A Dawn of Mammals Collection

by Lou Cadle

  So was Hannah. “Anything at all? Spaces between the rocks?”

  “No. They’re packed pretty solid.”

  She backpedaled, keeping the animal at a distance. “Climb up them, then. Get as high as you can.”

  Where was the other animal? It had to be here, and close. She couldn’t take her eyes off the one coming closer, and closer.

  It wasn’t fifty yards from her now.

  “You all up there?”

  “C’mon, Hannah,” Garreth said.

  “See the other one?” she said.

  “No. Hurry.”

  She and the saber tooth were staring at each other, eyes locked, like lovers. But this embrace would be the last she ever felt.

  “Hannah!”

  She thought for a half-second about being noble, and making a stand here, and protecting the children, but her skin was crawling in fear, and she couldn’t force herself to do it. She’d have a tiny advantage up higher. She spun and tossed her spear up, shouting, “Catch!”

  Rex snatched it from the air, and Hannah climbed, using hands and feet, scrambling, as fast as she could, up to a rock only four feet off the ground. She wanted the kids higher than her. And she had good footing on a foot-square flat spot, so she stopped there. She turned and faced the cat, thrusting her arm up and wiggling her fingers. “Spear,” she said, and one was shoved into her hand.

  She was breathing hard, not with exertion, but from the adrenaline pumping through her body. Her vision seemed sharper, and her hearing.

  Garreth said, “There’s the other one.”

  “Where?” she said.

  “Over here. Nearly opposite of the first one.”

  The predator’s head was tilted up as it looked at her. She snarled at it, hefting her spear.

  It snarled back, showing its long white fangs.

  She had thought they were white, saw them gleaming white in the sun from a distance, but now she could see the base of each was yellow. The inside of its mouth was liver-colored, its lips black. The tongue was pink, with a rough texture.

  You shouldn’t be so close that you can see the texture of a saber tooth’s tongue, she thought. And then she thought, bizarrely, that sounds like something you’d cross-stitch on a sampler, words to live by.

  Words to die by.

  That weird thought had passed in a flash of real time. Her body’s chemicals were making time slow for her, giving her more chances to think. More chances to decide, to live.

  But she was still slower than the predator.

  She lunged with the spear, snarling again. The saber tooth only tossed its head.

  “This one is coming this way,” Garreth said.

  Hannah had her own problems, but she managed to say, “Keep it off with the spears if you can.”

  The saber tooth crouched. The muscles rippled along its flanks as its shoulders dropped and its rear end rose into the air.

  It was going to leap.

  Hannah grabbed her spear tighter. It seemed a pitiful weapon, but it was all she had.

  The saber tooth sprang at her.

  She shrieked as she met its leap with a lunge, spear leading. Her spear hit its open mouth, pushed in, and struck something hard. Then it snapped.

  It whipped its head to the side, pushed off-balance. But the leap had already happened. It kept coming.

  Hannah threw herself backward, still experiencing it in slow motion, and she felt its claws touch her left thigh.

  Then pain, sharp and hot.

  She kicked out with her right leg, and connected.

  The saber tooth fell short of her and slid back to the ground. She was weaponless. It was not.

  Hannah popped the closure of her belt and reached in for one of the dental picks. It was laughably thin. But maybe she’d be able to poke it in the creature’s eye before she died, and save the kids, if not herself.

  She stood, adjusted the spear’s balance, and braced herself for her last stand.

  She heard Rex grunt with effort, and then a head-sized rock came sailing over Hannah’s shoulder, in a slow arc. Then it fell down, faster, hitting the ground just in front of the saber tooth with a thump.

  It startled the animal, who stopped and looked at the rock.

  “More!” she shouted.

  Frantically, she glanced down, saw a fist-sized rock, loose, and stooped to get it. She transferred the dental pick to her right hand and, with her left, threw the rock. It hit the saber tooth on the nose.

  Rex cheered behind her.

