Displaced

by Drake,Stephen

  The man’s face flushed, and he gave Murdock a quick glare. Then he stuck out his hand and tried to smile.

  “I’m Whittier.”

  Murdock just looked at the offered hand, then at the man’s face. His eyes narrowed. “Wittier than whom?” he asked stoically.

  “No! My name is Whittier. James W. Whittier the third. And you are?”

  “Murdock.”

  “No first name or is that your first name?” Whittier asked.

  “I have a first name,” Murdock quipped, “for friends.” Arrogant and pushy! This one is not to be trusted. Not on any level, he thought.

  “I’m sure we’re all friends here.” Whittier stated, loud enough for some of the others to hear. He tried to maintain the disingenuous smile he had plastered on his face while looking at his extended hand.

  “That remains to be seen,” Murdock responded warily. He could tell that his hesitance to take Whittier’s hand was making the other man nervous. Murdock looked at the offered hand: well-manicured fingernails, soft, meaty flesh lacking calluses. This guy was used to sitting behind a desk. Murdock bent over, picked up several water skins, and hung all but two in Whittier’s outstretched hand.

  “What am I supposed to do with these?” Whittier huffed.

  “You might consider filling them, unless you’re giving up water.”

  “You expect me to carry water? You can’t be serious!” Whittier said with a shocked look.

  “I don’t expect you to do anything. You can do as you please. Just don’t come around me when you get thirsty.” Murdock started walking toward the sound of the water with two water skins. He hadn’t taken many steps before he heard the empty water skins hit the ground. He just grinned to himself and proceeded to the stream.

  As Murdock walked toward the sound of running water, he continued to scan the ground for any animal-sign. He also thought about the comments made by his so-called companions.

  He did look anachronistic in his buckskins. His boots were also buckskin and laced around his lower legs and ankles. The leather was true deer skin; he had brain-tanned them himself. They were buttery soft and a joy to wear; his prized possession, he was glad to have them.

  He had noticed the clothing the others wore. They were dressed in everything from skirts to blue jeans. Lucky no one was wearing a tuxedo, he thought as he chuckled to himself. Why were the others so ill-equipped for this adventure? Why hadn’t the ones who sent them here provided more acceptable clothing? Those in blue jeans would fare better than the rest, but all were going to be hard pressed when winter set in, including himself. And judging by the different types of trees, he knew winter would come.

  Based on the lackadaisical attitudes of the others, Murdock judged himself to be the only one with any woodcraft knowledge at all. Everyone else struck him as city or suburban dwellers. Do any of them have a clue what they’re in for?

  As he neared to the running water, Murdock paid closer attention for signs of animal trails, which would indicate the easier route to the water. Just inside the line of small trees that skirted the meadow, he found several paths leading in the direction of the water. Murdock followed one down to find the small stream. The stream wasn’t very broad, only four or five feet across, but it looked at least a few feet deep in places and didn’t move too swiftly. At the water’s edge, he noted that other animals had crossed the stream.

  Not far off the path, Murdock found a pool formed by the stream flowing back on itself. He used his hand to dip a little water to his lips. Though the walk had been easy, he was already sweating in his weakened condition. He drank deeply before filling his water skins.

  Then Murdock sat, watched, and listened. He saw a few large insects skim the calmer edges of the pool. While he watched, he saw one disappear. Fish! He waded out into the pool, cupped both hands between his legs, and stood very still. A moment later, a fish came close, and he scooped it free of the water and onto the bank in one swift motion.

  After catching another, he waded over to the bank and stood looking at them.

  They were fish, all right, just different from the ones he was used to. These fish resembled trout, but each had an extra set of fins in the back, and the tail was more like a dolphin’s than a trout’s. Murdock half expected them to get up and walk, but they didn’t. He stuck his fingers into their gills, picked up the water skins, and he started back to the transport pod.

  Murdock was in high spirits. This was his idea of heaven; he was truly in his element.

  On the edge of the meadow, he spotted what appeared to be wild onions and stopped long enough to gather a few. The others are going to come begging once I start cooking these babies, he thought, grinning in anticipation of telling the others they could fend for themselves.

  They could have, should have, followed me, Murdock thought. He had no use for those who either refused to learn or expected someone else to provide for them. As he walked on, thinking this, he spotted a few dead limbs and gathered those as well. By the time he got back to the transport pod, he had quite a load.

  As Murdock approached the pod, he saw that the others had gathered into a group nearby. He picked out a likely spot for a camp, away from the others, and prepared the fish for cooking. As he smelled the cooking fish, he imagined the smell stirring the others’ hunger.

  Though it had taken Murdock the better part of the day to check and stack the supplies as well as get water and fish, from what he could see, the others had done nothing. Now, out of the corner of his eye, Murdock could see Whittier walking in his direction. He waited for the other man to get twenty feet from him.

  “That’s close enough, Whittier,” Murdock warned without turning around.

  “Hey, friend Murdock, that smells really good! Where did you get the fish?” Whittier asked nervously without drawing closer.

  “Same place I got the water,” Murdock responded sarcastically. “Fish do live in water, after all.”

  “Um . . . where exactly was that?” Whittier asked.

