The Long Walk Home

by Ison, S. A.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t think he would have hurt you though. Maybe he just wanted a daughter.” He said, wanting to mitigate the incident. He knew he shouldn’t lie, but he honestly didn’t know what the man would have done. He did know that the Native Americans adopted children. They may well have adopted her.

  “I already have a daddy. I don’t want a new one.” She said, a mulish tilt to her chin. Beckett grinned down at her and his heart squeezed at her courageous nature.

  “Well, if ever I have a daughter, I hope she’s just like you.” He said and squeezed her hand. She grinned up at him. She’d be okay, he thought. She might have nightmares, but maybe not.

  XX

  Dustu was shaken to the deepest part of his core. After hearing the child’s shrill scream, he’d started running, nocking an arrow as he ran. He didn’t know what had happened, but from the time he held a miniature longbow, in his third year of life, he’d been trained to answer a distress call with an arrow ready to fly. He’d done so and had ran behind Beckett who’d dropped his own longbow.

  Dustu hadn’t known or understood why the man had been so foolish as to drop the one weapon that could save the child. He’d not heard the women screaming, and he suspected someone or a number of men had gotten to them and now subdued them. He, himself had been on numerous raids since he was in his fourteenth year. Several times he and the warriors had caught women unaware, taking the younger ones for wives or slaves.

  Taking the children as their own to raise. He and the warriors had made their way, along the far coast at the big waters. It was there, they’d found the supplies and women they needed. He figured it was the same now, someone had come to collect wives or slaves and a child. Dustu knew this was not good, these people didn’t know the ways of the People and so, their new captors might kill them in frustration.

  Dustu couldn’t blame them, but it was his job to get them to the between ghost world and send them on their way. He’d nearly fallen to his knees when he heard the explosion, and it hurt his ears so badly that he’d let his arrow slip from its nocked position on the bowstring. He’d looked up into the sky, thinking that thunder and then the lightning had perhaps hit a tree nearby. It had been that loud, hurting his ears.

  The sky, however, had been a brilliant blue, with not a cloud in the heavens. He was drawing closer when he saw Beckett point his hand and once more, that terrible explosion filled his head, this time louder. His heart had nearly exploded in his chest. Had this man some magic in his hand? That made thunder roar? Nothing happened other than the sound. Then Beckett pointed his hand again, boom! He saw the man that Beckett point his hand at, drop. Beckett had killed the man with the sound of thunder. It frightened Dustu so much, he nearly stopped, wishing to run into the forest, away from these strange people.

  When Beckett had turned, he saw the shiny object that the man had held in the quiver on his chest. Once more, Beckett pointed his hand and Dustu saw a bright light from the end of the shiny stick and the painfully loud report of the object. He saw the man in front of Beckett go down, and Dustu saw the blood bloom near the man’s rump. The man’s body had flown forward, by some invisible force.

  Bringing himself out of his shock, Dustu sent an arrow true into the retreating back of another man. The fifth man had gotten away. Dustu doubted they’d see him again, not after those thunderous booms. He wondered if Inola had heard the thunder? Dustu walked to retrieve his arrow from the man and walked by another man who had half his head blown off. He gagged, he was horrified to see that the magic Beckett had, had nearly taken the warrior’s head off.

  It was something beyond his understanding and imagination. No one would believe him, but he would tell them. These between ghost people might be weak, but they had something that could kill completely and instantly. There had been a small hole in one of the dead men. The one with the wound on his rump was screaming in pain. It had been a small hole but had completely crippled the man. He’d killed the man quickly. He’d looked at the man with the wound in his head, Beckett had sent the thunder into the man’s head. There was a small hole in the back of the head, and when Dustu had rolled the body to check the wound on the man, the front of the warrior’s head was missing.

  He didn’t understand how on one side, there was a small wound, smaller than the wound sustained by an arrowhead, yet the other side of that made a gaping hole. He shook his head. It wasn’t good. And that shiny thing wasn’t good. It was loud and it was deadly. He shivered at the thought of it. Beckett had been calm about it and as Dustu looked at the others, he saw that they too were calm. They’d not been surprised.

