Eve: In the Beginning (30 page)

Holding his breath and keeping still, Adam counted the deer he saw. There were nine of them, although he was sure that there had been more back at the bushes. Some must have moved on, past the stream.

Adam’s heart thudded as he watched the serenity of the deer. He estimated how close he’d have to be to capture one without letting it bolt out of his reach again. With his senses alert, he took a careful step forward, then another, working his way around a couple of trees. The sharp stick gripped tightly in his hand, Adam took one more deep breath and leapt toward the nearest deer.

For an instant, he couldn’t believe that he had reached the deer, and one hand clenched the fur of its upper back. Just as the deer’s muscles contracted beneath his grip, Adam drove the stick into the deer’s neck with his other hand.

The animal bolted, dragging Adam with it, the stick still embedded. He grabbed on with his other hand and held on as the deer dragged him into the stream, its muscles stronger than Adam expected.

When Adam’s knees hit the water and scraped against the rocks, his grip faltered, and the deer slipped away. He scrambled to his feet, not taking the time to examine his injuries, and plunged through the stream after the deer. The beast was fast, but Adam could see that he’d injured it enough that the deer was slower than its herd.

Adam pushed his own muscles to keep moving, to stay on the deer’s trail as it trampled through the trees. Then silence rose over Adam’s labored breathing. He slowed then stopped when he reached the deer, lying on its side, its body trembling.

Exhilaration and regret collided in Adam’s body. He sank to his knees, keeping his eyes on the failing beast as its side rose and fell with each breath. He stayed in one spot as the deer took its final breaths.

When all was still, Adam whispered a prayer of thanksgiving to Elohim. Then he rose and pulled out the stick. His eyes burned at the sight of the majestic creature lifeless on the ground. Bending, he lifted the deer into his arms, then moved it over his shoulder.

Adam turned back and crossed the stream, balancing the deer as he stepped on the wet rocks. As much as taking the animal’s life pained him, he was determined to make good use of it and to reach Eve before nightfall.

And I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel.

Genesis 3:15

The dark creeps across the valley, moving closer to where I huddle on the ridge. Doubt rings through my mind, becoming louder and more deafening. Why did I follow Adam? What if he doesn’t make it back to the ridge before nightfall? The wind pulls at my coats, and I adjust them higher along my neck, trying to carve out more warmth from the animal fur.

My mind blurs with the waiting, and I drift off into dreams of nothingness. But the wind always cuts across, waking me up time and time again. I realize that my strength is fading, and without any recent nourishment, I might be too exhausted to make it back to our dwelling before dark.

When the valley is half-consumed by shadow, I stand, my hope waning with the diminishing light. I pause a few more moments, then start up the ridge. My breathing comes fast with the effort, and when I crest the hill, I turn a final time.

That’s when I see a movement in the trees below me. I hold my breath as I watch, my heart pounding. I am sure it’s him. It has to be.

A moment passes, then another. I lose sight of the moving figure; then it emerges from the trees at the bottom of the valley. Relief pours through me. Adam is starting up the incline, some sort of large animal slung over one shoulder.

His pace is determined as he strides up the hill. When he lifts his gaze and sees me, he pauses. I can’t read his expression from this distance, so I wait until he gets closer. My heart clenches as I realize he’s carrying a deer. I clasp my hands together as Adam climbs to the top of the ridge. He’s breathing heavily, but his expression seems happy.

“I just couldn’t wait alone,” I say.

Adam slides the deer off his shoulder and sits down next to it, taking several deep breaths. He stares out over the valley, and I notice that his hands are stained with blood. There are bruises along his forearms, no doubt from capturing the deer.

The deer’s eyes are open and unseeing, a small sprout of horns atop its head. It’s a young male.

I wait in the silence for Adam to speak. The sun sinks behind us, turning the already-cloudy day colder. I remove the bear skin from my shoulders and hand it over to Adam.

“You wear it back to the dwelling,” he says. His tone is flat, and although I’m glad he’s speaking to me, my throat tightens with emotion. He still hasn’t looked at me since we’ve been sitting.

Reluctantly I pull the coat back on, sneaking another glance at him. He doesn’t shiver, but he must be cold. The wind is sharp, and dark is approaching fast.

I wait for Adam to stand first, but he continues to stare out over the valley. After a few moments, I say, “It will be dark soon. We should make our way back in case the moon doesn’t cut through the clouds.”

When he still remains silent, I say, “Can I help you carry the deer?”

He finally turns his head, and my stomach sinks as his gaze searches mine. I want to know what he is thinking.

“You didn’t rest as I asked you to, and now you expect to have the strength to carry the deer?”

I open my mouth to answer, but he cuts me off. “You won’t help carry the deer, Eve. I may spend too much time praying, but I don’t expect my wife to carry a heavy beast.”

“I didn’t expect you to —”

“I know,” he says, letting out a sigh. “But you were right.”

I blink back my surprise.

“Elohim is probably tired of being pestered anyway. We need to do what we can for ourselves, making our best effort, and pray that Elohim will fill in the rest.”

I nod, exhaling a silent sigh of relief. “I think Elohim has blessed us already,” I say, gesturing toward the deer.

“I think you’re right,” Adam says, his tone softened. He stands and holds his hand out. I gratefully accept his help as he pulls me to my feet. The touch of his hand is warm and reassuring.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Much better,” I say.

