by Ron Rayborne
In his time, few or no stars visible at night was the norm, what with all the city lights, the ever-present air pollution, the crowds of communications, spy satellites and weapons systems, the scads of circling space junk, and most annoyingly, the flashing, orbiting advertisements. Buy This! Buy That! Political slogans, etcetera. When their diodes failed, they weren’t replaced, so one was forced to look at tawdry, flickering ads. Mercifully, a few might burn out altogether, leaving a long, black snake to blot out the stars. They had all the ambience of a cheap motel sign where the heavens should be. It was an obscenity.
Tom turned on the lantern, adjusting it to low.
April 23, Year 1
My dear Julie, how I wish you were here to lie beside me now looking at these stars, at this incredible world of yours. I never knew. You tried to tell me, but I couldn’t hear you. I hear you now, my love.
Wait for me. I am coming.
Then, laying the journal down, he turned to see how his little aelurodon was doing. To his surprise, he found her snuggled against the other side of his bag, the string chewed off, leaving only a piece tied around her neck like a collar. Speaking softly, he caressed her fur, then, putting out the light, he turned over and went to sleep.
Chapter 15
Tom awoke to fierce barking, his Little One going mad with rage.
“What, what...” he stammered. Then he heard it, a low, deep, rumbling growl. Menacing. He looked up and beheld a large, dark shape blocking out stars. His eyes went wide. The thing growled again, snarling, snapping. In the bright moonlight, he saw two bared rows of gleaming white teeth and fangs, saliva dripping from them, and eyes fierce and savage. Little One continued her barking. Instinctively, Tom grabbed his companion and was bitten for it. He dropped her and watched in horror as she, ears back, tiny teeth also bared, walked cautiously, but determinedly right up the much larger animal, growling her own small warning.
“NO!” Tom yelled. The eyes of the other looked crazed as it glared down at her, ready to kill. Reaching around, Tom felt for the gun, but it wasn’t there. It was clear the other was about to strike.
“GET BACK!” he yelled. Now the brawny creature looked at him, evidently dismissing the little aelurodon as insignificant. It took a step closer, every muscle taut, like a coiled spring. In that moment, two other things happened: Tom found the gun and Little One bit the larger animal on the leg. In a flash, the beast grabbed her and tossed, lunging for Tom, who brought up the gun and fired. The bullet’s impact, penetrating the muscle on that great shoulder, threw it off target and it landed on his other side. There followed a blood-curdling howl. Pain and rage. While the shot, even at point-blank range, didn’t drop the Aelurodon, for that is what it was, Tom saw, the same one that had killed the horse, it was enough to jolt it. Biting savagely at its shoulder, it stepped back, then again, then turned and loped off around the hillock.
Tom scrambled out of the pack and looked for Little. He found her lying on her side. She looked at him, and he her. Apprehensively, he reached out to feel her, this time without objection. Carefully, he picked her up, and, holding the little bundle in one hand and his flashlight in the other, turned her around, looking for an injury. Searching, but not finding any, he set her down. It appeared that she was only shaken up, never having been treated that way before. He massaged her fur while she looked away. Perhaps she took this treatment from one of her kind as punishment and was dejected? At last she stood and came. Hope rose up in him. Gingerly, she sniffed at his hand, the hand she’d bitten, then licked it. Is that it? he thought. She feels bad for having bit me?
“It’s okay, you were very brave,” Tom said. “And I’m glad you’re not hurt.” Suddenly, he realized his mistake, a mistake that almost cost them their lives. Fledgling outdoorsman that he was, he hadn’t thought about the consequences of camping out next to fresh meat. How stupid! It was a mistake he would not make again.
Gathering their stuff together and repacking it, Tom made for a small grove of trees he saw in the open, maybe a hundred yards away. He would re-attempt utilization of the tent/hammock. Since the moon was now overhead, it provided light enough for him to climb, attaching the rope to one end of a thin, curving specimen. Back on the ground, he threw the one on the other end around the trunk of a nearby tree, then pulled until the hammock was relatively level and tied it off. It was now about eight feet off the ground. Then he attached the strings to hold up the tent, which was sewn onto the hammock. Next, he shoved in the sleeping bag and straightened it out. When that was done, he lifted his pack into another tree, no easy feat, and jammed it between two branches. Now, how to get Little One in there?
