A Dawn of Mammals Collection

by Lou Cadle

  Rex said, “Who?”

  “Ms. Teggart. Mr. O’Brien’s wife. She could figure it out.”

  Hannah said, “Well, try to think like her, then.” Nari came back with the two big bottles of water, filled from the lake, and Hannah sat and dug a hole in the ground, poured the water in, and began to stir up mud. “More, please,” she said to Nari, who took the bottles and walked back to the lake. Hannah watched her go, keeping her eye out for danger along the girl’s path, and then scanning in every direction. Nari wasn’t out of anyone else’s sight for more than a minute, as she took the trip, but it still made Hannah nervous to let her be alone for that long. Laina she had sent to join Claire at lake’s edge, to dig a pit for baking the bricks and then starting a fire.

  The boys had the saplings cleared by mid-afternoon, and she told them to hunt for anything to use as cordage. Vines. Bark that peeled easily. “Otherwise,” she said, “we’re going to have to braid grass or other plant stems again.”

  “We have some cordage still from the first place,” Rex said.

  “Not nearly enough to build a frame for the upper walls and roof. We need many feet of it.”

  “I don’t think it’s really strong enough, either. The vines from the last place would be better. The frame will take us some time to make, either way, I bet.”

  “It will. We might have to hunt for other cordage material again tomorrow.”

  “Don’t you want us to fish again?”

  “Claire can for an hour,” she said. “Between the soup from this morning and whatever she catches, we’ll be okay for supper.”

  Zach and Jodi came back with two backpacks—Hannah’s and Garreth’s—stuffed with grass, and then they went out again.

  Hannah broke the grass into six-inch lengths, which was easy, as dry as it was, and mixed that into her mud. Rex had two suggestions for forming bricks. Build a mold in the sand at lake’s edge. But Hannah didn’t see how that could work. For one thing, transporting the mud would be difficult, and then how could they remove the bricks? His second suggestion was better, to use one of the Mylar blankets to shape the bricks.

  So that’s what Hannah did. She had to add more and more soil, to get a more solid consistency to her pile of mud, but finally she had it just right. She laid out the blanket, put several handfuls of straw-studded mud into it, and lifted sides until she had squared it up. It was only after she’d made a nice brick-shaped object that she realized she’d have to carry it on the blanket to the fire, and that’d mess up the shape.

  No matter, though. She could easily re-shape it now that she knew what to do. She had Nari help her, taking one end of the blanket while she took the other, and they walked the one brick out to the fire.

  “We really don’t have coals yet,” said Laina. She had been working on her formulas again, in the sand, while tending to the fire.

  Hannah let her do it, wondering if the other kids ever resented her doing less physical work. Maybe not, though. If the girl’s computations got them home, they wouldn’t care if she never lifted a finger to fell a tree or braid cordage.

  Hannah, who had turned to walk back to the clay site, froze in place. Nari bumped into her.

  “Sorry,” the girl said.

  “No, my fault,” Hannah said. She had realized something. Part of her—a surprisingly large part—did not want to go home any longer.

  I would be okay with staying here forever. Despite the dangers. Despite the very few human companions. Despite everything.

  And staying here might be better than having to go home to tell Garreth’s parents that it was my fault he is dead.

  Chapter 10

  By the time everyone had gathered together for supper—earlier than last night—they had accomplished a lot.

  There was a clearing in which to build the cabin. Bob and Dixie had found some rocks to bash around, and they had returned with two that were about the right size, with an edge to them. Ted had grabbed one up and began pounding at one of the saplings near its thinner point, and the rock cut through it in only ten strikes.

  Ted said, “I could get better at this.”

  “It’d be awkward to take down a whole tree, though,” Bob said. “A big one.”

  “But I could learn to do it,” Ted said.

  Hannah made bricks. By midday, there were six big bricks baking in the coal pit, and another twenty-four lined up to bake. When she had exhausted the clay at that one site, she moved to the next. Bob had been right, in that there were other places nearby where the soil turned to that fine, packable sort of which she could make bricks.

