After the final stitch, Meri had Bill place a sterile dressing over the wound.
“There. Done,” she said, wiping her own sweat as she watched Bill smooth out the dressing. “Let’s not go through that again, shall we?”
“I agree.” Bill leaned over and gave his wife a kiss. “You were awesome,” he said when he pulled back, looking deep into her tired, blue eyes. Her red hair hung damply over her face. “Now, go get a shower. I’ll keep watch.”
After the surgery, the two of them moved Karen’s still sedated body into the wikiup, placing her on one of the bison pelts and covering her with her sleeping bag, zipped open and laid flat like a comforter.
Within twenty-four hours, Karen began to return to normal. Her temperature dropped down to normal, and the amount of pain she was suffering decreased considerably. She still needed assistance, particularly in the hygiene arena, but Bill was glad to see her come back from the dead.
Meri had told Bill to expect a minimum of a week before they could resume the journey, so Bill decided to use that time to increase their food supply. Leaving a recovering surgery patient alone wasn’t an option, so Bill had to hunt solo, something the Corps frowned upon, but they didn’t have much choice. Bill decided to keep his hunting range short, not going more than a mile from the camp.
He carried his PDW at the ready, with his rifle slung. Bill figured that most threats would be from predators he could probably kill or wound with the smaller round. And considering that he could literally see for miles over the plains, he wasn’t too worried about being surprised by a large cat or wolf. Of course, a stamping herd of herbivores would present a problem, but it wasn’t something he bothered to worry about.
As he climbed the bluff above their camp, his geographer’s training kicked in. Even though he had only had a single physical geography class in school, he recognized that the hill he was climbing was formed by loess, a wind-blown finely compacted soil that formed after the last ice age. Ten thousand years of grasses growing and dying on this landscape had made it into the fertile soil it was.
Taking a break at the top of the bluff, he slowly turned his head, covering the entire area around the camp, looking for signs of motion. He saw the smoke rising from the campfire, and Meri tending it. She looked up and waved at him. He waved back and continued his scan. The only thing he saw moving, besides the deep prairie grass and the leaves falling off the trees along the riverbank, was a large flock of Canada geese landing in the river, near the bank opposite the camp. The flock was so large that it created a shadow on the water below it.
As he was turning back to resume his ascent up the small bluff, motion downriver caught his eye. He stopped, turned, and stared at the spot, a distance of around a kilometer. He saw the wind moving trees, but the wind was blowing from the north, and the motion of the trees was defying the wind’s direction.
Despite staring for several minutes, with occasional glances around to ensure he wasn’t being stalked, Bill finally reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small, standard-issue monocular. It took him several seconds to zoom in on where he had seen the motion. Even looking right at the spot, and seeing the tree branches sway, it was still several more seconds before he identified what was causing the commotion.
Damn, is that a woolly mammoth or a mastodon? he thought. He saw an elephant-like trunk, covered with brown hair, rise up and wrap itself around the branch of one of the oak trees that still bore leaves, then saw the branch get stripped by the trunk, then disappear.
This was repeated, not just by the same animal, but by what appeared to be a herd. Eventually, one of them stepped into view. Now Bill could see it was a mastodon, the lack of a large head, and the shorter, less curving tusks differentiating it from its larger cousin, the woolly mammoth. Once he saw one, then others became visible to him, much like an optical illusion that reveals itself.
Judging the distance between the herd and the camp, he suddenly became worried. If those guys are heading our way, they may just trample our camp. With that thought, he put away the monocular and began heading back down the bluff in a combination jumping and running scramble. Each time he landed his pack would dig into his shoulders and his rifle would bang on his backpack’s hipbelt and his thigh. That’s gonna leave a bruise, he thought, as his rifle banged into his unprotected thigh for the umpteenth time.
As he came jouncing down the hill, he could see Meri looking up, rifle at the ready and a worried look on her face. He tried to wave to indicate it wasn’t an emergency, but it was apparent she didn’t understand him.
