No Elephants to Remember

When the last elephant on earth is close to dying, will anyone really care?

No Elephants to Remember

 

Brian woke with a bone rattling cough, one he had grown accustomed to after all these years.

He wiped his bleary eyes and pushed himself out of the patchy armchair, shielding his eyes

from the morning's sun.

He had overslept, yet again.

Shaking his head, he plucked up an apple from the table beside his chair, then took a

 large bite. The sharp juice ran through his beard and down his shirt as he chewed without

relish. Some of the juice dripped onto the picture resting on his chest. He swore quietly, then

flicked the photo dry. After glancing briefly at the image, it was shoved it into his breast

pocket. 

Brian patted his trouser pockets, reassuring himself that the keys were still there.

He snatched up a pre-packed, tatty, aged rucksack and removed a beaten up metal canteen.

He sluggishly wiggled it by his ear, then unscrewed the cap. Brian refilled the flask with

brandy, occasionally taking a swig from the bottle as he did so, in order to flush out the taste

of apple, or so he told himself. After its lid was sealed, the canteen was thrown back into the

bag. It landed on a three-month old newspaper, the fading headline: 'EU COLLAPSES!',

caught his eye briefly. Yesterday's news. Brian paused for a moment, then threw the bag of

apples into the rucksack. He didn't usually eat much, but it didn't hurt to have them on hand,

just in case.

He stomped over to the front door. Two buckets, full to the brim with vegetables, were

 waiting for him. He was bending down to pick up the first bucket, when the clasp of his

rucksack snapped open again. The canteen rolled down his neck, bounced off his head and

then landed on the floor. Brian sighed angrily and threw the bag off  his shoulder. He

snatched up the canteen, took a draught from its contents, and then shoved it back into the

bag. Still muttering to himself, he kicked the door open and stepped out, bag and buckets in

hand.

The blistering sun greeted him as his foot landed on the grit outside his home. He

ignored the bleating of the chained-up goat and instead approached the rusty, crooked body

of his jeep. Brian yanked open the back door, placed the two buckets onto the back seats, then

paused. One hand rested on the frame of the door, the other on the roof of the jeep. He wasn't

yet drunk enough to face the day, but the man couldn't bring himself to pull out the canteen

again. He cursed himself as the familiar urge swelled up inside his chest, clawing at his lungs

and creeping through his throat. The numerous exercises he had tried to teach himself, ones

that would help curb his drinking, were all useless and offered him nothing but a headache.

He slammed his fist down onto the roof, then glared back at the grey furred goat. It was

watching him with a critical, unimpressed glare.

"What're you looking at?" Brian grumbled.

The goat stared with its blank, yellow eyes. The man standing by the jeep had a thick,

auburn beard that covered his usually snarling mouth. Pronouncing themselves within the

depths of his beard, were strands of grey, betraying the toll that his lifestyle had taken on him.

His bloodshot eyes were shaded by his large, Neolithic brow. He wore a pair of unwashed,

khaki shorts with a green T-shirt that was too small for his muscular torso. His body seemed

to be absorbing the sun's rays with a voracious hunger. It was as if his tan was darkening with

every second he was in the sun. His hunched shoulders seemed to contain vast swathes of

strength, yet his sluggish demeanour denied it any outlet.

Brian shook his head, then plucked up a cabbage from the depths of the closest bucket.

He hurled it at the goat and shrugged as the vegetable landed lamely at the goat's hooves.

Staring at the man, then at the cabbage, the goat bleated. Obviously unimpressed. "Screw you

then," Brian murmured. He threw the back door shut, then climbed into the front of the jeep,

fiddling with the key in his blistered palm.

As the jeep trundled forward, spluttering and rattling, Brian stared red-eyed

into the rear-view mirror. The goat had given up watching him, and instead was nibbling at

the ghostly white flesh of the cabbage. Brian often wondered how long the goat would

survive, whether it would outlive him. He'd bought it soon after he had moved in. The milk

wasn't too bad, but it didn't make up for the constant bleating. How long did goats live for,

anyway? It always seemed to be there. He wondered whether it would always be there.

