“While not to scale or drawn well, the number of paces are indicated so it can be used, along with local landmarks, to return easily enough. The People at the mountain speak a slightly different English than we do, only they're easy enough to understand. They still dress in cotton material, in what they call a uniform. They all are assigned military ranks, like our old military books show, and the leader is addressed as Colonel. Colonel has absolute power, with each man bending to his demands without question, but I found him to be fair and well educated. Their problem, the biggest one, is few belong to the tribe. They, unlike us, only have the one village, with about two hundred people.”
“Have they few women?” Levi asked.
“Fewer than most villages. Additionally, it seems a woman can have more than one husband, while the men are only allowed a woman after achieving a certain rank within their group.”
Levi said, “It's likely done to increase breeding and improve the birthrate.”
“Do they have a shaman?” Amon asked, because Julian was not at the meeting. He was caring for the sick and dying.
“Yes, they surely do, and three of them. They know much more about medicine than we do. According to the Colonel, they have a mountain of medicines and some equipment that still works. Now, I know you will not believe me, but they even have electricity, computers, and telephones. Of course, not all the time.”
“Of what good is a computer or telephone when there is no one to call or contact?”
Zan laughed and said, “They use the computer to message each other, because their village is huge under the mountain. Computers are also used to educated children and for the shaman to list the sick, ill and those who have died. The telephones are used, most of the time, in emergencies. If someone nears the village outside the mountain, the people notify others by telephone. See, they do not live in the mountain. They have a village made of logs near the entrance. When threatened, they retreat into the mountain side. Then, they close the thick steel door and are safe.”
“Surely some of the phones, computers and other electronics have failed, been broken, or quit working over the years.” Amon said.
“Yes, of course, and Colonel said they have Learned Ones that can change the parts from one to the other and get one working again. I think the term he used was 'K-ball,' or something like that. They have a library of books, just on how to maintain the complex, that is five times the size of ours. Every small device is covered by a book that shows every small part and explains how to fix problems. He called them, 'Technical Orders,' but I have no idea what that means.”
Mongoose looked at the map in Levi's hand and said, “By the end of the day, I want ten copies of that map made and given to each chief, shaman, and other leaders. The remainder will be given to me. Those of us who survive this sickness may have need of the map.” Then turning to Zan, she asked, “What do you think are the three most important things the Cheyenne Mountain People have?”
Zan grinned and said, “What I am about to say, you will not believe, and I know this, only I've seen with my own eyes what I am about to say. First, they have guns of all sizes; pistols, rifles, machine guns, and others I did not recognize and most are still in hundreds of crates. And, they have almost an endless supply of ammunition to go with them.
Second, they have an advanced medical ability we cannot even imagine. They can prevent diseases by injecting medicines into the arms or rear of someone. They can used a machine to see broken bones, and they even have the ability to open a patient who has been injured, fix the injured body part, and then sew the patient closed. The shaman I spoke with said almost 100 percent survive the 'surgery,' whatever that term means. I spoke with five people who showed me scars for this surgery and all were up and moving well.”
“And, the last?” Mongoose asked.
“They have a serious need for more people and have invited us to join them. They watched us for many days before contacting us. They saw how we treat each other, they saw us praying, which they do as well, and they saw us fight our enemies. I discovered they were more like us, than different. I cannot say if this joining of bands would be good or bad, it is not my place to speak, but I think it should be considered.”
“It is something to seriously consider, after this sickness leaves us. I suspect, and so does Julian, that many of our elders will die in the next few days. We may soon be without a council of elders to assist us in decision making. However, that is unimportant right now.” Mongoose said, and then after a moment of thought asked, “What were the three biggest differences between us that you noticed?”
“First, their language is filled with military slang or shortened names for things.”
“Acronym is the word you're looking for, I think.” Levi said.
“That is the word, acronym. They come from ancient warriors, of a time when America was a super nation, and they live by old ways, laws, and rules. Second, they have a rigid social system, with warriors and leaders treated differently. The leader class has more of everything, better lodges, and are in absolute control.”
“Are there women in the leader class?”
“Yes, I saw many, but not all. And last, they are loyal to a piece of cloth. They call this cloth a “flag,” but I am unsure what the word means.” Zan looked at Levi, but the learned one only shrugged.
“Go on.” Mongoose said.
“They have a ceremony each morning and evening where they raise and lower this flag. According to the Colonel, they have copied the original flag and made the one they now fly. I fail to understand the importance, as I'm sure many of you will as well. It may be they worship this flag or it is a symbol.”
“Enough talk for now. Let us join in prayer for our sick and those who will become sick over the next few days. Then, after this disease has run its course, we will talk of this again. Amon, would you lead us in prayer?”
Chapter 10
BYRON MOVED HIS MEN into deep woods; many years before it was called the Missouri Ozark Mountains, and they made camp in a cave. Fire wood they'd gathered filled the far wall, because they had no idea if they'd be strong enough to walk when the disease hit. A stream ran though the cave and out the entrance, so they had water. The Wolf People had left a hundred weight of dried beef for the men, but that was all they had in the way of food.
