Adrian's War

by Lloyd Tackitt

  Close the eyes and clear the mind of thought by paying attention to breathing. Within minutes he would be in a deeply relaxed physical state, but his mind was still keenly aware of his surroundings. He would get as much rest in fifteen minutes as he would from a long nap. While in the meditative state his senses were hyper-alert to any change. He was far from unaware of his surroundings when he rested this way.

  Adrian found the source of the smoke. He lay in hiding, watching six people around the fire. There were three men and three women, a trio of couples judging by their behavior. They were in their mid to late twenties, and they had the look of people who had been on the edge of starvation for a long time. They had a .22 rifle leaning against a tree. No one paid it any attention and Adrian had a hunch they were out of ammunition. It was mid-day and they were cooking four small fish, a paltry meal for one, merely a tease for six people. No one seemed to be in charge of the group because no one seemed to receive any deference from anyone else. After half an hour’s observation, Adrian knew they were no threat to him. Quite the opposite.

  He stood up, stretched, and then walked toward them. He played a quick upbeat blues riff on his harmonica as he approached, hoping the music would signal his friendliness. The six people immediately panicked. The women withdrew behind the men who picked up crude spears that were essentially long, sharpened sticks. One of them picked up the rifle and pointed it at Adrian, but didn’t work the bolt or the safety. They group was skittish. One of the men, the tallest one, replied, “Stay where you are. Who are you? What are you doing here? What do you want?”

  “No need to be alarmed,” Adrian said. “I’ll not cause anyone harm. I have my own food and don’t need or want yours. I am recently widowed and travelling to the mountains. That should cover all the bases. I smelled your fire and haven’t talked to anyone in over a month.”

  Adrian smiled. He knew it would take time for them to absorb what he had said, and that he might have to repeat himself several times before they relaxed. He was used to this reaction. Just the sight of his six-foot plus height and heavily muscled body intimidated many men. There was something about him that caused men to instinctively understand that Adrian was an extremely capable fighter. He was used to the reaction. He moved with an athletic grace and an extraordinary confidence that caused subconscious respect. He was also aware that women were attracted to him wherever he went, and that their mates sensed and resented that attraction. That resentment was dangerous and something Adrian tried to allay. Hence his introduction as recently widowed.

  “I smelled your smoke. I haven’t seen anyone in over a month. I thought it would be a nice break to stop and visit before getting on my way again. I don’t want anything, other than conversation. My name is Adrian. I am on my way to the mountains. I left our village on the Brazos six weeks ago.”

  “I’m Roger,” one of the men said. He casually pointed the rifle at the ground between them instead of at Adrian, which was a good sign. “We’re from Amarillo. We were out here camping when the grid went down. Of course we didn’t know the grid went down; we just saw the northern lights. When we tried to go back we found out what happened. There were riots in the city, so we came back here. Been here ever since. You got any food you want to share? The women could use a bite or two.”

  Adrian was naturally averse to giving away food. The pemmican he had would barely feed these six people one meal, but for him it was a life-saving bundle. “No food that I care to share, no. However, there is food all around you. If you’d like I can show you a couple of things that would make your lives easier.” With that, Adrian moved forward. It was time to take charge and stop standing around. Adrian strode forward with total confidence, his hand out in front of him to shake.

  Roger reacted as Adrian hoped he would. Still carrying inside him the city dweller’s instinct to avoid confrontation; Roger put his hand out and shook. The ice was broken. To further disarm the men, Adrian took a seat by the fire, placing him lower than them—a clear signal he didn’t intend to make any threatening actions. Adrian laid his staff down beside him, completely flat on the ground. The symbolism of his body language was deliberate on his part. It would instinctively be understood as a non-threatening action.

  Adrian had thought talking to them might be a diversion, but realized even as he sat down that he really didn’t want to be there with them. He already wanted to be alone again. However, he had committed himself and would see it through. The six people gathered around, eager to talk. They hadn’t seen a friendly stranger since the grid dropped. They’d had a few violent and harsh confrontations after the solar storm, but those people had died or disappeared quickly. These six were starved for more than food.

