Conflict (Crossover Series)

by Socha, Walt

  on a river.” Larry downed half the contents of his water bottle. “I’m gonna feel way better when we get this tower built. Or at least built enough to use.” He set his water bottle down and stretched. “Think this feat of engineering will be tall enough?”

  “It’ll have to do. It’s taking too much time as it is.” Joe’s shoulders slumped as he shifted his view back to the river. From their position, thick trees crowded out any view of this side of the river’s shoreline. In the cleared area where Haven’s stream entered the Susquehanna, squash and corn competed with weeds and saplings. A second open area lay further east and several hundred yards inland. There plumes of smoke rose as Tanuhu and Hatimu supervised the burning prior to the planting of Brent’s vegetable seed and his large variety of potatoes. A third clearing, just barely a break in the forest canopy, lay a short walk beyond Haven’s small stream. The destroyed village’s burial mound lay at its center, the remains of the Clear Streams village’s former inhabitants now interred in the topmost layer. The mound was no more than twice the height of an average adult—a few generation old result of recent contact with one of the Mississippian cultures.

  Two thirds across the river, Bird Island stretched from left to right and, except for a couple of breaks in its trees, blocked the view of the opposite shore.

  Joe looked up at the unfinished tower. “We need whatever visibility we can get now. We need to at least be able to watch over the area around Haven.” Joe forced a smile he didn’t feel. “We’re just lucky the previous inhabitants had burned off this hill for deer habitat.”

  “I wouldn’t call ‘em lucky.” Larry nodded east. “Nor the other village.”

  Joe looked a mile downriver to where a break in the forest canopy hinted at the remains of the village of Spring Fish. It had its own freshly topped burial mound. Impatience and worry swirled in his consciousness; time was short. But they’d made progress. In the past week, they had moved into the remains of Clear Streams, deciding that the terrain was more defensible than Spring Fish. The horses not being used for riding had been divided into two groups further inland, giving each of their two stallions a private domain. The two dozen fruit trees, along with various bamboos, berries, and grapes, were in the ground, surrounded by deer-proof cages made of woven cut saplings, at various spots along Haven’s streams. In a clearing upstream of Haven, Brent worked an excited set of apprentices with the mares not pastured with the stallions.

  Joe smiled through his sweat. The children took to the horses, treating them like overgrown yet younger siblings—probably as a result of Brent’s example.

  And Alta’s celebration—whatever that would be—was providing a needed break from the tension of building Haven, planting crops, and constructing defenses. The women were preparing some ceremony. Even Kristi seemed to be caught up in the mood.

  “Hey, look who’s out.” Larry pointed toward camp. Joe turned to see Levanu emerging from the tents, supported by Kristi. Her second patient was now walking with the help of crutches fabricated by Larry. She waved. “Let’s take a break.” Joe stretched his aching muscles.

  The ibuprofen was going to run out soon. But Brent had said that the native willows had pain-relieving properties. “I’ll watch.” Larry lowered himself to the ground and leaned against their tree, facing the river. Immediately, Matu and Kidu joined him, probably using the excuse of a break to quiz Larry on his previous life.

  Leaving Larry to the torments of inquisitive adolescents, Joe met Kristi and Levanu on the trail halfway between Haven and the tower’s skeleton. “You’re walking much better now.”

  “My Sky Goddess is a great healer.” Levanu stopped and smiled at Kristi.

  “I’ve been going over the workings of the rifles with Levanu.”Kristi laid a hand on the warrior’s shoulder. “But I don’t want to waste rounds on target practice. Would you demonstrate the Winchester’s action by doing some hunting? Potts is complaining about no fresh meat. I think he’s getting tired of dried fish.” She glanced down at her patient’s side. “Levanu is up for a horse ride if you don’t go too far.”

  Joe regarded Levanu’s torso. The bandage was smaller now. He’d been in quite a bit of pain during the river crossing. But he seemed to be doing better after a week of rest and healing. “I thought Brent was going to take him hunting?”

  Kristi was silent for several heartbeats. She looked north over her shoulder in the direction of the upstream clearing where Brent worked. “He decided not to.” The muscles in her face twitched.

