Conflict (Crossover Series)

by Socha, Walt

  The sun still hadn’t broken the eastern sky when he climbed Haven’s lookout tower.

  “Got a couple of things to discuss with you,” Brent said as Joe’s head reached the tower’s floor.

  Pulse rising, Joe blew out a breath as he scrambled onto the tower’s platform. Now what was wrong?

  “I talked with Larry at the change of watch.” Brent’s eyebrows narrowed. “Heard you took down a bear yesterday.”

  “Wasn’t intentional.” Joe let his breathing relax. “Literally stumbled upon him.”

  “With a bow?” Brent shook his head. “Taking down a bear with the Winchester is dangerous. Using a bow is plain irresponsible.”

  “We can use the meat, and it’s fat enough to get a start on candle making.” Joe took in a deep breath. “Plus I wanted the skin.”

  Brent rubbed his face with his left hand. “Joe, we can’t afford to lose you.”

  “It was all reaction. I barely heard it before it heard me. I was upwind.” His breath came faster as images of the charging bear flashed across his mind. He’d been lucky to have the bow strung.

  “Candles would be nice. What are you planning to do with the skin?”

  “Thought I’d tan it and give it to Alita.”

  “You finally coming to your senses about the young lady?”

  “Hey, back off.” Joe frowned, because… She was just a kid. Okay, in this world she wasn’t and sometimes… He shook his head. She was just too young. “Just want to cheer her up. Give her a surprise.”

  “All right, all right.” Brent’s mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile. “Let’s change subjects. Take a look.”

  Brent nodded east.

  “What am I looking for?” Beneath a dim moon struggling to stay visible against the pending sun, Joe could barely make out the smaller ridge that split the valley and eventually merge with the two main ones to provide Haven’s eastern border.

  “The bright star to the right of the moon.” Brent stretched out his arm.

  Joe shifted his gaze upward, following Brent’s outstretched hand. A bright star pierced the impending day. “Venus?”

  “Too bright. And it wasn’t there yesterday.” Brent’s face was cracked by an unaccustomed smile. “I think we’re looking at the 1054 super nova.”

  “Super what?”

  “I like stars.” Brent picked up his canteen. “Not an expert. But it’s easy to remember this one. Year is 1054 AD. A super nova—an exploding star—appeared and was recorded by several civilizations. It happened on July fourth.

  Joe stared at the bright spot of light. “You saying this is the year 1054?”

  “July fourth of 1054. There was another supernova in 1006, but that happened in late winter.” Brent stretched. “We had guessed March first when we crossed over. From that estimate, today would be June thirtieth. So I’m now thinking we were 5 days off. Not so bad for amateur time travelers.”

  Joe stared at the brilliant star, still visible even though the sun was now cresting the horizon. They had a little over four centuries until European contact and pandemics. He looked back at Haven, now visible in the dawn light. Over 90 percent of their descendants would die in the years following the first European footprints on this continent. If they didn’t find a different path… Joe shivered, seeing once more those ancient eyes behind the wire rimmed glasses.

  He shifted his gaze west to the ridge across the river. They hadn’t had any local contact with Tork’s men since the trip to bury Daru’s parents in Big Elk village. But that didn’t mean that Tork’s men weren’t here and watching. Why was he worrying about problems centuries in the future? They’d be damned lucky if they all weren’t dead by the end of this year.

  ><><

  Brent paused as he walked down the trail toward Haven and peered back at the tower where Joe stood staring at the river. The guy just didn’t perceive how important he was to Haven. That damn bear could have easily killed him.

  And what had that bear perceived as Joe’s arrow bled out its life? How did that mesh with Potts’s babbling about man being the product of his past actions and sensations or about being only a ‘bundle of perceptions?’ And what did that say about killing and eating another bundle of perceptions? Damn that Potts.

  Chapter 48. Day 141 - July 25

  Joe shifted the rolled up bearskin to his right shoulder as he entered Haven. He’d snuck out after lunch to finish cleaning it up and to brush the fur side until it shone. For three weeks he had used every break he could to brain tan and soften the heavy hide.