  He saw that the black man also had something like Beckett’s weapon. He shivered again. No, these people weren’t weak after all. He hoped that Inola was following him, had seen what had happened. So Inola could verify Dustu’s accounts of the shiny weapon. For weapon it was, a deadly thunder weapon. He also hoped Inola kept out of sight, he didn’t want Beckett killing his friend.

  Wherever these people came from, this was a normal weapon that didn’t frightened the women. He shook his head again. He’d have to be careful and he’d have to kill Beckett and the black man first, if it came to that. He had no defenses against that thunder weapon.

  XX

  Within two hours, the group stopped, all exhausted from the rapid retreat from the area. Christy had been light at first, but between his heavier backpack and carrying her, it had taken a lot of his energy. He’d been glad when she was recovered enough to walk. Not to mention the bleed off of adrenaline. He’d seen the fear in Dustu’s eyes, but there was nothing for it. He’d had to kill those men with the gun, it was the quickest way and the surest way.

  He was sure that guns had never been seen, nor heard in this time. It had been written all over Dustu’s face. The man didn’t show a lot of emotion, but he’d seen the fear swimming behind the deep brown eyes. After nearly an hour, he’d set Christy down, and she’d walked beside him, holding his hand in a death grip. He’d looked down at her and grinned, squeezing her hand. She smiled, though it trembled a bit. She was a brave little girl.

  Unlike Milo, what a piece of work. Didn’t step forward to help any of the women. He understood staying back, having no weapon, but the man hadn’t even checked on them while he’d gone after Christy. Useless.

  People groaned as they began to shed their burdens. Dustu had found a nice camping spot with a good size stream nearby and level ground, surrounded by large boulders. When everyone scattered to find firewood, Beckett took the deer carcass to the stream to wash it off. It had dirt and rocks on it, from being dropped while in pursuit of the women and Christy.

  He brought it back to camp and began to butcher the animal into flank steaks and then strips of thin meat to put over a drying rack near the fire. Noland and Carter had built a big fire. He wasn’t sure if Dustu was happy about that or not, but he was glad the men had done it. The women set up their tents and dug in the backpacks. Beckett arranged rocks and said meat out to cook or dry. Beckett used the trekking poles, balanced on a couple of low rocks near the fire.

  Once that was going, Lucas and JP watched the fire and food. Beckett searched the surrounding area before he let the women go and take care of their bathroom needs and also to bathe. He stood, ready, his back to the women and Christy and his Glock in hand. He’d not let them out of his sight again. He’d not let his guard down either and his eyes scanned around him, up and down the stream. His ears were attuned to the noises, other than the women bathing. They were quiet.

  Christy seemed to have recovered herself by the time the women came back to camp. All were clean and he could smell the soap and shampoo. He planned on a bath himself once the women were settled. Wyatt and Carter were watching the cooking meat, making sure it didn’t burn. They were also shifting the jerky on the poles. Lucas and JP had gone to the stream to bathe and Noland would keep watch. He had Lucas’s weapon. No one was taking any chances. Dustu had disappeared. Beckett figured the man was taking c
are of his own needs or reconnoitering the area, making sure no one else was in the area.

  Around him, the group spoke in soft and low tones. It was a subdued camp and he thought perhaps fearful of who might be out there in the vast wilderness. Beckett dug into the backpack and got the shampoo and soap as well as fresh underwear and socks. He also took the beach towel. It wasn’t the cleanest, but at least it was cleaner than before and it would dry him. He’d wash it once again after he was clean.

  He walked back to the stream, and looked behind to see Milo following him. He’d not have a word to say to the man. He wished the jackass would leave him. He just wanted a moment’s privacy to relax. He wanted to collect himself. Breathe a little and decompress. He also wished for a razor; his face was itching. He’d never liked beards, they itched like crazy.

