“Let me set an example. In the decades before the plagues hit, there was racial tension. We are thankfully past that, as we are now a fully mixed-race society, but in the past there were issues. As independent outsiders to this issue, we can look at it from both sides.”
As a woman with a darker complexion than most, Pearl had felt some surprise when she was first made aware of race issues. She had grown up in an integrated society that did not mention it to their children.
“Just before the apocalypse, there was contention between two factions over unarmed, dark-skinned men being shot by those who enforced law. One faction defended those law enforcement officers against all reason. The other side vilified the enforcers against all reason. The actions of both sides became aggressive and led to further violence. Instead of recognizing the underlying issues of poverty and oppression on the one side being contributing factors and the difficulty in identifying a true threat and options in dealing with a threat on the other, society suffered. The point of the debate became about enforcing position instead of finding solutions. Many people lost their lives as a result.”
Many of the faces in the audience gave Pearl pause. She could tell she had lost them.
“I’m sorry. As I said the concepts might be foreign, and I have gone too far. Allow me to digress.”
Hesitation as the old woman breathed deeply. Speaking sometimes took what little breath she had.
“Perhaps a better example would be religion.”
Pearl leaned back in her chair. Her elderly bones and thin muscles and skin tended to become uncomfortable if she sat in one position. It was the price of becoming old. She appreciated that so far she had avoided the alternative.
Mind wandering in the brief instant of relaxation, Pearl gathered her thoughts. The point she was considering was complicated. Now she wondered if it was worth the effort in this homogenized crowd. Religion as a structure had not survived the plagues well. The survivors were too well informed, too full of doubt. Although it was not uncommon to believe in a Supreme Being, this age saw God as more a consequence of evolution than as a Creator. The idea that an omnipotent Being watched over all with intent had died. Instead, those who believed saw the Entity as a composite of all knowledge and experience in which death provided a transition, transcendence, to becoming part of that Entity. The thinking was in the infancy of development, Pearl knew, and would eventually progress further. She decided the subject was too complicated for this audience. She changed her mind as she eased her muscles.
“No, no need to get into that right now. We can speak of religion in one of Angus’ philosophy classes.”
She nodded toward her stocky friend, and he smiled, an engaging appreciation on his face.
“Instead, let’s get back to the law.”
The next hour was spent in an interesting conglomeration of mental wandering. Pearl started with how courts differed between the past and the present. She made the point that long-dead judges swore an oath to uphold the law yet routinely and knowingly sentenced innocents to terms of incarceration. She defined the practice of offering reduced sentences under threat of longer sentences, forcing the innocent to make false confessions to protect themselves from time away from lives and family and allowing the guilty to go free.
Pearl mentioned that attorneys understood the concept of conflict of interest, using it in legal terms often, yet filled political offices where they created law that they would also enforce or challenge beyond the creation.
As an aside the elderly Pearl suggested that setting apart an entire branch of the government, the courts, to be exclusively manned by lawyers… and then allowing them to monopolize the other branches of government as well… was crazy.
Getting back to her intent, she suggested that the law devolved into vengeance and the denial of responsibility as the public lost the power of the vote. Further, she made the point that in her opinion, justice does not come by equaling the amount of misery between victim and oppressor but by leveling the playing field so that right can triumph.
Expressing satisfaction, Pearl extended her congratulations to those assembled that the courts in their own time were more fairly utilized and administered. Lawyers were officers of the court, but both sides were held to be responsible for finding the truth. Those involved were not subjected to a contest of competence leading to wrongful sentences for the sole purpose of padding statistics to be used in a future run for political office. The new courts were restricted to trained lawyers, but as a result of their choice, lawyers were denied elected public office. This change was common in the new communities, one of the newly acquired wisdoms brought forth by past mistakes.
After a short detour into the ideas behind insurance and risk management and an explanation of how loss was handled by communities now as a requirement of social conscience, much like before the creation of insurance as a business, Pearl succumbed to her growing fatigue. She was tired in her bones, and her cup was cooled, her hands chilled.
“We are all the product of our environment. This is the same now as it has always been. What we consider normal hasn’t always been, and what was normal in the past would be considered aberrant now. Humankind lost much two hundred years ago. But as we rebuild, we have come to find ways to avoid many of the mistakes of the past. It is our duty to protect not only mankind as a species but society and civilization from the dangers of the past.”
Looking out over the audience, she noticed the variety of expressions. Some would never understand how important the past was as a learning tool. But there were faces in the audience with eyes intent and a furrowed brow. They were the ones who would stay behind to ask questions.
Chapter 19
A group of wagons drawn by fast, sturdy horses pulled into Boulder in the late hours of a frigid evening. The men, bundled against a brisk wind from the east hinting of snow were ready for the end of the journey. Their thoughts turned to strong drink and a meal heavy in undercooked meat in front of a cherry red stove.
The outriders, all men armed with the latest and best in weapons, pitched in to corral the remuda of replacement horses and to rub down the hot flanks of those freed from harness.