  He saw movement at the medical tent, signaling the end of Kristi’s afternoon training. The girls wandered toward the fire circle and Potts’s kitchen shelter, leaving Alita and Kristi talking outside of the training tent.

  Joe smiled. Alita had been somewhat reserved in the recent months. Hopefully, the surprise of a thick fur would cheer her to her former chatty self, something he’d missed.

  As he approached, both women glanced his way then continued talking.

  “How was class this morning?” He stopped a few feet away and shifted his bundle back to the left shoulder. It felt like all of the several hundred pound bear was in its hide.

  “The girls are progressing.” Kristi nodded toward the kitchen area where the girls and several boys were slowing Potts’s progress at the evening meal with their help.

  “It’s hard to understand that everything is made up of little animals,” Alita said, a small frown creasing her face. “Animals I can’t even see with my eyes.”

  “I’d better put my supplies away.” Kristi disappeared into her tent.

  Joe faced Alita and took a breath. “I shot a bear almost a moon ago. Been tanning it in my spare time. I thought you might like the hide for your bed?”

  Alita took in a sharp breath, her eyes opening in surprise. On her exhale, her eyes narrowed in thought. She opened her mouth then closed it, a small smile turning up the edges of her mouth. “Thank you, Joe. That is very nice of you.”

  Joe slipped the rolled-up skin off his shoulder and onto a grassy patch to the side of the medical hut’s entrance. Alita unrolled a hand width of the skin and felt the fur as Joe stretched his back. “This will be very comfortable.”

  “May I carry it to your hut?”

  “Please.” Alita glanced over her shoulder. “I must help Kristi clean up here first. Then I will need to prepare space in my hut.”

  “I’ll just leave it outside.” Joe hefted the skin back onto his shoulder. “Let me know if you need help moving it in.” As Joe reached Alita’s hut, he paused to look back.

  From the entrance of the medical tent, Alita stared at him, her face unreadable. After several heartbeats, she looked away and joined Kristi inside.

  As he started to swing the fur onto the ground, a hand appeared and took one end of the fur. “Let me help.”

  Joe glanced up to see Nikaku. Together they lowered the bundle.

  “This is a very fine fur,” the young man said.

  “I just finished tanning it yesterday.” Joe looked up to see Nikaku staring, face blank.

  Muscle by muscle, Nikaku’s face morphed into a small grin. “You have only been here a few changes of the moon. So you would not realize that a fur like this is commonly given to an unmarried woman by a suitor. Both to declare one’s intentions and to impress the woman’s family.”

  Joe closed his eyes. Had he misled her? Or, even worse, insulted her?

  Or…had he not misled her? Emotion and thought warred in his head and heart.

  “You should not worry. I saw you give her the fur as I walked into our village. From her many faces, I think that she realized that it was a gift with nothing attached but kindness.” Nikaku’s face turned neutral. “A very fine gift from the chief of Haven.”

  “Wait.” Joe said as Nikaku turned to walk away.

  The young warrior’s eyebrows rose in a question as he faced Joe.

  “Alita is a woman in this world.” Joe rubbed his face with his h
ands. “In my world... In my former world, she would still be considered a child.”

  Joe hesitated. Should he even be discussing Alita with this young warrior? Nikaku was only a year or so older than her. A wave of vertigo swept over him as he thought about Alita with Nikaku. The younger man would be best for her, wouldn’t he? She deserved a family. Deserved a family with someone who didn’t repeatedly lose family members. His gut churned. “You’ve been spending time with Alita.” He choked the words out. “I just want to know that you will treat her with respect.”

  Nikaku’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “No.” His voice broke.

  Joe held up a hand. “I am not accusing you of anything. I… I only want her to be happy.” Why did the words seem so hard to say? He kept his eyes on Nikaku, watching for his reaction.

  Nikaku’s posture softened. After several breaths, his face relaxed. “I only talk with Alita about her experience in the Far Lands.” He paused, his expression enigmatic. “And about you.” He raised his right arm and clasped Joe on the shoulder. After another breath, he let go and walked away.