  He stripped down and put a bit of shampoo in his hair, then stepped into the cold stream. He shivered, but he was hot and sweaty from the fear and carrying both the child and his backpack. He sat down in the water, his soap in one hand, he began to wet and scrub his head with the other hand, moving the shampoo around his head, using his nails to rake through his scalp. It felt like heaven, he dipped his head and rinsed then scrubbed once more with the remaining lather in his hand.

  He then used the soap, it smelled like lemons, and it too was pure bliss. The water was up to his waist and he’d sunk his body up to his neck, then closed his eyes and floated. He let the chilled water wash away the stress of the day. He opened his eyes and looked between the canopy above him. He watched as blue jays flitted back and forth between the trees and branches overhead. He could hear the camp and sighed heavily. He was hungry as hell, they’d not stopped for lunch and then the exertion of getting away from those men had eaten up the calories.

  He could feel the loss of weight in his clothing, which were now becoming loose on his frame. But for now, he was clean. He got out of the stream and saw that Milo was about twenty feet away, bathing. Beckett dried off and ignored the gritty towel. He used the lemon soap on his shirt, specifically, the armpits. He’d also washed his underwear and socks. Last, he rewashed the towel, but he didn’t use the precious soap. When he got back, he’d use Rhena’s deodorant. He would at least be able to tolerate himself.

  After he’d washed and rinsed his shirt and the beach towel, he’d squeezed both out as best he could. He’d hang all the clothing near the fire. He hoped by tomorrow, most would be dry. There was a good breeze snaking around the trees and scrubby bushes. He felt a thousand times better and cleaner than he had in nearly a week. He was shirtless but he didn’t care, if he got chilled, he’d just wrap his blanket around himself.

  He could smell the food that was being prepared, it made his stomach growl loudly. He was glad he’d gotten the deer; he’d not feel guilty about eating tonight. After putting on Rhena’s underwear, which fit well, he wondered why she wore men’s boxers. Maybe they were Wyatt’s boxers? He shrugged, they were clean and that’s all he cared about. He then put his jeans back on and sat at the edge of the stream. He grabbed the clean socks and brushed his feet off.

  He sighed heavily, looking around. It was peaceful here and he was procrastinating, taking his time to go back to the camp. He grabbed his boots and put them on next. It had been one hell of a day. Each day had been punctuated by some event. It was mentally and physically draining. He was used to each day being mundane. He liked mundane, he liked boring predictability. This place was anything but predictable. He grunted when he got up and he shook out the wet clothing. He walked back to the camp slowly, taking his time, his eyes searching the forest. No, this place was definitely not predictable.

  XX

  Dustu’s nose twitched as he walked out of camp. He’d go and bathe at the stream. He was glad to see these people enjoyed bathing. So much so, they seemed to do it nearly every night. But what ever they used, it made his nose twitch. It wasn’t a bad smell, it was a strange smell, almost like the flowers that grew near his own home. But it made the between people smell unnatural. He shrugged.

  He sat down at the bank of the stream. He saw the man, the coward downstream from him. His own people had cowards from time to time, but they didn’t live very long. They were shunned and many disappeared, never to be seen again. Even the man who lost his wife had run after the warriors and he had no weapon that Dustu could see.

  All the men had given chase, except that yellow hair man. He shrugged, it was not his business how these ghosts dealt with their own. He would be glad to be rid of them. It had only been one day, and he was feeling the extreme burden of them. Though he had to say, they’d kept up well. He could have gone farther, but chose not to.

  The food they prepared smelled good however. They had used some kinds of powder on the meat and it made him curious as to its taste. The one man, the oldest of the group, Beckett had called him Wyyet, had offered him some of the thin sliced meat. He’d watched as the women had put the powders on the meat and when he tasted it, his eyes had grown wide. It was like nothing he’d tasted before. It was wonderful.

  He knew it was venison, but it had an exotic flavor to it. A little similar to the wild onions his own wife used when she cooked their meat. But this was somehow enhanced. He knew he’d not take any back, but he would tell his wife and his people as best he could, of the wonderful taste of it. He shook his head again as he brought the sandy rocks up to scrub his body. These people were such an interesting mix of curious and frightening.