Whether it would still be there twenty years from now, still tethered to the makeshift shack

that Brian called home, a building with walls no thicker than his little finger. He looked away

from the mirror, focusing his bleary, stinging eyes on the long and empty plain in front of

him.

 

The sun was beating down on the burnt orange ground of the savannah. Small, brittle-looking

shrubs were dotted along the vast landscape, thirsting for water. Long, wispy, yellow grass

wafted in the hot breeze. What had once been an idyllic, silent scene was now invaded by the

advances of human life. On the horizon, cascaded in deep shadows, was the outline of an

always-growing city. It hadn't been there ten years ago, and ten years from now it would be

replacing this savannah. It took Brian a few hours to find the creature again, she moved daily,

searching for something he knew she would never find.

Finally, much later than he had hoped, Brian cautiously approached the grazing

 elephant. The man's skin was tanned to a metallic bronze shade, and his arms were thick and

knotted with muscles. He was inching towards the elephant. His long legs made it seem as if

he were capable of striking speeds, but his pace was hampered by the two heavy buckets, and

the caution he still held when approaching the beast.

The elephant turned her enormous head, the tiny black eyes focusing on the

 approaching figure. Brian paused. Even after all these years, he still couldn't trust the

creature's temperament. She was a twelve foot beast, and in her prime she had weighed nearly

fourteen thousand pounds. On one particularly bad day, she had totalled one of Brian's

previous jeeps, with him still inside. He couldn't afford for that to happen again. After all,

there was no one to give him another jeep, not out here in the desolate wasteland. However,

today the creature seemed indifferent, almost lethargic. She flapped her heavy ears weakly,

and then turned back toward the withered tree beside it. Brian knew the reason for the

creature's attitude, she had been getting worse for weeks now.

He knew he didn't have to wait much longer.

He continued until he was standing directly beside the elephant, she took no notice of

 him. He placed one of the buckets beside the elephant's dangling trunk, then backed

away to the tree that had taken up the creature's attention. He put down the second bucket,

then slid down to the ground, resting the bag on his other side. Still the elephant didn't

acknowledge him. The girl had the flat, broad skull that differentiated the African species

from its Asian cousins, and her eyelids were drooping over her mournful eyes, nearly

completely closing. Around her, Brian could see a variety of holes, evidence of where she

had been foraging for water. She wasn't going to have much luck.

Brian shook his head, then plucked the canteen from his bag. The metal was warm

 against his lips. The heat made the brandy less satisfying, not that he ever got satisfaction

from the drink itself. He lowered the canteen slightly, closing his eyes as the heat wafted over

him. It wasn't long before he felt the groping search of the elephant's trunk, sniffing around

the open canteen. He opened his eyes and glared up at the creature, it was finally taking

notice of his presence. However, it seemed solely concerned with getting a hold of his drink.

Brian swatted the trunk away. "No," he muttered, "this isn't for you."

The elephant snorted like a scorned teen. It backed away from Brian, then turned its

 attention to a leafless branch of the tree. The bearded human watched as the elephant's trunk

wrapped around one of the tree's limbs, and then, with such gentle control of her strength, she

snapped one of the branches free.

"And what are you -?"

Brain yelped as the elephant swatted him with the branch, snorting and grumbling as it

did so. "Piss off!" Brian barked, attempting to bat the branch out of the elephant's grasp. But

it was no good. She was far stronger than he was, even in her condition. As she continued to

whip and swat, Brian quickly relented. "Fine!" he shouted, struggling to his feet beneath the

barrage. He held out the canteen.

The girl trumpeted victoriously and dropped the branch. She immediately swiped up

 the canteen in her trunk before Brian could snatch it away. She turned the canteen upside

down over her waiting tongue. The amber liquid poured out of the metal flask and down the

elephant's throat. "Oi!" Brain yelled. "Save some of it for me! That was bloody expensive!"

