An Alex Hawk Time Travel Adventure (Book 1): A Door Into Time

by Inmon, Shawn

  “I can’t claim that, but I hunted with my dad from the time I was ten or so. We took down just about anything you can name—grouse, pheasants, mule deer, even squirrels when I was learning to hunt.”

  “That helps, but when you were hunting grouse, what were the odds that some other carnivore like a dire wolf or a bear as big as your house were going to be hunting you at the same time? And, these hunters use spears, clubs, atlatls, and knives, not shotguns and rifles with hi-tech scopes.”

  “True enough, but now that I’m feeling better, I’ll go stir crazy staying around here all the time. Who can I talk to about joining the hunters?”

  “You’ll need to talk to Sekun-ak. He’s the chief hunter.”

  “Who’s that? Have I met him?”

  “Of course you did—at the ceremony where you promised to help destroy your guns.”

  Alex flashed back on the huge warrior who seemed to hate Alex before he even knew him.

  “Oh, great. Him.”

  Dan laughed at the expression on Alex’s face. “Hey, don’t worry about it. If you don’t want to talk to him, I can talk to Malen-eh. She can get you on with the housekeeping crew. They change the bedding, wash clothes down at the creek, that sort of thing.”

  “You know, you can really be an asshole sometimes, right?”

  Dan continued to laugh, but said, “You’re not the first person who’s told me that. Now, do you want me to take you to him, or not?”

  Dan and Alex found Sekun-ak at the armory. It wasn’t much by twentieth century standards—there wasn’t a long-distance weapon or tin of gunpowder in sight—but it was what they had.

  Sekun-ak was sitting at a table, attaching an arrowhead to the shaft of an arrow. When Dan and Alex walked in, he didn’t bother to look up.

  “Gunta,” Dan said.

  Still, Sekun-ak did not turn his attention from the arrow.

  Ah, Dan doesn’t exactly get along with this dude, either. Interesting. Maybe he just doesn’t like our type.

  “Sekun-ak, Manta-ak wants to be part of the next hunting expedition.”

  That finally got the man’s attention. He delicately set the arrow down, then stood and stepped in front of Alex. He looked down on him from his full 7’4” frame and smirked.

  Alex thought of his first hand-to-hand combat instructor, who was only 5’2”, but made Alex look foolish every time they met on the mat.

  The bigger man is not always the best fighter.

  Sekun-ak smirked down at Alex, then said, “Nunta den.”

  Alex knew enough of that language to be surprised. Nunta den meant no problem. Dan turned to interpret, but Alex waved him off.

  “That’s great,” Alex said. “Can you ask him when the next hunting expedition leaves? I’d like to go.”

  Sekun-ak blurted out a long litany of Winten-ah that Alex lost track of after the first few words.

  When he finished, Dan turned to Alex and said, “Well, the gist of it is, you can become a hunter, but first you have to complete three tasks that all hunters must perform to prove they belong.”

  “Is that true? Do all hunters have to prove themselves with these tasks? If so, that’s completely fair.”

  “I have no idea,” Dan answered. “I never tried to join the hunters, and I’m not privy to all their goings-on.”

  “So it could be a trap, intended to hurt or embarrass me.”

  “I’d bet on it.”

  Alex couldn’t prevent his chest from puffing out a little or the fact that his chin jutted up toward Sekun-ak. He had never backed down from a challenge.

  “Great. Tell him I’ll do it.”

  Dan shook his head. “I’m surprised you’ve managed to live this long.”

  “Like you said earlier, you’re not the first person to tell me that.”

  “OKAY,” DAN SAID, EARLY the next morning. They stood outside the armory. A group of Sekun-ak’s hunters had joined him to watch the fun. “These tasks are supposed to get progressively more difficult, so this one should be a piece of cake.”

  “I like the way you think,” Alex said, scratching Monda-ak behind the ears.

  “You stay here. I don’t want your fractured Winten-ah to get you in trouble. I’ll talk to him and ask him as many questions as I can.”

  Dan and Sekun-ak conferenced and went back and forth for several minutes. It looked to Alex like Dan was trying to determine the finer points of the challenge.

