Throwback

by Edward J. McFadden III

  Max did as he was told as the water heated. Steam pushed from the top of the bottle like smoke from a chimney, and Hawk cut several strips from Max’s spacesuit, which was starting to look like giant moths had been feasting on it. Using a leaf as a potholder, Svet took the bottle away from the flame.

  “This hurt, da?” Svet said.

  Hawk had his bandages and some thin vines at the ready and as soon as Svet cleaned the wound he’d bandage it up.

  “Ready?” Svet said.

  Max nodded, but said nothing.

  She carefully pulled away the ripped fabric around the wound and poured the hot water over the gash. Max howled, and clenched his teeth as he leaned back, staring at the sky. When the water was gone, Max was panting like a dog, his face red, eyes bulging from his head.

  Hawk smeared some of Svet’s aloe lotion over the gash and covered it with a leaf. Then he wrapped the spacesuit fabric around the area and secured it all using the vines. “How do you feel?”

  “Stupid,” he said.

  “Don’t. It could have happened to any of us,” Hawk told him. “We’ve become lax because we’re getting too comfortable in the jungle. We must be more cautious and vigilant from now on.”

  “He be all right,” Svet said.

  “Yup, he should be fine. The wound isn’t that deep, but we’re not going anywhere for a while,” Hawk said. What he didn’t say was he worried about an infection. There were bound to be an array of unknown pathogens lurking everywhere. If the wound was to become infected, there would be nothing Hawk or Svet could do for him, aside from amputating the leg. With no drugs or medical equipment, Hawk didn’t even want to think about how that could be achieved, or what the chances of Max’s survival were. They’d keep the wound clean and change the dressing twice daily, and hopefully that would suffice.

  First order of business was to get Max someplace safe where he could rest. This proved to be complicated. Their platform was ten feet in the air, and the only way to get Max up to it was to use their length of creeper cordage and pull him up, but that could injure him more, and Hawk wasn’t sure their vine-rope would hold.

  It was decided to make a long ladder that would lean against the platform to create a ramp, one that could be hauled up into the tree to stop inquisitive beasts from checking out their home. Hawk and Svet commenced the work of constructing the ladder, which was difficult without any tools. Hawk used a hatchet made from a flat rock he’d rubbed against another stone to sharpen it. He’d placed the sharpened stone at the end of the split stick and used vine to tie it in place.

  They made a stretcher from vines, branches and woven palm fronds. Max was tired, but he held onto the litter so tight his knuckles were white. Slowly, rail by rail, they pulled the stretcher up the ramp created by their ladder, and by nightfall Max was asleep on the platform.

  The days that followed were uneventful but busy. Hawk and Svet searched the surrounding forest for materials, both for the raft and the treehouse they were constructing. Max’s first injury had healed quickly, but Hawk feared this time he’d be laid up for a couple of months. The shallow inland sea could wait, and in the meantime laying in food supplies, finding water and material were the main goals. They cut up the dead alligator, and roasted, smoked, and cured the meat with salt they made from evaporating sea water within a stone bowl they’d found in a nearby rock.

  The treehouse house wasn’t exactly what Hawk had in mind when he’d envisioned his Swiss Family Robinson house, but it was better than any shelter they’d had thus far. There were three platforms, each surrounded by walls of woven vines accessible via tree limbs that had been rigged with vine guiderails. The tree canopy served as the house’s main roof, but Svet and Hawk laid layers of palm fronds for extra protection. The largest central platform served as the main living space while the other two served as sleeping quarters.

  Max rested on a bed of dried moss and leaves, covered by his spacesuit. Svet tended him regularly, changing his dressing and cleaning the wound, which had closed but was still purple and swollen. There appeared to be no sign of infection, though the gash was a little red around the edges. Svet used salt water she’d made to cauterize the wound, and this helped.

  They hunted with bow and arrows, by spear and bolas, and Svet and Hawk were able to restock their supply of jerky. Hawk found a large puddle fed by a thin stream and constructed a water purifier from a thick piece of bamboo he’d made into a large cylinder open on one end. He made a small hole in the bottom, then filled the bamboo beaker with sand and small pebbles. Once the dirty water was passed through this purifier, it had only a slight cloud with an earthy taste. Hawk drank first and didn’t get sick, but they boiled everything they drank just to be safe.