  Adrian picked up a small stick and stirred the coals for a moment. “My wife died just over six weeks ago. We were married a year and a half. She was a doctor, had set up a hospital at our village, Fort Brazos. She contracted a disease from a patient. The patient died the day after he came in to the hospital. Alice died later, alone, in self-imposed quarantine. In order to keep busy I took on a trip to see the mountains. If I find good people I aim to tell them about Fort Brazos, how to get there. It’s a good place to live, with good people living there. They need more good people.” Adrian could feel sympathy coming off the women like heat waves as they heard in his tone how much he had loved Alice, and how heartbroken he was. The men barely paid attention to that part of his story, focused instead on the fact that Fort Brazos sounded like a good place to live.

  Roger looked at the other five in his group. They all seemed to expect him to do the talking. Adrian noticed this and realized that Roger was their leader; it was just that none of them, including Roger, had figured it out. “You said there was food around us we aren’t seeing. I would be interested in you showing that to us, if you would. It has been a long time since we had a decent meal.”

  Adrian stood up and said, “Roger, you come with me. The rest of you stay here. Build an underground oven while we’re gone. Dig a pit about the size of a large washtub. Line it with rocks on the bottom and sides. Pile up a large pile of flat rocks nearby. Build a hot fire in the rock-lined pit. We want to see a good bed of hot coals in it when we get back.” Adrian issued these commands in a normal tone of voice, implying that Roger was involved in the command; it was a tone that expected nothing short of complete obedience. Without checking for compliance, he walked off, Roger following.

  When they were out of sight and hearing, Adrian stopped, slightly startling Roger. Adrian looked Roger square in the eyes and said, “You have to lead these people. They want you to, but they don’t know how to say it. They need leadership. I expect you to take them to Fort Brazos, where you’ll all be better off. It’ll be a tough trip, but you can do it. I’m going to show you a few things that will make it easier. I’m going to show you, then you show them. It’ll be simpler for me to teach one person than six, and it will put you naturally into the leadership role with them. First lesson in survival is the one I just gave you. Every tribe needs a leader. You have to step up to it now.” Adrian started walking again without waiting for a reply.

  Roger was again startled when Adrian stopped for seemingly no reason. Adrian pointed to a Sotol plant and said, “See this plant? It has three immediately valuable uses. You can make strong cordage and baskets from it, and you can eat it.” Taking out his flint knife Adrian trimmed the leaves and collected the heart. “This is edible after it has been cooked for 36 to 48 hours at high temperatures. If you try to eat it before that it will make you sick. When cooked it tastes like nutty molasses syrup. It has a lot of nutrition. These plants are everywhere around here; they were a mainstay food of the native people. I’m going to wait here for you. You go back to the camp and tell two of them how to collect these and have them collect as many as they can, then trim and save the leaves and hearts. More would be better. Now go, and hurry back.”

  Roger left and Adrian seriously considered leaving a map drawn in the dirt and headin
g off on his own again. He was not enjoying this encounter. The coupled-ness of the six made his grief more unbearable than before.

  Chapter 5

  ROGER RETURNED TWENTY MINUTES LATER, having issued the instructions. He noticed that Adrian appeared to be almost indifferent to his presence. Adrian stood mute for a long moment, then said, “I’ll show you how to make cordage and baskets tonight. Right now I want you to show me how you catch fish.”

  Roger smiled and pulled a piece of fishing line with a hook on it from his shirt pocket. “We came here to camp and brought a fishing pole with us. The pole was broken long ago, but we removed the line and made several individual fishing lines from it. We tied them to limbs hanging over the water and caught fish. We lost most of them over time and only have two left.”

