Throwback

by Edward J. McFadden III

  4

  They hadn’t gone far before Hawk called a halt. They were about a mile from the destroyed capsule, and he and his team were exhausted, hungry and thirsty. A dark cotton sky rolled overhead, puffy nimbus clouds that looked ripe for rain. They’d followed animal paths through the dense jungle, and Hawk didn’t like being confined. If they needed to move fast they’d get tangled in the underbrush, and with Max’s knee hurt, that was a race Hawk didn’t want to run.

  Svet plunked down on a rotted log and let her helmet fall into her gloved hands, elbows on knees. Max went to pull free his storage bag and discovered it was gone.

  “Shit, I lost my stuff.”

  “Da, me also,” Svet said.

  Hawk felt along his spacesuit and found his bag still dangling from its lanyard. He sat by Svet, his back to the log. He opened his bag and pulled out a ration of dried fruit and tore open the vacuum-packed bag, but when he went to pop a piece of pineapple in his mouth he realized he still had his helmet on. The suits were going to be a problem.

  Svet was two steps ahead of him and she stood, feeling around the outer edge of her helmet, searching for the release clasps.

  “What are you doing?” Max’s voice was a static-filled whine.

  “What does it matter? We can’t live in these things forever.” She unclamped the hasp on her helmet.

  “But we don’t know—”

  “What? What don’t we know? Wh—static—ee are. When we are,” Svet said.

  “What if the air is toxic?” Max said.

  “Then we’re dead anyway,” Hawk said. “We won’t know for sure tomorrow or the day after that. At some point we’ll have to take the risk, why not now?”

  “Da, and the animals. They are breathing fine, nyet?”

  “Yeah, as hard as this is to wrap your noddle around I think we’ve somehow been thrown back in time. Way back, so the air quality should be better than what we’re used to,” Max said.

  They’d discussed this back on the space station, but up in space surrounded by metal and technology the idea seemed beyond fantastical. Time travel wasn’t possible, he knew that much, at least not the kind that jumped you from one time to another. Time dilation was a type of time travel, and maybe they’d moved so fast they hadn’t had time to process it, but if that was the case they would have gone forward in time, not back. Was it possible this Earth was in the future and all their assumptions about the beacon were wrong? It seemed unlikely that the dinosaurs would get a second act and what about the land masses? Could they have circled the globe and come back together on the opposite side like a reverse Pangaea? Did any of it matter? They needed to survive, and from Hawk’s perspective that appeared to be a ‘death till you part’ journey.

  “Let me go first,” Hawk said. He unclipped the hasp and lifted his helmet off, holding his breath. Slowly he exhaled and sucked in air. He smiled and took another deep breath.

  They stripped out of their suits and their undergarments beneath were drenched through. The air smelt of shit and flowers, and it reminded Hawk of his grandmother’s bathroom; rose air freshener laid over the underlying scent of crap and decay. Around them tall trees with round tops and small leaves towered over palms and tropical plants with large green and yellow leaves. The ground was covered in thick loam, and here and there bugs of various sizes and shapes trundled about their business, hoping to go unnoticed.

  “What the hell?” Max said.

  “Whoa,” Hawk said.

  They were both staring at Svet.

  “What?”

  The log Svet sat on was turning yellow, a moving ooze like honey slid over the log and onto Svet. Ants the size of a fingernail swarmed over the log, their antennas bobbing as they walked, dark eyes and mandibles standing out against the yellow. The bugs were coming out of a hole on the side of the log, and when Svet saw them she jumped up.

  “Ah, one bit me,” she said, rubbing her arm where a red welt had appeared. The area began to swell.

  “Wish I hadn’t lost the med supplies. I had a cream that could help with that and stop the itching,” Max said.

  “And burning,” she said.

  “That brings me to an uncomfortable topic. Max is hurt, and we need to hunker down and get settled so we can fix him up and get our bearings. But first, I think I need to go back to the capsule and see if I can find some of our supplies,” Hawk said.

  “Isn’t that going to be dangerous with that animal around?” Max said. Then he seemed to realize the futility of his question and said, “I guess we need to get used to that, what with the things being everywhere.”