  Finally, Dan came back to Alex.

  “It’s fair. It’s not like you have to pull one of Godat-ta’s teeth and bring it back.”

  “Don’t even say that,” Alex said, but he saw that Dan was only trying to loosen him up.

  “What you have to do is bring back a pinecone.”

  Alex looked flabbergasted. “Seriously? That should take what, about five minutes? Maybe we can knock out all three of these challenges today.”

  “Hold on there, Hercules. It’s going to be a little harder than that. The pinecone must be as long as your arm, and it has to come with a bit of the branch attached to it, so he knows you didn’t just pick it up off the ground. He wants to test your ability to climb. The only trees in the forest that have pinecones that big are the sugar pines, which are at the far southern end of the forest. The good news is, you’ll be in our forest, which means you’ll be relatively safe on the trip there and back. Our guards keep the forest trail pretty clear of predators.”

  Alex swallowed hard. “How about tree roaches?”

  “Can’t make any promises there, bud. Sorry.”

  “Can I at least get a club or something to fight them off with?”

  Dan turned to Sekun-ak and asked.

  Sekun-ak smirked and said, “Fen.” He turned to one of his men and barked an order. The man hesitated, obviously not wanting to comply. Sekun-ak repeated himself, much more quietly this time. The man’s face clouded, but he grabbed his cudgel off his belt and handed it to Alex, who hung it off his own belt. It was too big for him and banged against his calf when he moved.

  “REMIND ME TO FIND WHOEVER makes these and learn how to do it myself, so I don’t look so much like I’m playing with Dad’s weapon.”

  “Don’t worry about it now, you’ve got more important things to think about. Do you know what a sugar pine looks like?”

  “No idea.”

  “It’ll be easy to spot. When you come to the end of the forest, look up. They are the tallest trees within ten days travel.”

  “Ah, that’s it,” Alex said. “It’s to see if I have a fear of heights or not. Doesn’t have much to do with being a hunter, but okay. Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

  Without another word, Alex set off at a fast march. He walked past the children playing in front of the cliff and was soon at the cool edge of the forest. He turned south and less than a hundred yards later, saw the first guard in his blind.

  Alex waved and said, “Gunta!”

  The guard waved back and offered “Gunta!” back to Alex.

  That word had been an easy one to pick up. ‘Gunta’ was a heavy-duty, all-purpose word in Winten-ah, like ‘aloha’ in the Hawaiian Islands. It could mean ‘hello,’ ‘goodbye,’ or ‘May the wind be at your back,’ all depending on context.

  There was a small trail through the forest—not much more than a game trail, but Dan had told him to stick to it.

  Alex broke into a light jog, anxious to get to the sugar pines and see what new challenge waited for him.

  It was a beautiful day and slanting beams of sunlight cut through the trees as his footfalls were muffled by the pine needle carpet on the ground. On any other day, Alex would have slowed and enjoyed nature.

  Instead, he moved quickly, carefully avoiding brushing into any of the trees he passed. He hoped he wouldn’t see any of the giant roaches on his first challenge.

  After an hour, he stopped to catch his breath and drink from the water bag he had brought with him. When he tilted his head back to drink, his eyes fell on one of the tallest
trees he had ever seen. It rose above those around it like a mountain set amidst foothills. He choked on the water, then lowered the bag and gaped at the tree.

  Holy mother.

  Alex closed one eye and tried to estimate how tall the tree might be. It was so out of whack with the surrounding trees that he could only guess.

  Two hundred feet? Maybe three hundred.

  Alex didn’t have a fear of heights but looking up at the top branches of the tree, which were swaying magnificently in the wind, he felt his stomach tighten.

  This is the easy one, huh? Can’t wait to see what he’s dreamed up for the next two.

  Alex approached the tree as one does any worthy opponent. Slowly, sizing it up, seeing what tricks it might have in store for him.

  At least it has low branches. That will make it a little easier to climb.

  He arrived at the bottom of the tree and spread his arms around the trunk to measure it. He had to use three of his own wingspans to measure around it. When he stood at the bottom and looked up, he couldn’t begin to see the top.