  “Keep throwing!” she said.

  A scream came from Claire, and she wished she could split herself in two, and help defend the others.

  Another rock, twice the size of her own, came from behind and above her and hit the saber tooth on its shoulder.

  Hannah lunged forward, stomping her foot, snarling again, trying to look dangerous to the animal. She spied another rock just below her foot and leaned in and grabbed for it.

  The razor-sharp claws came through the air in a blur.

  She snatched her hand back, barely getting it out of the way in time. But then she lunged for the rock again as the animal regained its balance, got to it, and grabbed it. She hauled her arm back and threw as hard as she’d ever thrown in her life. It hit the top of the animal’s head and skipped, like a stone off a lake, and must have hit its back a second time, because it whirled, as if suspecting it was being attacked from behind.

  That gave her enough time to grab up two more rocks too small to do any damage, but maybe she could bedevil the thing with them until it reconsidered and went for easier prey.

  Rex was finding bigger ammunition and managed to hit the saber tooth in the foreleg with the next big rock.

  The animal snatched its leg back and held it in the air for a second, making Hannah’s hopes rise. Maybe it had been done real damage. It put the leg back down, and she’d swear she could see it testing its strength.

  Another rock came over her shoulder and hit the ground, right in front of the saber tooth’s feet.

  It turned and trotted off ten steps, then turned back to watch them.

  “Rex! Help Garreth and Claire,” said Hannah.

  She and the predator stared at each other. Hannah’s chest was heaving as she tried to get more air. She hadn’t been working that hard, but the adrenaline had her heart still pounding, and her lungs labored to keep up.

  “I hate you,” she said to the saber tooth. “I’d kill you if I could.”

  The thing’s lips twitched, and she thought, if it could talk, it would be saying, “Right back at you.”

  But no, it didn’t hate. It just hunted, and ate. Nothing more, nothing less. This wasn’t personal.

  But somehow it felt personal.

  Hannah shuffled as far as she could to her left and looked down that sloped rock for more ammunition to throw. There was a big rock, but maybe she could lift it. She leaned over and heaved the thing onto her shoulder. She got both hands behind it and shoved it up into the air.

  It didn’t go far, but the sound it made hitting the ground made the animal back up another step.

  “That’s right, sucker. And there’s more where that one came from.”

  A snarl from far behind her made her want to leap off the rock and run around to see what was happening over there, but she couldn’t. She had this one at an impasse. The three kids would have to do their best with the other.

  Please, don’t let any of them die.

  Garreth whooped, a sound of triumph.

  “It’s going!” shouted Claire.

  “Give me one of your spears,” Hannah called. Rex pushed a spear past her shoulder, and she grabbed it. “Got it.” Let’s finish this.

  She bent her knees and leapt off the rock, screaming a banshee scream. Spear in hand, she landed hard—and loudly—and lunged at the saber tooth. It snarled once more.

  And then it turned tail and trotted off.

  Chapter 41

  When it had trotted a hundred yards away, a
ll the tension went out of Hannah, and she dropped to her butt. She tried to catch her breath.

  She heard one of the others jump down. She said, “Stay up there.”

  It was Garreth. “You’re hurt.” He pointed to her leg. Everything from the knee down was covered in blood. When she saw it, the pain arrived. The adrenaline must have kept it away until now.

  Her voice was sharp when she said, “All three of you stay up on that rock, in case they come back.”

  Garreth said, “I can help.”

  She shook her head. “Get back up there. Keep watching. Tell me if they turn around again and come back this way.” She wasn’t sure they could fend them off a second time.

  In fact, she was pretty sure they could not.

  She unlaced her boots, kicked them off, and stripped off her pants. Back in the modern world, she could have split the leg with her knife. But these were her only clothes. Luckily her job and all its hiking required conservative cotton panties.

