The Way Things Seem

by Mackey Chandler

  "Starved," David admitted. He asked no more.

  Chapter 6

  Uncle drove the skewers into the ground at an angle, to suspend the meat above the fire. When it was done the fire had burnt down to coals and he briefly laid the skewer he selected across the coals to sear it a little more. That left a little wood ash on it, but David tried it himself and it was delicious. Of course he had a pretty good appetite after the unaccustomed long walk.

  David had just a few swallows of water left to finish off after the rabbit. He hadn't seen Uncle drink in a long time, but the man hadn't cautioned him to make his water last longer. Uncle did cut a twig from a nearby bush. After peeling back a bit of thin red bark he frayed the end into an improvised brush with his thumb nail and brushed his teeth. David did the same but found it wasn't as easy to fray the end as it looked.

  Uncle dumped the rest of the wood on the fire and the rabbit bones on top to dispose of them. David laid down well back from it. It wasn't as hot as in the middle of the day, but there was no chill at all. Sleep came easier than it ever did at home.

  The next day they walked fairly far before David asked if they had any water ahead of them. He was still making urine, but he didn't want to get dehydrated.

  "Tomorrow," Uncle promised. "You wouldn't want to drink the water near here. However, I'll show you something to help." He stopped and broke off pieces of a prickly pear. There were less of them here but still a patch now and then.

  David would have thought you’d need heavy gloves to handle the fruit or leaf, but Uncle handled them deftly with the hem of his robe, rendering them safe quickly with his knife. The moist insides did satisfy him, and Uncle had some too. Despite watching how Uncle handled them he still ended up with a few of the fine needles in him.

  The day ended without Uncle offering to hunt again, and David slept deeply despite being hungry and bone weary.

  * * *

  In the morning Uncle had water in the bottles, David hadn't heard him get up or take his bottle from his things right beside him. He offered no explanation where he'd gone to get it. They'd already addressed trust issues sufficiently it seemed pointless to quiz him on its safety and purity.

  "Drink one now if you wish. Carry the other for the day. I've had my fill already and the day will be milder. There will be plenty where we stop tonight."

  David drank half a bottle and stopped. "I can share later if you wish," he offered. He'd found he had more endurance without food or water than he'd expected. Though when he thought back to the desert they would have crossed without the truck ride, he had serious doubts about how that would have gone.

  Perhaps Uncle had similar thoughts. "When I took your father out here to instruct him I was a much younger man. I had different views on things. We didn't have the window into Western ways we have now with satellite telly and entire libraries of movies on a little chip. Back then many had trouble sorting out the fanciful from reality. We liked and disliked very different things about foreigners than today. I was offended he had feet like a baby and insisted he take his shoes off a little each day and toughen his feet up when we got to where it wasn't all hot stones," he said waving his hand at the soft loam. Now I look back and find that pointless. You aren't going to stay here to need to become like us."

  "I'm glad," David said. "I'd have a hard time even adapting to sandals. I slide all around in them and have never worn them at home, even the sort that strap on tightly."

  "What else do you miss?" Uncle asked, unusually chatty this morning.

  "My phone, not that particular phone, but the connections I’m used to having. I could call up maps. I could know what the weather would be until about two weeks forward. It had entertainment and memories in pictures and the ability to call for help. It even has an app on it to test food or water for disease organisms. It has a special light and reads what reflects off the sample."

  Uncle was kind enough to hide any amusement from his face if he felt it.

  "And I miss coffee. I'd kill for a cup of coffee right now."

  Uncle laughed. "One hopes that is hyperbole. I could not sense genuine malice about you," he said, reaching out toward David and making a gesture that described a vague circle around his face again.

  "OK," David said grinning. "I'd wrestle you for it, two falls out of three."

  "Now that I believe," Uncle allowed. That seemed to end his chattiness.

  * * *

  The place Uncle led them to as evening approached was beautiful. David hoped they could finally stay put a little. He'd have been happy to own a simple cabin here, sited to look out over the valley. There was a very small stream, thin enough you could step over it. They followed it uphill until there was a natural pond.

  "Is this safe to drink?" David asked.

  "Not here. There are too many animals that come to drink here. Less than years ago," Uncle said, sadly. "The birds and the small things..." he made a spanning gesture with his thumb and first finger, "foul the water just by coming near. There are larger animals, deer I think you would call them, and the very rare predators that still come here. We shall follow the water upslope where few of them venture, nearer the source where it is pure."

  Uphill turned out to be more of a climb than Uncle had challenged him with before, to the point he had to use his hands for the first time to pull himself up. When they stopped it was just below a slight escarpment that ringed the top. That gave them some shelter from the wind, but put them in shadow in the afternoon. They stopped in a cleft between two big stones where the stream came down from above. There was a bar of gravel in the middle and a grassy flat to each side.

  "We shall go up tomorrow. It's flat on top. How do you say?" Uncle asked.

  "Ah, a plateau," David supplied.