  After they had knocked down or cut down the saplings, Ted and Rex went hunting through the woods for cordage material and had found four candidates of plants to try.

  Claire had caught enough fish by noon, and they ate well. The fruit hadn’t bothered Hannah at all, though when she showed it to the group, she explained she wanted to wait until it was ripe, so they should keep their eyes out for any that had fallen. And after lunch, she found another plant at water’s edge that she wanted to test next as food.

  Zach said, “The grass is probably okay to eat too—or would be, if it weren’t so dry.”

  Jodi said, “We could do that tomorrow—try and find more food to test.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I’d rather you do some cord-making.”

  “We need to fish again,” Rex said.

  Hannah nodded. “In the morning. Tomorrow, you catch us our brunch, and Claire is doing really good at fishing with the pole, so she’ll catch us our supper from now on.”

  “We could use more spears,” Ted said. “Some were lost back....” He faltered. “You know.”

  Hannah knew the time had come when they needed to talk about Garreth, as a group. And she needed to apologize to Dixie, though she didn’t really want to. Hannah couldn’t bear to look at her. Not just because of the bruises. But because she blamed the girl for Garreth’s death too. And she didn’t like her, and doubted she ever would.

  But she shouldn’t have hit her, and it was cowardice to avoid apologizing. And more cowardice to avoid talking about Garreth.

  When the house is built. She knew it for an excuse. But a delay would also give her time to think of what to say.

  After supper, they hiked back to the debris huts. Halfway there, Dixie spotted a strange creature in the tree. Hannah thought at first it was the lemur-like creature that Bob had said was a primate. But this looked more like a small fox.

  Dixie approached the tree it was in, and the animal hissed and bared fangs at her.

  “Meat-eater,” Rex said.

  “What is it, Mr. O’Brien?” Dixie asked. “The name of it.”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “You should get away from it, though.”

  “I don’t think it could hurt me,” Dixie said. “It’s hardly bigger than a house cat.”

  “No, but still. It doesn’t look happy to have you close.”

  Hannah wondered if it were possible the little animal hunted in packs. Maybe it could be dangerous to them, if that were the case.

  But something about the animal said “loner” to her. Then she wondered if she was applying 21st century rules to animals that didn’t follow them.

  They were careful whenever they crossed a game trail, thinking that they were more likely to encounter animals at dawn and dusk. But they saw nothing this evening except a few of the Eohippus, and they made it back to their debris huts with some daylight still left. Hannah used the time to clear out the last of the sticks and rocks from the floor of the hut. She had felt a few digging into her last night, and tonight she wanted to sleep soundly.

  And she did sleep soundly, until a scream woke her.

  She sat up so abruptly, she banged her head on the log that created the backbone of the structure. Leaves rained down on her.

  “Who was that?” asked Laina.

  “I don’t even know that it was human.”

  But then another shriek came, and she was certa
in it was human. “Dixie,” she said.

  “Where are they?” Laina was still groggy from sleep.

  Hannah had grabbed her backpack from its place as the door to the shelter, and was fumbling around for the flashlight. She finally had it, flipped it on, and it gave out a light so dim she couldn’t see Laina’s face three feet away.

  “Damn,” she said. “Remind me to charge this at the beach tomorrow.” She yanked her boots on, pulled at the laces without tying them, and went sprinting toward the commotion, the flashlight barely giving out any light at all. It was just enough to keep her from tripping over logs.

  “Help!” Dixie screamed. “Somebody!”

  Hannah crashed through the woods toward the sound, worrying now about Laina, behind her. She hoped she had stayed in the shelter. All she needed was someone lost out here at night too.

  Or hurt, by whatever was hurting Dixie.

  A low-hanging branch smacked Hannah in the head, and she bounced off it. Ow. That hurt. Ducking under it, she made her way toward Dixie, who was close now. The girl was cursing and crying and yelping, making enough noise that at least Hannah was reassured she wasn’t dying.

