Conflict (Crossover Series)

by Socha, Walt

  Joe pulled the target plinker out of its leather holster. Alita’s counting practice meant that they still had almost a thousand .22 long rifle rounds. He glanced out at the watchtower. But they only had a few dozen shells for the Winchester. Less for the Smith and Wesson revolver. Just what Brent had in his pocket last night.

  And they had Brent’s flintlock pistol. And about a pound of gunpowder. It was good for one shot. Two if they had time to reload it.

  Joe holstered the Ruger, set it down, and picked up the atlatl. How could arrows and darts help when they next encountered Tork?

  Chapter 36. Day 57

  “We are gathered to honor Samatu.” Tork nodded at Samatu. His wide smile contrasted with the hard gleam in his eyes. “Nist, please prepare the Skullman face.”

  “Turn toward me, Son.” Nist reached down and picked up a red clay bowl filled with a white paste. He dipped one finger in the pounded mixture of white clay and bear fat and drew it across his son’s forehead. Another line was drawn beneath that one.

  Samatu held his body rigid. His pride swelled. The Skullmen were Tork’s personal guard. Only the bravest of warriors joined that rank.

  Nist worked his finger down the sides of Samatu’s face. As he worked, Samatu felt his father’s fingers trace the outlines of his skull, signifying death. He would be one of Tork’s warriors of death.

  In a few minutes, his father had finished. He placed the bowl on the ground and looked at Tork. “I present Samatu. A Skullman.”

  “Stand,” said Tork. “Tell of your gift of these lightning weapons.”

  Samatu stood. He stood in the middle of the ceremonial poles. About him were the Tork’s personal warriors, the Skullmen. Beyond them were the regular warriors, men assimilated from the conquered tribes, wearing only two white slashes on their faces.

  “The outsiders are men. Not demons.” A twinge of betrayal swept through Samatu. They had healed him. Treated him with respect. “Their power is in these lightning weapons. The weapons are in two parts.”

  Samatu described how the long and short hard hollow reeds held the magic containers. He explained that the containers contained a small stone and the thunder and lightning that threw that stone through the reed. He demonstrated loading and unloading, repeating the actions he had seen in Haven. He ignored the AR weapon that Brent used, not understanding its operation.

  “There are no more magic containers in this land.” He pointed at the leather bag containing the ammunition for the rifles, revolvers and AR. “The outsiders brought them from another world.” He glanced at Tork. “They don’t know how to return.”

  At a nod from Tork, Samatu sat, any thoughts of betrayal swamped by pride in Tork’s expression of approval. “Yes, the outsiders are men.” Tork stood and looked at his warriors. “When they attacked more than two hands ago, they bled. They only succeeded because of these weapons. They will not succeed again.”

  “Tork, Tork!”The warriors pounded the butts of their clubs on the ground.

  Tork grinned at Samatu. “We learned from the woman stranger that you were still alive. She was weak. Ready to talk when we gutted the warrior named Levanu.” He laughed. “She cried when I entered her. Cried more when Nist enjoyed her.”

  The warriors joined in Tork’s laughter.

  Samatu felt a coldness spread through his torso.

  Levanu tortured? Kristi raped? She had healed him.

  Tork held up his hand to quiet his men. “Samatu was very clever to insist to not only take the lightning weapons but also the magic containers when Husatu and Muloku freed him.” His smile faded as he faced Samatu. “To complete the binding of your life to that of a Skullman, we will feast. But first is the sacrificial taking of a life.”

  Tork held out one of the rifles to Samatu. “You have described the use of this weapon. Now demonstrate its power.”

  Samatu took the weapon as sweat beaded on his face. Tork signaled to his men. Those in front of the poles parted. Two others dragged a body to the central pole and tied it upright.

  Samatu looked at the body. It was a young woman. One of the slaves the men used for sex. He shivered. An image of Kristi tending his leg flashed through his mind.

  He looked to his father. Nist smiled and nodded.

