All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923) (18 page)

“On the count of three then,” said Jorel. They both counted, “One, two, three!”

Kole threw fingers, and Jorel threw a fist and won the first round. A few groans were heard from the crowd. Jorel laughed.

“Ha, ha, got you on that one Kole.”

“Yes, you sure did,” said Kole. He realized that either Jorel could not resist his natural desire to throw fist out first or that Jorel had thought one move further than he had given him credit for. Either way, Kole knew now how to win.

The second throw was easy. Kole knew that Jorel would not through fist again. He also knew that one move forward would seem too obvious so he would lean toward flathand. Kole looked into Jorel’s eyes and wondered if he might try to move one forward again, but that would mean throwing fist, and Kole thought he was too competitive to try it. On the count of three, Kole threw fingers and won the round.

“One each,” said Adam.

Kole looked at Jorel again, and this time their eyes met, each man grinning, trying to outguess the other. Kole knew that the obvious move for him would be to move two positions forward and this time throw fist, but he knew that Jorel would know that also. Jorel would not throw flathand but would instead anticipate Kole moving one more forward to fingers, and he would throw fist again. As both men said three and shot their hands out, Kole covered Jorel’s fist with a flathand, winning his second.

“Two for Kole, one Jorel,” said Adam. “Game point.”

Jorel looked stunned. Kole could see he was going around and around in his thoughts, trying to discern where he went wrong and what would be Kole’s next move. Kole knew what to do. On his first throw he had thrown fingers. On his second he had actually, after all the thinking and second-guessing, only moved one forward to flathand. If he held to that pattern he would throw fist this time, but Jorel would know that. He would also hope that Kole would guess that he would anticipate that and thus throw next, which would be fingers. Kole simply moved one more forward, and as their hands came down on three Kole again threw flat and won the game.

“Whoa,” came the unanimous response from those watching. “Better luck next time, Jorel,” some said.

Luck, there was another word that Kole was unfamiliar with.

“We have a new champion,” declared Adam.

Kole partially hid his smile and looked at Jorel, who was still staring at his hand as if it had betrayed him. Slowly he looked up.

“I can’t believe you got me,” he said.

“It was a good game, Jorel,” replied Kole. “I thank you.”

“It was a good game,” said Jorel, “and I’m going to be thinking about those moves of yours. I’d like a rematch sometime.” He held out his hand, and Kole shook it.

“Sure, a rematch sounds good,” Kole agreed.

“Perhaps boys, but not now, we have work to do, and it’s getting late in the day. Let’s get the stuff up to the carts.”

A unanimous “yes, sir” was voiced, and everyone quickly drifted away to their duties.

“Let us walk, my son,” said Adam. He put his arm around Kole’s shoulder and led him away from the activities of the camp. “It has been a hundred years since you left for the garden. Many changes have taken place in your absence. Look around you at the obvious, Kole. There are new faces, new foods, new ideas. We do not eat our food out of leaves or off of flat rocks. We have tamed wood and stone and fashioned bowls, tools, and utensils. We have developed far more intricate methods of braiding and weaving fibers into baskets and rope.

My eighth son, Arin, took as wife the second daughter of Cain’s second son, Pakis. Together they pondered the problems of getting from our camp to Cain’s city. They designed the roll, a round wooden or stone circle that when placed on a frame beneath a seat can be pulled by animals. We use them, the carts, to transport things and people back and forth between our home and this camp; as well as to the city of Enoch.”

“I thought this place was your home, father,” Kole questioned.

“I will always think of it as such, and that is why I insist on returning here several times a year. I love this place. It holds all my best memories. But our family outgrew it years ago. Too little cleared land between the woods and the river. We found a place, just a half day’s walk from here where water runs through a large, open prairie. There is much game there and tillable soil. The fishing is good, and we have built homes along the banks of the stream on both sides; wooden homes that shelter us from the wind and heat, and perhaps from each other. With so many living so closely together, there is little privacy.

“There is so much land, Father. Why crowd together?”

“The children are afraid, Kole. Even the grown ones, but the women especially. You see, the animals have changed. They’ve turned, so to speak. We have lost two children in the last twenty years to animal attacks. One to a pack of hungry raptors and the other to a bold eagle that swooped down and carried a baby off in its talons. One of my great-sons, Thoal, was even attacked by a lion. He managed to get away but not before receiving four claw gashes across his cheek and nose. He got very sick before the Lord healed him.”

“I think I met him yesterday, Father.”

“Yes, well, the animals are not the worst of it. The people from Enoch, in the land of Nod, are rapidly forgetting the ways of the Lord. A few years ago a young woman from our camp was out collecting herbs and ingredients for her cooking when two men from Enoch attacked her. Several other incidents have been reported to me as well. Men from here want to go and confront Cain for these atrocities, but I have forbidden it. He would just deny knowing of them, and we would fall further apart as a family.

