by Pam Uphoff
"The old shortwave radios work. We've gotten reports in from up and down the line. From here to the end of the line, there are three other clumps of you guys. These two and a fellow at the very end are the last ones left unconscious."
"Who?" Harry wondered what she meant by the end of the line. What line? "Err, Miss?"
The woman blushed. "Ginny Wacolm. Doctor Wacolm. I had just started my residency when all this . . . Let me get my list. I wrote them all down, figured you guys all knew each other . . . They don't all know their complete names. Dr. Mercy Green and Ms. Abram and Martie Branson are all at the furthest east location. Then someone called Chance and a teenaged boy named Richie are a bit closer. Michael, Edward Virtue and Barry Virtue are about a thousand miles to the east of us. We think, calculating from the time their sun rose this morning. Those last two are pretty sure they are brothers. The other unconscious man is young, maybe a teenager, blond with very strikingly colored eyes, gold in color. He's in the far east."
Harry shook his head. The names didn't seem to mean anything to him. The nice Dr. Wacolm led him back to bed, and he slept and had dreams about moving, going, traveling far away and always finding new things, new people.
In the morning they fed him and put him to work. He followed orders, and dug holes where required. Tamped in fence posts and stretched rolls and rolls of barbed wire.
He gradually picked up information. They had just arrived here from somewhere else, and were scattered in a long line across the prairie. Instead of all getting together, they were instead coalescing around favorable spots every few miles. The nuclei of a hundred towns. And the people who didn't want to coalesce were going north or south, away from the roughly east-west line of arrival.
“A new world” they called it. No mention of rockets or spaceships. Apparently everyone had driven here with their families and possessions stuffed into their cars and trailers.
Harry whimpered and gave up trying to understand.
Romeau staggered out to join him at dusk. "That last fellow is sort of awake, too. Gisele asked if you could come take a look at him, after we scrounge something to eat. Why didn't we bring any food? Everyone else did."
"I, wasn't there a bubble?" The thought fled as quickly as it had come.
"Oh, yes, my Temple of Love." He looked around baffled. "I had a dream about putting it up on top of a hill somewhere. Fully automated kitchen."
When Harry thought about looking for a bubble, his head hurt. He accepted a bowlful of beans from the rancher he'd been helping all day, and split them with Romeau. He wasn't very hungry.
Back at the mashed hospital, the last man was sitting up in bed. "Wolf something." He looked up and frowned. "I should know you. I'm something Wolf, maybe."
"Old." Harry said suddenly.
The young man lit up. "That's it. Old." He lay back with a sigh of relief. "I hated not knowing my own name." He drifted off to sleep.
"Hmph. Old Wolf? He doesn't look like a Native American." A woman he hadn’t met, frowned down at the man in the bed. “I suppose he’s a bit tan, like an Italian or something. But then all you highly engineered people are tannish.”
"What's a native american?" Harry glanced at his arm. That's a heck of a tan. I think I'm . . . black? That's not right either. I'm obviously brown.
"Why it's someone from one of the Indian tribes. You know, Cowboys and Indians?" She looked hopeful, but Harry had to shake his head. A chunk of knowledge, gone. Maybe it would come back, like a lost cat.
It was warm outside, and he and Romeau withdrew from the other people, with their families and neighborhood groups, with their cars and all their possessions. Their thoughts and emotions. They lay in the long grass and stared at beautiful bright stars, millions of them. A falling star streaked across the sky.
Whatever had happen, had happened. They were alive, and the stars were bright.
Sometime later Gisele and Old Wolf joined them.
"It's too noisy," the man said. "They all get mad and yell in my head. I dare not relax."
Gisele nodded. "I have trouble shielding too. Every time I relax and almost fall asleep I hear weeping."
"We need to . . . go away." Harry said. "Far enough that we can't hear anything."
Romeau sighed. "Can we start now? I can't sleep."
Old Wolf stood up, stretched, then staggered. Harry felt the faint jolt and froze.