  Samatu levered a hard stone into the long reed. He raised it to his shoulder and looked down the length of the weapon. Tried not to remember how they treated him with respect, even supporting him when he needed to shit. He focused on the young girl’s wide eyes and then refocused on the tip of the weapon. The girl’s head turned into a dim image at the end of the barrel.

  Samatu pulled the hard finger.

  Chapter 37. Day 65

  “What do you call that thing?”

  Joe looked up. One of Potts’s fingers pointed to the bench that supported him. The other fingers held the head of a garden mattock. His other hand held a cracked handle. “You break something again?”

  “Yeah, but not doing anything special.” Potts shook his head at the broken tool in his hands. “Anyways, I was hoping I could get another handle.” He held out the broken mattock. “You game?”

  “One second.” Joe gave the partially finished bow another pass with his drawknife before addressing the boy standing at his side. “See how I’m making sure I keep the same grain layer on the front surface?”

  Joe took the broken mattock handle from Potts and held it out to Matu. “You want to make a new handle? We have a couple of staves that I don’t think would make good bows.”

  The boy’s posture straightened as he nodded.

  Joe switched positions with Matu and soon had him trimming down the rough split stave into a smooth oblong handle. “Remember to keep the end of the handle bigger than that of the opening in the mattock head.”

  Joe stretched. “Back to your original question. This is a shaving bench. One end for your butt. The other has the incline and foot operated vise that holds a chunk of wood steady while you shave it with a draw knife.” Joe pointed to the two-handled knife in Matu’s hands.

  “Who made it?” Potts examined the knife with interest. “Larry brought a large selection of hand tools.”

  “I meant the bench.”

  “He made it from an illustration in one of the books he brought along.” Joe glanced at the boy. “Matu helped him.” Joe watched as Alita’s young brother broadened his smile.

  “A strong bow is best for killing Tork’s warriors,” Matu said as he drew the knife along the stave. A long thin wood shaving curled and fell to the ground.

  “I hope to avoid that.” Joe glanced at Potts who shrugged. “I’m thinking we need to formalize the training of the kids. What are your thoughts?”

  Potts tried to loosen the mattock head from the rest of the broken handle. The chunk of wood didn’t move. “Larry wants the children to start specializing right away. I’m not sure I agree, but he does have a lot of technology he wants to pass on.” He frowned. “How many are there?

  I’ve lost count.”

  “There are pluses and minuses to specializing. I’d have to think about that. But, for the number of children, over a dozen. What do you think?” Joe turned to Matu. “How many of the young ones are there?”

  Matu closed his eyes. Scrunched up his face. “Ten- three.” He leaned over drew the symbols for a one followed by a three in the dirt with his finger.

  “Ahh…” said Joe. Thirteen? Of course. Matu didn’t count Alita or Nikaku as children. “Excellent.” Alita had been working with the children on her new math skills. They had shown enthusiasm for any of the skills from the ‘Far Lands.’

  Joe looked toward the watchtower where Larry had several of the children and one of the elders with him learning how to use the binoculars. And figuring out signals for the drums Hatimu was making for long distance communications. “I’m thinking we should rotate them through the different skills for a while. Maybe draw up some sort of weekly schedule. Give them a chance to see what they like.”

  “Pro
bably a good idea.” Potts sat on the ground, picked up a fist-sized rock, and started pounding out the remains of the old handle. “They certainly are taking to the horses. And Brent’s turning out to be a bit of a horse whisperer.” “Yeah, I’m hoping that working with the horses will be cathartic for him. He’s been a bit short since the abduction.” Joe nodded his chin toward Kristi’s medical hut. “I’m also worried about her. She’s barely interacts with anyone except during her morning medical training.” “I’m thinking she’s having trouble interacting with men these days.” Potts followed Joe’s gaze. “As for the gals,

  I think she’s got them freaked out. She keeps showing them bugs under her microscope.”

  Joe nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. Any idea how Marisa’s taking to Kristi’s science?”

  “For what little I can tell, not well. It’s a lot of new stuff for the old medicine woman. I’m not sure Kristi has the patience at this point to deal with any resistance.”