Within minutes he was back at the camp, gasping. “No immediate threat,” he said between breaths, and pointing downriver, “but, there’s a herd of mastodon heading this way. We should probably move, at least until they pass.”
“Crap. Just what we needed, as if we don’t have enough problems.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Bill said. “Let’s move most of the gear uphill, out of the path, and set up an alternate camp. We shouldn’t have to go too far, just far enough to get out of the way. We’ll wait until the last minute to move Karen and the wikiup.”
Meri thought about it, then nodded. “Okay. Let’s get packed up and move the packs, food, and skins. We’ll leave the fire going and I’ll stay here with Karen until they come into view. If they get frisky, we shoot first and ask questions later.”
Turning towards Karen, Meri asked, “You want to try walking or should we make a stretcher for you?”
“Forget the stretcher. Don’t sound like we’ve got enough time. And besides, knowing how clumsy that husband of yours is, I don’t think I want to be dumped and roll down a hill into a herd of anything.”
“Okay, walking it is.” Turning back to Bill, Meri said, “We’re also gonna need a flat area to lay Karen down. I don’t want her sitting up much or rolling downhill.”
“I somehow get this as one of those ‘honey do’ things,” Bill said with a smile.
Batting her eyes at him, Meri said as coyly as possible, “Please, dear.”
That broke the rising tension, with both Bill and Meri laughing and Karen smiling for the first time in weeks.
While Meri began the process of packing up, Bill hiked up the bluff again, this time to find a suitable spot for them. He finally found a relatively flat spot about halfway up the bluff, a small indentation in the hill. He set his pack and rifle down and then unstrapped his shovel from the back of the pack. Unlocking the tightening mechanisms, he set the blade at a ninety-degree angle and extended the handle. He then began hacking into the hill, cutting through the tall grass and thousands of years’ worth of organic soil.
It didn’t take long before Bill had a section cut out, just big enough for one person. He straightened the shovel and removed the loose soil, creating a level spot for Karen to lie in. After cleaning off the shovel blade, he collapsed the tool and attached it back to the pack.
Grabbing his rifle, he headed back down the hill, taking a quick look in the direction of the mastodon herd.
Hmm. Looks like they’re definitely getting closer.
When he arrived back in the camp, he told Meri what he’d seen. She nodded. “Well, let’s get the rest of this stuff up.”
Meri was already wearing her pack, so Bill grabbed Karen’s pack and the two of them headed up the hill.
It took a couple of more trips to get all the hides and food moved, but soon everything, except Karen, was in place. The canoe was left on the riverbank.
“You ready to move?” Bill asked Karen when they returned for the final time.
Karen nodded. “Yeah, whatever.”
Bill was a bit concerned, as this didn’t sound like the take-command person he knew and had lived with for the past five months.
Meri and Bill grabbed Karen under each arm and helped her get to her feet. It was obvious she was in pain, but there wasn’t much they could do about it. While Meri held Karen steady, Bill released her and rolled up the sleeping pad and bison pelt. He
handed the pad to Meri and stuck the pelt under his arm, then returned to supporting Karen with his free hand.
Slowly the trio made their way up the hill until they finally reached the new site.
Once Karen was settled, Bill had a thought. “I’m gonna go down and throw more wood on the fire. Maybe that’ll keep the herd away and not trash our wikiup.”
“Good idea,” Meri said. “While you’re at it, bring some wood up here so we can have a fire, too.”
Bill returned to the campsite and stoked the fire. Going inside the wikiup, he double-checked to make sure they had left nothing behind, then stepped outside and walked around the campsite, verifying that nothing had been left here either. Looking over at the canoe, he thought, Can’t do much about that other than hope they don’t go near it.
By now, Bill could hear the mastodon herd as it made its way to the campsite. He quickly gathered up a number of twigs and larger branches, along with a burning piece of wood from the fire, and for the final time, made his way back up to the secondary camp on the bluff.