  “Has anyone shown him how to load and aim? “I did. That and basic cleaning.”

  Joe shifted his gaze from Levanu toward Haven. “Was Samatu around during your demonstrations?”

  Kristi paused. Then nodded. “Hadn’t considered that. And now that I’m thinking about it, he was real quiet when I was showing Levanu how to handle the rifle and revolver.”

  “Afterwards, he asked how it felt to hold the weapons,” Levanu said as he glanced at Kristi.

  “Nothing to be done now,” Joe said. “But it does remind us that we have no plan for Samatu’s future.”

  “Can’t just let him go.” Kristi turned and gazed back at Haven. “Another week or so and he should be able to start exercising his leg.”

  “We’ll have to put off any decisions till then.” Joe turned to Levanu. “But tonight, we’ll hunt. After dinner tonight. We can ride up to another of the burned areas at the far end of the valley.” Joe looked to the east where a smaller ridge rose up to split the main valley into two smaller ones. Larry had dragged dozens of fallen trees into makeshift fences, isolating the horses in the farther portion of the southern-most valley clearing. Similar crude fences contained those horses grazing in the northern section. It had been a lot of work but necessary to keep the stallions apart and somewhat controlled.

  Joe glanced back toward Kristi. Her face still held a tight smile. Because of Brent or Samatu?

  “How are the plans for Alta’s ceremony going?” Joe decided to switch to a less tense subject.

  “It’s an interesting ceremony.” A smile softened Kristi’s face. “She will be ritually buried and then re-born. The Elders are excited. Probably because it’s a sign of normalcy.”

  “Am I supposed to participate?”

  “Other than the giving of gifts, the men are only observers. Why do you ask?”

  “For the last few days, some of the children have started laughing and talking among themselves when they see me.”

  Kristi paused, her small grin widening. “Well, the next step is to choose a mate for Alta. Or whatever her adult name will be.”

  Joe bit his lip. “Well, she may be old enough to take an adult name but she’s still too young to marry.”

  “We’re not in Montana anymore,” Kristi said over her shoulder as she and Levanu walked back toward the tent village.

  Joe stared at her back for several breaths before climbing back up the hill to find Larry already standing at the saw. “Let’s get this thing done.”

  “What was that all about?” Larry gave his end of the long saw a jerk to free its teeth.

  “The only thing I understood is that we need to give Alta a gift after her ceremony and to start thinking about Samatu’s future.” Joe looked at their retreating backs and shook his head. “I’m clueless about anything else.”

  Chapter 28. Day 28

  “Thanks Alta,” Joe said as he took the bowl. Her hero worship was a bit embarrassing. It wasn’t as if he was doing a good job.

  Ganu and Sura shifted positions on a bench to allow Joe to sit between them to eat his breakfast. They giggled. Larry slurped a mouthful of stew directly from his bowl. “We got seed for hot peppers? This stuff is good but kinda bland.” He raised his eyebrows as he stared at the bowl of vegetable stew in his hands.

  “Try using one of these, big guy.” Potts handed Larry a spoon. “Got several varieties of hot peppers. Seed’s been in the ground for almost a whole week. Wouldn’t leave home without them.�
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  Joe grinned as Larry rolled his eyes.

  Kristi entered the fire circle. “Our captive patient continues to do well.” She added two spoons and two bowls to a pile of dirty dishes by the wash and rinse tubs.

  “I’ll have to work up some physical therapy exercises for him soon.”

  “And Levanu?” Potts filled a clean bowl with stew. “Also doing well. Matu’s helping him visit the bushes.”

  She took the bowl from Potts along with a spoon. “We really need better toilet facilities.”

  “I’ve been talking with Larry about an outhouse on a sled, just a roof over split logs with tarps for privacy.” Joe chuckled. “Not that the kids seems to need privacy. I’m figuring we can just drag it over a fresh hole when needed.” Joe met Kristi’s eyes. “Anyway, you’re doing great job here.”