  “That’s not good.” Joe took in a long breath. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a while before she works through her anger.” He exhaled. “I just hope she doesn’t blame Brent for putting Levanu out of his misery.”

  “Maybe you should talk to her?” Potts banged the protruding wood in the mattock head with his rock one more time and the wood fell out. He started to smile, and then frowned. “I’m also thinking that the expected effects of future contact with Europe is freaking her out.”

  “I’m not sure which one terrifies me the most.”

  Chapter 38. Day 67

  The arrow wobbled as it flew toward the target. The bundles of grass tied into a caricature of a human body shook as the arrow nicked its side and buried itself

  in the hillside beyond.

  “Good shot, Matu.” Joe nodded to the youth frowning at the makeshift target. “Only a bit off.”

  Joe stepped behind the boy and shifted his left shoulder forward a couple of finger widths. “Put your left foot closer to the target.” Joe moved to the boy’s side and pantomimed settling into a stable stance and drawing an imaginary bow. “Feel the ground. Use your back muscles to help you draw the bow.”

  Matu drew another arrow from his quiver, rolled his shoulders, and danced into a stance. He fitted the arrow to the bowstring and pulled back. Drew a breath and let go.

  The arrow flew through the target, low center. Kidu and Daru clapped.

  “Hey, better.” Joe smiled. “I think you’re getting it.

  Don’t neglect the stance.”

  “When can I use a warrior’s bow?” Matu looked up at Joe.

  “In a few years. You need to build up your muscles.

  For today, practice your stance and aim.”

  “We want to kill the white clay dogs now.” Daru put one hand on Matu’s shoulder.

  Joe paused. How to talk to children who had seen their parents murdered? He could barely even remember his own parents and he hadn’t seen them die. Would it be better to remember them and their death? Or would it be worse?

  “Only if that becomes necessary.” Joe hesitated. Nothing he could say would likely reach these kids. “Sometimes it’s better to work for the future than avenge the past.” The words sounded hollow. “But we can be ready to defend ourselves. Warriors must also protect the village’s future.”

  Joe pointed to the targets. “Okay, line up and take five shots each.” Joe raised his left hand and wiggled his thumb and fingers. “Remember, all bows down before anyone retrieves any arrows.”

  Joe stepped back as the three boys practiced shooting blunt tipped arrows at the targets lining the slope above Haven. All had short, low draw weight bows that could, if used with arrows tipped with one of Larry’s hammered metal points, be deadly at short distances.

  He shook his head as the arrows impacted—or missed—the human shaped targets. He would have preferred a simple round target of compressed grasses but human shaped targets were the reality of this world. “How are we doing today?” Brent approached, his own bow and quiver in hand. “We’re just about finished here.”

  “Good, Potts wants the children to gather firewood.” Brent gestured over his shoulder toward the center of Haven.

  “Is that safe?”

  “Don’t get all worried. There’s still plenty of wood lying around up by the watchtower.” Brent waved his bow toward the children. “Finish up. Potts needs wood for dinner.”

  Joe eyed Brent as the children gathered up their bows and retrieved arrows. Brent’s tone had been sharp. That wasn’t like his friend.

  “You okay?” Joe said, after the boys started walking downhill toward the center of Haven.

  “Yeah.” Brent strung his bow. “How are the children doing?”

  “They’re getting the hang of it. This afternoon I’ll work with the older girls. Kristi has them this morning.” Joe frowned as Brent’s face tightened; he was still pissed that Kristi prioritized teaching medicine to the girls. “I’m still surprised the bow isn’t used for anything other than a child’s toy in this part of the country.”

  “If it was, we’d be in deeper shit than we are now.” “I can only think that food is so plentiful that it hasn’t been needed for hunting.”

  “Maybe.” Brent aimed and let an arrow fly. It missed.

  He shook his right hand then wiggled his fingers.

  “You may want to try a thumb draw.” Joe held up his right hand, thumb upright. A band of leather surrounded his thumb just behind the first joint.