“Lum,” Seth said early one morning, “we need to get some meat, so bring your bow and let's see if we can locate any cows or deer. We can keep the meat cool in the stream and it will last for a long time. That water is icy cold and it's spring fed.”
Standing, Lum said, “Well, lets go and get back, because I'm starting to ache a little bit.”
Two hours later as they stood in the woods watching a clearing, a big buck was walking around the edge of the field. Both men prepared an arrow, but neither was aware that they were now the hunted. When the animal was but a short distance away, the arrows were released and both found their target, except the animal didn't drop instantly.
“We'll wait a bit and then find it dead within a hundred yards of here. If not pressured, the animal will hole up some place and bleed out. Let's give the deer about thirty minutes.” Seth said, and then sat in the grasses to wait.
Unknown to both men, a raiding party of ten warriors, all of the Big River People, were watching their every move. The raiders were a violent group, prone to horrific torture and even the eating of human flesh. In the woods or on the plains, they moved like the animals they were, rarely seen and never heard, until the last minute.
Smiling, Seth said, “Let's get the deer and get back to the cave, I don't feel good.”
As they stood, Lum immediately fell and Seth saw an arrow in the man's shoulder. Then he saw the Big River People running for them. He had fought them before and wanted no part of the one-sided fight, so he fled, leaving his fellow warrior to face his fate alone. Lum was suddenly surrounded.
Seth kept to the bushes and within five minutes, he was running full speed right for the cave,
his fear overriding his common sense.
Lum, his injury hurting, knew his pain was nothing compared to what these warriors would do to him. He pulled his knife, but a warrior kicked it from his hand and said, “We have one warrior for the women to play with, and he is enough. Let us return to the village now.”
Seth was almost to the cave when he stopped and thought, Good God, I can't just lead them to the cave. Of all the tribes, the Big River People are the closest to being animals. I need to circle around and try to lose them if they're on my trail. Lord, get me through this.
Four hours later, he entered the cave and said, “Lum has been captured by Big River People. We'd just downed a deer when they hit us.”
“Are you certain?” Byron asked.
“I saw them with my own eyes, and there were at least a dozen warriors.”
“Why did you not fight to the death?” Ora asked.
“I would have fought, but there were too many of them. I do our people no good if I die foolishly.”
“I would have pulled my—”
“Enough!” Byron said, “There is no use talking about what should have been done. What's done is done, and Lum has been lost to us. It could have happened to any one of us. I think the Big River People will soon number much less than they do this day. They will torture and kill Lum, but he will kill many by giving them the disease.”
“Karma.” Seth said.
“No, that is not so.” Ora said and then added, “It's an illness and has nothing to do with Karma. It will kill, or try to kill everyone it touches, both good and bad people.”
“Do you think you were followed?”
“No, because I hid under some brush for well over an hour, watching my back trail and never saw a soul.”
Ora said, “I think it was a raid to capture a man or woman to provide their village will some entertainment. Lum will die a hard death.” His narrow eyes stared hard at Seth.
“I do not feel well, so if you two wish to argue or fight, go outside. I will try to sleep.” Byron said and then wrapped up in his blanket.
“I could do nothing, Ora.”
“I am not well myself, but we'll discuss this another time, my friend.” He wrapped up in his blanket too and added, “You can stand guard. You may be the last one we have for many long days.”
Lum tried to get the warriors to look at the red dots on his shoulders and forehead, but they weren't interested. They continued to move east, toward the Mississippi River. They claimed all the land from the big river to the western most line of the old state of Missouri. While they were fierce warriors, they lacked enough warriors to protect what they claimed, and were unable to stop other tribes from doing as they wished with their lands. The Eagle People even went so far as to claim most of the land as their own, and they could enforce their ownership. As a result, Lum knew as a hated Eagle warrior he'd die a painful death.
During the night Byron felt as if he was on fire, with sweat streaming down his forehead. His vision was blurred and he sipped on whiskey to make him sleep. He wondered how the others were doing, but he was too weak to check on them. It seemed as if every muscle in his body was sore or tired. At one point he woke, heard moaning, raised his head, but saw nothing and sipped more whiskey.
It might have been a week later or an hour, he had no idea, except his eyes opened and he found himself laying is his own waste. He reeked of urine, crap, and vomit. Ora was beside the fire, his back to him, and squatting, so he must have come around first.
“O . . . Ora.” Byron said, “Drink?”
Ora's head snapped around and met Byron's eyes, as he said, “Sure, let me get the water.”
“You . . . your cheeks . . . scars.”
Moving to Byron, he raised the sick man's head and let a little water fall from his canteen into his mouth. “I know I have deep scars, and so do you. Seth doesn't though, but he died at some point the last few days. I found his body when I came out of it late last night and he was already stiff.”
“We . . . we were lucky.”
