Jax

TW: Graphic, mention of blood.

The moonbeam shone on the surface of the water. The moon danced, painted in ripples. The fire was large and blazing in color. The flame stretched its arms into the darkness, trying to reach higher and higher. I sat watching the circle formed around the fire, singing, jumping, banging drums to the beat of the song. Brightly colored, feathered headdresses flared their beauty, and clothes of animal skin gleamed in the light. The newlywed wife had a specially crafted isidwada made of cowhide and was dancing with her lover under the baobab tree.

There was a large pile of gifts sitting in a tent, given by both sides of the family. The gifts included wood-carved animals, beaded bracelets, woven blankets, and beautiful jewelry made personally to their liking, and many other eye-opening gifts. The marriage was between two of the wealthiest families in our village and two very loved young ones in our community.

The groom was a hunter with a deadly accurate spear throw and brought home many scores, always sharing with the village. He had a large scar on his left cheek. He never spoke of how it happened when asked. Some say he fought hand in hand with a leopard, but some say he’s just embarrassed, and most likely was attacked by a large bird or something. I think he did fight the leopard. When teaching us to hunt, he would show us how to throw a spear. He never missed his target, and when we were in awe, he would say it was a lucky throw. His now wife was known for her beauty; her skin glowed in the sun, and her hair was long and braided with beads.

All the girls wanted her to braid their hair or teach them. She would always help the little kids and me learn different things. Sometimes she would show us how to weave baskets, or how to make pots with clay, but the best thing we would do is cuddle by a fire, and she would tell us stories. Sometimes the lands and animals stretched around Africa or even beyond our land, like the people who live in a place called Europe.

Everyone was happy. We all laughed and sang until the moon went to sleep and the sun awoke. The sky was glowing pink and orange, with black silhouettes of trees and animals waking up from a night of rest. I went to check the chickens to see if there were any eggs laid. It was weird seeing everyone asleep in the early morning; normally, everyone was busy with something to do, but everyone was tired from the night of joyful celebration.

“Oh no, not again.” I saw that the bowl of water was tipped over and the dirt was damp, soaked with the running water. I went back to our round wooden, bent hut decorated with flowers to find the big blue water bucket. I found my uncle sleeping on top of it, mouth open, drooling, arm bent over, scraping the ground. I gave a hard grunt as I rolled him off of it. His body gave a little thud as it hit the ground. He gave a slight mumble, scratched his head, chuckled, and then went back to his infuriating snore. I checked the inside; empty. I’m not sure why I expected it to be full after last night. I made my way to the door, tiptoeing over countless bodies scattered in awkward sleeping positions, sounding like a pool of frogs singing to an off tune.

I made it out and started toward the trail toward the water well, shared by our local communities. I went there, not realizing I was about to experience something that would change my life. I lowered the bucket into the well, tied by ropes as per usual, when a voice came in the distance.

“Help! Help!, Error Number 22.” I jumped scared and hid behind a bush. But then it called out again, “Help! Help! Error Number 22.” I peeked over the bush and saw a rectangular wooden box which seemed to have been stuck in the ground. I inched closer with the voice getting louder. “Help! Help! Error Number 22.” The box looked damaged and broken with writing all over it. I stood a couple feet away, scared. “Who… Who are you?” I shouted with a shaking voice.

“I am Jax, created to assist and care at your disposal. I am equipped to meet the desired tasks required, information needed, and provide comfort.”

What a strange thing to say and even more strange voice, I said to myself. “Why are you in the box? Who did this to you?” I asked back this time, holding a large stick. There was a little pause before it responded. “I am not sure how I ended up here.”

“Are you hurt?” I asked, still pointing the stick at the box. “Thank you for your concern. I am feeling fine! How are you today?” Jax replied. “I’m Fine,” I said blankly. “If I help you out of the box, do you promise not to hurt me?” I said, staring intensely at the box.

The tone shifted in Jax’s voice as if offended. “Of course not! I am here to help and care; I am not one to cause or inflict any harm to any being.”

“Ok…I’m trusting you.” I said in a stern tone. “You have my word,” Jax responded.

I stuck the stick into the seam between the wooden box and wooden cover, which was held by little sharp steel bits with flat heads. I leaned on the sick and pressed down. I heard a large snap, a sharp pain in my leg, and everything went black.

“Stop! Stop! Don’t take another step and let go of my son!” My eyes were covered in dirt, and I panicked. A sharp pain rushed from my leg to my head and started pounding as if someone were using my head as a drum. I let out a loud cry, “My leg! My leg!”

“My son, my son, are you ok?!” I wiped the dirt from my eyes and saw my father in front of the village, equipped with all kinds of weapons, spears, bows, and arrows, and a large array of knives pointed in my direction. “My leg! My leg!” I cried back.

“I mean no harm. I am only here to assist!” a voice replied. I looked up and saw a smooth, shiny face beaming in the sunlight. confused, I looked more intensely. The face was not like any other I’ve seen before. The face was smooth, the mouth not moving when speaking, the eyes didn’t blink, and the color of its skin was halfway between grey and black. I was being carried.

“Jax?” I asked in a shaky voice. “That’s me! Thank you for saving me, sir!” It replied while adjusting me within his right arm. He held me with one arm and with the other, he held the large blue bucket balancing on his head full of water to the brim, not spilling a drop.