  They were generous with each other, and they even tolerated and fed the coward. They were brave, because most of the men had no weapons, yet ran after the warriors. The warriors had been from the coast, he could smell the coastal brine of them. It clung to their skin like a grease. The women his people had brought from there had the same smell, but after a few months at their home, they lost that scent.

  Once more he thought about their scent, it wasn’t normal, nor, he thought natural. It wasn’t unpleasant, like the dung eaters from the northwest. But still, it was different. He got out of the water, now feeling clean and revived. He looked forward to dinner tonight, if those strips of meat were any indication. He looked and saw that the coward was gone. Perhaps he should do them the favor of killing him? Perhaps not, he was their problem. Not my people, not my problem.

  SEVEN

  The day started out early and damp. JP hadn’t slept well. Both he and Lucas had been talking the night before in their tent.

  “We can’t tell anyone about what has happened, but how will we explain why we didn’t show back up to the ship?” Lucas worried.

  “I don’t know. They’d more than likely laugh in our faces if we told them about what really happened. But worse, if the government ever got wind of that portal, they’d exploit it and wipe these people out. They’d change the course of history and I doubt these people would come out of it alive.” JP said.

  “This has been a nightmare, first Rhena and then the women. We’re lucky Beckett is a good shot.”

  “He should be, he’s a cop. I’m not sure I could have made that shot. I’m not sure I could have killed a man. But, then again, I think I could, if it meant getting the women and Christy back.” JP had said.

  “Same here. I just hope we don’t run into any more trouble. I didn’t think that there were many Native Americans around in this time.”

  “I’m not sure there are. Just our luck though. I can’t believe I missed Rupaul’s Drag Race for this.” JP had sighed heavily and Lucas had laughed softly. JP’s mind came back to the present, Dustu was just ahead of them. They’d had coffee this morning and that had helped quite a bit. They’d packed away the jerky that had been made with the venison the night before. Each of the group had a bag of it to eat during the long walk of the day.

  Beckett said he’d try to get a couple of rabbits for rabbit stew tonight. Thank God the man was good with a longbow. He was sure that Dustu could also catch what they needed. The man had seemed to enjoy the meat from last night. Zoe and Evie had spiced t
he meat well. He’d not been crazy about the meat before, but with the spices, it had been wonderful.

  JP notice that they were going steadily up, and he wondered at the trail, which for him was nonexistent. His mind still rebelled at the thought of time travel, but his eyes had seen the evidence in the dead warriors. They somehow looked different from the Indians of their own time, but he could not put his finger on it, as to what that difference was.

  He just hoped they wouldn’t have any more trouble and hoped they’d reach the end of the journey soon. He wanted to get back to the ship and his life and he wanted Lucas safe away from here. He’d always thought of himself as an adventurer, it had been one of the reasons he’d joined the navy. He enjoyed exploring the world. But here, now, this was no adventure. This was goddamned perilous. Being here made him appreciate his past life and all the small annoyances. He’d gladly have that back, just to have the feeling of security. Here, there was none and at any moment, any of them could die.

  XX

  “So, if we get back, do you think you will still head to Alaska?” Zoe asked Beckett, who was now beside her. The trail had opened up and she was able to walk beside him. She was picking up their conversation from the night before. Ahead of them were Christy and Evie, who held hands. She smiled at that.

  Milo was behind them. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. He’d seemed so nice at first, but then was really a jerk to Beckett. Then, when she’d been taken, he’d not even tried to help her or Evie or even the child. He was a coward in her eyes, and she was glad her life didn’t depend on him. He’d have let her die or be taken.

  She shivered at the thought. She’d just finished going to the bathroom. They’d all finished. They had been covering their holes when someone had grabbed her from behind, putting their hand over her mouth. She’d looked in fear, as Astrid, Evie and Christy had also been taken, their mouths covered as well. She wasn’t sure how Christy had gotten her mouth free, but that steamship whistle of a scream had been music to her ears.