Timelines

by Bob Blink

  When at last we pulled away, most of the occupants of the compound were there. They shouted and waved, then watched us go as we made our way slowly down the path through the fields. Almost immediately my boots were caked with the gumbo-like mud, with bits of grass and tiny rocks adding to the mixture. I slipped and slid with the others, making slow headway against the resisting goo. The wagon sunk alarmingly into the ground, even without the weight of a passenger. Neither Dave nor Kurt was aboard. Dave wanted to walk to minimize the load, and Kurt wasn’t going to leave lying on his back. He would board the cart when we were out of sight, but he had decided he would walk away from the compound. More stubborn pride, but I thought I could understand his feeling. I was beginning to doubt Dix’s assessment of our chances when he walked up beside me.

  “It’s bad here. Once we get past the fields and onto the path it’s a lot better,” he informed me. “They tilled the soil through here and it was a bit soft even before the rain.”

  I hoped he was right. I nodded and continued lifting my heavy boots and placing on step in front of the other. This was going to tire Kurt quickly I thought. But we all made it down the path and over the little hill to the main road.

  The going was much easier there. Partly because the earth had been packed hard by travelers and shed much of the water rather than allowing it to soak in. Any ruts were filled with dirty water, with a layer of sticky muck at the bottom. Almost no one had traveled the road since the storms of the previous night. For now, we could walk along the dryer, solid areas. Even the cart could be directed along a path that kept it mostly out of the treacherous ruts. Occasionally the cart was forced to splash through low spots, the muck sucking noisily at wheels, trying to trap them. If there were much traffic before the ground could dry, the road would become a sloppy mess, as bad or worse than the path away from the compound.

  The longer grasses were still mostly matted down from the weight of the water. The shorter grass sparkled, standing proudly upright in defiance of the night’s watery assault. Wildflowers mostly hung downward, facing the ground rather than pointing toward the sky. There was no sun there anyway. Gray clouds filled the sky as far as eye could see. Still no sign of rain, but little hope of the sun breaking through anytime soon either. At least the winds had let up. Probably wrongly, I associated winds along with the darkened sky as a sign of coming storms. If nothing else, the calm reassured me, raising my spirits somewhat.

  “I don’t think it will remain this easy all the way.” This from Dix who had walked up beside me from his position on the far side of the cart in which Kurt rode at the moment. Dave rode in the cart for some stretches, then walked others. I could see that slogging through the mud was taking a toll on him as well. However, adding his bulk to the cart caused the wheels to sink much further into the muddy ground when we hit the soft patches. So he walked more than rode. I thought about our trip this way the other day and decided Dix was right. Some stretches, like this one, had been rocky and almost difficult to walk. Today, that worked for us. Some of the others, however, had been powdery dirt, and were probably very muddy by now.

  “We’ll just have to wait and see. Hopefully the rain was not as bad further on.” Wishful thinking on my part it turned out. We made pretty good time the next couple of hours due to the long stretch of reasonably hard ground and the almost total lack of fellow travelers. An occasional family would pass us, usually looking miserable and always headed the opposite direction. One farmer, also in a horse drawn cart stopped us and asked about the road conditions back the way we had come. He rode rather than walked, and the wheels of his cart were dark with mud almost to the axle. He chatted briefly with Dave, then continued on his way.

  “The easy going is about to end,” Dave warned us switching to English after the farmer had moved out of range. “About half a kilometer down the road it turns soft again. Sounds like he had to pull off the road and work his way around numerous soft spots and standing water,” he indicated pointing in the direction of the departing farmer. “He only traveled about three kilometers of the road, but said it looked the same the opposite direction when he pulled onto it.”

  I thought for a moment. We had walked a little more than half way, about ten miles. That left about ten miles to go, and it was midday now. Traveling at the same rate would have gotten us there well before dark, but it sounded like the next section could be much slower going. We might end up on the road for the night after all. At least the weather was holding. While the skies were still overcast, small breaks in the cloud cover looked to be forming. Rain was less and less likely it seemed, and hints of clearing appeared.

  We munched on trail bars as we walked, not wanting to break now and possibly have to pay for it at the other end. I put the wrapper in my pocket as I walked. Unlike the paper wrapper on the candy bars, the energy bars had some kind of thin foil that would probably survive the many centuries and become a mystery uptime. Unlikely as such a discovery might be, it seemed better to apply a little discipline and carry out our trash. As we rounded a bend in the road, we reached the start of the section the farmer had warned us about. Here the ground was darker again showing the wetter soil. Random patches of water showed on the trail and off to the sides where low spots had allowed the collection of rainwater. In the foreground the deep ruts wandered down the road, moving from side to side as he had tried to find the firmest path, often pulling off the trail completely. In many places the ruts left by the cart had filled with water as well, further testimony to the amount of water. It didn’t look promising.

  “I can walk a while,” Kurt suggested from his place in the cart.

  “Wait,” Dix instructed. “Let’s see how bad this really is. There may be some even worse patches. Better to save your strength against the chance we hit some of those.”