  “I thought it would be something like that,” Adrian said. “Look here, you’re going to starve on fish if that’s all you have to eat. But I’ll show you how to trap fish. You can make the traps wherever you are and almost always catch fish.” With that, Adrian walked to the river’s edge. He found a willow tree and removed several branches. He quickly built a fish trap while explaining to Roger each step of the process. Then he had Roger build a trap while Adrian explained to him how to choose the best places to put the traps, and how to improve those places.

  They took the two traps and Adrian watched as Roger applied the lesson, placing the traps and building rock walls to improve their potential. Adrian searched the shallow water, found what he was looking for, and called Roger over. “See that dark line there? It looks sort of like a twig in the mud, right? That is a fresh water mussel.” Adrian reached down, scooping his fingers into the mud. He swished his hand back and forth in the water to clean the mud off the mussel, then straightened and handed it to Roger.

  “Look how he closed his shell. They sit buried in the mud with only a small portion of their edge showing with their shell slightly open, filtering the water for food. That’s the best way to see them. Where you find one you usually find many. Raccoons love to eat these and you’ll notice the empty shells around here, and the raccoon tracks. Those are good indications of where to start looking. Let’s dig up a bunch to take back with us for dinner tonight. First, though, we will break a few open and put them in the fish traps. They make good bait.”

  Roger and Adrian dug up over a hundred mussels and put them in Roger’s pack. They returned to the camp to find the pit had been built and a fire going well inside of it. The others had gathered twenty of the Sotol plants. Adrian inspected one and showed them how to trim the leaves off; leaving what looked something like a misshaped pineapple. When the fire burned down Adrian began laying the flat stones from the pile on top of the still burning coals. The layer of rock was placed over the coals, then the Sotol was placed on the rocks. More rocks were placed over the Sotol until they were well covered. Another fire was built on top of these stones until they were well heated. This created an underground hot stone oven. Adrian had the women make mud and plaster the top rocks an inch thick after raking off the coals, Then he had them cover the whole thing with a mound of loose soil to hold in the heat.

  “I’ll be gone when these are cooked, so listen up,” Adrian said. “Wait at least thirty six hours, but forty eight is better. Remove the cooked plants and allow them to cool off enough so you can handle them. They will be sticky and pulpy. You can eat some right then. Not too much until your stomachs have adjusted to their richness; they contain a lot of sugar and other carbohydrates. The rest of them you pound into cakes or patties and dry in the sun. As long as you keep them dry they’ll last for months and can be eaten cold. They make great trail food. I recommend you continue to collect, cook, and prepare as much of them as you can carry before you head for Fort Brazos. You should be able to carry enough to get there and not have to depend on hunting on the way. I’ll show you how to carry them.”

  Taking a handful of the Sotol leaves, Adrian wove a mat quickly, splicing in more leaves as he expanded it. He set that aside, took more leaves, and pounded the fibers loose with his throwing stick and a large rock. He rolled the fibers between his palms to break them loose from each other, then demonstrated how to make cordage. When he had a length of the cordage ready he tied the woven matt into a crude but functional basket. “You can make pack baskets with a bit of trial and error. You can make all kinds of useful things from these plants, and they grow all over the place. You can survive on these plants fairly well, although you really want to have protein and fat in your diet too.”

  Adrian took some more leaves and cordage and quickly made a sandal. “You can make these easily and quickly. They don’t stand up long, but carry extras with you and you can travel many miles without hurting your feet.”

  Adrian stood and removed the mussels from Roger’s pack. Adrian put some of the mussels on the campfire. “These are going to cook quickly. They’ll steam inside the shell, and the shell will open up as a result. When they are cooked, scoop them out of the shells and eat them. Always cook them thoroughly or you may get parasites.” After a few minutes, Adrian removed a half dozen, then sat down and began eating them to show them how it was done. The six were apt students and soon cooking and gorging themselves on mussels.