  "That's the word. There are several paths. The rock isn't a sheer face and we won't have to climb at all. Well, no more than we did coming this far," Uncle assured him. "I'll go get us something to eat," he promised, walking away back downhill, leaving David to his own devices. He took the initiative to range along the base of the escarpment and gather dead wood. There seemed to be a great deal, some must have fallen from above. He didn't think to ask Uncle for the sturdy piece of cloth he'd used to carry wood.

  When Uncle returned it turned out he’d needed the carrier. He had it tied closed around a large lump. First he started a fire. It still unnerved David to watch the process. Then he went off briefly and found skewers.

  The bundle opened up was meat, but David had no idea what sort until Uncle told him.

  "This is a sort of deer. I confess I've forgotten any other English words for them. I suppose it only matters to someone that studies them. It's no bigger than a large dog."

  "At this point it's all venison," David assured him.

  "Oh...like pig and pork, cow and beef?" Uncle asked.

  "Exactly."

  "English can be a very strange language," Uncle said.

  "That's from when the French dominated the English in their own land," David explained. The peasant dealt with the pig, the master got the pork, and so on. My relatives speak French. They make a great point of teaching their children, because to them it differentiates them from black people who were slaves. At least in their minds, it makes all the difference."

  Uncle made a funny little noise. "That's all some people have going for them, that at least they aren't some other group," he said with mock indignation.

  It was so true David laughed heartily. Uncle had the essence of it quickly.

  "To use what words I know, these are the tenderloins and most of the haunch. The side meat and the liver. As much as we can eat I'm sure. Do you have that aversion to fat I've noticed some Westerners have?" Uncle asked.

  "I confess I dislike fat on something boiled like pieces in a stew, but I appreciate it on a grilled piece where it gets crispy on the edges."

  "Then we will be sure to make it that way. I'm not sure why, but an abundance of fat seems to help one absorb the training I inten
d for you."

  "That doesn't entirely surprise me," David allowed. "I constantly see people back home speaking about how proper nutrition is important for school children to be able to succeed in their lessons. They have special programs to make sure it happens, even if the parents are poor."

  "Not to offend, but we do see some American shows, the ones made for the telly I mean, not the movies, and your poor seem very different than our poor," Uncle said.

  "I'm aware of that," David said. "I doubt those complaining loudest of their poverty have any idea how fortunate they are."

  Uncle just nodded agreement and kept putting the meat on skewers. When he was done he added more wood to the fire, but didn't start them cooking. He held up a finger to indicate he'd be a minute and went off in the brush.

  David thought maybe he had to ease nature, but he came back with a bunch of roots and leaves that he washed in the stream. There was a stone sticking up and he cupped his hands washing it off and used it as an anvil to crush the roots and leaves with a smaller stone. It wasn't really a fine paste, but the bruised vegetation was smeared on the kabobs before he put them over the fire.

  Uncle took the cloth to the stream and weighed it down under the surface with a couple stones and washed his hands thoroughly. The cooking meat had a pungency the rabbit the other day hadn't. The seasoning was like ginger and something green, maybe bay leaf by the odor, but much stronger. David was no gourmand to identify spices, but appreciated their unusual intensity.

  He didn't think they could eat it all, but he was wrong. The skewers were thrown in the fire and burned up entirely so there was nothing to attract pests. Even the cloth soaking in the stream was washed carefully before being spread on a bush to dry.

  "What did you do with the rest of the deer?" David asked. "Did you bury it to avoid attracting scavengers?"

  That seemed to amuse Uncle. "No reason to deny the scavengers their meal. The little ones will have at it quickly. If the hyenas don't find it to finish it off the birds will do so in the morning. It's not a waste to feed them."

  "I'd rather not meet a hyena," David said, "I seem to recall they are formidable.

  "You rarely meet just one," Uncle said, "but they sense and fear a Sahar, far better than people. If they don't I'll be happy to teach them to have some respect."

  David didn't say anything. Uncle didn't look like a match for a band of hyenas, but then David realized he probably wouldn't be dinning on rabbit or venison if he were out here alone. He might give it a try, but he'd have had no idea how to even find them without Uncle instructing him, much less throw with anything like the old man's style.

  * * *

  The next morning David drank his fill of water and made sure his bottle was filled with fresh without Uncle urging him. He seemed a little out of sorts. David decided not to ask. After all, everybody has morning like that. He was older too, no matter that he seemed in good shape. Maybe something was hurting or the huge meal was too much for him.

  "Come along," he said eventually. "We'll make a start on some real instruction today, not just woods craft. This is not where I led your father. The place we visited I don't care for as much as I did back then. There are people nearby where there weren't before. They might not come near being busy with their own concerns, caring for their cattle and such. But they almost certainly would see us coming and going at some point. I like my privacy."

  And that, David reflected, was perfectly understandable, whether it was government satellites overhead or observant herders.

  The climb was like a good workout at the gym, it left you ready to take a break, but fell short of an exhausting ordeal. Uncle stopped at the edge, not venturing deeper into the interior of the plateau with David but left him there on rocks that made natural seats. If you looked it was possible to even find a place with a backing to lean on and relax.

