by Lou Cadle
She was shivering. She tucked her head back in.
“You with us?” Bob said. It was he who was with her in the hides, trying to warm her up.
“Barely,” she said. “Zach?”
“Alive. Rex, too, thanks to you.”
“Lungs?” she said. She was worried about both the guys. She hadn’t breathed in any water, but Zach certainly had. Maybe Rex too.
“Worry about it later.”
“Where?” she said. She had to let a shudder move through her. “Where are they?”
“Zach has Jodi with him, doing what I’m doing with you, warming him up. Claire’s with Rex, ditto. The rest of them are reconnoitering.”
“I want to sit up,” she said, struggling up her to elbows.
“In a minute. Just get warm for now. You’re quaking like the San Andreas.”
She was. Every few seconds, another shudder built and racked her body hard.
“I’m cold,” she admitted.
“You are. I’m doing my best trying to warm you, but you’re like ice.” He draped a leg over her, put both arms around her, and pulled her closer to him.
“Thank you,” she said through chattering teeth. She was stark naked, but she’d worry about the propriety of that later. For now, she felt the heat coming off his body and willed her own to take it in. Steal it, if it came to that. Just make me warmer than I am.
She tried to remember what she had glimpsed out there. They had landed in an ice world, for sure. She had seen no trees, only a stark world of ice and rock. “Any fuel out there?” she said.
“We’re on tundra. Laina says there are plants you can burn, but not many. And they don’t give you a fire for long. She said when you hunt, you eat the meat raw.”
“Inuits.” She was pleased that her brain was working well enough to come up with the word.
“Yeah. Igloos, eating blubber, all that. I think that’s how we’ll need to survive here.”
“Rex’ll like igloos. You sure he’s okay?”
“He’s fine. Except for feeling guilty.”
“Why?” The drop through the ice wasn’t his fault—or anyone’s fault.
“He had to lose the gear to get up to the surface.”
“I’d rather have Rex than anything he was carrying.”
“We all would. But he’ll need to hear it several times, I think, before he stops feeling bad.”
“What did he lose?”
“The biggest bowl, the axe, a number of the other stone tools. And a fully loaded belt of fossil-hunting tools.”
“We can make the axe again if we find any trees to use it on. Lots of stone here to work with, from what I saw.”
“There is that. Almost nothing but.”
Hannah considered the bare landscape she’d caught sight of. With little to graze on, with the low temperatures, how many animals could they find to eat? Ice-fishing was a possibility. At least they had a source of water right here. “The lake will have to freeze over again for us to use the timegate. Freeze solid, not like it is.”
“Yup. Let’s worry about that later though.”
Nothing they could do to make that happen, not if the weather didn’t cooperate. They could maybe lay boards over the weak spot in the ice. No, wait, if there were no trees, how could they make boards? A big net made of thick ropes? Nope, no grass either. A lot of what they had on hand was going to have to last them the next four weeks. Ropes, grass mats, bowls, spears. Hides they might find more of when they found game.
A strong shiver made her teeth clack painfully together. She clenched them, grateful to have the control over her muscles returning enough to let her do that. Bob’s arms tightened around her.
“My apologies to your wife for this,” she said, when she could talk again.
“She wouldn’t mind. She’s a smart lady. And she knows how much I love her.”
“I hope you get back to her.” Talking about him made her forget for a second how incredibly cold she was.
“Me too. With Laina, we have an outside chance of getting there. But I don’t think it’s likely.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know. But none of this is your fault. Or mine. Or M.J.’s.” He sighed.
She wanted to distract him from mourning what he might lose forever. “Where are we? Do you know? Exactly?”
“Laina says she aimed for about three million before our time. I forget if that’s the end of the Pliocene or the beginning of the Pleistocene. Right around the changeover between epochs.”
Another hard round of shaking came and went. When she could speak again, she asked, “What made it change? Was there a die-off of some sort? Asteroid or something?”