  Alex checked his equipment, which was sparse. A Winten-ah backpack which Dan had loaned him, his water bag, the too-long club, and his wits. Always his wits.

  Alex kicked the tree several times to send vibrations up it, then stepped back and waited with his club drawn. If he was going to face one of those monstrous roaches, he wanted to do it here, on solid ground.

  Seconds passed and the only sound came from the whispering of the trees as they swayed in the wind. Alex hadn’t noticed it before, but here at the edge of the forest, the wind had picked up substantially.

  I don’t have to climb clear to the top, anyway. Just high enough to pull off a pinecone. Wait. Correct that. A pinecone as long as my arm. Damn.

  Alex jumped slightly, grabbed hold of the lowest limb and pulled himself up. Again, he paused, waiting for the appearance of the giant cockroach. None came.

  Alex had been a tree climber all his life. That was how he had come to wear a cast the summer between sixth and seventh grade. He had recovered enough from his bout of Winten-ah Flu to be almost back to one hundred percent. Confidence flowed back into him.

  C’mon, Hawk. You’ve got this.

  Alex looked at tree climbing the same way he did chess. The problem isn’t the move at hand. The problem is the move seven or eight turns down the road. Or, in this case, the limbs twenty feet above him.

  Soon, everything but the climb passed from his mind. Amy and what she was thinking about him was normally never far from his mind. Formulating an escape plan was also constantly rolling around his brain. But now, pulling himself from one branch to another, occasionally making a calculated leap, all those thoughts dissipated.

  After ten minutes of hard climbing, Alex looked down. He was surprised to see the treetops of all the other trees. For the first time, he had a perfect view of the surrounding area. He squinted and tried to eliminate all the landmarks he took for granted—roads, bridges, and buildings.

  As he strove to remove the trappings of civilization from his mind, he began to see that Dan had been correct. The land was the same. He hadn’t moved in space. Only in time.

  After a brief rest, Alex looked at the pinecones around him. Sugar pines had massive cones and they hung all around him. Big as they were, they didn’t measure as long as his arm.

  He climbed on.

  The higher he got, the more the wind became a factor. One gust hit him so hard that he had to throw his arms around the trunk and dig his fingers into the bark to hang on.

  Even when the wind wasn’t gusting, it blew steadily and the tree swayed unnervingly.

  Alex put the swaying out of his mind—it was one of the many things in his life that he had no ability to control.

  Up he climbed, the trunk of the tree narrowing, which made it easier to get a grip as the whipping action increased.

  Finally, he saw what he had been looking for—the biggest pinecone he had ever seen.

  It hung on a limb over his head and was a few feet beyond his grasp. In order to reach it, he needed to let go of the trunk, balance on the lower limb, and stretch well above his head. It was either that, or climb up another limb, hunker down, and try to get it that way. That might have been the easiest way.

  Alex so rarely took the easy way in anything.

  He shuffled his feet along the lower limb, praying that another big gust didn’t choose that moment to sweep him off. He kept his left hand touching the trunk of the tree as long as he could but soon realized he was going to have to let go and balance on the limb.

  The wind pushed the tree to the right, then see-sawed it back to the left. Alex half-kneeled, like a tightrope walker that almost lost his balance. He recovered and stretched upward. It was easy enough to touch the pinecone, but if he just grabbed the bottom and pulled, he might not get the required piece of the limb.

  Alex gathered his equilibrium, took a deep breath, and jumped up. He grabbed the upper limb with both hands, smashing his face into the massive pinecone. It wavered but did not fall.

  He let go with his left hand and swung one-handed in the breeze for two long seconds while he waited to see if his right hand would hold him.

  It did.

  He reached up and tore the pinecone away, making sure to bring a piece of the branch with it. The pinecone was huge—well longer than his arm—but it wasn’t heavy. He cradled it in his left arm and craned his neck to look at the branch below him.

  This was the tricky part—letting go with his right arm, landing on the limb below, and holding his balance long enough to step back to the trunk of the tree.

  All without dropping the pinecone.