“Okay, I’m going to put you in, so don’t freak out on me, please,” Tom said. Picking her up, he stepped onto a piece of log that lay under the hammock. She was heavy, must have eaten her weight in Archaeohippus. He grunted, lifting, trying not to fall. At the entrance, he pushed and she climbed in, then turned to look back.
“You wait there. Don’t jump out,” Tom ordered. There was one thing left to do. Clearing an area down to dirt and gathering some dry wood, Tom built a fire. He hoped it would ward off the night prowlers. From this point on, an evening fire would become more or less a regular routine.
Finally, he was ready. Climbing the first tree, he pulled the hammock close to him and swung a leg up, scooted, almost fell, then clutched inside. The hammock swung about wildly, the trees bowing a bit, then he was in. Little One jumped on him, licking his face. He lifted her off and turned to zip the flaps shut. Not too comfortable, but it would have to do. At least it wasn’t sagging as badly this time. Nerves frazzled, he imagined he wouldn’t be sleeping too much that night either.
He was wrong. So tired was he that he was dozing in minutes.
Tom woke to the sound of snuffling, then to a feeling of being jostled. At first, so gentle was it that he continued to sleep, incorporating the movement into a dream.
He was on a boat that rocked back and forth, the sky was blue and a slight breeze blew. He looked down into those waters, wanted to swim there. Clean, unpolluted water, how lovely, so inviting. The jostling grew a little rougher, and slowly, consciousness began to return. When an even rougher push came, he awoke and looked down and over to his little aelurodon to see what she was up to, but she was on her back, still fast asleep, head tucked under the folds of his bag. “Hmmm,” he sighed. He was amazed to see how much bigger she looked, just since yesterday. Apparently she’d gorged herself.
Push.
Tom looked around, through the netting, to the outside world, then jumped. Something was just underneath and behind them, a big animal, standing on two legs, it was munching leaves on a thin branch, pulling it down to get to them. It was powerfully built. Involuntarily, Tom yelped.
The big animal stopped eating and simply stood, staring, but not appearing to see them. Perhaps the camouflage design of the T/H fooled the creature into thinking it was a part of the tree. He gulped. When he’d sounded, Little One lifted her head, though her eyes showed she was still partly asleep. He hoped she wouldn’t wake and begin barking. The big beast went back to eating, only a quiet munching giving it away. Slowly, Little’s eyes began to close again.
Tom decided that the animal was a peaceful vegetarian and began to relax a little. When he saw the massive, sharp claws on its “hands” and feet, he grew concerned anew. Yet its eyes were half closed as it chewed, as if in rapture. It looked to be about eight feet tall. He wondered what it was, but since the P.I. was in his backpack, which was within the branches of another tree, there was no way of knowing.
“Shoo!” Tom whispered. He was eager to rise and be on his way. “Go away!” Again the big animal stopped chewing and listened, eyes still partly closed. Little lifted her head. “Shoo!” he said again. The big thing turned its head, not knowing where the sound was coming from. Slowly, Tom unzipped a flap and stuck a hand out. “Hey! Come on, get going,” he waved. Little One was now standing on him, looking out. Oh no. When
the big animal went back to chewing, she noticed him. Immediately she began to bark.
The response was sudden. Yowling loudly, the thing swung down on all fours, eyes now fully open. It set to thrashing the shrubbery around it with those muscular arms, sending branchlets flying, apparently trying to scare away the Aelurodon(s). Little One went on barking and Tom put his fingers in his ears. He allowed her to continue, hoping that the noise would scare the animal off, but ready to stop her if it noticed them. Again, he got the idea that its eyesight was not the best. At last, the big creature, exasperated, ran through the brush and into the open about fifty feet off, then, looking back, proceeded to walk away. Little stopped her annoying yapping. “Whew!” Tom shook his head.