  At first we made better time than expected. Guided by the wheel marks of the man who had worked his way through this, we didn’t need to figure our own path most of the way. Where his tracks showed he had guessed wrongly, or had sunk far too deep, we scouted out alternate routes through and around the worst of the mud holes. But then we came to the point where the farmer had turned onto the road, coming from the east and a small house that could be seen not to far in the distance. Finding our own path after that required considerable effort and time.

  We had traveled a mile beyond the farmer’s turnoff when the cart became mired in the mud and the wooden pin that held the right wheel in place snapped.

  “That tears it,” Dave muttered, standing up to his ankles in the muddy water at the edge of the mud hole that had captured our cart. The four of us had tried to lift and push the mired cart while the horse strained to pull it free at the same time. It wasn’t moving. Even if it was possible to free it from the muck, there was still the problem of the broken pin for the wheel.

  There was still about six miles to cover before we got back to the entrance. A long way, given the state of Kurt, and to a lesser degree Dave. Both looked exhausted. But there was no other course of action anyone could suggest. If we didn’t want to stay the night, we could contact the base with our evening check in call and have them send help. The ATVs could get us through this easily, and we were far enough away from people we might not get noticed. But we couldn’t call until later. We had offloaded our few belongings and were preparing to set out on foot when a band of thirty-odd soldiers walked into view, coming from the direction we were headed. Wooden shields clattered against swords. Heavy breathing could be heard as the men forced their way down the soggy trail, dragging one leg in front of the other as they made their way towards us.

  “Not a problem,” Dave whispered in my ear, informing me we didn’t need to be concerned. He knew a lot about the ear and the soldiers were commonplace. These were dressed in colors he recognized.

  As they drew near, the tattered state of their dress and armor became more apparent. These were not men ready for battle. They had already been there, and were scarred and wounded from it. Every man
bore injury; most showing partially healed cuts of varying degree of severity. Dirty clothing had been wrapped around the more serious wounds. At least one man had lost an arm, and another was being carried, a minor miracle in these conditions, by four of his comrades. He moaned as the litter swayed with each slippery step taken. They pulled to a stop as they approached our little band.

  The lead fell to Dix, who conversed with the officer. “They are headed back to their garrison,” said Dix after a few minutes talking with the man. “They have been on the road for over a week after their patrol was ambushed by bandits. All the wounded were released. The rest of the troop is still on patrol.”

  The soldier and Dix entered into another exchange. The other soldiers had found a place where they could sit, free of the mud. Those bearing the badly wounded man set him down a short distance from the trail. I watched as Dave made his way to the man. After talking to the men who had been carrying him, Dave bent down and checked the wounds. I could see him shake his head.

  “They are willing to give us a hand,” Dix indicated shaking his head. “All of them are wounded and tired, but they say they can help us get the cart free.”

  It took a bit of doing, but with the manpower provided by a half dozen of the stronger men, along with Dix and myself, the cart finally broke free. A makeshift pin was formed from a chunk of hardwood hacked out the side of the cart. It wouldn’t last, but hopefully would get us where we were headed before failing. Seeing it done, we could fashion another of the makeshift pins ourselves.

  Dave returned from the litter as we prepared to start on our way again. His leaving spurred a number of friendly comments from the men where he had been seeing to the wounded man. “Infected,” Dave said, as he approached me. “Antibiotics might help, if we had them. But even then. . .” He stopped talking and looked back as the soldiers hoisted the litter and started on their way. “No chance for him here,” he concluded. “I gave him a couple of the pain pills. Gave them some extra pills and told them when to give him more. Seemed to work. They hadn’t anything to give him and he has been in agony for quite a while. Trying to get him home before he dies.”

  There wasn’t much I could say. I looked at my watch. We had some time to make up. “Any information on the road?”

  “Good news there. Another half mile and then it gets much better. We start climbing slowly, and it gets rocky again. Seems most of the water ran off rather than soaking in.”

  The information we were given was accurate. In less than a half mile the puddles disappeared and a noticeably firmer trail resulted. A little bit further and the ground became solid, allowing both Dave and Kurt to ride. As we continued to climb, we were able to travel as if there had never been any rain. Another mile and we parted from the main trail, moving away from any other travelers and headed back up into the hills where our entrance was hidden. We were leaving tracks showing our departure from the main road, but there just wasn’t anything we could do about it. Hopefully no one would be curious, and more rain would wash the tracks away in a day or so.

  -------------------

  The arrow from the bow took Dix high in the left shoulder driving him to the ground with an audible grunt. As he fell to the ground, the wooden shaft broke against the rock that had broken his fall, the front half falling away. The remaining section of the shaft protruded from his back as he lay on the ground. Already the back of his shirt was covered with blood. Surprisingly he was still alive and was already pulling the short handled shotgun from the holster on his back with his good right hand as he lay on the ground. I saw all this in glimpses as I made my way to cover on the downhill side of the ravine.