“Blessed by God is my guess, but I have no idea why. Do you hear the rain?”
“Sure, and it's raining hard. Ora, is it dark in here?”
“It's late at night, why?”
“I can't see as clearly as I did before I got sick.”
Ora placed his hand right in front of Byron's eyes and asked, “Can you see my hand?”
“Of course, I see your hand, but when I look around, everything has a haze around the edges.”
Ora thought for a moment and then said, “I'm no shaman, but it might be temporary, and you'll recover in a few days. But, to be honest, I have no idea.”
“I know.” Byron said and then sat up. His head was pounding, so he took a long snort of the whiskey and said, “My head hurts like a bitch.”
“I just got rid of my headache earlier this morning. I have some broth cooking if you want a cup or two.”
“I don't want it, except I know I need to drink some. Any idea how many days we've been sick?”
“None. I went into a fever coma, woke up a few times, went back to sleep, and finally came around. From the looks of things around camp, I'd say at least three days, but maybe as much as five.”
Over cups of broth they discussed what to do next, and neither was sure if they were safe to return to the village yet or not. Finally, they decided to wait another week, then return. In the mean time, they pulled the dead Seth from camp and left his body about a mile from the cave. Neither man had the strength to bury the man, so he was left out in the open. They washed below the cave, where the stream met a small river, and both felt much better after a cleaning. Fresh clothes were donned and both were much improved in health and mood.
“How badly is my face scarred?” Byron asked.
“About a dozen pock marks on your cheeks. Most on the left side, and me?”
“I'd say about like me, so don't worry about it. It does mean we'll never die from the disease now too, and can't get it again. That's pretty much all I know about the illness.”
Ora laughed and said, “Well, we survived and I'm sure others that came in contact with the illness died. I've never been so out of it as I was when sick.”
“Fever grabbed us, is what happened and if our fevers had gone too high, we'd have died anyway, but they didn't. Now, we need to get some fresh meat, because I'm suddenly hungry as hell.”
“We can do that, but don't eat too much at first, or it'll kill you. The first day back on food, we need to eat many times, but a little each time.”
Lum was untied when they reached the village and secured to a pole in the middle of the village. It was a burning pole used to burn captives to death, after days of torture. Damn me, I need to piss one of these warriors off enough that I'm killed instantly, he thought in his fever slowed mind. He was sick now, with a high fever and sweating, as well as body cramps and aches. He was naked, with his arms and legs secured to the pole and a rope was also around his neck. The rope on his neck kept his head up, so all could see his pain and suffering.
A shaman neared to paint him for death, and carried black and white paint in a wooden bowl. The colors were symbolic, with white meaning life and black for death. Placing his bowls of paint on the ground beside Lum, the shaman suddenly gave a loud gasp. His eyes grew larger and his mouth fell open in surprise. It was then Lum heard the words, “Good God, small pox.”
“Guard, get the chief—now!” the shaman ordered as he back away from Lum. He fell to his knees and began to pray, asking Him to protect his people.
Five minutes later, Har, the chief neared and asked, “What in the hell is so important that you interrupted my meal?”
Standing, the shaman said, “Those fools brought back a sick man for the women to enjoy.”
“Who cares if he's sick, you old fool, he's to be killed anyway.”
“Har, you must listen to my words closely. See the red pimples on his face, neck and chest?”
“I see them.”
“They are not pimples. This captive has small pox.”
“What is small pox?”
The shaman looked him in the eyes and replied, “Small pox is death. Within two weeks most of us will be sick, and by the end of this month, many, if not most, will be dead.”
“You are sure of this?”
He slowly nodded and then said, “We may lose fifty percent or more of our people to this one illness.”
“Damn, and you can do nothing?”
He shook his head and said, “Not a thing can be done. The dead will have to be burned, and the living will need water and meat broth while they are ill. We must start to prepare now, while we can still move and do what is needed.”
“Guard! Have all warriors meet me here and tell them to come now.”
When the guard left, Har said, “What of the captive?”
“Kill him of course, but since he brought us the disease, make his death special.”
“I don't understand what you mean by special. I'm not in the best of moods right now, so speak to me in a way I can comprehend. Damn it all, losing over half of my people! What will become of us?”
“Let me kill this warrior, and I will do the job slowly.”
“Shaman, do as you wish with the captive. If left to me, I'd stick a knife in his guts or cut his throat.”
Soon warriors were gone, all hunting meat, fetching clean water, caring for their mounts, or running other errands the chief needed completed. He'd agreed that at dusk the shaman would start the torture of the prisoner, and the chief knew it would be the last group gathering for many of them. At first he wanted to put the leader of the warriors who'd captured Lum to death, but the man was innocent of wrong doing. Not a single warrior would have thought the red spots could kill people. His anger, building inside, had no release and that was why Lum had to die a slow death. Perhaps with the death of the captive, he'd gain some release, and The People would avenge their own deaths.
Eagle People Page 10