Ignoring him, the elephant shook the canteen until the last drop landed on her thick,

 red tongue and crawled down her throat. She trumpeted again, then hurled away the empty

canteen. The flask landed with a clatter by the man's feet.

Brian watched the pale grey-skinned creature saunter away, and as he did so, he

remembered the moment he had first lain eyes on the magnificent beast. It had been eight

years ago. He had seen her on television. She had been standing above the corpse of another

elephant. Her trunk was slowly groping the still body. Her rumbles were low, mournful, and

almost human. The journalist had explained that she had been like that for a week, the only

one left to remember. Brian had immediately been enthralled. He couldn't explain it, but he

finally felt as if he had something to live for, something that he could focus all his attention

and energy on. This lone elephant. The last of its kind.

They had faced some trouble together at the beginning. Her keepers hadn't been too

 happy at the idea of some layman from Liverpool looking after her. But it hadn't taken long

for the world to lose interest in the pair. The government had retracted their funding, a waste

of time spending so much to look after just one elephant. That's what they had said anyway.

So the keepers had all left, the money no longer keeping them interested. Only Brian had

remained, left with his tiny shack and goat.

In time, even the poachers stopped bothering them. After all, slaying the elephant

would be nothing short of a bitter victory. The world preferred to accept the race's extinction

rather than watch the species waste away every day, like Brian was doing right now. The

beast had begun sniffing around the bucket left by Brian, her trunk groping amongst the

vegetables. Even he had to admit that she had lasted longer than he had expected. Female

elephants were famous for travelling in groups and he had thought that the last elephant

would be killed by loneliness. But it seemed that she could survive without a family, and

perhaps that was why Brian liked her so much. It had taken him nearly fifty years, but he had

finally found something like a kindred spirit. The girl was feisty, stubborn, liked a drink and

suffered from a foul temper, traits of his that had driven so many people away.

Unconsciously, his fingers slowly drew the picture out of his breast pocket. He placed

 it in his lap.

It was an old, faded photograph showing a brunette haired woman with two boys

 beside her. One was thirteen, the other seven. He hadn't heard from any of them since that

day she'd walked out, his sons happily in tow. He'd been so drunk in those days he barely

registered when they were around, so when they weren't it hardly made a difference.  It took

nearly a week for Brian to realise what he had lost.

He often asked himself if that was why he was here. Whether he was trying to prove

 that he could be responsible, that he'd changed. But if that was the case, who was he trying to

prove it to? The Elephant?  He'd wasted six years of his life looking after the creature, so why

had he never named her? He asked himself that question every day, and every day he

wondered whether he should. But the same answer presented itself. She might not be here

tomorrow. Giving something a name would only make him attached, he had learnt long ago

not to get too attached to anything. Yet so many names presented themselves: Melissa, like

that girl he used to date in secondary school. Tracey, like his mother. And of course, Elli.

Hardly the most inspired name, but somehow it seemed appropriate. The last elephant on

earth, named Elli.

Brian shook his head. "Maybe tomorrow," he murmured, taking out an

 apple from his bag. Maybe tomorrow I'll name her. He watched the elephant munching on a

stem of broccoli, her rheumy black eyes staring into the distance. He examined her dry,

paling skin. The way she avoided putting weight on her rear left leg, the way her right ear

flopped forward more than the other. If she's still here tomorrow, he thought, I'll name her

then. He was no expert, Heck, no expert cared enough to be out here. He doubted any expert

knew she was still alive. But in his layman's opinion, she was finished. She had lasted this

long out of brute stubbornness. If she'd had one, she'd be holding a middle finger up to life.

One last elephant, forgotten by the world. Forgotten by experts, forgotten by predators,

forgotten by everyone but Brian.

He leaned forward and picked up the discarded canteen, shaking it confirmed his fear.

She'd drunk the lot. He threw the flask into his bag and shook his head. Taking an apple out

of his bag, Brian looked past the elephant, staring instead at the distant, shadowy bulk of an

ignorant city. Neither of them would last forever of course, and when that day finally came,

there would be no elephants to remember.

Reviews

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This is really beautiful.