“No, I think the change is about temperature alone. It’s when the world starts getting colder.”
“Colder than this?”
“Afraid so, yes. I suspect it will get up to near freezing today. The sun’s out. Not a cloud in the sky.”
“I’ve never been a fan of winter.”
“It will only last for a month. Next jump, we’ll be out of it. Or, at worst, into a normal winter back home. In houses with central heating if we’re lucky.”
“Can we survive a month here? Did we lose any food with Rex’s gear?” Not that they’d brought food for a month, but they had enough for almost a week.
“Not much. Remember, we divided up the food and water among several people. I doubt we lost a tenth of the food.”
“I guess we can get water while the hole is still in the ice.”
“I’m not sure I want to risk anyone going out there again.”
“Where Jodi cracked it away, it was pretty thick and stable at the edge she left. And if we have no fire, we have no way to melt ice. So we might need to keep that open until we find an alternate source. Send Jodi out there every day to whack away at it, keep it open.” She was proud of herself for getting that many words out at once.
“They’ll have to stay roped.”
“Of course, for safety.”
“Pretty cold water to drink straight from the lake. And relying on it means we need to find a place to stay right near here.”
“A cave would be awfully nice. But the chances of finding one are tiny.”
He said, “Laina says we can build an igloo anywhere, but it’d be smarter to find a sheltered spot. With rock on two sides, to cut the wind.”
“Makes sense. But wait, we don’t have anything like a saw for the ice. How do you build an igloo without that?”
“I’m sure she’ll tell us,” he said. “Why don’t you turn over. This side is warming up pretty well.”
Hannah flipped over and let Bob spoon her back. Her front half regretted the loss of the heat. The hiss that escaped Bob when he pressed against her other side let her know how cold she must feel to him still, even through his clothes. She tried to remember everything she knew about first aid for cold weather emergencies. Hypothermia. Frostbite. She had learned it but never used any of it. Being a summer-only ranger meant she dealt with heat exhaustion in the tourists, not with frostbitten toes. She wiggled her own toes to make sure she still could. Barely.
“Uncomfortable?”
“No, just testing to make sure everything still works. It was weird how quickly my brain slowed down. Even Rex and Zach seemed more alert than I was, and I was only a minute or two in the water. They must have each had several minutes down there.”
“Wasn’t that long. It just felt long because we were all scared. You had Rex out in less than five minutes, I think. Zach, maybe ten minutes at most.”
“We’re lucky we got them both out.” She wondered if Zach would be okay, if his brain had suffered any damage. No, wasn’t there something about cold water delaying that? You could survive longer in cold water than hot and still be okay. A first aid teacher had said that once. She couldn’t remember who or when or where.
“You were smart and lucky. And brave.”
She yawned, hugely, and chuckled after she did. “Sorry.”
“If you need to nap, go on. By the time you wake up, I’ll bet you’re warm again.”
He didn’t have to suggest it twice. The cold or the fear or something had sapped her energy. She fell into a doze within a minute.
When she woke again, she said, “How long?”
Bob knew what she was asking. “Half-hour, no more.”
“I feel better. And warmer. But not exactly warm.”
“We might not feel warm for the next month.”
She was still cold, but those hard shakes seem to have passed. “Are you okay? Chest pains? Weakness? Cold bothering you?”
“Yes, no, and no.”
“I think you missed one.”
“Then no, to whatever it was. I’m fine. Or, rather, I’m no worse than before. I might never be entirely fine again.”
“If we can get you to a time of drugs—even aspirin—you probably will be. That plus time to recover in a warm bed. A month in bed, I mean. Not just a day or two of light activity.”
“I hope. It’s frustrating not being able to do everything I’d like to do. Everything you are all doing.”
“You contribute.”
“I slow you all down.”
“If so, we don’t care. Nobody does. Not even Dixie.”
“Dixie.” He made an unhappy noise. “I forgot for a second she’s pregnant.”