"Earthquake." He cleared his throat and straightened. "Just a little one. I grew up in California."
Old Wolf straightened from his crouch. "Yeah, it was too brief to be a big one far away. The bigger, the longer it shakes. California . . . I think I've been there." He leaned and peered into the darkness.
Harry followed his gaze. Something large and dark moved toward them. Wolf made a squeezing gesture and tossed a small fireball that direction.
The lion was huge.
Flat to the ground as it stalked, it froze in the light for a moment, then accelerated up the hill toward them. As the fireball fizzled out, Harry spotted other moving patches.
He threw a fireball of his own, but missed. A bloody line erupted across the lion's face and it collapsed.
"Slice them." Wolf made a hacking motion. "Like cutting metal."
"Metal?" Harry didn't remember cutting anything, and tried another fireball.
A lioness the size of a small horse flinched away as the fireball fizzled and died. Harry backpedaled, gathering power in his hand, trying for more time to get enough power compressed. In the confused darkness, the power, the fire, gleamed off a mouthful of teeth. He threw the glowing handful as the beast reared in front of him. He ducked, the weight knocked him flat, and claws raked.
Pain like an electric shock shot through his body. He frantically fought his way out from under four hundred pounds of lioness. The animal twitched, stilled. It was quiet and dark. Another fireball burned briefly, as Gisele tossed it upward.
Six dead lions. Four shocked and bloodied gods.
Harry collapsed, trying to slow his descent. The pain was focused on his right leg. The dim light mercifully dulled the colors. That dark fluid didn't look nearly as frightening as blood . . .
Gisele hunched like an old lady and crept over to him. "Let me see your chest Harry. And your leg. Damned reflexes, she got you good. Lay back down."
"Chest?" He looked down. More dark fluid.
Wolf produced a medical kit of impressive size and a flashlight from thin air.
All the fluids turned suddenly red.
Harry closed his eyes, shivering. "Damn. Have we even forgotten about predators? Are we insane, just walking around out here?"
He heard the snip of scissors. Jumped as a burning liquid added an all new layer of pain to his leg. Then tight wrappings. Then the painful liquid hit his chest.
He gasped, and opened his eyes, tried to concentrate on Wolf.
"I guess we should have been more alert. Has everyone else forgotten too? Or . . . did they just arrive?" Wolf scanned out into the darkness, with his eyes closed. "There are other predators out there. We'd better warn people."
Harry looked at the lioness, close enough to touch. He eyed the faint drift of smoke from her mouth and empty eye sockets. He propped himself on one elbow, to see more. Romeau examined another lioness with a burn through the chest. The other four lions were laying about in parts.
Slice? Like an invisible sword? Harry sank back down, woozy. I'll have to learn how to do that.
Wolf produced a stretcher from nowhere, or possibly a bubble, and he and Romeau carried Harry back to the Mashed Hospital. And abandoned him there as a horse's scream and many running hooves broke the night's silence.
It was a long night. Harry could only listen. Any attempt to help would just get in healthy people's way.
By dawn the animals that hadn't bolted straight through fences were tightly corralled and guarded. Everyone had slept in their cars.
In the morning, after a quick consultation, everyone agreed to move to the western si
de of the pastures already fenced and barricade a small valley with a sizable stream.
Chapter Three
10 June 2117
Camp on the Exile World
Fortunately the bang of the rifle frightened the predators, because Chris wasn't sure he'd managed to hit a single one of the long low shapes circling the hospital just beyond the limits of the lights of the cars, trucks and bus surrounding the building. Two of the girls had little handguns. He had the only rifle on the bus, and shooting at moving shadows in the night was different than the target practice he'd managed to get in, over the last two months. Lance climbed up and relieved him, but no matter how wistful the looks, Chris wasn't about to hand the rifle to someone who'd never fired a gun.
"Just yell. I'll be right out." He climbed down and found Milly reorganizing the bus.