  For building the raft, bamboo was the preferred material, but the nearest patch was several miles away so it was decided Hawk would trek there alone while Svet looked after Max.

  Hawk stopped by the treehouse after getting his first load for a drink of water, and Max said, “Are we sure we want to cross that sea? What if there are more of those things?”

  “Da,” Svet said. She wiped Max’s forehead with a wet rag.

  “We haven’t seen another gator, and I’m concerned about the dangers in the forest. Crossing the sea is the safest way,” Hawk said.

  “You say,” Svet said.

  Ok, if that’s how it’s going to be, Hawk thought. The couple were supporting each other. Now he felt more like a third wheel than he ever had. Hawk said, “You think we should go around, Svet?”

  She looked at Max, doubt spreading over her face, but she said, “Da.”

  Anger rose in Hawk, the old commander in him reestablishing itself. “Well, I’m in charge, and we’re crossing the damn sea.” Hawk stalked off and Svet and Max said nothing.

  Hawk headed back for more bamboo. He saw no larger dinosaurs, but several of the smaller species hid within the forest, content to stay away from the travelers. Hawk watched them as he would squirrels.

  The ammunition was dwindling. They’d fired a total of fourteen rounds at the prehistoric gator. That left them eleven rounds for the Viking and twenty-one for the Ash 12s. Hawk didn’t know if they’d be able to get by without the weapons. He considered for the thousandth time the crazy twist of fate that made Vladimir send guns to the station. If he hadn’t, the spacefarers would most likely be dead.

  It took Hawk ten days to tie together the raft, and he busied himself making a mast and weaving a palm frond sail. It wasn’t big, but any momentum they could get would help them cross the inland sea faster. Max and Svet were giving him the silent treatment after his outburst, but he didn’t care. He knew he was right, and that feeling had driven every decision he’d ever made.

  As the days passed, all chores done, Hawk wandered the forest alone, searching for guide stones or anything except the never-ending jungle. But he didn’t stray far. Things were becoming normal, and that was hard to accept. He was dirty, hungry, was never going to see his family again, or his friends, or eat a lamb chop or drink a martini. His new reality was becoming normal, complete with fighting with friends.

  There were flowers everywhere and the air was scented with pollen. His stomach grumbled. Time to cook some seafood stew down on the beach. They set large beacon fires at the edge of the sea every night to keep away any lurkers. Sitting on the rock beach wasn’t so bad, but it was no Cocoa Beach.

  21

  The travelers lived at the edge of the inland sea for a long time, probing, and living comfortably on fish and game as Max healed. There were sixty-eight slashes in the trunk of the tree they lived in, and though Hawk and his mates knew they’d missed a few days, it was close. Max’s leg felt good, and he was ready to move on. So was Hawk.

  Leaving the treehouse was bittersweet, but it hadn’t been time wasted. The next one would be better. He’d learn from his mistakes. Deciding what to leave behind was hard, and in the end the party abandoned anything they could make again, like many of the tools and other co
mfort items like cups and bowls they’d made from bamboo and large nut shells.

  Svet and Max were back to normal, and anger they’d felt toward him dissipated. They had the same argument about crossing the sea, but this time it was more civil and Hawk explained why he felt the way he did—again—and Max reluctantly agreed, but things had changed. It was Hawk verses Max and Svet here on out, and he needed to remember that going forward.

  The weather turned nasty the morning they were to leave, and there was a brief debate as to whether they should postpone their departure. It was decided to press on. Even with the wind gusting there was barely a ripple on the inland sea, and it wasn’t that far across. Hawk estimated the reeds in the center were no more than five miles away. With a little luck, they’d be on the other side and on dry land by nightfall.

  Hawk had updated the map in the back of The Martian to include the western side of the mountains, the inland sea, and the surrounding jungle. He put an X on the far left, marking the beacon’s location. There was a lot of jungle between the sea and the X, but as the party got closer the light would mark their way.