Through the netting from his perch in the trees, he looked out at the world. The dawn sky was exquisite. A cool breeze blew. On the grasslands, animals were already at work feeding. Little walked on top of the sleeping bag to her human’s face and began to lick.
“Good morning to you, too,” Tom replied, petting her. “That was close. Thanks.” He lifted her off. “You ready to get going?” His stomach growled. Little looked at it, turning her head in that winsome way of hers. “Yeah, I’m hungry.” He thought about that, he’d better be about figuring it out, what he was going to eat. The sooner he was off his rations, the better. Then he remembered the kill from the day before. Not much left of it, probably, with the various scavengers. He looked at Little. “After that feast yesterday, I doubt you’re starving.” He pat her bulging sides. “Well, let’s go,” he said.
But when he tried to lift her out while standing on the log, she kept backing up inside the tent, afraid of falling. With some cursing, he finally grabbed her by the scruff and brought her out, but, pushing herself off his chest, she leapt out of his hands and landed in the grass. The force of it caused Tom to lose his balance and he fell backwards off the log, then sat up.
“Okay, thanks for that,” he retorted. Then putting a hand on her back said, “Look, do you think you could cut me some slack here, I’m on a learning curve.” Again, he shook his head.
Tom glanced around, but saw nothing obviously threatening. Good. Finally, getting everything out of the trees and packed, he looked around for the girl. He found her back at the kill, again stuffing herself, antagonizing the flies and wasps that buzzed about her. Didn’t look like there was much left, maybe the other had come back in the night. In any case, it was now mostly bones. Some of those appeared to have been eaten as well. He gaped at that, wondering about the raw power necessary to crunch through bone.
Errrrrr. His stomach. Setting his pack down, he found an energy bar, and, ripping off the foil, devoured it. He wondered if he should have another, then decided to hold off. Today he’d need to look for other food, though he worried that he wouldn’t find any. He also needed to refill his bottle with water.
He checked again the PinPointer, a ritual he’d begun and wouldn’t stop until Julie was back in his arms, hoping that the few seconds it was on would be undiscovered by Jaqzen. The distance between them had decreased.
Tom stood by while Little ate. Indeed, she did look bigger than yesterday, larger than he’d have thought from one meal. When she was full, she got up, then, to Tom’s disgust, defecated on the Archaeohippus hindquarters.
“That kind of spoils it for others, doesn’t it?” he said, then thought that maybe that was the idea. But if that were the case, if that was the aelurodon way, there should be one from the bigger aelurodon that killed it. There wasn’t. Well then, he thought, maybe some other bone crusher finished it off while we slept. He hoped he’d not killed the other one; nevertheless, he felt for the reassuring solidity of the gun at his side.
Little One sat and looked at him, perhaps wondering why he’d not partaken of the banquet. Tom bent down to lift her onto the back of his pack. Wow, he thought, I don’t know if I can do it! Then he stooped down, almost sitting himself, and put her on his lap. He huffed, coughed. Grabbing, he lifted, and, bending his head, tried to set her on his pack. She promptly hopped off.
“Come on!” Tom said, “We gotta go.” Once more he hefted her up and once more she jumped off.
“Okay, well I’m going with or without you,” he said. Then standing, he looked down at her and walked off a few steps, finally turning to glance back; still she sat looking at him. He walked a little farther, but she made no move. Now Tom walked on without looking back, hoping that she’d get the message. After thirty seconds or so, he turned around. To his immense relief, this time she followed, keeping back and to his right about ten feet.
“Good girl!” he exclaimed. Walking over, he patted her on the head, then straightening, continued to walk. While maintaining, she struggled to keep pace with him. Tom slowed a bit to make it easier for her.
After a minute or two, they came across the animal that had awakened them. It was off a ways, under another tree, happily munching. He extracted the P.I. from his shirt pocket, pointed and clicked.