  Alex’s grip made the decision quick. It released and he fell. His feet hit the branch below and he pinwheeled his right arm, seeking a precarious balance.

  He realized he was going to fall, so he leaped toward the trunk.

  He made it, although barely. His left leg slipped off the limb and scraped viciously against the ragged wood, drawing blood. He kept his left arm gripped around the pinecone but managed to grab the main trunk with his right arm.

  Alex took a deep, shaky breath, knowing how lucky he had been to not plummet several hundred feet to the ground. The pinecone would win the challenge but would have made a terrible parachute.

  Okay. I’ll rest up for just a minute, then climb down.

  Alex had planned to use the backpack to carry the cone down, but now that he had it in his arms, he realized it was far too big to fit into that. He would need to climb with only one arm.

  While he rested, he glanced up to see how close to the top of the tree he had gotten. He noticed a dark, shadowy area in the limbs at the very top of the tree. When he focused, he realized what it was—a nest. A nest by definition, but larger than any he could remember seeing.

  What now? The karak-ta nest in the rocks by the ocean. What fresh hell can this be?

  That thought no more than passed through his mind than he heard an urgent chirping coming from the nest.

  Alex looked around in a panic and saw the single largest bird he had ever seen in his life. It was circling overhead with a small animal dangling lifelessly from its claws. It was even larger than the karak-ta. Where the karak-ta looked almost comical in a horrifying way, this animal looked like death on two wings. It was apparently an eagle, or some distant relative thereof. It had the same hooked beak, sharp claws and predator’s gaze.

  It fell out of its circling flight path and dove straight at Alex.

  Alex didn’t panic but picked the fastest and most dangerous path down, which was to jump from limb to limb. He jumped twice and landed perfectly.

  On his third jump, he miscalculated. His right foot landed properly but his left slipped off.

  With no chance to check himself, Alex’s right foot also slipped.

  He fell, plummeting toward the ground.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A Quest II

  Alex instinctively dropped th
e pinecone so he could have both hands free to save his life.

  The good news was that the tree was heavily limbed, so he didn’t just free fall to the ground. Instead, he hit branch after branch on the way down. That slowed him down, but since he landed awkwardly on each one, it also served to beat and bruise him.

  Less than fifty feet from the ground, he was still tumbling, but managed to grab an offshoot of a branch, which slowed him enough that he could right himself and aim his feet at the branch below. He was still moving too fast, but finding a momentary foothold allowed him to jump again and land more solidly.

  He hugged the trunk of the tree, sweat pouring off him, breath coming in ragged bursts. He looked upward to see if the giant eagle had followed him down, but there was no sign of her. Perhaps the fact that he had tumbled several hundred feet away from her nest neutralized him as a threat.

  Alex held onto the tree trunk and waited until his breathing and heartbeat stabilized. Only then did he remember that he had dropped the cone he had fought so hard to get.

  If it’s lost the attaching branch, I don’t know what I’ll do. What is worse? Admitting I failed the challenge, or trying to climb back up there again?

  Alex knew the answer, but he dreaded the thought of another climb. He was not only exhausted, but his out of control tumble had battered him so badly he secretly doubted his ability to successfully manage it.

  He gingerly made his way down the last forty feet of the tree, wincing with each small jump. His leg was bleeding, he’d wrenched his left arm trying to grab a branch, and he had more cuts and bruises than he could count.

  He hopped down onto the thick carpet of pine needles and immediately saw the giant cone. The top was turned away, but when he picked it up, his heart leapt.

  It’s intact!

  Alex felt such relief that he plopped down on the trail and let himself rest for five minutes. That’s rarely a good idea in Kragdon-ah. If you’re not moving, something is typically moving toward you. In this case it wasn’t anything fatal, like Godat-ta the bear, but something annoying. Ants.

  Like so many other things in Kragdon-ah, the ants weren’t the annoyances found at picnics, but were each an inch long, with a fire-red warning on their abdomen. When the first one climbed up the back of Alex’s shirt, it was heavy enough to attract his attention. Before he could swipe it away, ten more climbed aboard to investigate.