by Jack L Knapp
The cabin stank, but we would just have to live with it tonight.
There was nothing I could do to keep scavengers away. I couldn’t carry the bodies far and we had no tools to dig graves. Predator, scavenger, those were human words; the animals wouldn’t care. Lions, bears, wolves, even saber-tooth cats lived in part by robbing other animals. Kill, feed fast, hope you get a belly-full before some bigger, meaner animal moved in to claim your dinner, that was the rule among predators. When that bigger animal showed up, abandon what was left and head off in search of more prey.
The big animals would certainly come. There was just too much easy meat in the woods.
I’d salvaged Sandra’s knife from the dead man's neck and returned it to her, but I had forgotten the dart in the other man’s back. Perhaps I could find it, or at least the worked-stone head, after the animals had fed. I’d also recovered my pack from where I’d dropped it, not that the darts inside would help. The socket in the end of the spear shaft was unusable.
I asked Sandra, “The guy you ran off before, was he one of the two we killed?”
“I think so. It all happened fast, but I think that was him, the one I put my knife into.” She looked to Millie for confirmation, and Millie nodded.
“That was him, but that other one was a stranger. I’ve no idea where he came from. And those knives, they were like nothing we’d seen before. The man that was here before didn’t have a knife like that, or that thing on his arm.”
It was something more to think about. Where had they gotten the knives?
Did our activities in the pool have anything to do with the events at the cabin? It was almost certainly coincidence. The episode at the stream had lasted only a few minutes, not long enough to affect what those two had been planning.
A number of thoughts went through my head while I scouted around the pool. Not just about Millie’s invitation, but whether I could develop a relationship with the only two people I’d seen up to that time. They’d already run one man off, and if I had offended Millie by rejecting her, they might decide they preferred me gone.
It might also cause problems between them if one wanted me to stay and the other wanted me to leave. I’d decided at the time to take the risk. There was a slight risk from animals discovering us in the act, but possibly a greater risk if I denied Millie. The inconvenient fact remained that if I were alone, something so minor as a sprained ankle could result in death. So it had been my own logical thinking, not just the urge for sex that had convinced me.
I was almost certain of it.
The quickie had been only a brief distraction, and if anyone was at fault for permitting the surprise attack to occur, the fault fell mostly on Sandra. It couldn’t have happened had she been more cautious, kept the door barred while Millie and I were out.
“Millie and Sandra, you need to keep that door secured. You’d have likely been raped or enslaved, maybe killed. There are no laws on this world and no one to enforce them if there were. You take care of yourself or you take the consequences.”
My voice and expression were grim. I didn’t know if they understood what they’d barely escaped, but I did. Rape, slavery, even cannibalism; human history has a lot of dark chapters.
“Something else; this cabin isn’t a fort, it’s a trap. We don’t have excess food, and no place to store much if we can gather a surplus. Even that spring out back isn’t walled in, so going out for water exposes you to attack. The cabin is fairly roomy for three, but there’s not enough room to store food or water, even if we do make more of those pots. An attacker can starve us out or burn the cabin around us.
“How bad do you want to try to keep this place?”
“Matt, I hear what you’re saying. But what if I’m pregnant?” Sandra asked.
OK, that confirmed what I suspected down at the stream; Sandra had been the one last night. Now Millie might be pregnant too, but she could tell Sandra herself if she wanted her to know. It was her decision as to when she’d do that.
“If we don’t keep this cabin, then I’d be left to carry a child through the woods or grasslands. There would be no shelter unless we built one or protection other than from our own weapons, and we can’t depend on those to stop an animal. Amanda found that out the hard way. There might even be packs of wolves or lions or something.”
“Sandra, we could probably do something to improve this cabin. We could build a palisade, scratch out a shallow trench, then build the palisade like a coyote fence. I could cut poles four or five inches thick and a couple of yards long, then tie them together with cord. We could bury the bases in the trench and add pole supports to make it stronger. We could also sharpen the tips and set the palisade poles so they slanted out.
“We’d also have to become farmers. Permanent shelter is only worthwhile if we can feed ourselves.
"But all this depends on whether you want me to stay. If you’re not sure, then I’ll need to move on.”
“Matt, I think we need you.” Millie nodded emphatically. She looked at Sandra, and Sandra nodded back.
I had been lonely, more than I realized, before I found this pair. With three of us working together, we d could divide up the jobs as well as be safer. So I nodded agreement as well.
“Sandra…well, you’re not the only one, you know. I had Matt while we were down at the stream.” When Sandra looked at her in surprise, Millie said, “You had him last night. I decided I wanted him too. I heard what you said yesterday, that stuff about not getting pregnant. But that didn’t last long, did it?” Sandra flushed and looked down.
“Anyway, it’s done. I may be pregnant too. We need Matt, and…well, that makes him need us too.”
I looked back and forth between them as they tried to stare each other down.
Could I provide for two more people? Gathering plants was easy if there were edible ones about, and the women knew as much about that as I did. But how much did any of us know about farming?
Hunting and gathering can work for a small group, but only if they’re nomads. People soon exhaust resources near a camp and moving on becomes necessary.