  “Who made you the expert?” Brent shot another arrow. It buried itself low in the target.

  “Hey, something bothering you?”

  “Look, I don’t need you telling me what to do.” Brent unstrung his bow. “Especially given the mess we’re in because we listened to you in the first place.” He strode away.

  Joe stood, frozen in place, and watched Brent make his way into Haven’s collection of huts and tents.

  Movement distracted Joe’s thoughts. Alita left Kristi’s tent. Maybe this would be a good time to get her to talk. He couldn’t do any worse then he had just done with Brent.

  ><><

  “Kristi, may I come in?” Joe peered through the tent’s entrance, its flap held back by ties and the netting zipped tight.

  She glanced up and nodded. Before her, various vials and bottles along with her laptop crowded their only camp table.

  Joe unzipped the bug netting, entered, and rezipped.

  He unfolded a chair and sat across from Kristi.

  She stared at him for several long heartbeats. “I don’t know how I’m going to pull this off.” She looked at the supplies on the table. “This is it for antibiotics and painkillers. What happens when I run out?” She ran her fingers through her hair.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry isn’t going to cut it.” Kristi’s voice started low then rose in volume and pitch.

  “I’ve put you in a terrible position. I don’t know how to make things better.” Joe failed to meet her eyes.

  “What if one of the children falls off a horse?” Kristi’s voice rose further in pitch. “What happens if Tork attacks again?” She drew in a shuddering breath as she squeezed her hands into white-knuckled fists.

  “I don’t know any words that would help.” Joe clasped his hands together and squeezed until his knuckles also turned white. “The kids need you. Hell, even Brent needs you.”

  “That officious ass,” Kristi said in a flat voice, her eyes flickering over the contents of the table.

  “He’s got his own demons to deal with.”

  “Who made you an expert on human nature?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  “I’m not an expert on anything. Just trying. Trying to help.”

  “You just need a doctor.” Kristi looked up and stared at Joe.

  “Yes, more than ever.” Joe focused on her lips, hating himself for not being able to meet her eyes. “But I consider you a friend.”

  Kristi shifted her eyes to look nowhere into
the distance.

  “And I do want you as my friend.” Joe sagged in his chair. He really wasn’t any good at this.

  Kristi choked back a sob. Then the tears started, at first in isolated drops, and then in rivulets down her cheeks.

  Joe sat for several seconds. What the hell should he do now? He rose and walked around the table. He paused a second before kneeling besides her.

  She leaned into him when he put a hesitant arm around her.

  He pulled her tight, her face wetting his shoulder.

  Joe looked up at the sound of the door screen being unzipped. Alita peered in, her eyebrows raised. She zipped the screen closed and disappeared.

  After several long bewildering minutes, Joe felt Kristi pull back. He rose, looking down at her tear-streaked face. Confused thoughts jostled for his attention: her medical skills were crucial, she needed a bath—he should work on plumbing, the terrifying image of her hanging naked on the pole in Tork’s village. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

  Kristi took a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped her face. “Sorry, I kind of lost it there.”

  Joe returned to his seat. “Hey, anything for the Sky Goddess.” Levanu’s face flashed in his mind and he cringed. That was—had been—Levanu’s name for her. “Ah, I’m sorry.”

  Kristi managed a weak smile. “Several of the children have started calling me that. It stirs up memories. But it wouldn’t be right to try to ignore them. Or him.” She shuddered. “A very uncomplicated man, very gentle.” She stared out the door. “And the children do seem to like the name.”

  “What are your thoughts on the kids?” Joe looked over his shoulder, through the tent’s entrance netting. On the other side of the fire circle, the edge of one of the communal huts was just visible.

  “I want to continue to have the girls for at least a few hours in the mornings. I need to establish some medical knowledge. Best when they’re young.” She moved a couple of bottles and held up a field notebook. “Luckily I brought along a couple dozen of these. I’ve been trying to write down everything I know. And transcribing as much as possible from my laptop while its battery and drive are still functioning.”