  The attack came as a complete surprise. We were less than two miles from the cave and had left the normally used trails behind us some time ago. This was wild terrain, and we had no longer expected to find anyone along our way. There had been no indication we were being followed, and Dix had been watching, remembering the incident on the day of our arrival. So where had they come from? Temporarily concealed behind a pair of trees, I checked on Dave and Kurt. Dave was standing by the front of the cart, helping Kurt down to cover.

  As I watched, one of the attackers rushed from cover, knife in hand, preparing to bury it in Dave’s back. It was only thirty or forty feet away from my position and the angle was good. The special combat sights on the CQB gave a clear picture as I tracked the attacker, a woman I now realized, from my concealed position. It wasn’t dark enough for the amber and green night sights to be visible, but the front sight was crisp against the slightly blurred image of her body as I squeezed off the shot. That one was good. The bullet caught her in mid stride, killing her and causing her to tumble to the ground. Either the sound of the bullet as it struck the woman or the sound of her fall alerted Dave to the danger. Quickly he and Kurt ducked beside the cart for cover. Dave fumbled for his hidden revolver, and soon had it in hand while he scanned for additional threats.

  The thunderous blast from the shortened shotgun drew my attention back to Dix. A second attacker, thinking Dix down had come to finish the job. He earned a load of shot in the gut for his ignorance. Two down! But how many are there? As I scanned the area I saw a third individual step from behind cover with his bow and take a bead on the downed Dix. I took quick aim and sent a shot his way. I had hurried the shot, and it struck a foot or more to the right, thwacking into the side of a stone next to the man, sending off a shower of rock chips. At least it got his attention. As the man turned my way, I saw Dix rise to his knees and take aim. I thought it a bit far for the shotgun, but apparently I was wrong. As I stepped back into cover and prepared to take another shot through the branches, the shotgun boomed again, knocking the man off his rock perch. Dix hadn’t been kidding when he told me the other day he had practiced until he was very effective even single-handed with the shortened shotgun and it’s odd handle.

  No enemy movement was visible for the moment. Dave and Kurt had moved from the cart to the trees behind me and to the right. Somehow Dix had managed to move backwards and into cover as well. I looked around to evaluate our position. I wasn’t encouraged by what I saw. Behind us, extending for at least fifty meters was an open slope ending in a heavy wood at the far end. It was steep enough no one was going to be able to get up it unseen. The wood was far enough away that even if they had more of the deadly bows, they wouldn’t be a serious threat. The other areas were not so encouraging.

  To the front, across the ravine we had been working our way up, were numerous large rocks and trees. Lots of cover. There was a fifty or sixty-foot open expanse between the closest cover and the area where I had seen at least one more of the ambushers. Downhill, the way we had come, was also heavily wooded, providing cover for either the enemy or us. But to what end. There was no security that way. There was no place for us to go. Our only chance was to make it to the cave, where we could escape into the time center. That meant uphill. I turned to examine our options that way. Scattered cover for maybe sixty feet; a hundred at best. Then there was an open meadow again for a couple of hundred yards. And we had two people with us who couldn’t move very fast.

  “There!” Dave’s yell brought my attention to the front again. A couple of them were trying to make it across the open area at our front. Dix and I had the same idea. We both fired in their direction, neither hitting anyone but driving them back to cover. I was amazed that Dix was still in the fight, but when I looked his way he was slumped behind the rock where he had taken cover.

  “Dave!” I hollered. “Check on Dix!” I shouted as I pointed where he lay.

  I watched as he made his way to where Dix lay. Kurt caught my attention and pointed behind me. Up the hill, the direction we wanted to go another one with a bow stood on top of a large boulder. Going that way we would run directly into his field of fire. He was far enough he couldn’t do more than harass us, assuming he was willing to waste his arrows. He had sufficient protection it would take an extremely lucky shot to nail him from here with only a shot
gun and a couple of handguns. I pumped a round his way just to let him know I had seen him. He wasn’t hit, and slowly slipped back behind cover.

  The guns must have confused them badly. Expecting a decisive advantage in both numbers and weapons, they suddenly found themselves unable to move in close where their numbers and swords could finish the job. This after taking out the youngest and most formidable of our number. Instead of celebrating their victory, they now had three people down, including one of the two men with the deadly bows. They couldn’t understand what had happened.

  We had seen at least five more of the enemy. With that many remaining we couldn’t allow them to get close to the natural cover available across the way next to the abandoned cart. But keeping them away required expending ammo. I realized how much ammo over the next quarter hour. They had learned a lesson, but knew our weaknesses as well as I did. They kept probing. Nothing clever had presented itself, and options were fading. It seemed like this trip had been one problem after another. There had been more setbacks on this one simple outing than I had seen in the last couple of years and multiple time eras. Through Kurt we find what might be the single most important discovery since we stumbled on the time complex itself, and now I might not live to see the mysteries resolved. At least the team would be able to follow up. During the radio call the previous night I had informed Ed and Naiya of all that had been discussed during the day. The importance of the find was not lost on either of them. Naiya had suggested several names of people who would be instrumental in using the device to decode the language if it really was the missing key.