  Murdock turned his head to look sideways at Whittier. “Well, you see, I found this deli while I was out for my morning stroll.” Whittier stared at him blankly. Murdock motioned with his head toward the stream. “That-a-way!”

  “Do you mind if I join you?” Whittier asked after looking in the direction Murdock had indicated.

  “I mind very much,” Murdock responded curtly. “And I am not your friend,” He shot Whittier a look of warning.

  “I know we got off to a bad start earlier,” Whittier chuckled nervously. “Can’t we just bury the hatchet, so to speak?”

  I’d like to bury a hatchet! Murdock thought. “That depends,” he said.

  “On?”

  “On what you’ve been doing while I was gone. Why didn’t you, or any of the others, follow me to get water? Sure could’ve used a hand bringing back firewood.”

  “Oh! Well, we’ve been talking, organizing, and trying to think of a way to get out of this godforsaken place.”

  “And what have you come up with?” Murdock asked, genuinely curious. Didn’t they pay attention to the video briefing?

  “We haven’t come up with a way out of here, yet. We would like to invite you to a little meeting inside the transport pod, though. Talking would be easier if you’d let me get closer. Those fish sure smell good!”

  “Don’t they though?” Murdock responded sarcastically. He could almost hear Whittier salivating. He took down one of the water skins and drank from it for a long moment, smacking his lips in appreciation afterwards.

  “Do you think I could get a little sip of your water?”

  “Don’t you remember what I said earlier?”

  “Yes, I remember,” Whittier snapped. “You’re being rude and unfriendly. All I was asking for was a little of your water!”

  “Just to be clear, you believe that you are significant in some way, and everyone else is supposed to support you? Is that right? If you weren’t a politician, you missed your calling! What about the
others?” Murdock could see Whittier’s face turning bright red.

  “Yes, I was a local politician, and since you mentioned it, they’re all rather thirsty. All the talking we did today tends to dry out the throat.”

  “Too bad one of them didn’t have the foresight to follow me to the water. Did you do any manual labor, at any time, before coming here?”

  “No! I asked for a drink of water, and I don’t feel I have to submit to your inquisition,” Whittier fumed.

  “You better realize that this situation is not conducive to a dictatorship,” Murdock took down the unused water skin and tossed it to Whittier. “That’s all you, or anyone else, will get from me!”

  Whittier took the water skin and walked back to the rest.

  Things are going to get out of hand, quickly, Murdock thought. He knew he was outnumbered, but he also knew he could take most of them, if it came to that. He would need items under the tarp. Though he could do without most of them, life would be a lot easier with them, or at least with access to them. This is going to take planning and finesse, and finesse has never been my strong suit.

  While he ate, Murdock formed a tentative plan. He needed to find a more permanent base of operations. He’d start by rigging some kind of pack to carry the things he would need to make a basecamp more livable and easier to maintain. Above all, he needed to find out if humans were the apex predator on this planet, all of which called for a lot of scouting. But before he could attempt any of that, he had to build up his strength. A day or two should be enough before I can start scouting, he thought.

  After eating less than half of the first fish, Murdock was full. With no way to keep the fish from spoiling, he took the remains to the others and offered it to any who wanted it. Some of the others refused to eat it because it was wild. Others ate a little and complained that is was under-cooked. Some thought it was over-cooked. Still others thought the fish had too many bones. Despite all the complaints, Murdock noticed that the fish quickly disappeared.

  #

  After his confrontation with Murdock, Whittier was livid. He decided that Murdock presented a problem for him and his plans. Murdock won’t be satisfied with anything less than the role of Leader in the community and I’ve already reserved that role for myself, he thought.

  As he was passing the water skin around, Whittier waited for Burns’ turn. “I need you and one other to nominate me at the meeting for leader,” he told Burns in low, conspiratorial tones. Burns nodded.

  Whittier smiled to see that Burns knew when to speak and when to be quiet and do as he was told.

  #

  The meeting proceeded much as Murdock expected. Everyone but Murdock had gathered in the common room of the transport pod, and as it was standing room only, Murdock preferred to stand on the ramp. The crowd was thin there, yet he could still hear everything that was said. Quite a few of the displaced voiced complaints about the lack of proper facilities and running water, and some expressed concern about their diet. Murdock chuckled and guessed that the others would find oatmeal very bland and unappealing before long.

  “I believe that we should first hold a vote for the leadership of the colony,” Whittier yelled over the din of the others all talking at the same time. “We need to have order and a leader should bring order!”

  “I nominate Mister Whittier!” someone called out from the middle of the room.

  “I second!” someone else piped up. Murdock smirked as he shook his head. Could Whittier be more obvious?

  “A nomination has been made and seconded! All those in favor say ‘Aye’!” Whittier commanded from the front.

  “Aye!” came a loud roar.

  “Opposed?”

  “No!” Murdock yelled, but his was the lone voice.

  “In the opinion of the chair, the ayes have it. First order of business is to establish committees for some of the basic needs of the colony.”