  Hannah saw the debris hut. No one was outside it, but a bare leg stuck out of it. Dixie’s. “What’s wrong?” Hannah shouted at the girl, leaning over.

  “Get it. I need help.” The girl shrieked again. “I can’t stand to touch it!”

  “What?” Hannah said.

  “A snake!”

  “Are you bitten?”

  “Not me. Claire!”

  “Get on out of there, Dixie. Let me in.”

  Dixie backed out of the hut and Hannah crawled in, the flashlight held ahead of her. She was expecting to have to find a little snake somewhere in the leaves. Frightened that Claire had indeed been bitten, and maybe by a venomous snake, she froze in shock at what she saw instead.

  It was a boa. Or something like that. And it wasn’t a little snake. It was wrapped around Claire’s neck, and arm, and it was squeezing.

  Hannah grabbed Claire’s legs and yanked her out, scrambling backward, adrenaline giving her extra strength. She got the girl outside and tried to wedge her own hand under the snake coiled about Claire’s throat.

  Claire was awake and alive—or at least her eyes were open and aware. Her one arm was pinned by the snake. The other was tugging at it.

  “Dixie. Light a fire.”

  “With what?”

  “Your lighter. Don’t worry about being tidy. Just—” She thought about the risk of forest fire, and decided it was the lesser of evils. “Light the damned debris hut on fire. I need to see!”

  She rolled Claire until she saw the end of the snake, the tail end. She grabbed it and started to pull, trying to unwind it. It fought her, curling back into a coil. It was devilishly strong.

  I’m going to lose another of them.

  Well, screw that. She was not going to lose another of them. She patted her pants pocket, relieved to feel the lump of her knife there. She got it out, opened a blade with her teeth, and, still hanging onto the snake’s tail with her right hand, stabbed it.

  It moved so fast and powerfully, she was thrown over on her side by the force of its movement. Hanging tightly to the knife, she rolled back over and got to Claire’s head. The debris hut catching fire now, and she could see that Claire’s face was purple. She let go of the snake’s tail and, praying she didn’t cut through to Claire’s throat, stabbed the coils around her throat. Blood welled out of the body, and the snake’s head came up, from out of nowhere, and whipped around.

  It bit her. And it hurt. The damned thing was as big around as her wrist. She grabbed for the head, missed, and it bit her a second time, right on the webbing between thumb and forefinger. She grabbed once more and got it just behind the head. She yanked at it, but it fought her. Damn, but the thing was strong! She stabbed and stabbed at its neck, then sawed through.

  The head popped off, and Hannah was on her butt, knife in one hand, snake’s head in the other. Blood dripped down her hand.

  By then Laina was there, and then Ted came running up.

  “Ted, help me get this off her!”

  She dropped the snake’s head and tried to unwind the snake’s body from Claire’s throat, but even in death, the muscles were hard to fight.

  Ted cursed took a grip on it, and said, “Try to roll her.”

  Hannah grabbed Claire’s hip and rolled her away from Ted, who stepped to the other side, and yanked with all his might up on the snake.

  Claire spun in a full circle, banging into Hannah. She saw the tail of the snake and started to unwind from the other side, flinging the length of the body over the girl’s torso once, pulling it under her, and throwing it over a second time.

  Ted hauled again and then Rex came up to help him.

  Finally, the last of the body of the snake came free, and Claire was gasping for breath, making harsh sounds.

  Hannah bent over the girl. “You’re okay. It’s okay.” She hoped it was true.

  Eyes wide, Claire did nothing but draw breath. It was obviously painful to do, and it was noisy.

  Hannah wondered if the snake had crushed something in there, if bone or cartilage were so damaged that she’d still lose Claire.

  “Just breathe. You’ll be fine.” She looked up. The fire of the debris hut was threatening to jump to the tree stump that the spine of it had fallen from. Soon, it would be out of control. By this time, nearly everyone was there, in the clearing. Ted and Rex had the snake on the ground. It was three times Ted’s height. Twenty feet, if it was an inch.

  “Someone, get the fire under control,” Hannah said. “Before it burns down the whole woods.”