  They moved away from the ants and Hawk dumped his bag on the ground to take inventory. He had sixteen dried packs of rations, which they could split, so that would hold them for a few days until they figured what they could eat, and how to kill or gather it without being eaten themselves. There was twenty-five feet or so of thick cord, the bottle of vodka, four stainless-steel containers of water, and his small satchel of personals which contained pictures of his family, a copy of The Martian by Andy Weir, a flashlight, two pairs of socks, one pair of underwear, and a spare clip for the Viking with twenty rounds in it.

  Finding the ammunition pushed another thought to the forefront. “Another reason I need to go back is your ammo. We need to save our bullets, because I don’t see a sporting goods store around here.”

  “I stay and watch Max, and you go?” Svet said.

  Hawk considered this. “Svet, I think I need you with me. We’ll find a place for Max to hide until we get back.”

  Max said, “Yeah, what could you do? Shoot at the thing? I can do that myself.”

  “Da,” Svet said.

  They found a large bush that looked like a mangled rhododendron with large leaves and after a cursory check for ants and hazards, Max crawled beneath it with his gun. To be safe, they laid the spacesuits on the ground like a blanket and Max lay on top.

  “You good?” Hawk asked.

  “How will you know how to find me?”

  Svet pulled her knife and said, “Mark trees.”

  Hawk nodded, and without another word, plunged back into the forest in the direction of the destroyed space capsule with Svet in tow. Huge ferns with green and red variegated leaves blocked their way, and as Hawk pushed through them smaller animals and insects fled before them, yipping and hissing their distaste at the newcomers.

  Svet paused several times and carved large Xs into trees, marking their meandering path through the jungle. Going in a straight line was impossible with all the trees, plants and bushes clogging the forest. Forced to wear their spacesuit boots because they had nothing else, being stealthy was challenging. Hawk eyed every shadow, every clump of leaves. The confines of the jungle made it difficult to see what was ten feet away, and based on what Hawk had seen so far, the wildlife of this era was well camouflaged.

  The air was sweet, and reminded Hawk of his home in Florida, but as they got closer to the wreck site it turned fowl. The scent of shit pervaded the air, and when they arrived at the crash site the cause of the rankness became clear.

  A huge pile of crap, three feet tall, rested next to the remains of the capsule. Bones and other solid debris, such as bark and leaf matter, stuck from the pile like pins from a pincushion.

  “Damn,” Hawk said. He drew his Viking and panned it around the clearing in a wide arc, but there was no sign of their T-Rex friend or anything else big enough to cause them harm.

  “Da,” Svet said. She had her Ash 12 slung over a shoulder, and her knife was in its sheath on her right leg.

  “Cover me while I look,” Hawk said. He slipped the Viking back into its cradle and walked around the giant pile of dinosaur dung.

  The capsule was a pile of metal, and food rations were scattered on the ground. Some were crushed and torn open, but Hawk collected them all and made a pile. Then he searched the area in a grid pattern, Svet watching with her cool gray eyes, her gun at the ready. The screech of an animal close by made
Hawk pick up his pace, though the ground didn’t shake. The buzz and hum of the jungle was loud, and every few moments there was a bark followed by a growl as the creatures of the day prepared to give up their claims to the beasts of the night.

  It started to rain, small biting drops quickly turning into a spattering assault. The pile of dung began to run, and that’s when Hawk saw the bag. It had been pushed under a pile of sticks and leaves, and Hawk was relieved to find it unopened and unbroken. It contained more food rations, a spare clip for an Ash 12 with twenty rounds, another flashlight, water, a knife, and Svet’s purse containing her personal items, which thankfully included a small box of sanitary napkins. Hawk frowned. How would the creatures of this Earth respond to a human female’s menstrual cycle?

  Max’s bag was nowhere to be found, and there wasn’t much they could salvage from the capsule.

  “Can you help me with this stuff?” Hawk said. He’d stuffed as many food rations as he could into the bag, but several didn’t fit.

  “Da,” Svet said.

