Through the Gate: The Chronicles of Cornu Book 1

by L J Dalton Jr

  First, things first he thought. I’ll retrace my steps and then I’ll be back in the Adirondacks. Mike went to his backpack and loosened the poncho over it and put on his jacket and then his vest. Then he packed everything away. He shouldered his pack and followed the path that he thought he followed. He knew that he’d kept the rock face to his right. To reverse course, he’d keep it to his left. After about 15 minutes he came to a break in the rockface that he thought was the notch he came through. It went back about 10 yards and it ended. It was a dead-end. Mike spent the morning looking for a way back without any success. Finally, he gave up and went back to where he’d camped the night before and set out his sleeping gear once again. Stay here and maybe come out of it.

  “I need to think about this rationally”, Mike thought. Yes, think rationally about walking through a notch in the Adirondacks and winding up who knows where. He stood up just to check and see if it still looked the same. It did and Mike sat back down and laughed. The idea that it would all change back to upper New York state after mediation was profoundly funny to him. When he stopped laughing, Mike considered his situation.

  First, he could be stark raving mad. Second, he could be in a coma or some other state. Third, he could actually have walked through some sort of dimensional vortex or whatever. Theoretically, they could exist. So, the best bet would be to carry on as if he were totally sane. If he was mad, then the worst that could happen to him would that he would severely injure himself or die because he couldn’t see reality. Maybe he couldn’t move and was in a nice mental institution somewhere. It didn’t matter either way. Sitting here was not going to matter. If he were in a coma or some other state, moving or the illusion of movement wouldn’t matter either. Finally, if he really had gone through some sort of dimensional warp or portal; then moving was the only rational move. Mike determined it was best to act as if it were real and if it wasn’t, which he thought was most probably true, then reality would smack him in the face sooner or later. When, that happens then maybe he could get back to ‘reality’. Until then, view this as a game, where the objective is to survive and thrive. Mike liked games. So, as he was taught in the Marines, first access the situation, then plan your actions, then act. First thing was to eat some food and consider his options. He’d sleep here again and then in the morning head out.

  With that in mind, he stood up and looked down the mountain. The sun was coming from his right, so Mike designated that as east. So north was in front of him, south to his rear and west was to his left. He took his compass out of his vest and it sort of agreed with his assessment. East was somewhat to his right and the other directions in roughly the same positions. Not exactly, because the sun doesn’t always rise exactly in the east, it moves with the seasons. So, it appeared that wherever he was it had some sort of magnetic pole. That was nice because it meant that it had magnetic field. Magnetic fields were important because without them the radiation from the sun would cause all sorts of issues, especially cancer. The next thing was to look for places people lived. Well, Mike hoped they were people and not strange alien beings. He was very hopeful that his insanity would include people. He took out his binoculars and slowly started to scan the terrain. Doing as he had been taught first closer in then further out. The snow wasn’t deep, an inch or less. The land fell away from the rock face where he was, not super steep, but not gentle either. He knew that if he were careful and with the trekking poles to help steady him, he could make it down the slope. There was a good size stream running down the mountain a couple of kicks to his left, that is west. He scanned down and as it went into the distance. He assumed that it would merge into a river towards the bottom of the mountains. He could see it get wider as it went into the distance as more small streams joined it. As he scanned further to the East, he noticed that the woods started to clear about thirty klicks away and there was what may be a village about forty klicks away and a couple of clicks the East of the stream. That’s about all he could see with his binoculars, the compact Nikon’s were good, but they had their limits.

  With that done he decided he would use the course of the stream as a way down the mountain and then head for the village. About 10 to 12 klicks a day was what he could make safely in this terrain. So, assuming that it would be rough most of the way, it would take three or four days to make the village. He didn’t know anything about this place, so he had to assume that he was in ‘Indian Country’. That meant being ready for trouble, possibly violent trouble. Mike didn’t want that, but better to be prepared. He silently gave thanks that he had unloaded his truck at the trail head. The AR-10, all the extra ammo he’d bought, the soft ballistic inserts and the soft Kevlar vest all added 25 pounds or so the 60 pounds he was already carrying. He doubted the soft insert would stand up to an FMJ AK-47 round or an M-16 round, even though it was rated as a level IIIa. Military rounds were designed to go through that stuff. But if he needed, he could add a Kevlar vest under his clothes. That was a level IIIa vest. The combination might stop a long range shot or two.