Of equal importance, could I protect them? I had depended on my ability to run away from danger rather than fight, but that option disappeared as soon as I accepted responsibility for the safety of two women.
It didn’t appear that I had a choice. I was committed now, just as I’d been committed when the Futurist dropped me here. There was no going back.
It was getting dark outside, and some of my snares were still set. They might catch something during the night. I could hope, and if not maybe there would be bread or vegetables. Millie had gathered some before we’d come back to the cabin. But it was too dark to set more traps now, especially considering we’d hauled out and left two large pieces of bait that were sure to attract a predator.
We secured the cabin, bar across the door and shutters over the windows, and turned in. I was in the middle this time. We all smelled a bit ripe but they wanted to cuddle so that’s what we did. I dropped off to sleep after a minute.
My last thought as I dropped off was that I hoped tomorrow wouldn’t be as dramatic as today had been.
Chapter 9
Despite the smell, I got a full night’s sleep.
Our cleanup efforts and the attempt to air out the cabin helped, but enough of the stink remained to remind us that yesterday two men had died here. The fact that we’d been defending ourselves made no real difference. They were dead, and the cabin smelled.
Killing animals had become almost routine, but not humans; it was surprising that I slept at all. But yesterday had been physically exhausting as well as stressful, so maybe that’s why I slept so well.
After taking care of morning necessities, I found a young tree to serve as a temporary spear. I hacked a point at the end, cut the trunk so that it was equal to my own height, then smoothed the places where branches had been. The spear ended up slightly more than six feet in length and two inches in diameter. It would delive
r a lethal wound when backed by strong muscles. If not of the same quality as the one I’d broken yesterday, at least I had a spear again.
Scavengers might still be feeding on the bodies we’d dumped, and if so, they were welcome to those two. I hoped to get my dart back, or at least the chipped point, but salvage could wait. In any case, the dart wouldn’t be useful until I made a replacement shaft.
I collected a large and healthy rabbit from one snare and there was evidence that another had been caught; something else had a taste for rabbit. There were no recognizable tracks, just bits of fur, and even the snare cord was beyond salvaging.
Maybe one of the scavengers had abandoned feeding on the human bodies in response to the rabbit’s squeals. Wait too long before checking your snares, you won’t get the rabbit.
I cleaned my catch and headed back. One rabbit, shared three ways, wouldn’t provide much of a meal. If I intended to provide meat for the three of us, I would have to do better.
Events provided some excuse for the failure; defending the women had taken precedence and after dragging the bodies into the woods, I was tired. But excuses can’t be eaten.
Leaving the rabbit at the cabin, I headed for the stream.
It might be possible to dam up the gully. It would be a lot of work, but possibly worthwhile. There are advantages in having a plentiful supply of water for irrigation, and wastes can be dumped downstream.
Farming could make holding the cabin worthwhile. Add a palisade for security, perhaps an outbuilding for storing supplies...such improvements would eliminate two of the cabin’s worst failings. Musing on the possibilities occupied my thoughts.
The last few snares I placed in the gully; the final snare was rope, all I had left, but maybe it would work.
Heading back, I collected fibrous leaves and long-stemmed grasses for use in making more cord. As I was stuffing them into my pack, I noticed the bees.
They had been visiting a shrub with small whitish flowers. Whatever kind of blooms they were, the bees liked them. There were a lot of them and when they left the flowers, they flew away downstream. I followed their flight path and found the hive.
It was in an old tree, now hollowed out by rot. Possibly it had fallen victim to a lightning strike; the bottom showed a long split extending almost all the way to where the bees were entering the tree. A rotten branch had fallen away, leaving a foot-wide hole. The bees I'd been following entered, even as others exited and flew away.
I moved in a little closer to make sure they were bees and not hornets. But bees they were, and I decided to raid the tree for honey. I suddenly had a taste for something sweet, and I knew the women would like it too.
There’s a trick to gathering honey. If you’re careful, you can do it without getting stung. I hoped. But I would need a helper, plus gourds or a tightly woven container for carrying the honeycomb. I wanted the beeswax as well as the honey; I had a use for it.
On the way back to the cabin, I cautiously approached the place where we’d dumped the two bodies. There might be tracks there, and knowledge could be a life-saver.
The bodies were gone. Only a slight smell lingered to indicate they’d been there. There were numerous tracks, most of them looking like a cross between a cat and a dog. I’d have called it cat, but cats retract their claws and this one showed claw marks ahead of the oval pads. The animal was heavy, too; the tracks were deeply indented into the soil. Had the cat-dog carried a body away?
Might it be some kind of terrestrial cat, as opposed to an arboreal one? A lion, perhaps even a saber-tooth?
My spear wouldn’t be adequate for either. Whether atlatl-spear-dart or bow and arrows, I needed a projectile weapon. The crossbow was heavy, and in any case, it needed to be left for defending the cabin.
The big cats were best avoided; they were better armed than I was.
The crossbow would be powerful enough, but it was slow to reload. A longbow would take a lot of practice before I became skilled, but it could be reloaded and a second arrow launched while a crossbowman was still cocking his weapon. A sling would be easier to make but would take even more practice, plus it lacked the killing power of a bow.