  They followed the marked trees back to Max, their thick boot prints barely visible in the soft loam covered ground. They avoided several large birds that seemed intent on drawing every beast for ten miles to their location. They yelled and squawked, and dive-bombed them twice, but didn’t attack. The rain picked up, and large drops fell through the dense tree canopy, slapping leaves in an odd rhythmic pattern that sounded like a jazzy drum solo. When they were close, Hawk called out to Max.

  “Here,” Max said.

  “What now?” Svet said.

  “It’ll be dark soon and something tells me we don’t want to be out in the open,” Max said.

  “We need to find shelter for the night and get out of this rain,” Hawk said.

  His companions nodded, but said nothing. They packed up the best they could, even bringing their spacesuits and helmets because Hawk explained they could serve as bedrolls and the material might be of use. They trudged through the thick vegetation, heads down, trying to make themselves as small as possible.

  They’d walked about an hour when they found a fallen tree. It had uprooted, and had a large hollowed out hole beneath its labyrinth of dead roots. “This is it,” Hawk said. “Svet, gather as many leaves and palm fronds as you can and we’ll line the inside of the hole with them. Max, take a seat there and keep watch while I collect sticks.”

  Hawk checked the hollow beneath the tree to make sure there weren’t already guests staying in this five-star hole, and found bugs and a few small lizards, but nothing of concern. He helped Max into their new shelter and he laid on the floor of green leaves and palm fronds Svet had laid. Hawk used the sticks and debris he’d collected to wall off the open side of the hole and hide them within and then covered everything with dirt to hide their scent. He thought about lighting a fire, then thought better of it. Best not to send up any smoke signals until they were prepared for what might come looking for them.

  Hawk stripped off his gun holster and hung it from a tree root and plopped down next to Max.

  “It’s time to eat. I’m starving,” Max said.

  “And I need a drink,” Svet said as she pulled free the bottle of vodka.

  5

  The two astronauts and one cosmonaut sat cross-legged in their makeshift shelter, the jungle outside a cacophony of life. Night had fallen, revealing a spectacular sky unblurred by light pollution or smog. The temperature fell precipitously, and Hawk estimated it was fifty degrees. Max and Svet draped their spacesuits over themselves as they passed around the bottle of vodka. Daggers of starlight stabbed the darkness as it penetrated through cracks and holes in Hawk’s wall.

  “Let me see that,” Hawk said.

  Svet laughed but didn’t hand over the bottle.

  “I’m not joking.”

  “Nor I.”

  “I know it’s Russian vodka, but—”

  Svet took a pull then dumped some of the alcohol on a piece of cloth torn from the inside of her spacesuit, and began dabbing her ant bite with it.

  “Screw that,” Max said. He smiled, swiped the bottle, and took a long swig.

  “You think we should save some?” Hawk asked.

  “For?” Svet said.

  “Who knows. The future?”

  “What future?”

  “The map,” Max said, his voice hesitant and slurred. He took another long pull and handed the bottle to Hawk.

  Between them, hidden in the blackness, a map had been scratched into the dirt with a stick. Hawk and the others had drawn it, but without any landmarks it was hard to know exactly where they were. There was forest, mountains, the volcano, and the beacon, arranged from their recollections, nothing more.

  “In the morning we’ll find a clearing and see where the sun’s at. That will tell us east and west,” Max said.

  “So? We don’t know where we are on map,” Svet said, pointing to the dark patch between them. The plan was to use a blank page from Hawk’s book to transcribe the map and update it as they went.

  “We’ll reconnoiter the area, see if we can spot the mountain range,” Hawk said. “That, along with the sun should give us a decent bearing and maybe we’ll be able to see the beacon light as we get closer.” Hawk had searched the night sky, but from his limited vantage point he didn’t see it.

  “Klevyy,” Svet said.

  “No, not cool,” Max said. He flicked on the flashlight and trained it on the map. “This was derived from memory, and like Svet said we really don’t know where we are. We could be on the other side of the mountains.”

  “Da, but we hit ocean,” Svet said.