  The claws had raked only a short stretch, just above her knee cap. She wriggled from her backpack and rooted inside, glancing up to make sure the saber tooth wasn’t returning. She had one of the half-gallon bottles of water, nearly full, and she used half of that to wash away the blood. She tore open one of the last alcohol wipes and cleaned the area. One of the holes was deep, but the others were going to be treatable with a couple of butterfly strips. She did those first, then looked at the blood welling from the deepest wound. It wasn’t long enough to bother stitching. But she needed to put pressure on it for a time to get the blood flow to slow.

  She had the elastic bandage back—blood-stained, but dry and perfectly functional. She padded the wound with a bit of gauze, folded over several times, and held it in place with one thumb while she struggled to get the elastic bandage wrapped. When she got the second turn around, she was able to take away her thumb and wrapped the rest of it tightly—too tightly, but it was going to be coming off in ninety minutes or so. It would do her no harm in that time.

  She pulled her pants back on, yanked on her boots, packed away her stuff, and stood up. She paced in a circle before tying her boots, making sure she could put weight on the leg. It wouldn’t be doing the wound any favors in healing to hike on it more than an hour, but they had to get back to the cave.

  She glanced up to see all three kids looking at her. “Who’s watching the other side?” she said.

  “Are you okay?” Garreth asked.

  “I’m good. And we need to get back to a protected spot.”

  Claire said, “The cave?”

  “Yeah. Still no sign of the saber tooths?”

  All three shook their head.

  “Then come on down, and bring your spears. And I guess load your pockets with rocks too.”

  They hiked back until they caught their own track through the grass and turned for the protection of the cave. Hannah had to work at not limping. The wound burned, and her lower leg stayed damp with blood as it kept oozing with every step.

  “You okay?” Claire asked.

  “I’m good. I’m good,” she said.

  “I’m realizing,” Garreth said, “that we can’t lose you. You’re the one that organizes us and keeps us trying new things. I think we’d die without you.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she said. “Bob and M.J. would take care of you. And in another month, every one of you will know enough to take care of yourselves.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think we’d start fighting among ourselves. I think some of us would totally lose it.”

  “Then you’d lead. Right? You could do that.”

  “I don’t know. I’m just another one of us.”

  “Hey, Rex, Claire. You’d follow Garreth if all the adults were gone, right?”

  “If he was fair,” Claire said.

  “Or if we elected him,” Rex said.

  “That’s a great idea. Maybe we should do that tomorrow. In the highly unlikely event that all three adults are gone, elect a leader. The person who could keep you organized and alive.”

  They fell to debating who that might be, and Hannah let them, turning in a circle as she walked to make sure she saw nothing following them.

  Chapter 42

  By the time they got back to the cave, nearly two hours after the attack, she was exhausted. Her leg hurt, and she’d give anything for an ice pack to put on it. But ice, like so many other things, was not part of this world. According to M.J., even natural ice wouldn’t be seen for a few million years more. Even winters here wouldn’t be freezing.

  Which was good news, in a way. If they had to be here through winter—and there was no sign of the timegate reappearing, so they might—at least they wouldn’t freeze to death. They might have to weave grass blankets, but they’d survive.

  If something didn’t pick them off first, one by one.

  As the others came back from their own day’s work, she let the kids tell the story of the saber tooth attack. She had done nothing to speak of for the time since they had been back at the cave. Just babied her leg.

  Jodi sat down by her. “Hurts?”

  “Like the devil. I didn’t know how brave you were until now!”

  She blushed. “I was happy to be alive, tell you the truth.”

  “So am I, kiddo. Show me your arm. How’s it healing?”

  “I think I’ll have scars.” She rolled her sleeve up. The deepest of the claw marks was starting to close. And she was right: there would be scars.

  “I think that’s partly my fault,” Hannah said, pointing to the end of one, where it was puckering. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I took the stitches.”

  Jodi rolled her sleeve back down. “Maybe guys will think I’m a bad-ass now.”