  Chapter 49. Day 150 - August 3

  Joe twitched the reins, bringing Snark to a stop along the vegetable patch where Brent was attacking weeds. “We need to plan for our harvest.”Brent straightened and arched his back, a slight grimace on his face. “We’ll need to build storage sheds and dig a root cellar.” He leaned on his hoe and stared at the river. “Hell of a pretty place.” At the change in subject, Joe followed Brent’s gaze. The afternoon sun glinted off small riffles in the sluggish river. Bird Island formed a backdrop to the water, backed itself by the southern ridge. Brent claimed that the ridges were just kinks in the land created by plate tectonics. Whatever the cause, they conveniently formed the north and south sides of the valley and merged in the east to form the third side.

  “I can’t help but feel we’re still being watched from over there.” Joe shifted in his saddle and nodded at the tree-covered crest to the south. That was a likely location for Tork’s scouts to monitor Haven’s activities unseen. “Unfortunately, you’re most likely correct.” Brent scraped at the ground around a row of onions, their tops now turning brown. “Need to leave some of these in the ground to form seed next year.” His hoe rose and fell, cutting a swath through the weeds. “Remind me to mulch these beds in a couple of months to keep them from freezing.”

  Joe noticed the twine wrapped around the end of the hoe’s handle. “How are the tools holding up?”

  Brent stopped to look at his repair job. “Got to keep them fixed.” A rare smile escaped. “Otherwise, Larry will salvage them for metal. Until he finds a supply of iron, he’s just reworking our existing scrap metal, including any empty cartridges.” His smile disappeared.

  “His search for iron ore will have to wait. He’s got enough on his plate this year.” Joe looked inland toward Haven where Larry’s forge lay hidden below a low rise and frowned. “He’s burning himself out. Lately he’s even been helping Sesapa with clay and pottery. Then there’s the charcoal works and the weapons. I’m just glad he’s able to hammer nails and spent cartridges into arrow points or we’d be knapping rock.”

  “The clay thing he wants to do.” Brent’s mouth cracked into yet another rare smile. “Where’s Potts? I thought he was planning to weed today also.”

  “He’s tending his special gardens.” Joe’s frown deepened. Not good, but Kristi wanted some of the old guy’s poppysap and, once they produced alcohol, cannabis tincture for her medical kit. Besides, who was he to deny Potts his recreational plants?

  Joe straightened up in the saddle. He’d best get moving; he needed to check on the bow making after finishing his circuit. Joe nudged Snark and they moved downstream. He waved at Canisa and two of the children who were on weeding duty with Brent. Canisa held her hoe up in a return greeting. Joe smiled. The elder woman was adapting well to Brent’s plants. Joe suspected it helped that Brent recognized her skills. Even if he did refer to it as ‘ethnobotany.’

  Joe had just reached the southern end of the garden plots when he heard his name called. He twitched the reins and Snark slowed to a halt. Shifting in the saddle, he saw Alita riding toward him. He started to smile but then frowned as he realized that she was riding one of the horses kept ready for emergencies in Haven.

  “Have you seen Matu?” Alita’s voice was sharp with tension. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.”

  “No.” Joe’s pulse quickened. He turned toward the river, scanning its banks. All appeared peaceful. “Hadn’t he been working with the horses for the past few of days? Maybe he’s still with them.”

  “That’s what I thought. I checked with Kidu.” Her eyes were wide. “He said Matu left the herd yesterday talking about fish.”

  Joe’s head snapped toward the eastern side of the valley. Near the abandoned Two Valleys village, several small islands formed a narrow channel along the shore, a perfect spot to funnel fish. A couple times a week, some of the children would harvest fish trapped in the newly repaired structures. But only with an armed adult.

