Window In Time

by David Boyle

  “Suits me,” said Charlie. “I’ve been wantin’ to fix her anyway.”

  With Mark out of his hair and no longer tinkering, Tony rearranged the fire and got Hayden to reshuffle the rocks so that both the camp grill and the one from the stove could be put to work at the same time. Using them both was a first, but then, how often did anyone have to cook such monstrous pieces of meat? The steaks were far too large for anyone to eat the whole thing, but with so much meat and no possible way to cure it all, making an extravagant meal seemed only prudent. Besides, everyone was sure to go away filled, if not happy.

  Between cooking the steaks and keeping an eye on the smoker, Tony took a few minutes to have a cigarette while the others carefully pounded the major dents out of Charlie’s canoe with a variety of carefully configured logs. Mike wanted nothing to do with the banging, his purple snout appearing in the trees on the few occasions when the noise abated, and just as quickly disappearing when it started up again. A comfort when it came to watching for snakes, the little dinosaur could also be a ditz.

  The canoe was patched to the extent possible, the men soon drifting to the fire. “You ready there, Delgado?” Ron said, sniffing. “Cause we sure as hell are.”

  Charlie took a whiff. “Oh man, do they smell good.”

  “Try not to drool, okay? And so long as you don’t mind a little blood, go ahead and grab a plate. Charlie, you killed the thing, so I guess it’s only proper that you get first choice.”

  “Mmmmm that’s easy. I’m takin’ that one!”

  They settled around the flat bottomed Tripper and carved into the dinosaur steaks as if they’d hadn’t eaten in a week. “It just me, or are these things as good as I think they are?” Ron said, slicing, the others answering with either grunts or nods. “And where’d you get the veggies? They’re pretty tasty too.”

  “You have to ask Wheajo. He picked them up during his walk around the island yesterday. All I did was match them to the pictures in my book and fix them like it said. It’s not magic, fellas.”

  “Maybe not for you,” Hayden mumbled between chews. “Just be glad it’s not me doing the cooking.”

  Mark swallowed. “So Charlie… you never got to the part about how you killed this thing. What happened? And how’d you end up with the rifle?”

  Charlie wiped his mouth with a sleeve. “That was Ron’s idea.

  “We spot this little shit. And we’re watchin’. And McClure gets this funny look on his face, and he says to me: ‘Wanna trade?’ I wasn’t ever gonna get the chance to shoot somethin’ that big, you know, seein’ as I only brought my bow, and I’m thinkin’ that I just died and went to heaven!” They all laughed, all except Wheajo. “And once I get my tongue untangled, I say ‘Sure’.

  “So we move on up to get a better view. I don’t know if he saw us, or caught our scent, but all of a sudden the whole world is goin’ bonkers. Ron cranks a shot off… Bam! and now my ears are ringin’. And here comes this locomotive, I mean this big bastard, and no way is he stoppin’. Bang bang! Ron pops off a coupla more….”

  Perhaps it was inevitable that the conversation would return to the hunt, Charlie going on about how he and Ron had killed the big hadrosaur. The meal was exceptionally good, and with so much work to do, Wheajo decided to let the humans enjoy themselves. For tomorrow would be different. Very different. If their preparations could be completed, as well they should be, tomorrow they would leave the safety of the island and strike off into the unknown.

  The conversation had confirmed his choices: who would go, and who would be left behind. The big human with the long flowing hair had been an enigma, yet now he seemed in control of himself and confident of his abilities. A good sign surely, Wheajo could well imagine that his strength would prove useful in the days to come.

  At length the meal ended, and Wheajo took the occasion to turn the conversation from the hunt to his plan; in particular, the tasks that would be required to ensure its success.

  “Sounds…well, not easy, but reasonable,” Mark said. “When do we leave?”

  “Dawn tomorrow,” Wheajo said. “If the climb is as you have described, we will need as much daylight as possible to complete the journey.”