“May as well forget it, as worry or regret won’t make a difference.”
He spoke quietly. “I can’t imagine a more unfit mother.”
“I can. Easily.”
“I’m surprised to hear you defend her.”
“She’s still young. If she learns to expand the bubble of her self-involvement out to include a child, she might be a great mother. One of those ferocious bears of a mother that probably drives you teachers nuts.”
Bob said, “It’d be better if she expanded that bubble out to include all of us. Or all of humanity.”
“Nari would say to us, ‘expand that bubble to include all animals, and be a vegetarian.’”
“I’m as likely to expand the bubble out to include spinach first.”
“Not that Nari is that type. You know, the ‘believe exactly as I do’ type. I doubt she’d lecture anyone on the topic.”
“Admirable. I wonder if the dog attack will make her terrified of domestic dogs.”
“You’re worrying too much.”
“Says the Queen Worrier.”
“I’m changing.” She didn’t know it was so until this moment. But she was. She was learning to not fret quite so steadily about things beyond her control. Zach and Rex punching through the ice in the lake—that was something she had some say about correcting. But Dixie’s pregnancy? How Nari would emotionally recover from the attack? Beyond the basic human kindness of being there to listen if they wanted to talk, Hannah could do little. “With Claire as the elected leader, I’ve been able to worry less. It’s nice. And at least as much gets done. A humbling lesson.”
“And there’s no sense in worry about the future. The world will go on fine without us, no matter if we return to our time or not.” Bob sounded sad.
Hannah wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she stuck with the truth. “Your family wants you back. Your students look up to you and respect you. Your being here provides a moderating influence on them, even if you don’t speak a word. And on me.”
“Well, thanks for saying. But eventually we all have to come to the realization that the world will go on fine without us. Because we all die. And it’ll muddle along after we’re gone, same as it muddled along before we appeared.”
She didn’t want him to give up. “We need you alive.”
“I’m doing my best to stay that way.”
Suddenly, the emotional turn in the conversation, coupled with her nudity, made her uncomfortable and self-conscious. “Where are my clothes?”
“Drying on a rock like everyone else’s. Nari has moccasins ready for two of you and says she can whip up another pair before nightfall. I believe she’s working at it right now and keeping watch for danger while Dixie and Ted and Laina are out exploring the area.”
“That takes care of my feet.”
“You’ll have to wrap yourself in hides until your clothes are dry.”
“I wonder how long that will take.”
“It’s sunny. My grandmother—Mom’s mom—used a clothesline in the winter, and it froze many winter days where I grew up. The clothes dried in a day. They come off the line frozen into odd shapes.”
The thought of pulling up frozen-stiff pants sent another shiver through her.
“Still cold? Maybe flip again.”
“I’m fine.” She was, and less self-conscious now that their conversation had turned to shallower topics.
“If you’re warm enough, I’m going to crawl out and check with Nari.”
“Sure.”
In a few minutes his hand came back through, tapping her shoulder with something soft. “Moccasins.”
“That was fast.”
“A pair she made before, your size. She’s making Rex’s right now. See you later.”
Under the hides, Hannah slipped on the moccasins. She wouldn’t be of much use in them. Until her boots were dry, walking over ice or frozen tundra in moccasins would doubtless result in frostbite within an hour.
Living in the ice age world was not going to be easy. She had learned the first rule of survival the hard way. When you have only one set of clothes, stay dry. At all costs, stay dry.
Chapter 3
That evening at dusk, Hannah and the rest were seated in a circle on grass mats. Hannah’s socks and boots were still wet, but her pants and bra had dried. She was wearing those, moccasins, and one of the bigger hides, wrapped around her like a shawl. The others either had a hide covering some part of them or were wearing one of the few hide tunics Nari had made. Zach and Rex’s shirts had dried and they were wearing hides like skirts until their jeans dried. Zach was still coughing from time to time, but Rex had taken no harm at all from his dousing.