  “Let’s go.” Joe urged Snark into a canter. Alita followed. Within minutes, they reached the ruined village. Joe slowed, scanning the ground. Older prints marked the ground, including his own from a visit to the weirs a few days back. But he wasn’t able to spot any more recent prints. Joe started to cross Stony Creek, the valley’s southern creek at the edge of the village, but halted mid-stream. Several fresh prints led out of the water, their edges just starting to crumble after almost a full day of sun. Matu might have been here—the prints were no older than a day.

  Joe glanced at Alita. Her strained face indicated she had also seen the fresh prints.

  Joe nudged Snark up the creek bank. After a few yards on firmer ground, the trail forked, the main trail continuing toward the steep bank between the ridge and the Susquehanna. The recent footprints turned onto the smaller path to the right. In minutes, they broke through the trees and stood on the river’s bank, staring at the protruding poles and rocks that marked the fish trap.

  A chill spread over Joe. He couldn’t see any prints, human or otherwise, along this part of the narrow trail and shoreline. It was an easily accessible riverbank. Even the scattered pockets of sand and mud among the rocks appeared clear of impressions. He dismounted. “Stay with the horses.”

  Joe removed his boots and socks. He shuffled into the water until he was a couple of yards from shore. Then turned. With the mid-afternoon sun at his side, any small indentations in the sandy or muddy downriver should pop into view. Joe’s pulse speeded up; all flat spots in the immediate area were free of debris but showed faint parallel scratches. Water filled several small depressions. Further up and down stream, debris and rocks littered the bank. The stub of a branch protruded from one of the nearby trees. A couple hundred yards downstream, a small branch had snagged itself on a protruding rock. Joe’s sinking gut fell further.

  Joe moved back to the shore and gave his gun belt to Alita. Tears formed in her sad eyes.

  He walked upriver a hundred yards and waded into the water. Sweeping the river bottom with his feet, he moved out until he couldn’t keep his footing. Then he returned to the bank. He repeated the pattern, always moving downstream.

  About fifty yards downstream from where the trail opened into the shoreline, he felt what he feared, a soft snag in about four feet of water. He could see an almost imperceptible outline in the rippling water.

  Joe inhaled then squatted into the cool water, slipping his arms under Matu’s body. He lifted, grunting at the unexpected weight.

  Chapter 50. Day 151 - August 4

  From his seat around the central cooking fire, Brent watched Kristi leave the village and walk toward the river. He let out a long breath. She remained civil, but talking with her left his gut in a tangle.

  “Damn. That was the last of her immediate family.” Potts sighed as he stood to pour the last of the mint tea into Brent’s cup, splashing some of the war
m liquid on his hand. “Thanks.” Brent’s eyebrows narrowed. Then relaxed as he realized that Potts had meant Alita. Brent focused beyond Kristi at the two figures of Alita and Joe walking back to the village. She appeared to be leaning on him. “She still has a cousin and the distant Elders. But losing Matu really shook her. She’s now got the older sister thing to haunt her. Blames herself for not keeping tabs on him.” “Then to see his body with those stones stitched into his belly.” Potts shivered as he set the pot to the side of the fire. He used two sticks to grab a small glowing ember and place it over the bowl of a small pipe that appeared out of a pocket. He inhaled. Held it and exhaled slowly. “And his head bashed in. It’s all pain and suffering.”

  “Easy on the philosophy, my aged friend.” Brent took a sip of the tepid tea. “The poor child probably stumbled upon some of Tork’s scouts. I guess they didn’t want their presence known.” He watched Potts slump in his chair. “You want me to cover your shift tonight?”

  “Nah, I’ll be okay by then.” Potts contemplated at his pipe. Then shook his head and put it away.

  “I thought you Buddhists accepted life’s trials and so on?”

  “I never said I was a good Buddhist.” Potts’s face twisted into a smile. “Maybe I joined this party partially to get away from life.” He snorted. “Was I wrong or what?”

  “I don’t care what kind of Buddhist you are as long as you shoot straight.” Brent gazed south. “Here they come.” Brent stood and watched Joe enter Haven, carrying a shovel and bucket. Behind him, Alita now leaned on Kristi, supported by the older woman’s right arm.