  “Shouldn’t be that bad with all of us on a boat. And once we get to the trail, I can show you the path I used on my way down. Believe me, it’s lots easier than the one I took up.”

  “You need not be concerned, as you will remain on the island. As will you,” Wheajo added, addressing Tony.

  Mark was momentarily speechless. “Wait a minute. I found that lake. I know the way up and where the islands are.”

  “And you are in no condition to work. Our upcoming activities dictate that all participants be able to perform strenuous physical activity. You cannot. And we cannot afford you the time to recuperate.”

  “To hell with that!” Mark said, wincing to his feet. “You’re not leaving me behind, period. I’m going whether you like it or not.”

  “Well well well,” Ron said, lacing his fingers behind his neck. “Not much fun being on the other side, is it?”

  “Not now, McClure. This has got nothing to do with you.”

  “Why? Because it’s you this time? Like you can complain when something doesn’t go your way… but I can’t?” Ron paused as if to gather his thoughts. “Teamwork. Isn’t that what you guys have been harping about? Do what you have to for the good of the group? Well it’s your turn, Bennett. Time to tow your own line.”

  “But I can do this. I know I can.”

  “If I got this right, this is intended as a quick in-and-out. And I’m not sure how I feel about agreeing with Wheajo here, but think of the logistics. The more people there are, the more shit there is to take. And you know as well as I do that more and quick don’t go that well together. Especially when it has to get carried up the side of a mountain.”

  “It’s not a mountain.”

  “Fuck the semantics. You know what I mean. And don’t try bull shitting me about what kind of shape you’re in. I’ve seen that bruise on your back. Hell, I’m surprised you can walk at all. But we’re not going to a party, and having you or Tony along so you can watch doesn’t make sense.”

  They could almost see the steam pouring from Mark’s ears when he stepped from the fire, staring as if into space. “So what all are you proposing to take?”

  The short list included the canoes, a tent, which Wheajo left to their choosing, the ax, hatchet, and both the rifle and the handgun. And of course the dawzon.

  Originally pleased not to be one of the chosen, Tony suddenly realized how vulnerable he and Mark would be. “My God,” he gasped. “You’re taking all the weapons, and all three canoes?”

  “Precisely.”

  “That’s suicide! What happens if one of those bastards makes it to the island? You think of that? How the hell do you expect us to defend ourselves?”

  “You’re reaching, Bennett. In all the time we’ve been here, nothing has gotten on the island.”

  “Well, not quite nothin’,” Charlie said, looking to the dinosaur curled under the tree with his compound. “Mike did.”

  Ron acceded the oversight. “Okay, one little prick you could kill with a club. I’m talking about the big ones. You won’t need weapons as long as you stay put. And as far as boats are concerned, where would you go?”

  “What the fuck, you’re not leaving me any options.”

  Tony looked pale.

  Their distress was real if not unexpected. “You will have the cúpaq begun yesterday,” Wheajo said. “We will not leave unless at least one is complete.”

  “Huh. So that’s why you had us start those,” Charlie remarked, only now grasping the scope of Wheajo’s planning.

  “They are but a precaution, and you will have no need of either of them unless the island is invaded.”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Tony said, pacing near the fire. He lit another cigarette, his second in a row.

  Mark raked his hair
back. “Bad hell, we’re gonna be sitting ducks.” He noticed the puzzled look on Wheajo’s face, and this time offered no clarification.

  “I guess I don’t have to take my bow. I mean, we will have both the rifle and the handgun. Ain’t much, but it’s yours if you think it’d help.”

  “Thanks. And yeah, it will.” Mark looked to Tony. “You ever shoot a bow?”

  “If you count day camp, I did. Ages ago. But they were just toys in comparison to Charlie’s.”

  “Doesn’t matter. When it comes to shooting, one bow is pretty much like the next. Especially if you… haven’t….” Mark caught Hayden staring. “What’s the matter?”

  “Maybe you should ask Wheajo.”