  So, time to get ready. Mike opened the carrying case for the AR-10 that was attached to his pack. It took very little time to put it together, it was just a larger caliber M-16. He could field strip those in the dark. He had 5 Magpul 20 round black polymer magazines. One was loaded for when he’d been dialing in the rifle at the shooting range. The other 4 were empty and in the dual magazine pouch. He estimated that he had about 130 rounds or so of his original 200 round box of Sierra ammo. Not to mention the other 500 rounds. It was 180 grain BTHP, so he was confident in the load up to about 800 yards. He took the time to load the 4 other magazines and attached the pouch to his vest. He also had two 25 round magazines, he loaded those as well. The two extra Glock 19 round magazines went into a double molle pouch that went on his vest. And he put the Glock in its holster and that went on his vest. He’d assume that the AR-10 was still dialed in. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have reason to find out, except maybe for hunting.

  Mike took the AR-10 and chambered a round. Then he took the magazine out and added another bullet. He did the same with the Glock. That meant 21 rounds in the AR-10 and 16 in the Glock. The AR-10 safety was on, so that was good to go. The pack had a rifle carrier, the AR-10 went in there. It wasn’t a quick draw or anything. But close in, the Glock would work. With that done, he sat down to eat and plan his trip. He’d learned to always carry something to write with so that he could record what needed to get done. After lunch he created a couple of lists. He also gave a lot of thought to how he needed to proceed. For diner he broke out his camp stove and a pot. He boiled clean snow for water. A freeze-dried beef stew went into the pot and it was ready as soon as it heated and reconstituted. He ate and as the sun went down, he climbed into his sleeping bag and bivy sack. This time both the AR-10 and Glock were with-in reach.

  In the morning he got up, made himself some instant oatmeal with dried fruit. He packed up his sleeping kit, put on his vest and backpack. The AR-10 was secured in the backpack’s rifle holder. Mike picked up his trekking poles and started to angle slowly and carefully downhill and west towards the stream. A broken leg could be a death sentence.

  It took almost three hours to reach the steam. He’d traveled a little over four klicks and descended about one thousand feet. The forest was much like the forest in upstate New York, the Adirondacks, oaks, maples, tall eastern white pines and the usual trees in that area. This looked like it had never been logged. There were some places like that in the Adirondacks, but he hadn’t been hiking there. He spotted the normal birds, sparrows and a couple of jays. When almost to the stream, Mike stopped and starred. There, if he wasn’t badly mistaken was an American Chestnut tree. These giants of the forest had been wiped out by the blight decades before he had been born. Yet here was one, a few broken and brown spiked husks littered the ground around it. He wasn’t sure he could identify it by the leaves or the bark. But the chestnut husks and the size gave him all the information he needed. The leaves were just starting to s
how, as this appeared to be early spring wherever he was. It was a shock to see a Chestnut tree, but it also gave Mike pause. It was a bit of detail that seemed totally out of place with his assumption of psychosis. Could his mental state include an object, the Chestnut, that he had never seen in his life and hadn’t really thought about at all.

  Once he got over his surprise, he moved on towards the stream. There he found a game trail that seemed to follow the steam down slope. That would make the downward trek a little easier. But a game trail, meant that he might run into something that he could eat, or the outside chance something that may want to eat him. Well he had his bear spay with him and well as AR-10. Except for the bear spay and trekking poles, he was fitted out almost the same way he had been when on patrol in the Corps. Well, he wasn’t quite as armored up either. He also had some small hunting and survival items he never took out of his pack. Face paint, a skinning knife with a gut hook, some survival blankets, wire for snares, emergency fishing kit, a life straw, extra batteries and about 100 feet of paracord. Plus, he had his money belt. He silently thanked his instructor for emphasizing that even a short-day hike in the woods could turn into a survival situation.

