Eve: In the Beginning (24 page)

Deep pain twisted in Adam’s arms and shoulders, and a pungent smell was in the air — a smell he couldn’t quite describe. The last thing he remembered was driving a branch into the chest of the bear. Adam sat up, looking around him, surprised to see the light of morning softening the sky. Eve slept next to him, but where was the bear? They were sleeping in the open, with no sheltering branches above them.

He examined his arms, which were plastered with leaves. His wife must have treated his wounds. But he was more concerned about what had happened to the bear. Adam looked around, searching for the beast. He was certain he’d killed it. The clouds were heavy, masking the rising sun, but there was enough light for him to assess that the bear was gone.

“You’re awake,” Eve said next to him. She was sitting up, her eyes wide in the gray light. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not sure yet.” The pain was deep, and he felt tired. Hungry. Cold. But none of that was new. “What happened to the bear?”

“I skinned it.” Her voice sounded breathless. “Its coat is spread over the bushes by the river, and I dumped the flesh in the river.”

“We could have eaten the flesh.”

“I know,” she said in a small voice. “I just ... couldn’t ... not after I removed the skin.” She looked down at her hands as if remembering the task.

Adam placed his hands on hers, trying not to wince at the movement. Her hands were warm, but the warmth was fading fast in the cold morning air. “Are you all right?”

She laughed faintly. “There’s no need to worry about me. You’re the one who fought and killed a bear.” She looked at his arms.

He looked down at the plastered leaves. “Thank you for doing this. I ...” He thought of the fight with the bear and how he’d lost the upper hand at one point. The injuries could have been much worse.

“How did you best the bear?” Eve asked.

“It was busy eating, so I crept up on it, but it turned just as I was about to use the branch.” He shuddered at the memory of the bear’s wild eyes focused on him. “It lunged at me, and I was able to stake it.” Turning his arms over, he gazed at his open wounds. “I held the stake in place so the bear couldn’t run off. That’s when it clawed back at me.”

She nodded, her expression solemn. “I was worried about you. I couldn’t wake you last night.”

He looked at her, then noticed that the strange smell was on her as well. “What is that smell?” It might be the bear, but it didn’t smell at all as the leopard had.

Eve looked away from him.

“Tell me,” he said. Her eyes were lowered, her shoulders slack. He glanced at their surroundings again. Everything was gray in the cloudy light of morning. The white flakes from the night before were gathered in a few places, still claiming parts of the ground as their own.

Not too far from where he sat, a patch of dark earth — nearly black — formed a round shape. There was something odd about it. It looked as though mist rose from the black patch.

Glancing at Eve, he saw that she was looking at the black space as well.

“The ground is burned,” she said in a halting voice.

“Burned?”

“Burned hot,” she said, “by Fire.” She took a deep breath. “Adam ... I know a way to create heat — heat like that from the sun — that can keep us warm on cold days and nights.”

Something pressed at the back of his mind, a memory or a recollection of what might have been a dream, but he couldn’t quite grasp it, and it faded just as quickly as it had come.

“I’ll show you,” Eve said. She rose and broke off some twigs and leaves from a nearby bush. Then she carried them to the middle of the black patch. Scooping something off the ground, she held up two rocks — at least what looked like black rocks. “These are used to create the Fire.” She crouched down and struck the two pieces together.

Adam flinched as yellow light sparked from the black rock. It glowed bright in the gray day, and Eve held it against the twigs and leaves she’d gathered. The yellow light grew, flickering, changing form by the instant as if it were breathing in and out and then growing larger and larger.

Eve gathered more twigs and placed them on the bright light. “This is Fire,” she said. “Last night the Fire was large and kept us warm.” Her eyes sought his over the vibrant yellow. “Come and place your hands near the Fire.”

Adam stared at her, then looked at the Fire that she had stretched her hands over. “Who taught you to do this?”

She looked past him. When she spoke, her voice was nearly a whisper. “You were so cold ... and lifeless. I couldn’t warm your body.” Her gaze rose to the sky. “He told me this was a season — winter — and it would last for several moons.”

“Lucifer?” Adam said. “He came last night?”

“He showed me how to make Fire, how to keep ourselves warm in this season.” She rushed on, her eyes deep green as she looked at him. “I know we don’t want him to teach us anything, but knowing how to make Fire will save our lives —” She broke off, and Adam struggled with the churning emotions inside him.

He hadn’t expected to be rendered helpless by the bear and to make Eve worry about keeping him warm through the night. It also seemed that Lucifer wasn’t going to relent, no matter where they traveled. He had showed up just when Eve was desperate for warmth and provided it for her.

Exhaling, Adam tried to make sense of his anger mixed with both confusion and relief. He could already see that Fire would be useful. If he and Eve could warm their bodies when the season was winter, they could warm other things ... like water from the river. And they could speed up the drying of the bear skin.

The scent remaining from the Fire was still strange to Adam, though it wasn’t entirely repellent. But why did it have to come from Lucifer — and not Elohim? Adam knew he and Eve had been cut off spiritually, but if the cold had held off a few more days, he would have had the chance to build an altar and begin worshipping.

He noticed the tremble in Eve’s hands. She’d withdrawn them from the Fire as it had started to diminish, leaving a black mark in its place.

Carefully, Adam climbed to his feet, hesitating as dizziness drove through him. When it passed, he crossed to Eve. She looked up at him, questioning and hope in her eyes.

“Show me how to make this Fire,” he said, crouching next to her.

And they heard the voice of God walking in the garden in the cool of the day: and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of God amongst the trees of the garden.

Genesis 3:8

Adam’s exposed arms strain as he lifts the final rock to complete the altar. I have exhausted myself in carrying, rolling, and lifting rocks. We are both clothed in animal coats now: Adam wears the bear skin, and I wear the leopard skin. And we have captured and killed another bear, using its skin to cover us at night.

