a cave entrance up there. And I don't know. I just don't know. I thought you cared."

"You don't know how much I care. I'm here with you now, aren't I. This wasn't the wisest place to be—and I told you so. There are still headhunters around here. One of the Rockefeller boys disappeared near here, you know. They never found him. And Amelia Earhart."

"Shut up, Timothy, and give me that boost."

The two men made their way up to the ledge in front of the cave mouth.

"Would you look at this?" Timothy said in awe, as they entered the cavern. "This might go back to earliest times. There definitely was habitation here. Look, they had fires out there on the ledge outside the opening. They knew about fire."

The two spent an interminable time examining everything in the cave that possibly could have been linked to human habitation. But at length, Jay had worked his way to the back where there was another opening into the darkness.

"There appears to be another chamber behind this one, Timothy. Come, bring the flashlights. I want to see if there's something—"

"Holy-moly, would ya look at that—?"

The two of them stood there, in awe, for several minutes. They trained the beam of the light back and forth over the wall of the second chamber. There were cave drawings—and in color, in whites and yellows and browns and reds all across the back wall. They had difficulty determining where the drawings started and where they ended—assuming there was any progression there at all.

"It's magnificent," Jay uttered when he could speak.

"I haven't seen anything like this outside of the caverns of France—maybe not even there," Timothy answered in a voice laced with wonder.

Trained scientists that they were, the two moved to find the beginning, once they recognized that it, indeed, was a continuing story.

It was thirsty work, and Timothy went back to the main cave to retrieve their water canteens.

"It's a love story," Jay called out at length, having followed the progression along the wall. "It's obviously the life of two men devoted to each other. And it lasted to the death. Here, at the end, the smaller of the men crouched over the larger one. Unmistakably tears falling on the dead lover. And this last panel in a decidedly different hand than the rest of it. And, oh my god, come back in here, Timothy. I think there are a couple of skeletons back here."

Jay stood and turned. Timothy was standing at the entrance of the second chamber. He had a strange expression on his face and his arms were half raised, cradling an object. Jay looked closely and saw that it was a staff—a cudgel, really—intricately carved and notched.

"I found this on a high rock ledge in the other room."

"Quite a find," Jay said. "The museum will love it. You'll no doubt get the assistant curator position you've wanted now. It must be eons old."

"I want you to have it. This will be your find. I didn't undermine your acquisition of the rock carvings that went to the Houston. And I want to make you believe me by my giving this to you. You will rise to curator on this."

"Put it down, Timothy."

"Why?"

"Look into my eyes, Timothy. You'll know why then. The love story on this wall is deeply affecting and suggestive. I believe you, and I apologize for doubting you—and I am in the mood."

"Here? Now?"

"And why not? This seems to have been the perfect love nest. The walls do not lie."