  “Until the antibiotics give out.” Kristi sat on the empty camp chair next to Larry and stirred the stew with her spoon. “Hand washing will be the critical toilet habit. We need to figure out how to make soap. What we brought won’t last long.”

  “Brent’s bamboo will make piping for clean water, eventually. But that’ll be years away.”

  Levanu shuffled into the circle, followed by Matu who joined Potts and Alta at the fire circle. Kristi nodded to Larry, who rose from his camp chair and helped Levanu take his place.

  “You’re walking better,” Joe said to Levanu. Before Levanu could reply, Brent entered the cooking area.

  “Nikaku’s on the tower. He has my raincoat in case it rains.” He accepted a steaming bowl from Potts and turned, smiling as he nodded to several of the children.

  His smile faded as his eyes swept over Levanu sitting next to Kristi.

  “Running water and shithouses are good, but I’m thinking we need to build a fort first,” Larry said, adding a stray used bowl to his own and striding to the washtubs. Joe sat up straighter, and looked over his shoulder.

  The tents, tarps, and partially built huts dotted the area in a random pattern around an open area that had just been cleared of the remains of the destroyed lodges. Too many projects. Joe faced Hatimu. “How would you protect the village?”

  The elder placed his spoon in his bowl and set them on the ground. “The time of my father’s father was troubled. Huts would be close together and surrounded by a fence of upright poles. They would be set deep in the ground and touching.” He frowned as his eyes swept the open village grounds. “Tork appeared during a time of peace.” “What do you all think about building such a wall?” Joe’s eyes shifted from adult to adult around the fire.

  “What we call a ‘fort’.”

  “With a central hut for the guns. An armory.” Brent glanced at the children. “And bows, arrows, and spears. We don’t need any confusion in the event of an attack.” Brent held out his bowl for Potts to fill. “And a kitchen for our gourmet chef here.”

  “Finish the lookout tower’s floor first. Before one of us falls out of it. And a roof. Damned thing is taking too long.” Larry nodded his head toward the hill between Haven and the Susquehanna. “Then a fort there,” he pointed toward the open ground that was partially surrounded by tents and huts. “And we need to put the woodworking shop inside. The contents are too valuable.”

  “Both are necessary. Thanks.” Kristi took a steaming bowl from Matu but held it as Levanu shifted position in his chair.

  Joe glanced at Brent, who had taken a seat on the opposite side of the cookfire and now kept his attention on the bowl in his hands.

  “And I’d like a separate building for a medical center,” Kristi added as Levanu accepted the bowl. “One that’s more permanent and off the ground. I want to get more focused on medical education for the girls.”

  “And what of the boys?” Brent stirred his breakfast stew, eyes on his efforts. “They should get some training.” “They will. But I want to offer the older girls a chance to start a core group of trained healers.” Kristi scraped the last of her breakfast from the sides of her bowl. “We’re facing a future pandemic on this continent.” Her face tightened as she stared at her spoon.

  “But the boys could be healers, too.” Brent’s voice sounded unusually stressed to Joe. “You’re not getting sexist on us, are you?” He stared at her from his seat on a chunk of firewood.

  “Don’t be an ass.” Kristi glanced at Brent then back at her bowl. No one spoke for several minutes.

  Chapter 29. Day 30

  “You doing okay?” Potts reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle. He and Brent sat at the top of the hill between Haven and the Susquehanna River, taking a break from splitting planks for use as the watchtower’s platform. They had swapped jobs with Larry and Joe in order to spread their aches to different muscles.

  “I thought you gave your stash to Kristi for sterilization purposes?”

  “Somehow I must have missed one.” Potts twisted the top off and dribbled a little into his mouth. “For emergencies. And you’ve been looking way low.” He held out the bottle of scotch. “Thought it was a good time to sneak it out of Haven.”

  Brent leaned closer to take the bottle. “Kristi’s been distant.” He paused. “Levanu’s been sleeping in her medical tent.”

  “Doesn’t his mother sleep there also?”

  “Yeah. Canisa does.” Brent took a swallow. “And he is her patient. Still, Kristi’s been paying a lot of attention to him.” He wiped the mouth of the bottle with his sleeve and handed it back to Potts.