It has been several days since Lucifer showed me how to make Fire, and I have learned to contain it and make it grow. I haven’t seen Lucifer since that night he was stooped over the bright glow of Fire, but I sense he is never far away and certainly pays attention to what we are doing.

Brushing his hands together, Adam turns and walks toward me. Today the sun is bright and the sky clear and blue. The sun provides more warmth than we are used to, although tonight we’ll still be able to see our breath. The breeze stirs Adam’s hair, which has grown darker since leaving the garden, and instead of catching the gold of the sun, his hair turns a darker bronze. He sits next to me on the boulder I have chosen. His breath comes fast from all the exertion, but I know that soon he’ll want to begin worshipping.

We have chosen to settle east of the garden, near the entry, on the other side of the garden border from our former dwelling. The river runs beneath the wall that Adam built so long ago, giving us a connection between our new home and our old home. It’s remarkable to think that we once swam in this river on the other side of the border, where the river was cool and pleasant — not bitter cold as it is now, in this winter season.

“Are you ready?” Adam asks, reaching for my hand. His grasp is as warm and strong as before the bear injured him. His wounds have healed well, and although there will be many scars remaining, he is as healthy as he’s ever been.

I look up at him as he reaches over and brushes the blowing hair from my face. His touch makes my face warm, and the warmth spreads down to my neck. I wonder again if he will kiss me as he did that day Lucifer interrupted. So much has happened since then. There has been no time to dwell on those things.

And now the altar is finally built and ready.

“Let’s go,” I say, standing with Adam. We walk hand in hand toward the altar, and my heart pings for how life was in the garden — for how we called upon Elohim with the soft, green grass beneath our feet and the multiple trees, with their large leaves and sweet fruit, around us.

The wind tugs at my coat and lifts my hair from my neck. Small bumps dot my skin, and I glance over at Adam. He is focused on the altar and drops my hand as he kneels, folds his hands on top of the altar, and bows his head.

I kneel next to Adam and clasp my hands together as he begins to pray.

His words are thick and choked in the beginning. “O Elohim, hear our prayer on this day.”

Emotion swells within my own breast. I want Elohim to hear our prayers, to answer us, and to open communication with us again, and I can hear the same desire in Adam’s voice.

I stare at the east border of the garden, wondering if Elohim is within the garden or if he is in his Heaven. Does he know about Lucifer teaching me how to create Fire? Of course he does, I decide. Elohim knows all things.

I squeeze my eyes shut, adding my silent pleas to Adam’s verbal ones. I wish Elohim would break his silence and give us further instruction. I think of the instruction he gave before we left — that we should eat by the sweat of our own labor and that our sorrow would be multiplied as we bring forth children.

I rest my head against Adam’s shoulder, moisture sliding along my cheeks as his unanswered words echo in the silent wilderness. We have yet to bring forth children, to follow the commandment to multiply and replenish the earth. Is Elohim waiting for us to fulfill this commandment before communicating with us again?

“What are you doing?” a voice says.

I open my eyes. Lucifer stands a few paces away in front of the altar. He wasn’t there a few moments ago, and I marvel at the way he travels.

Adam rises immediately. “We are praying to Elohim, which doesn’t concern you.”

A half smile forms on Lucifer’s face. In the bright sunlight, his hair has a burnished look to it, but his eyes are as black as ever. His gaze moves slowly from Adam to me.

I keep my mouth tightly closed. I won’t speak to him, even if he did teach me to make Fire.

“And has Elohim answered you yet?”

Adam says nothing, staring at Lucifer. The two lock gazes for a tense moment.

“It’s as I suspected,” Lucifer says. “You have been cut off, have you not?”

I nod my head and then catch myself and don’t move.

The glimmer in Lucifer’s eyes tells me he noticed my movement. His gaze focuses on me as Adam grasps my hand.

“You have a resourceful wife, Adam,” Lucifer says, his voice as smooth as the river. “She saved your life the other night, and it was with skills that
I
taught her.”

Adam swallows audibly, but still he says nothing.

Lucifer walks toward us. I feel Adam stiffen beside me, but he doesn’t move, and his grasp doesn’t change.

“Don’t you think you should be grateful to her?” Lucifer says. “For being teachable?” He stops walking and stands on the other side of the altar from us. The carefully constructed pile of stones is no protection from his intense glare.

Why can’t he leave us alone? Why does he always try to interfere?

“You are not wanted here, Lucifer. You will never be wanted,” Adam said.

The smile on Lucifer’s face only widens. “Maybe you should tell that to your wife. She seems to feel differently.”

I can’t keep my silence any longer. “I’ve never welcomed you, Lucifer. You twist every word and every action.”

His dark brows arch high as his gaze settles on me. “I know what you want more than you do yourself. You can’t deny that the Fire has been useful.”

“It has,” I say in a quiet voice.

“I am Elohim of this world,” he says. “And the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can learn to become masters of your own lives. Fire is only one element that is useful. There is much more I can teach you.”

My breath stalls, but I have been enticed by Lucifer before and know that he gives out knowledge only in part truths. I am grateful I know how to make Fire, but I suspect there is danger to the knowledge as well, something hidden that Lucifer has not revealed.

Suddenly Lucifer is standing right in front of me. Adam puts his hand around my waist and moves me a step back, but I can’t look anywhere but into Lucifer’s eyes. I don’t know how he manages to completely capture my gaze without my consent.

As Lucifer stares at me, it’s as if Adam fades. I know Adam’s still holding my hand, but I can no longer feel his touch. I feel as though the black has somehow moved inside me, like a dark thundercloud that expands and shifts, filling the recesses of my soul.