“I know now the true punishment of the curse the Lord has placed upon us for my sin. The love of family stretches thinner and thinner until finally it becomes so tenuous it simply cannot be seen. Once that happens, other emotions fill the void left behind—anger, envy, bitterness. Before long, Kole, I am afraid those of Cain will come by might and power and will force us to live in their city. When that happens, the way of the Lord will, like love, be stretched to the point of invisibility. Who knows what ways will emerge to fill the spaces left behind. Nothing good though, have no doubt.”

“Father,” asked Kole, “what is ‘luck?’ I heard one of the men this morning tell Jorel ‘better luck next time.’ What did he mean by that?”

“Ah yes, you see what I mean already, don’t you, my son? Luck is one of those ideas that has sprung up in recent years and caught on among the youth. It is the belief that sometimes good things happen and sometimes bad things happen depending upon what other events are going on simultaneously, as opposed to seeing the Lord’s hand in it.”

“Like believing you can win over and over again at fist, fingers, flathand without the ability to second-guess the other player?”

“Exactly, my son,” said Adam. “In a game of skill you need skill, not just luck. In life, you need God to guide you, not the wind, or the stars, or your favorite plate.”

Kole, using the awareness that the Creator had let him retain through the gift of the seeds, tuned himself in to his father’s natural rhythms. Adam’s body, his essence, sang a song of love and honesty on the surface. But the underlying notes were of remorse and a boundless desire to atone for past wrongs. Kole could sense it too in the earth, in the grasses, in the very air…a lamentation of loss, of previous glories now in captivity to the penalties the Lord had imposed.

“I believe we are ready to travel, Kole,” said Adam. “Let’s make haste, and we should be home well before nightfall.”

During the day’s travel, only one thing of note took place. The family had walked for quite some time before they stopped to take a short break. The children were tired and needed a rest, as did the men who were carrying the heaviest of the families’ belongings. The group paused under a group of willow trees near the edge of a steep bank that fell away in a rocky slope to the river’s edge. As those with burdens were easing their loads to the ground for a breather, three men who had been toting a large tree trunk that had been half hollowed out lost their balance and nearly slipped over the side. The boat, Kole later learned it was called, slipped out of their grips and hit the edge of the embankment heavily. The soft ground gave way under its weight, and the log slid down the slope to the water’s edge, wedging itself between two rocks.

After it had been confirmed that no one was hurt, Adam suggested they all have a bite to eat. “It doesn’t appear the boat is going anywhere,” he said, “so let’s worry about how we’ll get it back up here after we have all rested and refreshed ourselves.”

While food and water were passed around and people reclined in the knee-deep blanket of thick grasses, Kole stood on the edge of the bank and contemplated the log below. He tuned into the cooling sap that still sat with life deep inside its core. The trunk had once sung with vibrant life but had now, in essence, sacrificed itself to the dominion of man’s desire. It was now in the process of completing a change, taking on a new life. Not a life of living, participating in the great song of praise to the Eternal, but a life found only after death, one of service to mankind.

Kole had seen other boats that the family had, being paddled upstream under the direction of the men who guided it. It was actually an amazing accomplishment. To take the resources that God had provided mankind and to turn them into useful items of necessity. It was a testament to the wisdom and understanding that the Lord had blessed mankind with and promised that life, even under the penalties of the sin, would not always have to be so difficult.

Kole figured he could help his family. He easily ascertained where the balance point of the log was, even from this distance, and knew that he could use that knowledge to ease the challenge of bringing the boat back up the bank. While his family was engrossed in their meal or resting quietly in the heat of the day, Kole slipped over the side of the hill and slid down to the boat.

He spread his legs and braced himself, bending at the knees, and placed his two hands on either side of the wood. Lifting, the log came up easily, more so than he had expected, and he lifted it to his right shoulder. The boat balanced lightly, and Kole turned slowly putting one foot in front of the other, so as not to lose his footing in the loose rock, and began to climb back up the slope. Kole wondered to himself why the bank seemed steeper when looked at from the top. It certainly presented him with no challenge in getting back up. It took him almost no time at all to reach the top and pull himself up to level ground.

A man jumped up from where he had been leaning against the trunk of one of the willow trees and shouted, “Father!”

All eyes turned to Adam and then followed Adam’s stunned expression as he turned and looked at Kole. “My son,” Adam exclaimed and then hurriedly, “help him.” Two men rushed to Kole and each grabbed an end of the log attempting to lift it from Kole’s shoulder. A third man rushed to help, but Kole held up his free hand and stopped them.

“It’s alright, Father. Actually, if everyone is ready again to move out, I’ll just go ahead and carry this the rest of the way. I have it well balanced, and the weight is not so demanding when held in this manner. I’m sure I can always trade off with someone if it starts to wear me out.”

The entire family just stood there, mouths agape, knowing that a log that size would always require at least three men to move it. And Kole had just picked it up himself, carried it up a steep embankment, and now stood there suggesting that he could carry it that way, alone, for the next half a day.

“You heard him, everyone,” said Adam. “Let’s pack up quickly, and get moving.”

Within five minutes they were on their way, and Kole did not set the log down until he heard Adam’s voice later that day proclaiming, “Welcome home again, everyone.”