  “She’s been stressing a bit lately.” Potts dribbled a bit more whiskey into his mouth. “Two injured patients and trying to teach modern medicine to both the children and the elders are wearing on her. And Marisa may be sliding back to her own ways.” He chuckled. “Although Alta’s upcoming rites seems to be distracting her enough for an occasional smile. How much longer?”

  “About a week.” A small smile softened Brent’s stony face. “Yeah, Alta’s sure excited. And Joe has developed a ‘deer in the headlights look.’ I’m thinking Alta has plans.” “Well, she’s turning into quite the young lady,” Potts said. “And becoming a quick learner of Kristi’s medicine.

  That probably takes some of the pressure off her.” “Well, I sure as shit didn’t help relieve the stress on Kristi.” Brent took back the bottle. Took a longer swig. Handed it back. “I sort of blew up on her today.”

  “Sort of how?”

  Brent snorted. “Said something ignorant about women knowing their place in this here world.” His eyes unfocused for a moment. “I’m afraid of losing her to our noble savage.” “Everything changes.” Potts frowned at the bottle in his hand. “Only thing you can do is try to enjoy the ride.” “That’s a useless piece of advice.” Brent sighed. “Might have been a mistake taking this trip.”

  “Yeah, but what would you be thinking along about now if you were still back at the ranch by yourself?”

  Brent barked a laugh. “Don’t know. Probably be miserable wondering how all of you were doing.” He gazed at the village.

  Potts followed Brent’s eyes. The village was developing. The old burned huts had been removed. The tents had been reinforced with guy-lines. He had an open area shelter for food preparation. And Larry and Joe were presently constructing a shed for woodworking in the cleared area that would eventually become their future fort.

  Potts broke the silence. “She’s a friend. Not a possession. Possessions make you unhappy.”

  “Shit, who made you qualified to be my shrink?”

  Potts gave him a crooked grin. “A lifetime of doing everything wrong.”

  “In a kitchen?”

  “Not quite.” He looked out across the Susquehanna River. Let his eyes unfocus as memories flooded his thoughts. Memories that defined and directed his narrative. His personality. After a few seconds, he shrugged. “Started out as a university professor. Something about having a doctorate in economics. Pissed off the administrators by shacking up with a coed. Moved to a brokerage house. Did the whole money and stuff thing. Lost half t
o the ex. That same coed. Lost the rest in one of the crashes.” “Sorry. I think you mentioned some of that when we crossed over. But how’d you start cooking?

  “In a recovery program.” Potts held up the bottle of scotch. “Probably shouldn’t be drinking this.” Strange how a simple molecule of carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen affects behavior. “But with the stuff thing gone, it doesn’t seem to be a problem anymore. And it does help me forget about being an asshole.”

  “Oh.” Brent’s eyebrows narrowed as he studied Potts. “I can see where forgetting can be good.”

  “Forgetting can be good. Not craving is better.” Potts took a sip. Screwed the cap on a half turn and held out the bottle. “I’m done.”

  “But wanting is what it’s all about.” Brent took the bottle and contemplated it. “If I knew what I wanted.”

  “Not saying we shouldn’t want. Just that basing our existence on stuff or status will make you miserable.”

  Brent tightened the bottle’s cap. “You ought to start a religion.”

  “It’s been done. By that Buddha guy.”

  Chapter 30. Day 37

  Joe straightened and stretched as he exited his small tent. He’d have to build his own hut before winter. Not only for better protection from the expected cold, but also so he could stand up inside instead of crawling. His tent lay at the northern end of Haven, next to Kristi’s herb patch. South of the herbs stood the two large canvas tents, one for Kristi’s medical work, the other for their supplies. To the immediate east of these, two communal long huts now housed the children and the Elders. Beyond these, a newly built hut waited for Alta to move in after her coming of age ceremony. They had only finished attaching the last of the roofing reeds that morning. Scattered around these were the other small tents used by Potts, Larry, and Brent. They’d also need to be replaced before winter.