  “You are! ‘Hey, buddy, I survived a saber tooth attack. You think I can’t handle you? Ha!’”

  Jodi giggled. “I don’t think I could ever say that to a guy.”

  Dixie pointed to Hannah’s pants. “You need to do a load of laundry, I think.”

  “Yeah, that’s for sure.” She didn’t want to be smelling of blood and draw predators or scavengers. “Tomorrow.”

  M.J. scooted over by her next. “Tell me everything. About the attack. There was scant fossil evidence that they worked in teams. Now we know.”

  “First time I’ve seen the stalker with a buddy,” she said. “Or wife or husband or son or whatever it was.”

  “In a lot of cats, that’d be two females. They even baby-sit for each other in some species. But nimravids aren’t cats. They’re creodonts, closer to the Hyaenodons than to cats.”

  “They don’t look the same.”

  “No. But German shepherds don’t look like toy pomeranians, and they’re even the same species. Whales don’t look like hippos, but they’re close on the evolutionary tree.”

  “And these dogs don’t look much like our dogs.”

  “Borophagine dogs are long extinct. The last fossil was from 14 million years ago.”

  “What killed them? Climate change?”

  “Probably not,” he said. “Competition from big cats—true cats, I mean—and canids. True dogs. Our dogs’ ancestors.”

  “I wouldn’t mind that nimravid going extinct tomorrow.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “That’s not going to happen.”

  She lowered her voice. “I’m afraid of it.”

  “And it’s not even the apex predator.”

  “But it has a thing for me. For us all, I suspect.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Maybe it’s a gourmet among its kind, and it wants to try the new meat on the menu.”

  He grinned at that. “Maybe.”

  “Glad to see you smiling. You’re feeling better.”

  The smile faded. “I still miss it. You have no idea.”

  “Maybe when we’re all set with the basics, this fall, when the fruit ripen, we can get into winemaking.”

  He nodded. “They’ll ferment all by themselves. We just h
ave to wait until the fruit are soft and on the ground. They’ll turn into a basic sort of wine then.” He looked more cheerful again at the thought.

  “Hold out for that day, then.” She shouldn’t be encouraging his alcoholism, but if it kept him happy thinking he’d feel the high of drunkenness again, why not? She suspected they’d eat so many of the fruits the instant they got ripe, there wouldn’t be a big windfall to ferment anyway.

  Chapter 43

  “Something is stealing from our traps,” said Bob, returning from taking a group to gather food the next day. He tossed down a gutted animal too small to make much of a meal for the twelve of them.

  Hannah had been taking it easy after Bob insisted she do so, tending the fire and continuing the work of freshening the grass mattresses, which seemed to defy the laws of physics in how flat they became every single night. She looked up to see him frowning. “How much did you get?”

  “Only this thing, in the pit trap. I’m not even sure what it is. Both the regular traps—the loop ones—and the deadfall traps have been sprung but picked clean.”

  “It’s the saber tooth,” she said.

  “It could be anything.”

  “Yeah, but I’d put money on it. It’s him. Or her. You’d think I would have noticed its sex yesterday, it was so close to me.”

  “You had other things to worry about,” Bob said.

  “I think maybe....” she said, and then stopped and thought about how to phrase it.

  She had been quiet for so long, Bob cleared his throat.

  “Sorry. I was thinking, we need to kill it before it kills one of us.”

  “Wow. I mean, I don’t know,” Bob said. “We need to think about this.”

  “You weren’t there yesterday. This animal is obsessed with us.”

  He smiled and said, not unkindly, “Or you about it?”

  She shook her head. “You weren’t there. Maybe it’s just me it has a thing for. Maybe I should be the one to go out and hunt it. Alone.”

  “That’s crazy. No. If we do it, we do it together. And all together, all twelve of us.” He said thoughtfully, “I suppose it could be done.”

  “It’s harder if it’s with its new buddy. If we get it alone, and corner it somehow, I think we might have a chance.”