A quick gathering as work was finished, men shook hands and patted each other on the back in camaraderie and then dispersed into the night in small groups.
The large barn that housed the steaming horses also accommodated the five wagons, three pushed to one side into open stalls, the remaining two in the center alley.
A man remained behind, the financier for the expedition and also the trail boss. Though tired, he stood straight and proud as was his way. And though his expensive clothing would identify him as a man of means, it was his stance that singled him out in a crowd and gave away his station in life.
Working the kinks out, he moved to a wagon and unknotted the canvas covering it. A long box was revealed beneath, coffin-like, but with a locked hasp and hinges. He drew a key from the inner pocket of a fine leather vest and opened the lock, glanced about carefully, and lifted the lid on rusted hinges. Inside, a layer of damp, wooden excelsior obscured the contents. Parting the packing material at the end with his hand, he inspected the object revealed.
A metal face, inhuman but resembling a human being in size and aspect lay within. Barnacles covered much of one side of the head as well as what neck was exposed. The single eye showing moved slowly to regard the man. In his turn, he returned the gaze, calmly for the most part. Although his stomach churned with excitement, and a chill of trepidation shot down his spine, his face revealed nothing.
“Soon,” he mouthed, whispering, “soon we will see what we have. It won’t be long, have patience.”
He dropped the lid, replaced the lock and canvas, and departed the barn locking it behind him. The glow of windows in his home beckoned him, and he was anxious for the warmth.
§
Cold and a light, soft snow greeted the new day. Walking into town to give the appaloosa some time to heal from a roc
k-bruised frog, Edge trod the road lost in his thoughts.
The training was going well. Occam had recently graduated him to making chisels, accelerating his knowledge of the forge. The way the steel of the cutting edge welded together with the iron of the shank under heat, artistry learned in physical labor, satisfied Edge in a way that he had not felt since his father tutored him in animal husbandry. He knew because Occam acknowledged it gladly, that he was well ahead of what an average apprentice would be doing by now. His chest swelled with pride when he thought of it. Many people never feel the satisfaction in a job well done.
On awakening in a cold cabin, he had lain silent. Slowly the dawn had provided enough light to make the thin drape at the east window glow. Not knowing why, he often had the same thoughts in the early morn about his future family and the wife he intended to find as soon as he could. He knew that Cable frequented the red light district in town and wondered if that would sooth his interest until he made his way home, but somehow it seemed… well, vile. He did not blame the women. They had to do something to make a living, and those few he had met seemed a rambunctious lot if somewhat more willing than was good for them. He did not blame the men, either. Many were away from home and lonely to the point of madness. If a brief tryst in the arms of a stranger kept them from a more dangerous diversion, Edge could find no fault. For himself, seeing an accommodating young woman in scanty garb with eyes that lingered on his for too long… proved uncomfortable. He found the idea of paying for temporary romance distasteful.
Now, his feet trudging toward his day of labor, his mind wandered back to the home he missed and how he would one day have his own.
“Edge!” A voice from his right jarred him back to the present.
Peering through the roadside vegetation, Olivia beckoned him from next to a fence set off the byway. Bundled against the chill, she waved a mittened hand in agitation.
“Come, please… I think something’s wrong.”
As Edge arrived next to her, he noticed the flush on her cheek. Olivia was beautiful and had been in his thoughts more than he liked lately. As a new widow she was now available and would need to make her way in the world. Without skills or training, unless she remarried there would be difficulty in transitioning to a secure future. But Edge had not yet decided whether to approach her. If truth be told, he was scared. The act might require a commitment he was unsure he could supply yet. Besides, another woman kept invading his thoughts.
Following Olivia’s pointing finger, he saw the object of her concern. A heifer lay on her side in the foliage within the fence. He watched as the young animal tensed and heaved in the throes of a contraction, then relaxed. From the condition of the trampled ground it was obvious the effort had been going on for some time. Usually night births were over by the time the sun rose.
Moving to the other side of the young woman who had drawn his attention, Edge could see better and immediately understood why the birth had not progressed. The animal was in trouble. A birth sack full of fluid and the head of the calf protruded from the cow, but there were no feet showing. They were folded back instead of leading the nose out as they should. Without help this animal and her calf would die.
Rocking back on his heels, Edge considered the options. His former apprenticeship training would stand him well, and he knew he could save the young cow. All he had to do was reposition the calf’s legs and pull it out. But the calf was likely dead already. Odds were that the umbilical cord and placenta had already detached. That would mean that the calf had already suffocated. Looking about at what was available, weighing his choices, Edge arrived at a plan.
The corner the cow was in was as far away from the farmer’s barn and residence as it could be. That was nothing unusual, as all bovines sought seclusion for their birthing. In any other circumstance cattle will fight to be part of a herd, but in bringing a new life into the world they prefer to be as far from others as possible.
The pasture sloped away from the road and down, a large tree and a pond between them and the small barn next to the house. From Edge’s vantage point it looked like the fence would funnel the cow into a small corral adjacent the structure and that there was a door from there to the interior. They should be able to catch the heifer if they had to.