  “Yeah, but then we need to come all the way back,” Max said.

  “We got nothing but time,” Hawk said. “And I don’t see another way. Do you?” He took a long pull of vodka and handed the bottle to Svet.

  Max and Svet shook their heads, but said nothing.

  “How’s your knee?” Hawk said. Without ice and drugs there wasn’t much they could do.

  “A little better,” Max said.

  “In the morning I’ll make a brace so it no bend. Be easier to walk,” Svet said.

  “I don’t see myself going far for a few days. This has happened to me before and it takes a week or so for the swelling to go down, and that’s with ice,” Max countered. “It’s an old football injury that rears its ugly head from time to time. Gretta used to say…”

  No one spoke.

  “Talking about her in the past tense when she hasn’t been born yet feels strange.”

  “Makes sense, and you don’t know if she’s dead,” Hawk said.

  “Da.”

  “Michel,” Max said. “We know he’s dead, and that soon we’ll be.”

  The hum of the forest filled the shelter.

  Hawk tried not to think about his wife and kids, or Michel, and the idea that he’d never see them again, so he changed the subject. “You played football?” They’d been on the station for a year, but Hawk didn’t know much about his shipmates beyond the basics. The routine aboard the International Space Station had been rigorous and time consuming, and there’d been little time for conversation of any kind, and when they did talk, it always veered toward the station and their work there.

  “Not American football, but yeah, I was a backup at university. Got hurt at practice,” Max said. “I played a little as a boy, but I was never very good. My father was proud, though.”

  “Football is a religion in Germany, no?” Hawk said.

  “Yes, one my wife…” He trailed off again.

  “Look we’re going to have to get used to being here alone, without our families and friends. Not talking about them, or mentioning them, will dim our memories of them. I don’t want that. I want to remember them all. Need to. Michel also,” Hawk said.

  “Da,” Svet said.

  “It’s just, I can’t bear thinking of them. It makes my chest ache,” Max said.

  “Tell us about them,” Svet said. “You feel better.” She han
ded the half full bottle of vodka to Max.

  He took a pull, and said, “Gretta was my first girlfriend. We met in gymnasium and we both knew right away we were meant to be together. If it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t be here.” He paused and cocked his head to the side. “You understand my meaning, ja?”

  Hawk and Svet laughed.

  “I do. Andrea and I were the same way, but we’d both dated several people before we met,” Hawk said.

  Outside, a great guttural shriek of anger pierced the night, then the wet sound of meat being torn from bone. Loud cracking echoed through the shelter, and the unmistakable horror of snapping bones made Hawk wince. Whatever was out there had been quiet before it attacked, because Hawk hadn’t heard the animal’s approach and by the sound of things the commotion wasn’t far away.

  Ignoring the chaos outside Svet said, “What of your little ones?”

  Max started to answer, but paused. A beam of starlight illuminated a beetle-like insect with a dark carapace and yellow-streaked shell as it worked its way down one of the tree roots sticking from the dirt ceiling. It paused, turning its luminescent eyes on the three spacefarers, then continued its trek. When it got to the end of the root and could go no further its head swiveled, and it turned around and headed back up the root and disappeared into the darkness.

  Max chuckled. “Having kids is like getting drunk for the first time. It’s cool, then it’s awesome, then it’s awful, then horrible. They capture your soul, take control of you, then break your heart,” he said. “Some say it all comes full circle, but my kids aren’t that old.”

  Svet harrumphed, her teeth glowing in the darkness.

  “He’s right. There’s no way you can understand.” Hawk was the biggest dipshit ever. He’d just reminded her that she would never have children. “I’m sorry. I’m an ass.”

  “It’s A-OK. Really. My sister always said…”

  There it was again. That past tense.

  “What about you, Hawk? Did Jonah and Sally take away your control?” Max asked.

  Hawk closed his eyes, trying to picture the night his children were born, but there was nothing but a blank canvas because he hadn’t been there. “No. I was always off fighting a war, or in some training. Andrea was the one who raised our kids.” His chest hurt. Now they were gone. “I always thought there’d be time.”