I gave up on recovering the dart; I would have to make my own. It would take time, but I had more time since I wasn’t traveling. I also had plenty of raw materials, the rocks I'd spotted along the stream.
My new spear might be useful as a replacement shaft if it didn’t warp while drying. Meanwhile, I would work on a bow.
Carving a stave wouldn’t be a problem, but fashioning a thin, strong bowstring would. Numerous primitive peoples had solved the problem, I could too.
Drying the spear shaft near the fireplace might prevent warping. In the meantime, I would split a straight trunk into quarters, providing blanks for a new spear and three bows. The blanks would also be less prone to warping.
Ash or hickory was best, but if necessary, beech or cedar would do. American natives had used a tree called Osage orange, but I hadn’t seen anything matching what I thought such a tree looked like. Yew didn’t grow here either. Maybe there would be some closer to the mountains where the climate was cool.
My choice would have to be made from what was available.
What was the rest of this country like? There would be mountains, the spring near the cabin told me that. Surface runoff produces streams, but springs need elevation so that water falling higher sinks in and flows downhill, still underground. Where it emerges is a spring.
This region had not been mountainous in my timeline. The Ozarks and Ouachitas were north of here, but the Futurist had warned me that the geological history here might be different.
I was probably still in Texas, well north of the big-tree region above the coastal swamps. I was also near grasslands. The mix of plain and forest might indicate the area west of downtime Dallas. There were probably rivers somewhere nearby, though hopefully not equal to the down-time Mississippi.
Central-western Texas had canyons such as the Palo Duro, some caused by erosion of the Edwards Plateau. But the nearest thing I’d seen to a canyon so far was the gully where the stream ran; there might not even be an Edwards Plateau in this timeline.
I had been walking as I mulled the possibilities over, and now I was back at the cabin. The women could cook the rabbit while I rested, then I’d head out again after a meal. I wanted to run my snares before dark and also keep my eyes open for the kind of tree I wanted, straight and without knots for six or seven feet.
It also had to be small enough that I could split it into quarters. The salvaged short-swords would do for that; my own knife was too precious to risk.
“How would you two like some honey?” I asked.
Both answered at once. Yes indeed, they would like some honey!
“We’ll need containers. I’ve found a bee tree, and the trick to not getting stung is smoke. It tranquilizes the bees, I think. Anyway, that’s what beekeepers do, the ones who don’t use those net outfits that we don’t have anyway.
“We’ll build a smudge fire and let the bees settle down, then I’ll approach the tree. I might try a coating of mud to protect exposed skin and I’ll tie off my trouser legs. Anyway, I think it’s worth the effort, and I need the beeswax. I could chop down the bee tree, but I’d rather not. If we can rob the bees without killing the queen, we can do it again later.
“Honey will keep indefinitely but we don’t have enough containers. I think we should weave tight baskets to bring the honeycomb to the cabin, then transfer the honey to your fired clay pots. If you can make the baskets, I'll raid the bees tomorrow.”
#
“Are you going to keep using smoke to attract people?”
Sandra answered after glancing at Millie. “No,” she said. “We had one bad experience and one good experience, and the bad experience led to a raid. If you hadn't gotten here in time, I don't want to think about what might have happened. We'll use nothing but dry wood from now on.”
I nodded. “That was my t
hinking. We don’t know if those two were alone. It's strange; they had manufactured swords, but their bucklers were more joke than shield. The two just don’t fit together.
“And the design of those swords; they’re fighting implements. A whole world, plenty of resources, very few people, so why fight a war? It doesn’t make sense.
“But we need to store more food and water, just in case. If one person is inside, the door stays barred unless you recognize the one knocking.”
#
I mentioned that the two bodies had been carried away. Whatever had done that was nothing we wanted to treat lightly.
As we talked, the rabbit cooked. The women had baked bread, so we had rabbit and bread and water. They had roots that could be roasted for later, maybe by then I'd have another rabbit or two.
I had been catching a lot of rabbits. They were probably near the bottom of the food chain here, flourishing by producing lots of offspring. Bigger carnivores likely ignored the rabbits. We might get tired of rabbit eventually, but I was glad to have the abundance. Hunger makes an appetizing sauce.
#
After eating, I worked on weaving new cords.
The heavy grindstone helped with separating fibers from the matrix, so I moved it near the fireplace and turned it upside down. I didn’t want to contaminate their grinding surface with the plants I got my fibers from.
Tap with a hand-held stone, heavy enough to break up the stems and leaves but not to damage the fibers. After picking them from the broken-apart stems, I spread them near the fireplace.
While they dried, I hardened the tip of my spear. It was a substantial club even without a point, but it would work much better if I used the coals to bake out the moisture.
I slowly rotated the shaft, heating the sharpened end evenly. The point cooled while I turned the fibers so they would dry evenly.
The women worked around the oven this afternoon. Not wanting to risk my axe, I left it in the cabin when I went to check my snares. The stone-headed club replaced it, hung from my belt by a loop of cord. The knife was at my hip and I carried my spear.