  The tide was coming in, and the sand beneath the raft was damp. They lashed their bags, food supplies, weapons and ammunition to the boat, and Hawk hoisted the mast and flew his palm frond sail, which was eight feet at its base and worked to a point. Wind tugged at the craft as the sail went up, jerking it toward the sea. After two months of monitoring they’d learned the wind came out of the east in the morning most days, but usually flipped midday. They’d have to take the sail down at some point.

  They made poles to push and steer, and since the water was shallow they could wade next to the raft if need be. A variety of fish and reptiles swam along the shore, but they’d seen no crabs, sea urchins, or any signs of alligators or other dangerous beasties.

  Ready to cast off, the spacefarers dragged the boat to the sea, and hopped aboard as the wind grabbed the sail and inched the craft forward. Hawk poled from the rear, with Svet on the port side, Max the starboard. The plan was to pass well south of the center marshland because it was likely to contain predators.

  The raft floated well, though it creaked and moaned like it might fall apart. Wind chirped and squeaked through the gaps in the palm frond sail like a mistuned orchestra, and the slap and pop of the raft cresting the small waves eased Hawk’s nerves. The sea breeze felt good, and his skin tightened as a thin sheen of salt covered his face. Waves lapped over the bamboo deck, but their supplies and weapons remained dry. The raft cut through the water like a brick, sending ripples over the rolling sea. Grass and rocks on the bottom hid fish large and small, but the abundance of sea life wasn’t surprising. The inland water would be calm compared to the ocean. Small shiners leapt from the sea in waves, creating miniature rapids.

  “Oh scheisse,” Max said.

  Mouths filled with needle teeth chomped two and three of the shiners with each bite as a school of larger fish fed on another.

  “Those look big,” Hawk said.

  The large fish were breaching from the water, jaws snapping on shiners. The commotion attracted pterosaurs, and they circled in the sky like vultures, their mournful cries rising above the splashing water.

  Hawk picked up his spear and held it at the ready. The water went calm, and beneath the clear water dark shapes surged around the raft. Fish launched from the water, their rows of teeth white as bone, their scales flashing in the sunlight.

  “Down!” Hawk yelled.

  The three travelers dropped to the bamboo deck, covering their heads as fish sprang from the water, mouths biting at air. A fish landed on the deck, flipping and tossing itself in a frantic dance to get back to the water. Its teeth caught hold of a gear bag and it shook its head, tearing the fabric like a shark.

  Svet kicked the beast, and it flew into the water. More of the killer fish arced across the raft in a cloud of teeth. Hawk hammered them away and one caught his boot and another his arm. He screamed, shook off the fish and ripped his forearm open in the process, but it didn’t stop him. Hawk was possessed, and he kicked and swung at the creatures, fighting them off.

  The school passed, the water calmed, and Hawk fell to the deck exhausted. “Everyone OK?”

  “Da.”

  “Ja, you?” Max said. “You are bleeding.”

  Hawk looked at his shoulder as if seeing the wound for the first time. “I’m alright,” he said. Hawk rolled on his side and ladled sea water over the gash with a cupped hand. He winced, but the arc of tooth punctures felt better.

  Svet was at Hawk’s side, cleaning the wound and bandaging it with the red stained rags used for Max’s dressings. “You fine. Scratch.”

  Hawk laughed. “A scratch? You Russians are tough.” He forced a smile and fell back on the deck, staring up at the blue sky. To the west, dark clouds marched across the horizon, and by nightfall there’d be heavy rain.

  Hawk looked at Max, but the German didn’t say what Hawk knew he was thinking: told you so. “Let’s get moving,” he said. The clear water revealed no threats, but the pterosaurs still circled above, awaiting round two and hoping for spoils.

  The world left them alone, and Max and Svet poled across the shallow water while Hawk rested. The bleeding had stopped and he was no longer in pain. He’d been lucky. Again. How many times was fate going to spare him? How many monsters would miss their mark? He couldn’t shake the feeling that his time was almost up, and he didn’t like the feeling.