He had barely made it when the first of the mastodons made their way into the clearing that had been the campsite. Up until then, the campfire smoke had been drifting lazily up. Now, the wind was picking up, and the smoke drifted toward the large animals. The lead bull stopped and raised his trunk.
As the three watched the mastodons mill about, Bill set down the firewood and handed Meri the still-smoldering piece of wood. He began breaking some of the twigs into smaller pieces.
“Let’s get this fire going asap,” he said, as he began to form a teepee with the broken twigs. “I’m thinking they don’t like fire too much, so the sooner we’ve got one going, the safer we’ll be.”
He grabbed a handful of dried grasses, crumpled them up, and put them in the cavity of the twig teepee. As soon as he pulled his hands away, Meri inserted the glowing end of the smoldering stick into the dried grass. Leaning over, she gently blew on it. The smoldering end turned redder, then reburst into flames, which then caught the grass on fire. Within seconds, the grass was burning and the twigs caught on fire.
As soon as the fire appeared strong enough, Bill added some larger twigs to it, then continued to do so with larger and larger pieces of wood until they had an actual fire going. Rather than drifting straight up, the wind blew the smoke around them, causing their eyes to sting and water.
Wiping the tears from his eyes with his shirtsleeve, Bill stood and took hold of his rifle, which had been over his shoulder at the ready slung position. Turning, he looked down at the still-milling mastodons and silently watched them.
It wasn’t long before one of the outlying mastodons began making his way up the slope. He stopped and raised his nose, obviously catching a scent of something. Bill wasn’t sure if it was the smoke from the small fire, or if the large animal had caught the scent of humans. Probably never smelled a human before, Bill thought.
Then the large herbivore spread his ears and began waving his raised trunk around, sounding off with a loud trumpeting sound.
The rest of the herd stopped their grazing, looked at the alarmed animal, then looked in the direction he was facing. A large bull mastodon, apparently the leader of the small herd, rushed toward the smaller bull and stopped beside him.
Bill could feel the large animal’s eyes upon him as he stood, rifle in hand. Crap, I hope he leaves us alone, he thought, beginning to get a bit nervous.
But that was not to be. As soon as the thought passed through his brain the large bull, ears spread, trunk raised, and trumpeting loud enough to raise the dead, began a heavy-footed charge up the slope toward the small group.
Bill raised his rifle, taking aim at one of the mastodon’s eyes.
Over the sound of the charging bull, Meri said, with some urgency, “Get in the prone position. You’ll be less of a threat.”
Immediately, Bill dropped, keeping the rifle on target.
Just as soon as he was down, the charging animal stopped. Head and large tusks raised up, eyes wide, trunk flailing around, ears spread, it was apparent the bull was protecting his herd, presenting as fearful a presence as possible.
“It’s a false charge. He’s threatening us, but probably won’t attack if we don’t threaten him back,” Meri said. “Just stay down, but don’t take your aim off him.”
For several minutes, the large bull stood his ground, trumpeting and tossing his head and trunk around. The trio lay still, barely moving. Even Karen had picked up her rifle and held it across her chest, careful not to rest it on her abdomen. Bill could hear her muttering, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Eventually, the mastodon began backing down the slope, bumping into the stationary young bull that had first spotted them. Getting back on level ground, the older bull turned to the herd and let out a series of smaller trumpets. Bill could feel the trumpets, along with a sub-sonic rumbling that he suspected was coming from the big bull’s chest.
The herd began moving, circling around the still-burning campfire and the wikiup. One young mastodon got a bit too close to the wikiup, knocking down a portion of it, then scampering away with a squeal as that part of the tent came down with a crash. As the herd continued their journey upriver, Bill let out a sigh of relief.
“Whew, that was close.”
“You ain’t kidding,” his wife replied, getting up and dusting the dry grass off herself.
Bill could still hear Karen muttering a series of “fucks,” and it began to worry him. I hope she’s not losing it.
An hour after the mastodons had gone, Bill and Meri returned to the campsite. Inspecting the wikiup, they quickly saw that everything was intact. A few of the support branches had been knocked out of alignment. It was only a matter of a couple of minutes work before they had the wikiup set back up.