  “I have water on me,” Zach said.

  “No, use dirt. Kick it over the flames,” Bob said.

  Hannah attended to Claire. The girl’s color was returning to normal. That was a relief, but Hannah felt helpless. There was nothing she could think of to do. If there was damage inside the girl’s neck, she couldn’t repair it. That was the work of delicate surgery. If there were brain damage....

  “Can you hear me?” she asked Claire.

  The girl nodded, and flinched as her neck bent with the nod. It obviously was painful for her to move it at all.

  “Do you know where you are?”

  Another nod, smaller this time.

  Hannah tried to think of a question that didn’t require a verbal answer. “How many of us are there?”

  Both hands went up, ten fingers. Then one solitary finger. Then she erased that and put up ten fingers again. That was right: without Garreth, it was ten.

  “You’ll be okay,” Hannah said, feeling more hopeful that it would be so. At least Claire had memory intact. “But don’t try and talk, okay?

  Claire pointed to her throat and shook her head. The message was clear: I can’t.

  “That’ll heal.”

  The others had managed to put out more than half the fire.

  Hannah said, “Build a fire ring, or find some way to keep light on us, please.”

  Bob seemed to have everything under control.

  Hannah took up Claire’s hand and said, “You’re going to be okay. I know you were scared. But it’s over.”

  Claire pointed over Hannah’s shoulder. Dixie was standing there, watching.

  Hannah noticed Dixie had her backpack slung over one shoulder. Good, she hadn’t let it burn. “Yeah, she saved your life. Thank you, Dixie. You got us all here in time.”

  “I hate snakes,” Dixie said, with a visible shudder. “I hate snakes.”

  “That one would give anyone a phobia,” she said.

  Ted said, “Yeah, look at it. It’s huge.”

  Claire waved Hannah nearer. Her voice was strained and painful just to hear, but she managed to get out, “Eat it.”

  Hannah grinned at her. “You bet. Everybody, Claire says we should eat it, and she’s right. Snake is perfectly edible.”

  Claire lifted their joined han
ds and pointed to where they were connected.

  It took a second to see what she was trying to convey. Hannah’s hand was swelling around the snake bites. She prodded the area. It was warm, and it hurt, but she’d felt worse. “I don’t think it had venom,” she said to Claire. “Did it bite you too? And don’t talk again. Let your throat start to heal.”

  Claire shook her head.

  “Good. It wouldn’t need venom, after all. It had other talents.”

  Dixie was saying, “I’m not going to sleep on the ground again. Ever. Not with snakes like that around.” She seemed more upset, not less, now that the excitement was past.

  Bob tried to calm her. “Three days at the most, we’ll have something built.”

  “Does it matter?” Dixie said, her voice rising. “They’ll crawl in anyway.”

  “Not if we build well,” he said.

  “It’ll come through the door. Or wiggle between the branches on the roof. And what do I do then?”

  “Dixie, shhh,” Bob said. “It’s fine. It’s over. You’re okay.”

  The fire was burning lower, and it was harder to see Claire. Hannah wanted to be able to see her, make sure she didn’t start to have breathing troubles.

  Though what could Hannah do if that did happen? Lake water on a bandana was as close as she could come to a cold compress. Without real medicine, without real medical equipment, she was out of luck.

  Or rather, Claire was.

  “I need you to keep still,” she told the girl. “We’ll carry you to the home site tomorrow.” She’d probably have to set a nurse on duty, losing two people’s work for the day, delaying when the cabin would be done. So be it.

  Claire tried to speak, but Hannah pressed her fingers over her lips.

  “No. If you can’t mime it, it can wait.”

  Claire did something with her hands, which Hannah didn’t get. Then she tried it again, and at the end mimed reeling in fishing line.

  “We’ll see. If you’re up to it, you can sit and fish. But nothing strenuous. We have the net too.”

  Claire mimed drinking.

  “I don’t know,” Hannah said. “I think it’ll hurt. Can you possibly wait until morning?”