  David, who a month ago had examined a dozen executive chairs before picking one that suited him perfectly, now had no trouble finding a suitable warm rock that adjoined a vertical surface at an angle which let him recline. Uncle left him there enjoying a spectacular view, and went off on a semi-mysterious mission.

  * * *

  When David woke up the sun was much lower behind them. They were shadowed by the trees behind them, and the valley in front of them was in shadow, but the hill opposite still had sunlight on the top. It was much cooler and there was a bit of a breeze from behind them over the plateau.

  Perhaps that was what woke him up because Uncle, sitting there quietly, didn't seem to begrudge him his nap. David would have thought him napping too, but he wasn't relaxed enough and his breathing was too rapid. David only looked at him a few seconds before he opened his eyes.

  "Don't be embarrassed. If you needed sleep it's good you got it. This entire journey is outside your usual way of doing things. It must be tiring."

  "Do your abilities as a Sahar let you see that in my thoughts?" David asked.

  Uncle laughed. "It was written plainly on your face. A little child could have seen it."

  "Fair enough," David said, leaving to ease nature. He figured that was plain enough to see too, so he didn't explain.

  When he returned Uncle motioned for him to sit near. That hadn't been his custom. He sat beside the old man and looked at the scene. The sunset was hidden behind them but it was pretty in a different way. The golden light on the hill opposite was climbing towards the very peak and would soon be gone. The colors changed and gold made a transition to gray and then purple.

  "This is what makes a Sahar," Uncle said.

  David looked down and Uncle had a small piece of plant on the palm of his hand. It was some sort of succulent, very dainty with reddish tinted stems and dark green leaves. I looked almost like it was made from glass, translucent and shiny.

  "I haven't had any for near half a year, and I can tell my ability has faded. This is all I need," Uncle said, pinching off two tiny leaves and chewing them. "Of course, I have been eating it for years, so I need very little to maintain."

  "Does it have a name?" David inquired.

  "Several," Uncle said. "But none in English as far as I know. Most people have little regard for all the weeds if they aren’t an herbalist. Let's call it wizard's jewel. That seems appropriate."

  David frowned, but spoke carefully, because he did not want to offend Uncle.

  "Bouh," David said, calling him by name to emphasize how serious he felt about this, "I am very reluctant to take anything that affects my mind. I'm not unfamiliar with hallucinogens, and I'm aware of them being used for religious experiences. Back home there are cacti the Native Americans use that way. It isn't uncommon to have people use them for simple recreation. There are synthetics too. But I've also heard that some people react badly to them. What can you tell me to assure me this is safe?"

  Uncle smiled at him using his name, at least David hoped that was what made him smile. He hoped it didn't indicate he didn't take the question seriously.

  "I have no experience with those other things,” Uncle said, “so I can't compare them. All I can do is express as well as I can what this does."

  "Peyote and mushrooms, or manmade stuff like LSD, make you see vivid colors, transform the appearance of things, and can make you see things that aren't there," David asserted. "Now, I'm going by things I have read, not personal experience. I don't even know anybody who uses this stuff, but I've heard that the experience can reoccur. It may not always be convenient, or safe, to have this happen if you are doing something dangerous, like driving."

  Uncle seemed interested. "This never makes you see things that aren't there. That sounds very much like an alcohol addict, or someone who drinks absinthe. The wizard jewel makes you see more things that are there. It can be a bit overwhelming. One learns, like being able to drive and talk to a passenger. Some can do it some can't. Some think they can, but when they try they run into a stopped car, because they really couldn't encompass both within their mind. They really go functionally blin
d if they must say something too complicated."

  David was surprised at the analogy. "Have you driven a motor car?"

  "Oh, of course," Uncle said. "I've driven taxi when it was needed. Years ago I made deliveries for a store. We are not entirely backward. Those were old vehicles with manual transmissions too. It took more thought and attention to drive them."

  "I apologize," David said.

  "It's nothing," Uncle said, waving it away. "I've certainly never owned one."

  David regarded the pretty little sprig warily. "So you can take too much of it?"

  "On some, it has little effect. My nephew had more over the span of a week than I'd dare and declared he just felt a bit odd. He said he kept seeing things from the corners of his vision," Uncle said, flicking his fingers to the side of his head and feigning surprise, "but when he looked they weren't there. I see things..." He made a sweeping gesture with the flat of his hand. "Like when you are in a coffee shop and look out on the street. You can see the bright street, but you also see the reflection of the coffee ship on the inside of the window. You don't usually focus on the reflection. But it's there if you shift your attention to it. And the new things you see will have some colors you've never seen."

  "How can there be different colors?" David wondered.

  "You've heard of color blind people," Uncle said with certainty. "How would you tell a man what red or orange looks like if he'd never seen it before?"

  "Good point," David admitted. "So how long does this take to happen? If I eat a little bit of that right now will things look different tomorrow?"

  "I've never timed it with a watch," Uncle said, holding out his bare wrist and doing a perfect imitation of somebody checking the time. "But perhaps a quarter hour is not too soon to notice something if you are sensitive. If nothing happens a little more is then called for." David almost never wore a watch either. Why bother when you always have a phone?

  "Have you talked to somebody who did take too much?" David persisted.