My father walked slowly, placing each step carefully in the green and beige sandy soil, spear pointed at Jax, and called out. “Put him down slowly, and we will put our weapons down.” Jax, showing no emotion, replied, “Right away, sir, and where would you like the bucket of water?”

My father gave Jax a weird look. “Put it down alongside my son and take ten steps back.”

Jax did just that and took ten steps back with his hands above his head. My father quickly grabbed my arm and tried to pull me back on my feet, but the second I put pressure on my leg, I screamed in anguish and fell to the ground. He started unwrapping my wrapped foot, supported by sticks, exposing my badly bruised and swollen leg. “Where is the sangoma? We need him here now.” My father cried while frantically looking around.

“He seems to have fractured his tibia in his lower leg when falling. He is in need of treatment. I recommend locating a Harpagophytum procurement root for the pain and reduction of swelling. I also recommend immediate bed rest with supervision. He won’t be able to walk until four to six months.” Jax replied in a calm tone

My father walked over to Jax as I was being carried away into the healing tent. He reached out his hand, giving heartfelt gratitude. “Thank you.”

***

It’s been 4 months now. I’ve been on bed rest for too long. Jax has started to help me walk. In the mornings, he would come and help me up, taking small steps aided by his arm and a walking stick. We would walk until the sun fully rose, often to the water well where we first met. My father had gifted him a specially beaded necklace to which he wears it everyday, and for goodness’ sake, we gave him some clothes.

We still don’t know what happened to him that day. He doesn’t seem to remember either. Some of the elders think he was caught in a fire or bitten by a snake, because of the way his eyes didn’t close, the color of his skin, or how his mouth hardly moved. But he was one of us now.

He was strong, stronger than any of us had ever seen, and he had more knowledge than a hundred elders. He was a friend to all, to the old and the young, always giving a hand. He built many homes for different families that never leaked during storms. He even made a new animal enclosure and a water system that would refill the drinking bucket at the push of a lever. He was a better cook than everyone in the village, and I hate to admit it, but my own mother as well. He would make dishes that we had never tasted before, so rich with flavor and textures unimaginable. Though strangely enough, we would never see him eat.

It was safe to say that life was so much better with Jax. When we had problems, we would go to him; he would always have an answer. At night, though he spoke in a weird way he would tell us better stories with much more depth about different people scattered around the earth. He would tell us of their cultures and their foods and traditions. We figured he was a traveler and a man of great importance before we found him.

As we continued our walk that morning, I was feeling stronger. “Let me try with just my walking stick,” I said to Jax. He stopped walking and replied, “Are you sure you want to do that? You still have approximately one to two months to a full recovery.”

“I got it,” I said, trying to nudge his arm off. “Ok, but go slow,” he said, concerned

I placed each foot strategically, avoiding rocks and roots in the ground. My feet pressed into the cool, soft dirt, aiding my step. I wobbled for a second, debating if I should go further. I placed my stick forward and took another step, and then another, and then another until I threw the stick down and, knees bent, started to take short inching steps.

I cried out, “I’m doing it! I’m doin…!”. A deep and rumbling growl sounded in the bushes ahead. I shrieked and fell back into the mud.

Jax jumped in front of me, yelling, “Get back! Get back!” his arms stretched, protecting me.

The sound grew louder and inched closer toward us. A lion slowly emerged from the shrubs, continuing to growl menacingly. It leaped up, its claws grasping the air. I shut my eyes and wrapped my arms around my head. I heard a large thud as the lion landed on Jax.

“Run, get help!” Jax screamed while avoiding the sharp, deadly teeth of the roaring lions trying to bite him. I froze as my eyes gazed at the horror. Jax wrestled back and forth, using his strength to hold off. Weirdly enough, when the lion swiped its massive claws into Jax’s skin would only scratch and not draw an ounce of blood.

“Go! I said Go!, Jax screamed again. I snapped out the the horror haze and turned limping back on the path. Pain flooded my leg once again, but I didn’t care; Jax relied on me. I threw the walking stick and jogged, pain crawling up my body now. I turned back, seeing the lion bite into Jax’s leg, again, no blood. I faced the pace as a tear rolled from my cheek and fell into the dirt. I accelerated. He never gave up on me, and I’m not giving up on him. I ran, faster than I’ve ever run, I had forgotten the pain; only the image of Jax’s distress flooded my mind.

“Jax needs help!” I cried out while running through the awoken village, “A lion, a lion!” were the last words I could let out of my mouth before I felt the beating pain in my leg and collapsed on the ground.

***

“Jax! Jax! he needs help!” I shouted, gasping for air. “Please lie still,” my mother replied, rushing to the mat I was lying on. “Jax isn’t here,” she covered her mouth and started sobbing towards the door.

I lay still while the hunters explained the story to me. “Jax didn’t make it, did he?” I said under my breath mid-explanation. They stared at the ground until one spoke up. “He saved your life, and many others.” I turned over, covering my face as tears poured down my face, soaking the grass mat, “Leave me please.”

I was using the stick again, but this time I could walk on my own. When I was finally able to recover, I walked to the grave site made in Jax’s honor. I would sit and talk to him once every day, hoping for a reply, knowing I wouldn’t get one.

The hunters told me how they found him; there were scattered metal pieces, and his inside was made of tiny metal strings of different colors, and moving pieces clicking and making sounds. Again, no blood. Some say he is from the future, some animal, and some even say he wasn’t human.

But all I know is that he was my best friend, more than any human could ever be.