  From his surrounding, he surmised that it was early spring wherever he was, and in the Adirondacks, it was early fall. Don’t think about it, Mike told himself or you’ll freak out again. An hour or so later, Mike saw movement ahead in the under growth. Some small animal was there. He carefully pulled out the Glock and turned on the laser sight. A .308 would blow away any small animal and they weren’t smart enough to realize what a laser sight was. Moving slowly, one foot carefully placed in front of the other, he crept forward. Not wanting to make so much noise that he would scare away something that might become a meal. Then he saw it. It was a rabbit nibbling on some new growth. It was about 20 feet away. Mike swung the Glock up and the red laser dot showed right on the rabbit’s head. He squeezed off a shot. It sounded loud in the quiet of the forest, but intellectually he knew it wouldn’t carry that far, maybe a klick at most, probably less. The round hit the rabbit square in the head, and it fell over dead. Mike bent and picked up the brass and put it in his pocket. Then he went to collect his meal. It wasn’t small game season in New York, but he wasn’t in New York.

  He took out his skinning knife and gutted the rabbit; cut off the head and then skinned it. Skinning wasn’t really hard, just a few cuts in the right places; then the skin peeled right off. Mike took out one of the Ziplock bags he kept and put the rabbit in that. He then used a couple of spare ties to hook that to his backpack. He thought about what do with the remains of the rabbit. It wasn’t so much the automatic leave no trace ethos of hiking in the US. He wasn’t in the good old USA right now. The head, guts and skin would indicate that something other than a natural predator had taken the rabbit. He was being extra careful, but it wouldn’t hurt. He decided to put them off the side of the trail a couple of yards. In the forest, they wouldn’t last that long. If anyone or anything was good enough to track him, those remains wouldn’t be the clincher. Mike took a break to take off his jacket and pack it away and put on the sweater; then break out a lunch bar. He cleaned off his knife and stowed it. Shouldering his pack, he was once again on his way. The lunch bar was eaten as he moved along, observing, looking for tracks, scat anything to give him some idea if anyone was around or some big animal like a bear. His bear spray was handy and that’s what he’d use if need be. As to hunting, he needed to keep to small game or fish. He wasn’t in a position to properly utilize a deer right now. He knew that might change.

  As late afternoon started to approach, Mike looked for a good site to set up camp. He spotted a clearing on the stream. It looked as good as any to set up camp for the night. Thinking about it, he decided that he was going to cook over an open fire. He hadn’t seen anything except for a couple of deer and those had quickly vanished. He set his pack down took the AR-10 out of its carrier and leaned it against a tree. He still had the Glock, his KA-Bar, Tomahawk and his boot knife, so he wasn’t exactly unarmed. He went looking for firewood. Mostly ‘squaw wood’ to start the fire and hopefully he could find some recently downed trees to cut off some thick branches to make a more sustained fire. It took a little over an hour, but at the end he had pile of branches ranging in thickness from just twigs to about 1½ inch in diameter. He also had six pieces of wood that averaged out to be about 4 inches thick. Mike had found a young tree toppled part way over and had used his pocket saw to cut it into usable pieces. His camp shovel did the job of clearing an area for a fire. The fire starter worked like a charm and he soon had a good initial fire going. More twigs went in and then larger pieces. Until finally two of the large pieces of wood were used. While the fire was burning and starting to make some good coals for cooking, the rest of the camp was set up. The hammock was strung between two trees and the rain cover was run between the trees. The hammock would hopefully keep him away from any unknown creepy crawlies. The backpack was hung from a stout branch, another branch was used to hang the AR-10 by its sling