Moropus, a species of Chalicothere appeared with other information that he could now verify first hand. Yes, indeed, it was a browser that ate leaves from trees. Yet the little computopedia mentioned nothing about its transcendent state when dining on them, or its surly behavior when startled. Whoever put it together could not have known that. Dead bones tell no tales. But he knew. It made him feel privileged.
About a quarter-mile behind them, to the northwest, at the edge of a copse of trees, which abutted the larger forest, Tom spied several elephant-types, all males, trying to push two over. They were intent on leaves that remained after the lower branches had been stripped. The biggest one placed its forehead squarely against a sturdy trunk, then shoved, rocking back and forth. The tree, though shaking, held fast, yet the elephant would not quit. After a couple of minutes, it finally gave, to be followed a second later by a sharp sound of cracking. He zeroed in with the P.I., but as there were other trees blocking the view, the device couldn’t take a reading.
As yesterday, lots of insects, with birds in hot pursuit, zipped above the waving grasses, many barely missing him, some hitting, falling, then up and flying again. Little One would try to catch them when they got close. Once, succeeding, she spit the bug out, curling her lip at the taste. Tom chuckled.
A wonderful profusion of wildflowers, deliciously scented, spread out before them like a swaying carpet of color. Shooting Stars, Fairy Lanterns, Woolly Bluecurls, Fiddlenecks, Tomcat Clover, Baby Blue Eyes, White Evening Primrose, California Fuchsia, California Spice Bush, Lupines in a variety of delightful hues, Tree and ground Poppies.
Despite the fact that his back hurt from the weight of the pack and from sleeping in the hammock, Tom felt good, actually better than he’d felt in a long time. Physically and spiritually. When he reached a stream, he’d partake, then carefully step over it, not wanting to tread therein. He’d begun to feel a reverence for this nature, a respect, and love of it. He knew that he was being unreasonable, that of course he could make no lasting mark upon it, yet, having escaped the ruined world of the future, he could not feel differently.
Escaped. Yes. That is what it was. He’d escaped, as from a prison. He thought of Karstens and all those who’d sacrificed for him and felt a love for them. Contrary to our wretched history, the last expression of humanity was a benevolent one. Perhaps in this one small act, the human race had redeemed itself. He was honored — and giddy.
Paradise. He’d always wondered where the idea had sprung from. Some memory deep in our unconscious, buried in psychic antiquity. Relegated to myths and legends. A lie that never happened, the government assured us. A destructive falsehood that needed to be exorcised from our brains. From our very blood. Nothing is free. Endless struggle is the natural order with some meant to toil more than others. Most in fact.
And yet ...
Clouds formed over the southeastern horizon. More rain coming. The day was warming up. It’d be a warm rain. Life-giving water, without being forced from the sky. Sans the chem
icals. Minus the radiation. All those nuke tests, bombs, and accidents — they never happened here.
When they got to shorter grass, Little was able to keep up more easily, even running ahead at times. Here and there, they’d come upon the bones of animals that had lived and long since passed, leaving the world to their offspring. Perhaps in fifteen million years, Tom mused, turning a large, white object over in his hands, this skull will be worth something. Now it was calcium back to the earth. He set it down, stepping over it, and continued on.
A rumble far off, from where silver clouds were gathering, while closer, a few ivory ones drifted by. The rest was wide open sky, sunny and blue. No buildings, no wires, no ads. He looked at them. In one, he thought he saw Julie’s face. My Julie. My love. Oh to live with you in a world like this! To begin anew. Adam and Eve. Oh please, let me find her.
They came to the side of a hill, cut in half by generations of flowing water. Still it flowed. There were rocks, round and smooth, within. How long had it taken them to get that way, almost circular? Likely, they’d rolled along in that stream for ages. Water and sand, sometimes gliding, gushing and cascading, sometimes just trickling over them. Some years, perhaps nothing at all, and they’d patiently wait for the next year. Tom picked one up, felt its mass, passed it from hand to hand. He noticed the direction the stream was flowing: toward him. That’s the way the rock was heading. Walking that way twenty feet, he again set it down in the stream.