A day’s searching by three of them hadn’t found a perfect campsite, but Laina said, “We need to pick the best one we’ve found by early tomorrow and get the igloo started. It needs to be small. We’ll be sleeping side by side to conserve heat.”
“What about tonight?” Dixie said. “I’m freezing.”
“We need to sleep in a pile, under all the hides we have.”
“Like puppies?” Jodi said.
Claire nodded. She was deferring to Laina in matters of how to survive the cold.
Zach said, “Let me apologize in advance for waking you up by coughing. I’m sure I will.”
“Cough all you want to. I’ll sleep anyway,” Ted said. “We’ve been up a day plus several hours.”
“Yeah, it’s like jet lag,” Nari said. “Timegate lag.”
“To remind everyone, we saw no game at all today,” Claire said.
“No scat, no tracks, no signs of the bones of an old kill,” added Ted. “Nada.”
“We’re not going to skip supper, are we?” Dixie said. “I’m really hungry.”
Claire shook her head. “We’ll eat a meal, but it’ll be a light one. Until we know there’s more out there, we need to ration what we have.”
Hannah had something to add. “Cold weather burns more calories. The body is fighting to stay warm, and that takes fuel. We’ll be hungrier because of it. So we need to find game, and plenty of it.”
“Shelter first,” Laina said. “We need to do that tomorrow. It will take everyone helping. We can hunt for food the day after.”
Without any wood to burn, they sat around the idea of a campfire and ate a handful of jerky each, meat flavored with the smoke of a fire that Hannah wished she was in front of right now. It was nice and salty.
As Jodi had said, like puppies they lay together for the night. Hannah woke in the dead of night, having slept plenty. Under the hides it was steamy from the breath and sweat of so many people. Hann
ah felt someone shivering to her side. Dixie, if she remembered right, at the outside of the group. “Change spots with me,” she whispered.
She climbed over Dixie, who shuffled to the center. This put Hannah at the outside. She stuck her hand out from the hides and, when she felt how cold it was out there, decided that her bladder could wait a while longer. Once she crawled from this cocoon of warmth, she would be out for the day. There was no reason to rush that moment.
By dawn, everyone was awake, and nearly everyone was complaining about being cold. They filled bottles with water—for now, they were following Hannah’s suggestion on keeping the hole in the lake ice open in order to do that—and spent another hour working in pairs, trying to find the ideal spot to build their new home.
When they gathered again near the spot they had slept, no one was enthused about a spot to build, so Laina picked the best of the sites she had found yesterday. They all trekked over.
“I’m no-fooling cold,” said Jodi.
Bob said, “Work will warm us up. Tell us what to do, Laina.”
Ted said, “We should clear the snow, right? All the way down to the ground?”
“No,” Laina said. “Keep a snow floor. We need to make a mold for bricks, just like we did with clay bricks. Big stones with one flat side will work best to build the mold. But all sizes of rocks will help, as long as one side is flat.”
Rocky patches lay all around them, and they all scattered and looked for the right sorts of rocks. Laina stayed by the home site to prepare it for building.
Hannah was paired with Nari. She had kept an eye out to make sure that Zach and Bob were partnered with someone more fit. Those three, she didn’t want lugging heavy stones around. She and Nari found one possible big stone, but it was too heavy for Hannah and she wouldn’t let Nari try to help lift it. Nari carried smaller stones and she took medium-sized ones back to Laina.
After an hour’s work at that, including sending out a team of three fit people to haul back some of the heaviest rocks, Laina built a snow-brick mold. She first dug into the snow as far as she could. Hannah looked at the bare ground at the base of the hole. It was still icy-looking, a faint turquoise color. Permafrost, was that what it was? They couldn’t be on a glacier, not with the low-growing plants. Or could they? Her knowledge of the arctic world was nil, made up of only what she had caught on TV nature shows, which tended to emphasize the penguins or polar bears, not the ground.