  Mike cooked the rabbit on spit of green wood he had cut, plus he also cooked up some instant rice and freeze-dried vegetables. The food tasted great. Once again, a hot meal on brisk but not cold day hit the spot. After diner he sat and reflected just a bit on what he’d seen and experienced. Dwelling on the strangeness was not something he wanted to. But the physicality of all that he’d done really had him wondering how real this was. Could some sort of hallucination really seem so real? The walking, seeing the Chestnut tree, shooting and eating the rabbit and everything else. If this was what crazy was like, it seemed awfully real. Then he started to look at the night sky. Like anywhere away from the cities, the sky was full of stars. He couldn’t spot the pole star, the big and little dipper or any other constellations he recognized. He did see the white patch of millions of stars that was the milky way, at least he thought it was the milky way. Then the moon came up, it wasn’t the moon he was used to it. This was smaller. This was a worry as the moon was very important in keeping the planets wobble to a minimum. Too much wobble and the seasons would be unpredictable. Ice ages quickly coming and going. That would be a disaster for life. ‘Way to go Geek’ he thought, always looking at the bright side. Mike gave a silent chuckle to his snark. He also, didn’t see anything that he couldn’t recognize from the northeast. No strange trees, plants or animals. It’s not that he was an expert on that, but if he saw something totally out of place he’d notice. Different ferns, probably not. That begged the question, did all this life originate on Earth? Or of course, that area was where he grew up, learned about the outdoors and how to fish and hunt. So, that would be consistent with some sort of altered state. The problem was that he wasn’t running into the normal stuff you experience in dreams. Being stuck doing simple things. Going from normal to confused as the dream continued and then waking up.

  Mike put those thoughts aside and went off to dig a cat hole and take care of business. Once done he took off his vest, sweater and boots. Boots and sweater were hung from the tree straps that supported the hammock. The vest went on top of his sleeping bag. Once again Mike mediated, like he had for most nights for years. Afterwards, Mike felt sleep coming on. He quickly fell asleep and slept through the night until he was woken by the new day’s light in his eyes.

  The next day, Mike started up the fire again. Then he noticed the faint image of another moon. This one was smaller than the one he saw last night. Maybe, he thought, the two moons had the same effect as Earth’s one big moon. Something to consider later, so he got to work getting ready for another day. He boiled water to heat some oatmeal and dried fruit. When he was done eating, he judged the water cool enough to fill up his hydration bladder. Time for a bath. He may not have time before he got to the village and he didn’t want reek. He wouldn’t be clean and fresh, but he would be sort of presentable. Boil some more water for bathing. Break out the extra-large baby wipes and his towel. He stripped and quickly washed up. Then he got dres
sed in clean clothes and used the small camp mirror to shave. That made him feel a lot better. The extra-large baby wipes did weigh a bit more than a pound, but they were worth it. Camp was broken efficiently, everything was cleaned and put away. A left-over rabbit leg would be lunch on the trail.

  The trail kept following the steam, now more a small river downhill. He could see in the distance that there was a small hill that the trail went over while the steam cut a path through a narrowing rock passage. That would give him a chance to get a better look around. Once at the top of the rise, he sat down and ate his rabbit. When done, he got out his binoculars and looked down towards what he thought was the village. From here he could see it a bit more clearly and studied it carefully. The village was situated on a low rounded ridge that ran east to west. On the slopes to the south of the village there appeared to be something planted. To the west and east, maybe there were animals. From what little he knew of farming and his estimate that it was early spring here, they should be planting crops soon.

  He couldn’t see much detail on the building but there seemed to be a number of them. There were several other larger buildings as well. There was a wall around the village, it appeared to be about a three to four meters high. It didn’t look like a wooden palisade wall, so that meant stone. A wall out here in the boondocks was certainly warranted. Hopefully, they weren’t averse to strangers. After observing the village and taking note of it, he figured that it would take almost two days to reach the area. Best to come in the day, sometime close to noon, rather than early or late. That way he could be seen, make peaceful gesture, and maybe establish some sort of friendly relations with the villagers. He was hoping they were humans. He’d have to think about how would handle that.