  Murdock walked off, disgusted. He had always been wary of politicians and their ways of gaining control. If you need a privy, you start by digging a hole! Not by forming a committee, he thought as he walked back to his campfire. All the while, he could hear Whittier taking votes, and he couldn’t help wondering what sort of con the politician had cooked up.

  Whatever his scheme, Whittier is going to be the chief beneficiary.

  2

  At sun-up, Murdock had been up and moving for at least an hour. He saw that the ramp to the transport was closed and no sign of anyone else. On his way toward the stream, he encountered a small herd of animals resembling deer — but if these were deer, they were enormous. By his estimation, they appeared to be closer to the size of an elk, judging from the distance.

  It’s not going to be easy to bring down one of those brutes without a bow or a range weapon of some sort, he thought. He doubted he could throw a heavy spear far enough to be effective against such a large animal. Maybe an atlatl would be better.

  But as he approached the stream, he halted. A large, black bear stood in the middle of the stream. Murdock had encountered bears on Earth, but he guessed this one to be the size of a large grizzly.

  The bear hadn’t seen him, so he decided to back away slowly and as quietly as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was tackle a bear of this size with just the weapons he had on him, especially in his weakened condition. When he was completely out of sight of the bear, he breathed a little easier.

  After calming himself a little, Murdock noticed that he was downwind of the bear and decided to creep in closer and observe it. No sooner had he got down on his belly than he heard approaching footsteps. He rolled over in the high grass to see the woman who had called him Daniel Boone walking blindly toward the bear.

  #

  Rose Griffen had risen earlier than the rest of the group and had decided to find the water Murdock had mentioned. After exiting the pod and reclosing the ramp, she glanced toward Murdock’s campsite.

  “You’re an early riser, Murdock,” she said aloud. Oh, well. You need a bath, girl. Just suck it up and head in the general direction and you’ll find it . . . eventually, she thought.

  As she walked, she gazed around, appreciating all the different colors of the wildflowers, as well as the odd blue-green shade of the grass and trees. The area reminded her of a park that she had visited as a child in Omaha.

  She also noticed the absence of noise. Used to all the road noise, humming power lines, birds chirping, and kids yelling, Rose found the silence almost deafening, even disturbing. She was on guard as she walked, following a path of sorts created by someone or something, pushing down the knee-high grass.

  Rose wasn’t far from the smaller trees that skirted the meadow in which the pod stood when suddenly she was falling. Something had hit her leg behind the knee, causing her leg to buckle. Then, as she hit the ground, someone was wrapping her legs and arms. She took a deep breath to scream when a hand clapped over her mouth.

  “Quiet,” a man whispered, his mouth close to her ear. “There’s a bear in the stream!”

  When she quit struggling, he slowly removed his hand from her mouth and untangled himself from her. Without saying a word, he motioned for her to follow him, crawling toward the stream as she followed. The bear had neither heard nor smelled them and was continuing to feed on the fish it caught.

  Murdock turned toward her. Rose’s mouth was agape, her eyes wide, stunned.

  They watched the bear for several minutes. Finally, the bear finished and walked away from them and the transport pod. As she tried to get up, Murdock pushed her back down and put a finger to his lips. They waited a few more minutes, and then Murdock got to his feet slowly.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, offering a hand to her to help her to her feet while looking around — she presumed he looked for other dangers. “I didn’t think you wanted to meet that particular local resident this early in the morning.”

  “Under the circumstances, it’s okay. That really was a bear?” she asked quietly, still filled with awe.
>
  “It’s the closest thing to a bear that we’re likely to see. Definitely was one of the apex predators of this planet,” Murdock explained.

  “Yeah, not really in the mood to meet the neighbors,” she quipped while brushing herself off. “My name is Rose Griffen.” She extended her hand, and Murdock took it.

  She had seen Murdock when she was first revived on the transport pod. At the time, she thought him anachronistic, belonging to an age long gone, and a little on the arrogant side. Now, she took a longer look. He was shorter than she was by an inch or two; stocky build, black hair, either tanned or naturally dark-complexioned, and apparently well-muscled, although he hid it well. Overall, she thought he was pleasant to look at. Rose classified him as someone most people would underestimate, which she suspected was his intent. He obviously knew what he was doing when it came to surviving in the wild.

  #

  Murdock noticed Rose, finally.

  “Murdock,” he said while gently shaking her hand. Her hands were soft and warm, but they did have a few calluses. “What’re you doing out here this early?”

  “I was hoping to get a bath in the stream.”

  “That wouldn’t be a good idea. Until we figure this place out, I wouldn’t recommend venturing off alone.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t recommend standing downwind of me until I get a bath, either. Lesser of two evils,” Rose quipped and grinned.

  She has a nice smile, he thought, infectious.

  “A bath is out of the question, for the time being.” Murdock noticed she had not so much as a knife. “Washing up would be all right, but not alone and definitely not unarmed!”

  “Wasn’t issued a weapon,” Rose replied offhandedly. “It wouldn’t do me much good in any case. Don’t know how to use one. I’m a city girl!”

  Murdock was stumped by her statement. He had taken it for granted that everyone knew how to use a knife as a weapon. He pulled out his six-inch knife from his boot and handed it to her. “Stick this in your belt.”