  “Okay, everybody, to the river to collect more for tonight. Hurry now before it gets dark.” They feasted on mussels and fish that night; the traps had already caught several.

  The next morning the traps yielded more fish, and they all spent time collecting, then eating, more mussels. The men and women looked less stressed than when Adrian had arrived. The realization of how much food was in the river, and how easily it could be harvested, did a tremendous job of improving their outlook. Adrian was happy about that, but itching to get moving. However, he still had a full day of teaching.

  Adrian felt like one of his survival instructors must have felt. He explained, “There are two reasons you were starving. One is ignorance and the other is blindness. An example of ignorance is you didn’t know that you can eat Sotol plants, or about the other benefits it has. Now that you know you realize you have a source of food. Blindness is not lack of sight in this case, but culturally induced blindness. You’ve noticed how many grasshoppers are around here. You’ve used them for fish bait. Yet you never made the connection with eating them yourselves. In much of the world, people eat insects on a routine basis, even when they aren’t starving. They like them. You find the idea repugnant, even now when you have been so close to dying for lack of food.

  “So who is right? The people who eat grasshoppers and live or the people that don’t eat grasshoppers and die? They’re easy to catch and nutritious. Catch them and pull off the wings and legs; you won’t digest those and they are difficult to swallow. Roast the grasshoppers on a hot, flat stone. Never eat them raw or you’ll get parasites. Never eat any animal or insect raw. You don’t need parasites on top of everything else you have to deal with. Crickets, waterbugs, tarantulas, ants, termites, scorpions, snakes, lizards, snails, earthworms, termite larvae, and grub worms are all excellent sources of fuel for your body. These are all around you nearly all the time. They are proven survival foods and considered delicacies in many cultures.

  “Roger, come with me. The rest of you gather more Sotol and prepare another oven. You’re going to want to have a lot of it on hand when you leave. Catch grasshoppers and crickets, too.” Roger jumped up and eagerly followed Adrian out of the camp. They walked along quietly, Adrian watching the ground, looking for what he was sure he would find. In an hour he had discovered a flint outcrop.

  He showed it to Roger. “I’m not very good at knapping yet, but I can make useful tools, although crude by our ancestor’s standards.” It only took a few minutes for Adrian to demonstrate and explain to Roger what he knew of knapping.

  “Okay, you know as much about that as I do now. You’ll have to learn by doing. Someone in your group will be better than the rest of you, I suggest when you find out who that is and put him or her to work at it,
making tools for everyone. You can work glass the same way; it pressure flakes off exactly like flint, and is easier to work with—it has no fault lines in it. The bottom part of a glass jar or bottle is a good thickness to work with.

  "Now we need to make atlatls. See those reeds over there? That’s a good place to start.” Adrian walked over to the reeds and cut a dozen of them down. Then he walked back to the river and placed them under water with rocks on them to hold them down.

  “We need these to soften up a little, makes straightening them easier. An atlatl is a lever that makes it possible to throw a mini-spear with enough force to kill a deer.” Looking around at the pieces of driftwood available he selected two that would make decent atlatl sticks. He carved them into shape with his flint knife blade. When they were in the shape he wanted them, he used cordage to make the thumb loops. He then removed the reeds from the water and shaped and scraped them into arrows, which were actually called darts.

  “You can put flint tips on these when you have made some that will work,” he explained to Roger. “The tips don’t have to be perfect arrowheads, but they do need to be pointed and sharp. In the meantime we can use sharpened pieces of hardwood and bind them to the ends.” Adrian used green willow to make twelve sharpened, short points and bound them to the reeds. Look here, this is how these work.” Adrian then demonstrated. Roger and Adrian practiced on a target until they had found their range and accuracy potential.

  “Let’s go hunting.”

  Roger was a natural hunter. He proved adept at killing small game with the atlatl Adrian had made. While they were hunting, Adrian explained to him how to hunt deer and wild boar. He explained what their habits were, how to pattern their trails, when and where to look for them.