"Girls back here by the kitchen, boys up front. Little kids in the middle boys forward, girls back." She wrinkled her nose. "There are eight empty seats, I put them all at the very back, by the bathroom."
"I see. Umm, yeah that tent of mine looks a little impractical, all of a sudden. I guess we'll be sleeping in here for some time." Chris yawned. "I've got to sleep. If anyone sees anything at all that even might be a lion or hyena or leopard or . . . " he broke off as she made a rude gesture. "Well, you'll probably have to kick me to wake me up. But first I'd better clean the rifle." He yawned, and forced himself to get out the cleaning kit. Suddenly this gun is very important. And I really need to be sure it stays in working order.
His sleep was disturbed by the occasional sound of hooves. Half the horses, cattle, and sheep people had brought with them had escaped. It looked like they were getting most of them back, though.
When he finally gave up and got up, it was midday. The hospital was being dismantled and packed.
Jamie glanced over at him. "We're moving a bit west, to where there's a stream, and more trees. We're going to circle up and start building a wall to keep the predators out."
Chris eyed the foursome of cows being trailed by an exhausted horse. He did a quick double take at the rider. He dropped his voice. "Isn't that one of the, you know . . ."
Lillian snorted, behind him. "Naked guys. Gods. Whatever. Yeah. They sort of remember stuff, but they're way screwed up inside their heads. They aren't even sure about their names." She tossed her head. "And don't even think about inviting them into the bus. They're grownups, they'll take over. And, well, I suppose being a boy the dangers of strange, mentally unstable men wouldn't occur to you. But don't think you're immune." She tossed her head again and marched off.
Chris sniffed disdainfully. But he fetched his rifle and walked out ahead of both the bus and the RV that was packed full of hospital. The bus wasn't built for rough country; the bottom of the luggage compartment scraped several times, but they never quite high centered. They even got across the little stream and into a position on the crest of the opposite ridge, as part of the village's temporary wall.
A big fat guy was yelling at everyone, and getting them almost organized.
"Those lions can jump right over most of the cars." Chris had to admire the way they were all, umm, en echelon, so their lights would shine out and cover a considerable area.
"You will sleep in your cars, all the livestock will be inside and loose. They will be running around, and damn near as dangerous as the lions. Stay in your cars unless you have a weapon and can use it." The fat guy put his bullhorn down and accepted a drink from a woman who waved and pointed as she talked.
Inside the bus, a couple of the girls were working the kitchen, and food started circulating. Chris checked that Sea and Sky were eating (of course; the girls had probably fed the little kids first) and then climbed up on top of the bus.
Lance and Mathew were already up there.
"I wish they'd made the roof flat." Chris balanced over to them. The cylinder of the bus was big enough that it wasn't that much of a problem.
Lance grinned. "I wish I had a rifle."
Mathew nodded.
Chris cleared his throat. "I have another, and two shotguns. I just learned how to use them a couple of months ago . . . We could ask someone for lessons, but what if they just take the guns?"
"I hate being a kid." Mathew made a face. "How about you giving us lessons with one rifle and one shotgun, then we’ll look semi-competent when we ask for further lessons. So they can't claim they're taking them for our own good. And if they do take them, they don't get everything."
"Good idea." His attention switched back to the fat man and the argument going on around him.
"I caught them, I ought to at least get something for my work." A man in a Padre's ball cap was glaring from the fat man back to the truck driver asshole.
The truck driver was shaking his head. "They're my cattle. They're branded with my brand. They're mine. My animals are all I brought with me, and both the horses are dead, and probably the other half of the cows. Thank you very much for catching them, but no, you can't have them."
"Mike, that's the way it's got to be. Property is property. Now, I saw some local critters that looked like big damn longhorns. As soon as we're safe, we can have a round up. Catch a bunch of heifer calves. Cross them with domestic cattle, and we'll all be set."
The ball cap man tossed his hands in the air and walked away. ". . . risked my life to help that asshole . . . "
Lance snickered. "Boy is he ever bad at making friends."
