Alphonse invited his guests to sit on a reed mat. He then got four glasses and poured a dollop of clear fluid into each from an old green bottle that had at one time contained motor oil.

His visitors warily swirled the fluid. They didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but they were reluctant to drink.

“Alcohol?” Kevin asked.

“Oh, yes!” Alphonse said. His smile broadened. “It is lotoko from corn. Very good! I bring it from my home in Lomako.” He sipped with intense enjoyment. In contrast to the Equatoguineans, Alphonse’s English was accented with French, not Spanish. He was a member of the Mongandu people from Zaire. He’d been brought to the Zone with the first shipment of bonobos.

Since the drink contained alcohol, which would presumably kill potential microorganisms, the guests cautiously tasted the brew. All of them made faces in spite of good intentions not to do so. The drink was powerfully pungent.

Kevin explained that they had come to ask about the bonobos on the island. He didn’t mention his concern that their number included a strain of protohumans. He asked only if Alphonse thought they were acting like bonobos back in his home province in Zaire.

“They are all very young,” Alphonse said. “So they are very unruly and wild.”

“Do you go on the island often?” Kevin asked.

“No, I am forbidden,” Alphonse said. “Only when we retrieve or release, and only then with Dr. Edwards.”

“How do you get the extra food to the island?” Melanie asked.

“There is a small float,” Alphonse said. “I pull it across the water with a rope, then pull it back.”

“Are the bonobos aggressive with the food or do they share?” Melanie asked.

“Very aggressive,” Alphonse said. “They fight like crazy, especially for the fruit. I also saw one kill a monkey.”

“Why?” Kevin asked.

“I think to eat,” Alphonse said. “He carried it away after the food I brought was all gone.”

“That sounds more like a chimp,” Melanie said to Kevin.

Kevin nodded. “Where on the island have the retrievals taken place?” he asked.

“All have been on this side of the lake and stream,” Alphonse said.

“None have been over by the cliff?” Kevin asked.

“No, never,” Alphonse said.

“How do you get to the island for the retrieval?” Kevin asked. “Does everybody use the float?”

Alphonse laughed heartily. He had to dry his eyes with his knuckle. “The float is too small. We’d all be supper for the crocs. We use the bridge.”

“Why don’t you use the bridge for the food?” Melanie asked.

“Because Dr. Edwards has to make the bridge grow,” Alphonse said.

“Grow?” Melanie questioned.

“Yes,” Alphonse said.

The three guests exchanged glances. They were confused.

“Have you seen any fire on the island?” Kevin asked, changing the subject.

“No fire,” Alphonse said. “But I’ve seen smoke.”

“And what did you think?” Kevin asked.

“Me?” Alphonse questioned. “I didn’t think anything.”

“Have you ever seen one of the bonobos do this?” Candace asked. She opened and closed her fingers then swept her hand away from her body in imitation of the bonobo in the operating room.

“Yes,” Alphonse said. “Many do that when they finish dividing up the food.”

“How about noise?” Melanie asked. “Do they make a lot of sounds?”

“A lot,” Alphonse said.

“Like the bonobos back in Zaire?” Kevin asked.

“More,” Alphonse said. “But back in Zaire I don’t see the same bonobos so often as I do here, and I don’t feed them. Back home they get their own food in the jungle.”

“What kind of noise do they make?” Candace asked. “Can you give us an example.”

Alphonse laughed self-consciously. He glanced around at his wife to make sure she wasn’t listening. Then he softly vocalized: “Eeee, ba da, loo loo, tad tat.” He laughed again. He was embarrassed.

“Do they hoot like chimps?” Melanie asked.

“Some,” Alphonse said.

The guests looked at each other. They’d run out of questions for the moment. Kevin got up. The women did the same. They thanked Alphonse for his hospitality and handed back their unfinished drinks. If Alphonse was offended, he didn’t show it. His smile didn’t falter.

“There’s one other thing,” Alphonse said just before his guests departed. “The bonobos on the island like to show off. Whenever they come for the food, they make themselves stand up.”

“All the time?” Kevin asked.

“Mostly,” Alphonse said.

The group walked back through the village to the car. They didn’t talk until Kevin had started the motor.

“Well, what do you guys think?” Kevin asked. “Should we continue? The sun’s already set.”

“I vote yes,” Melanie said. “We’ve come this far.”

“I agree,” Candace said. “I’m curious to see this bridge that grows.”

Melanie laughed. “Me, too. What a charming fellow.”

Kevin drove away from the store, which was now busier than earlier. But he wasn’t sure of his direction. The road into the village had simply expanded into the parking area for the store, and there was no indication of the track leading further east. To find it, he had to cruise the parking lot’s perimeter.

Once on the track, they were impressed with how much easier it had been to travel on the improved road. The track was narrow, bumpy, and muddy. Grass about three feet tall grew down the median strip. Frequently branches stretched from one side to the other, slapping against the windshield and poking through the open windows. To avoid being hit by the snapping branches, they had to raise the windows. Kevin clicked on the air conditioner and the lights. The beams reflected off the surrounding vegetation and gave the impression of driving through a tunnel.

“How far do we have to go on this cow path?” Melanie asked.

“Only three or four miles,” Kevin said.

“It’s a good thing we have four-wheel drive,” Candace remarked. She was holding on tightly to the overhead strap and still bouncing around. The seat belt wasn’t helping. “The last thing I’d want to do is get stuck out here.” She glanced out the side window at the inky black jungle and shivered. It was eerie. She couldn’t see a thing despite patches of luminous sky above. And then there was the noise. Just during their short visit with Alphonse, the night creatures of the jungle had commenced their loud and monotonous chorus.

“What did you make of the things Alphonse said?” Kevin asked finally.

“I’d say the jury is still out,” Melanie said. “But they’re certainly deliberating.”

“I think his comment about the bonobos being bipedal when they come to get the food is very disturbing,” Kevin said. “The circumstantial evidence is adding up.”

“The suggestion that they are communicating impressed me,” Candace said.

“Yeah, but chimps and gorillas have been taught sign language,” Melanie said. “And we know bonobos are more bipedal than any other apes. What impressed me was the aggressive behavior, although I stand by my idea that it might be from our mistake not to have produced more females to maintain the balance.”

“Can chimps make those sounds that Alphonse imitated?” Candace asked.

“I don’t think so,” Kevin said. “And that’s an important point. It suggests maybe their larynges are different.”

“Do chimps really kill monkeys?” Candace asked.

“They do occasionally,” Melanie said. “But I’ve never heard of a bonobo doing so.”

“Hang on!” Kevin shouted as he braked.

The car lurched over a log strewn across the track.

“Are you okay?” he asked Candace, while glancing up into the rearview mirror.

“No problem,” Candace said, although she’d been severely jolted. Luckily the seat belt had worked, and it had kept her head from hitting the roof.

Kevin slowed considerably for fear of encountering another log. Fifteen minutes later, they entered a clearing which marked the termination of the track. Kevin came to a halt. Directly ahead the headlight beams washed the front of a single-story cinder-block building with an overhead garage door.