The real question was whether the animal was going to lie still or try to gut him with her horns when he approached her. Without looking at Olivia, he found a solid post, and using it for leverage he leapt over the fence.
Animals have a sixth sense for danger, and this two-year-old was no different. She scrambled to her feet as Edge landed. Facing Edge with her head down and tension evident in every muscle, this animal was not going to approach his help with understanding. He clapped his hands to see if she was all bluff or if he would have to find a quick exit strategy.
Looking on, Olivia understood what was happening by intuition. The calm, gentle oxen were her only experience. This was different. Even without a professional knowledge of cattle, Olivia knew this cow was not happy. Suddenly she was concerned for Edge. She had not considered there could be danger in helping what she had assumed would be an appreciative animal.
Ducking its head threateningly several times as though trying to decide, the little heifer spun and ran. She headed downhill away from them. Now that the animal was in flight mode, Edge knew she could be driven.
“I’ll need your assistance.” Edge spoke to Olivia with an element of command in his voice. She had gotten him into it, she could damn well help.
With no thought beyond the heat of the moment and the excitement of the situation, the new widow replied, “I shall require a way over the fence.” She looked down at her skirts and up at Edge in desperation. “I haven’t the ability to leap over as you did.”
“No, but you can jump,” said Edge, moving closer to the fence and bending to put his hands on her waist. “Jump straight up when I urge you.”
Flustered and not knowing why, Olivia moved closer as Edge’s hands guided her.
“Now… JUMP!”
His hands lifting as she leaped, Olivia fairly flew over the fence. She gasped as she grabbed for support at the young man’s shoulders. Her face flushed.
Focused on the cow, Edge started downhill. He grabbed Olivia’s hand without saying a word and moved in pursuit.
The animal was still retreating away from them, her head back to look and see what was following, the angry red and amber-colored bag of calf and sloshing fluid projecting from beneath her tail.
Edge pushed Olivia to the right. Then realizing that she had no idea what he wanted, he said softly, “I’ll instruct. You listen. Do as I say, and it will be a favorable outcome.” He waved his hand toward the far fence.
“We require some space between us. Twenty or thirty feet. We don’t wish the cow to double back or all shall be for naught. Stay over there, and I will instruct you as required.”
Moving at a normal pace, they followed the retreating animal.
“When we are nigh the pond, I shall go to the left and you to the right.”
Hearing the calm in Edge’s voice reassured Olivia. She had not even thought about what was happening to her shoes in this wet, melting snow and long grass. Her long skirt slapped against her legs, the hem damp and heavy.
As the heifer moved downhill, an option presented itself that Edge had not anticipated. The animal hesitated, looked back at them as she did, and entered the water of the pond. Then she lay down.
Edge and Olivia looked at each other. Both had felt a tug at their hearts as the birth sack descended into the muddy, cold water. Olivia assumed the worst, that the calf would drown, but Edge knew that if the calf was still alive it would be fine, still attached to the placenta for oxygen. The sight still wrenched his heart.
“There’s naught else to do,” Edge instructed his accomplice. “Just stay to that side a bit. I have to go in.”
Olivia stood in shock, arms down and away from her body as though avoiding her wet clothing. She nodded.<
br />
As soon as Edge was up to his knees, the heifer surged to her feet. She stood a moment as she contemplated the idiot moving toward her, not believing someone would follow her into the cold water. Then she pulled her feet, one by one from the sucking mud, and lurched up and out of the water away from those who were threatening her.
Cursing the cow, the wet, the cold, and Olivia under his breath, Edge turned around and made his way back to the closest bank of the pond. He was rapidly losing his sense of humor. His only consolation was that Olivia looked miserable, too. Looking back over his shoulder, he just barely caught sight of the cow as she kicked and bucked and disappeared into the barn door. There was no birth sack in evidence. The calf had slipped back inside the heifer, as the animal had slipped inside the barn.
The sloppy mud in the corral almost claimed Olivia’s shoes, but she managed to keep them on her feet. Edge only fell once, planting his arms up to the elbow in accumulated cow manure. He slammed the barn door closed with an evil look at the woman that had gotten him into this.
“Get thee to the house and gather anyone in ownership to us. I’ll see to a rope or what have you that I can use to subdue the cow. We must restrain her with something, so I can assist with the calf.”
Reading the look that Edge gave her, Olivia retreated gratefully. She fervently hoped there would be somebody home, preferably a large man with knowledge of how to help Edge.
Barns are dim, and often the only light that gets in to a closed one is through holes in the roof or from missing boards around the sides. This one was no different. Edge slipped inside through the door he had just closed, eyes adjusting to the gloom. He took inventory quickly and was relieved. A paddock adjoined the one he shared with the cow, and it led to a chute with a head gate. This was better than most farmers had and would do nicely.
Soon the recalcitrant animal was in the chute, and once there the head gate easily closed on her neck by itself, as it was designed to do. Edge breathed deeply. He was winded from not only the exertion but the excitement.
Hell Follows After (Monster of the Apocalypse Saga) Page 18