Chris turned away. "That's not very smart of him, we all . . . need . . ."
The first of the "gods" was outside the circle of cars. The big muscular man. All he was wearing was a pair of pants, ugly green scrubs that ended about mid calf. The helmet was gone, his bald head and naked back looked scabby and nasty. He had a military style rifle in his right hand, not ready to fire, even though he was clearly stalking something.
A patch of dappled shade moved, turned into a leopard that clearly didn't like being treated like prey. It turned to leave, but the bald man made an abrupt gesture with his left hand. The leopard leaped up in the air and came down in two pieces. The head rolled away, and the body twitched and spurted blood.
Chris sat down abruptly, scrambled to not slide off the bus.
"What did he just do?" Lance gawped out at the dead leopard.
"How did he do that?" Mathew's voice turned gleeful. "Magic. Just like the rumors."
"Telekinesis and teleportation and telepathy and stuff. ESP. It's science, not magic." Lance retorted.
Chris choked faintly. "No. He must have thrown something. There's no such thing as magic, and dressing it up with made-up latin words from a science fiction book doesn't change that. It's not possible." He rolled over and scrambled down the ladder. All the novels I've read, all the times I wished it was real . . . Don't go wonky, Chris. This is a dangerous place, and you haven't had a good night's sleep for . . . three days? Something like that.
He sat down abruptly in the long grass. "I have passed through a dimensional gate to a parallel world full of savage beasts. Why am I caviling about magic? I'm in one of my books."
Jamie dropped down beside him. "And you are talking to yourself. What a night! I . . . helped do stitches in Harry's chest. The real doctor did the ones in his leg, man, that lion came close to killing him! They did kill a couple of people. And there were a bunch of other injuries, too. The hospital is nearly full. We're just lucky the predators mostly went after the livestock."
"Yeah. I didn't think about, well, landing someplace really dangerous."
She nodded. "I remember the vids of the dinosaur planets."
"Yeah. It could have been a lot worse. Stupid company. Did they actually explore here?"
"The company, or the government? Did you know the government threw some of the company executives through the gate and then took over the whole place?"
"The government?"
"That's why there were so many soldiers around, on the other side. And maybe the people who were handling the gate didn't know mu
ch about the gods. There were some people here, I heard them talking about driving to something they called a beacon, to report that some of the gods came here. I think the gods weren't supposed to come. I think they escaped. What if they really do need them to operate the gate, and we can't go back?"
Chris blinked at her. "We never could go back. Ever."
"But we could mail order stuff. Our parents could change their minds and come. They could at least visit us." She was starting to cry, and he wrapped an arm around her and let her bawl into his shoulder for awhile.
It wasn't a bit romantic, like in a book. Her eyes were red and her nose was running, and he didn't have a hanky to offer her. When they started chivvying the cattle and horses into the barricade of cars, he nudged her. "C'mon, we've got to get back to the bus. It's going to be wild in here, tonight."
Chris didn't remember the leopard until midnight.
It wasn't magic. There's no such thing.
Chapter Four
10 June 2117
Unnamed camp, Exile World
"We need to catch all the lost livestock." Harry scowled at his leg. He could barely walk. All I can do is talk! "Before they all get eaten by god knows what."
Romeau perked up. "I know cattle and horses. Damn, I wish Sungold was old enough to ride." A vertical line creased his brow. “Except I seem to have misplaced him.”
A young man walking by heard him.
"Come on. If we can catch the horses, I'll loan you one. Leo Harding."
"Romeau . . . something. Old Wolf and you know Harry. And Dr. Gisele . . . something. God, I hope our memories return. These holes are disconcerting."
Harry relaxed while Wolf prowled, rifle in hand.
The man looked quite bad, hairless and scabby. Tall, muscular and dangerous. When he found a leopard, he killed it with that "slice" of his.
That night the predators stayed away. Perhaps they'd cleaned out the local prides and packs. Harry sighed. That probably meant all the surrounding packs and prides would move in.