  The sun marched past noon and the sea became a desert; heat rolling across the water like waves of fire. The horizon to the west was a wall of dark clouds that looked like a sandstorm, but Svet still poled the boat forward. Max had collapsed from the heat, and they were running out of water.

  They ate a little, rested, and pushed on.

  Birds sprayed from the ominous water reeds at the center of the inland sea as something big thrashed within. Hawk thought this was the resting place of the dino-crocs, and he and Svet stood at the front of the raft, guns at the ready, as they slid past the reeds.

  Hawk felt better as the reeds faded, and the far shore lay before them. Nothing stood between the companions and their goal. The wind shifted, as predicted, and they took the sail down. Their progress slowed considerably, but they were still moving at a pace that would get them to the cover of the jungle by nightfall.

  Hawk was hurting, and the thought of being stuck out on the open water in the dark made him think bad thoughts. They’d have no protection, and if a big critter decided to have an evening snack they’d make a dainty morsel.

  The sun went behind a cloud, covering the raft in a rolling shade. Hawk took a deep breath. It felt good to be out of the sun.

  “Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Screeeeee.”

  It wasn’t a cloud that had blocked the sun, but their friend from the caves. The beast descended with wings spread, beak pointed at the raft like an arrow, mouth open, teeth gleaming in the sunlight.

  Hawk brought up the Ash 12 and opened up, screaming like a madman as the machine gun rattled his arms. Bullets peppered the dragon as it veered right, taking itself out of the line of fire. Its black skin looked wet, its yellow streaks covered with brown mud. It circled, wings snapping in the wind like a flag, its dark rolling eyes settling on the raft again as it straightened and came in for another attack run.

  “Into water,” Svet said. Then she hesitated, her eyes scanning the sea for killer fish. She looked at Hawk, then up at the pterosaur as it knifed toward them, and jumped in. Max followed, and both of Hawk’s mates stood in the sea, their guns above the water and trained at the beast.

  Hawk fired again, but this time the creature wasn’t put off. Tiny holes leaked brown-blue blood across the dragon’s chest, but it came on. Hawk’s Ash 12 clicked empty and he tossed it onto the raft and dove underwater. The beast tore into the boat, and bamboo cracked and split. All the gear, and the Ash 12 Hawk had used, slipped into the sea as the raft broke apart.

  Hawk surfaced and scrambled to grab
the machine gun before it fell into the water, but he couldn’t get it and the gun sank to the bottom. Their supply bags floated listlessly on the surface and Max and Svet moved away from the remains of the raft as it broke apart. Each still held a weapon, Svet an Ash 12 and Max the Viking.

  Their bags of food, water, and ammunition floated away as the dragon turned in a wide arc and came at them again with a piercing cry that sent pain firing down Hawk’s back. He dove beneath the sea again as the beast streaked into a hail of bullets as Svet and Max fired at the dragon.

  Hawk surfaced, sucking air. The sea was settling, and to the east the dragon fled back to its home in the mountains where mommy and eggs waited. What the female pterosaur would think when her mate arrived dripping blood on her nest, he could only imagine, but part of him wished he’d be there to see daddy get chewed out.

  “You alright?” Max said.

  “Think so,” Svet said. The Russian collected their supplies, most of which still floated on the rolling sea. The commotion had driven all the creatures away, and the three companions stood alone, waist deep in the sea, exhausted and wondering what more could happen to them on this horrible day.

  “If anything, this proves we were right to stay off the savannah. Whenever we’re exposed, we get hit,” Max said.

  “Da,” Svet said. “Stupid thing probably saw from its perch atop the mountains.”

  Max looked up and searched the sky, as if waiting for every flying creature within a hundred clicks to be eyeballing them.

  “That was our boy, Smug from the caves,” Max said.

  “You mean Smaug? From The Hobbit?” Hawk said.

  “No, I mean that thing is smug. It came after us like we were rats.”

  “I hope it’s the last we see of him,” Hawk said.

  “Da,” Svet said, but she didn’t sound convinced. Like Max, her gaze strayed to the sky. Again, neither Max or Svet reminded Hawk of his decision to cross the inland sea. Had they gone around, Smaug wouldn’t have seen them.