Adam unties a knot at the edge of his skin coat. “I found berries.” He gives me a handful, and I eat them. They are a bit dried and withered but sweet enough.

“Are these from that valley?”

“Yes,” Adam says. “The deer were gathered around the bushes. That’s how I noticed the berries.”

“This valley might be a good place to explore further.”

Adam nods once. “There’s at least one herd of deer roaming the area and plenty of trees that might bloom fruit when the winter season is over.”

I hope this means Adam is considering allowing some distance between us and the Garden. Hope renews itself in my heart. We’ve made it this far, this long, and now Adam has caught a deer. I steal a look at its lifeless body. In the garden, I would have been repulsed to even consider eating the flesh of any of the animals, but after many moons of eating fish and after my stomach’s reaction this morning, I look forward to a new meal.

He picks up the deer and settles it over his shoulder. Then he looks at me, his gaze cautious. “Ready?”

We walk together, Adam breathing hard from the weight he is carrying.

“Was it hard to capture the deer?” I glance behind me, but the ridge now conceals the valley.

“Not nearly as hard as a bear,” Adam says, his tone light. His mouth turns up at the corners. “No claws.”

I laugh, and laughter settles over me, warm and comforting.

When we make it back to our dwelling place, the moon is high in the sky. I know that Adam must be exhausted from carrying the deer the entire way, but he insists on removing the skin and preparing the flesh while I create a Fire.

I eat a few more of the berries, staving off just a bit of the hunger that wrenches through me. I am sure Adam feels even more hunger than I do. He works quickly in the light of the Fire. He is now more adept at preparing an animal because of the experience with the bears and the leopard.

As the deer flesh heats up over the Fire, I am grateful that fish won’t be our meal tonight, nor for many days to come.

Adam stared up at the black sky as Eve slept next to him. Bright spots of light peeked through the spaces between the clouds.
Stars.
There were so many of them. The potential for other worlds out there seemed endless, and Adam wondered what was going on in those other worlds.

Were there other humans in other spheres praying to Elohim as well? Was Elohim able to hear and answer every prayer? Had other peoples spiritually fallen and were now cut off from their Maker?

Eve turned to her side, and Adam felt a pang in his heart. He needed to take better care of his wife. Instead of spending the days on his knees, he should be building a more permanent shelter, and to do that, he needed trees.

He slipped out of the coverings, leaving Eve asleep, and walked in the chilly air to the dark and silent altar. He paused, staring at it for several moments. Then he lifted his gaze toward the garden. It felt distant, especially in the dark, and from another existence only remotely related to what he was facing now. Frustration swept through Adam as he remembered the warmth, the plentiful fruit, and the sun-filled days inside the garden.

Yet, even before Lucifer arrived, Eve had become impatient within the confines of the garden.

If it had been up to him, Adam realized, they might have lived there forever. He blew out a breath, disappointed in himself and his lack of strength. Eve would be the one who would suffer the most, and she already had physical ailments, so he needn’t complain.

His gaze fell on the altar’s bulky shape. The rocks seemed to shift in shape, but that was impossible. Rocks didn’t move on their own. The hairs on the back of Adam’s neck rose, and a shiver trailed along his arms.

He took a step forward, squinting in the dull light, trying to make out why the altar looked different. Then he realized that someone was sitting on the ground, leaning against the altar. The figure rose to standing, rising in height above Adam.

“Good evening,” the low voice said.

The figure was too tall to be Lucifer. Apprehension slid across Adam’s skin. “Who are you?” He didn’t know whether to step closer or to run back to Eve and protect her.

The being watched Adam, not in a hurry to explain himself. His arms seemed too long for his body as he clasped his hands in front of him. He wore a dark-colored skin coat, reminding Adam of Lucifer.

“Who are you?” Adam asked again, letting his voice grow louder. He didn’t want to wake Eve, but he didn’t like the presence of this being.

“I am your brother,” the being said.

A chill brushed across Adam’s skin. He’d heard the phrase before, and although this wasn’t Lucifer, the person’s presence felt like a disturbing intrusion. “My brother? Where are you from?”

“The outer world — the world of knowledge.” The voice came soft yet deep.

“Are you an outcast?” Adam asked, taking a small step back. He wasn’t entirely sure what this person wanted.

The laugh was raspy and thick. “Aren’t we all?”

I am
, Adam thought. “When?”

“You don’t remember? You were there.”

Adam took another subtle step back. “So you chose to follow Lucifer?”

The air was heavy with hesitation. “
Follow
isn’t the description I’d use.”

Adam’s heart sank. This being was connected to Lucifer somehow. Where Lucifer was, Adam didn’t know. Lucifer had been out of sight since the great Fire. Tendrils of fear crept over Adam’s skin. Even with Lucifer absent, there seemed to be no shortage of other beings.

“Adam?” Eve’s voice cut through him.

He turned to tell her to stay back, to remain where she was, but he saw no one.

Her voice came again, calling “Adam?” but this time it was on his right side. Adam spun, again seeing nothing. His gaze went back to the stranger, but no one was near the altar. “Where are you?” Adam called out, his breath coming fast. “You can tell our brother Lucifer that your kind isn’t welcome here. I won’t have his minions coming near me or my wife.”