Leaving their packs, they returned to their hiding spot and helped Karen back down. It was obvious that Karen was still in pain, and generally unhappy with their current conditions.
After they rebuilt the fire and settled down for supper, Bill said, “I gotta say, I wasn’t too thrilled about how we handled that. I’m thinking we need to be prepared for anything pretty much all the time. Had those mastodons been moving a bit quicker, we might’ve lost just about everything.”
Karen didn’t say a word. She just lay there, seeming not really interested in the discussion. Meri looked over at Karen, then back to Bill. “So, what do you think we oughtta do?”
“Simple. Keep everything packed unless we’re using it. We can afford to lose one or two packs, but not everything.”
It became apparent to the two of them that Bill was starting to take the reins of control from Karen. It was something he was uncomfortable with, particularly since he had far less experience than Karen and less knowledge about wilderness survival than Meri, but then again, there it was.
Once supper was done, the pots and utensils were cleaned and stored.
With only two of them hale and hearty, and one of those four months pregnant, the concept of standing watch had faded into history. Now, the three Explorers spent the evening sleeping in the wikiup, relying on the fire to keep predators at bay.
As the sun set, the three of them settled down for the night. The wikiup door, a flap of bison hide, was kept open to let in fresh air and allow Bill and Meri to add wood to the fire as it dwindled down during the night. They had gotten used to doing that over the past several weeks, waking up as a sixth sense let them know it was time to rebuild the protective layer of flames.
It seemed that Bill had barely laid his head down when he heard wild trumpeting. It came from the direction the mastodon herd had headed the previous day. Groggily, he struggled to sit up, grabbing his rifle. In the dusky light cast by the campfire, he could see Meri also sitting up, the glow of the fire reflecting off the barrel of her rifle.
“Did you hear that?” he asked her.
“Yeah. Woke me up. Wonder what’s going on.”
“Beats the hell outta me, bu
t just in case, let’s get ready to haul ass.”
The two stood up as best they could in the low structure, shrugged into their survival vests and suspender-supported web belts, then into their packs. Armed with rifles and PDWs, they stepped out of the small tent.
Out here, the sound of trumpeting, screams, and crashing through brush was even louder. Bill handed his pack and PDW to Meri. “Get back up the bluff. I’ll grab Karen and her gear and join you.”
Meri hurried off as Bill went back into the wikiup. Karen was awake, rifle in hand, still lying down, a look of fear on her face. “What’s the plan?”
“We’re gonna get you out of harm’s way. Get ready to stand.” Reaching under to shoulder, he said, “Up you go,” and lifted her into a sitting position. Karen gasped in pain. The rifle rested in her lap.
“Fuck! That hurts!”
“Sorry, but we gotta do it. Okay, on three, let’s get you to your feet.”
Bill counted, and with his hands under her armpits, got Karen into a standing position. Without wasting any time, he draped her vest and then her suspender-held belt over her shoulders. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he picked up her rifle and slung it over his other. Her pack in one hand, and supporting Karen with the other, he began the tortuous journey back up the hill.
They barely made it. Karen collapsed into the dugout depression as Bill panted with the exertion of carrying her and all her equipment up the hill. Then the herd returned.
This time they weren’t slowly moving and grazing; rather they were in stampede mode, tearing through the camp, trampling the wikiup and the campfire, scattering the coals and burning embers into the dry brush surrounding the camp.
One very young mastodon staggered into the light of the spreading fire. Bill could see three Smilodons hanging off it. One was latched onto the small herbivore’s neck, holding on with its powerful front feet, driving its sharp, scimitar-like teeth into the young animal’s neck. The second was holding onto the baby mastodon’s rump, teeth sunk through the skin. The third was in a precarious position, hanging on to the belly. The predator was using its saber-like teeth to rip into the animal’s abdomen and eviscerate it.
The Corps of Discovery Trilogy Box Set: Books 1-3: A multiverse series of alternate history Page 46