  Mark could see by the expression on Wheajo’s face that his notions about having access to Charlie’s compound had been premature. “You’re taking that too, aren’t you?” His hand balled in a fist. “This some kind of game for you? Make the humans squirm? Well, I’m not laughing. Not one little bit.”

  “I do not play games. And I assure you I had no intention to deceive. That I did not mention a need for your friend’s machine was but an oversight.”

  “An oversight! You mean you forgot.”

  “If you insist.”

  Charlie was up and waving his arms. “Wait a minute. What are we talking about, machine? What machine?”

  Ron shot him a look. “Earth to Van Dyke. He’s talking about your bow. You know, the thing with the block-and-tackles on the ends?”

  “Oh, right…. But I already said I didn’t need it.”

  “Your weapon is not required for its capabilities, rather for what it contains.”

  “Say again?”

  “The cross ties are metallic, are they not?”

  Charlie looked to the hanger tree with his bow. “You mean the cables?” he asked, still fumbling with the notion that the compound was actually a machine. “Yeah… so?”

  “One will be needed to form the transmission line,” Wheajo explained. “Your machine must be dismantled.”

  “No guns. No bow.” Mark was fuming. “This is getting worse by the minute.”

  “Okay, let’s get to it,” Hayden said, minutes later and after Wheajo had identified the tasks each was to perform. “We’re lucky, we can all be done before dark.”

  Ron started for the trail, Mark following Charlie toward his tent. “I could use some help here, Bennett.”

  “Yeah, well, cry on somebody else’s shoulder. I got better things to do.”

  “I think it sucks,” Charlie said, backing off one of the bolts holding the limbs of his compound.

  “Goes double for me. It’s my lake, after all.”

  Charlie switched to the other screw. “It really as pretty as you said?”

  “Let me put it this way. If there’s anything like it back home, I’ve never seen it. It’s like Sabrefang in a way, beautiful and dangerous all at the same time. You guys are going to have to be careful. Seriously, the dinosaurs are everywhere.”

  “Yeah, well, I ain’t takin’ no chances. And you’ll be okay too. Like Ron said, nothin’s made it to the island except Mike.” He unhooked the bowstring from the molded-on ends of the cables. “Gimme that other Allen wrench would ya? Yeah… that one.”

  Mark handed Charlie the wrench, and watched in dismay as the compact Browning two-wheeler went from a high-tech precision weapon to a useless pile of junk. Schools had taught him but precious few of the things in life that actually mattered, to the point where much of what he knew was either self taught or gleaned from books. The harshest lessons had been learned by experience, the most recent being how difficult dinosaurs were to kill. That, more than anything else, fired Mark’s determination not to be left defenseless.

  Charlie unthreaded the last cable from the eccentrics. “You know what he wants with these?”

  “No. And at this point I really don’t give a shit. Just leave them for Wheajo, and make sure you don’t lose anything. Who knows? Maybe later we can find a way to put the thing back together.

  “You brought spare broadheads, yes?” Charlie shot him a look. “Okay… so that was a dumb question. Four would be good. New ones if you have them. And unbolt that quiver before you go any farther.”

  “You got somethin’ particular in mind?”

  Mark clenched his jaw. “I’m working on it.”

  Wheajo described the framework he needed, after which Hayden hurried into the forest to find and cut the necessary pieces.

  The plan to recharge the brizva relied crucially on a number of components, perhaps the most important being the field generator. Wheajo had measured various aspects of the canoe: its length and width; its cross section at various points along the hull; the position of the metal thwarts and seats; and the hull’s electrical conductivity. These attributes were then used to create a three dimensional model within which he was able to shift the location of the field generator to determine the optimal position for the dawzon such that the errcot could be maximized in both duration and extent.

  In addition to showing longitudinal sensitivity, the model clearly demonstrated the need for the dawzon to be as electrically isolated from the hull as possible. Which meant that green wood was unacceptable as the sap would be conductive at the power levels anticipated. The campsite had long since been scoured of dry wood, but eventually two dead saplings were located that met his requirements: sturdy and straight for the minimum three feet; each with an angled branch that after trimming served as a hook by which the field generator assembly could be hung from the framework that Hayden was busy constructing.

  The prepared rods were positioned and the dawzon secured with duct tape between them in an arrangement reminiscent of a litter. Removable, yet capable of being locked in place when the time came, Wheajo took care to ensure that the proper controls would remain accessible, even after the assembly was mounted in Charlie’s canoe.

  The sky was clearing, though the wind had a ways yet to go, smoke at times swirling about the campsite and nearby woods. Ever the curious dinosaur, Mike made constant forays about the campsite as if checking on everyone’s progress, Tony most often ready with a treat.

  Tony pinned the door of the smoker closed on the latest batch of meat. “Need some help?”

  “Nope,” Mark answered, slicing strips from a section of parasaur skin.

  “Mind letting me in on what you’re doing?”

  “I said it before: I’m not about to be left here without weapons. Wheajo’s got every bit of string or rope allocated for the trip, and I need some cord. I’d prefer this tanned, but if rawhide worked for Lewis and Clark, I figure it’s gotta be good enough for me.”

  “Okay. But what do you need it for?”

  “How about I show you later?” Mark finished his cut. “This stuff feels even tougher than squirrel… so it should work.” He wrapped the strip about his fists, and, pull as he could, couldn’t break it. “Yeah, this’ll do,” he said, glancing when a tree crashed somewhere off in the woods. “How’s it going by you?”

  “Way better than last time. That stuff hanging is my second batch… and I still haven’t had to add more wood.” Mark acknowledged the news with barely a nod. “I know you’re not happy, but Wheajo does seem to know what he’s doing.”

  “I sure as hell hope so,” Mark grumbled, cutting strings from the skin.

  Tony bundled the cured meat in a requisitioned T-shirt, and with more in the smoker set off to see which of their rapidly diminishing stores to send on the trip.

  Having completed the framework and temporarily secured it in place, Hayden was busy unraveling the last of an old scarf and winding the yarn around a stick when Wheajo showed up with a long, flexible, and thoroughly denuded sapling.

  Fitted to the Discovery’s curved gunnel, the sapling was then trimmed flush to the ends of the canoe to eliminate interference during transport. A loop was created in a short section of rope and the loose end tied to a groove cut in the base of the sapling. The rope was wrapp
ed around the Grumman’s forward thwart, and the base of the pole inserted through the loop. Thus secured, a second notch was cut around the sapling where it contacted the forward end of the canoe. A painter was then tied to the second notch and threaded through the eyebolt on the canoe’s stem in an arrangement that allowed the sapling to be hoisted into position and secured at a distance. When lashed in position, the whip-like sapling extended some thirteen feet beyond the nose of the Rockfinder.

  Next, the stainless steel cables from Charlie’s bow were examined for wear. Kinked where they had exited the compound’s eccentrics, each was straightened to the extent possible and the cleanest chosen for use. Frays were removed with a pair of side cutters, and a short portion of the plastic jacket removed to expose the braid itself. Wheajo had previously modified the brizva’s charging port to accept the cable, which after insertion was secured with duct tape, the combination lastly taped to the prepared sapling with the molded-on metal clasp at its very tip.

  A few last measurements and Wheajo began disassembly. “You may proceed with the other supplies we will need.”

  “You are going to test it, aren’t you?”

  “I have absolute confidence in my ability to create an accurate simulation. Testing is required if one has, by design or ineptness, incorporated a means of failure. I assure you I have done neither. My equipment is operating within established parameters, and the overall assembly is within calculated limits.”

  Hayden squirmed uneasily. “I just assumed—”

  “Testing is superfluous. And unless you have further questions…?”

  “No… no, that’s all right. Sorry I asked. I’ll… I’ll get started on the tent.”

  Charlie was taking a break, having trimmed most every stump flush to the ground, Ron busy putting the finishing touches on the first platform. “Think they’ll hold?”