It must have been awkward for me to root around underneath the bouncing furs of my travois with mostly numb fingers but frankly, I did not notice. My eyes were locked in awe on the strange shapes of the approaching creatures and their method of locomotion. It was several full seconds before my brain processed enough of what I saw to allow me to even comprehend it.
They were multi-limbed, although at this distance I could not tell how many limbs, with a slightly oblong central body. I hesitate to compare them to spiders or octopi, because neither description does them justice, but the two animals serve as points of reference.
Unlike arachnids, these creatures seemed at least as tall as a man, and perhaps half again more. The limbs extended out and downward from the body, spreading wide as they went. As far as I could tell the legs were flexible but without obvious joints.
Each set of limbs moved in a pattern I could not discern. The limbs alternated between being sinuous like a worm or snake when not bearing weight, to possessing a stilt-like rigidity when against the ground. To add to the strangeness of the movement the tips of the limbs also seemed to stretch toward the ground when preparing to step, and then retract away from it when lifting.
Of the details contained on the central body I could not recognize much at this distance. But one thing I could see was that, regardless of the terrain features the legs lifted them over, the bodies remained unnaturally stable. The only thing I can compare it to is the stability evidenced by a bird of prey in holding its head still when watching something from a great distance aloft while its wings and neck compensate for the buffeting of the wind.
Despite the fact that they were moving in our general direction, I got the distinct feeling that they were not as of yet aware of either Layla, the mammoths, or I. There were between ten and fifteen of the creatures, but not all of them were moving in the same direction. Periodically, one would stop and lower its body to the ground briefly before rising up and moving along a slightly different path.
I surmised that they were either grazing or searching for something, although initially I tended, out of optimism, toward the grazing hypothesis. Whatever they had been doing however, their behavior changed suddenly and dramatically when one of them came across the tracks of the mammoths.
Perhaps their initial slow pace had lulled me into the more relaxed state I had assumed while watching the creatures and observing their behavior. In any case, when their movement changed, it brought me out of my entrancement. At first one of them began moving rapidly up and down. If not for the legs, it would have reminded me of a ball bouncing.
The Others stopped briefly and mimicked the first one’s behavior. I actually grinned, so comical it looked seeing the group bob up and down in unison. The grin was short lived however for, as a unit, they began moving towards us at a much higher rate of speed. Obviously, they were now quite aware of our presence. In short order, they would overtake us, and I could see no good coming from it.
“They’re coming!” I shouted in warning. Layla must have heard me because she looked briefly back over her shoulder and reapplied the stick to the mammoth’s flank. Personally, I did not think the animal needed or could heed any further encouragement as it already seemed to be going at full tilt. Indeed I noticed no increase in speed, despite Laylas’ prodding.
I quickly came to the conclusion that we were fleeing for our lives. Not one to sit by passively, I raised my Springfield and did my best to draw a bead on the creature closest to us. It was a futile attempt, due to the bouncing of my platform, and after my third shot went wide of its target, I lowered the rifle.
The cluster of Others, had already closed half the distance between us, and I doubted that the mammoths could maintain their sprint much longer. I did the one thing that came to my mind. Furs and all, I rolled from my travois, tumbled sideways for some distance and came to a stop.
Between the cushion offered by the snow on the ground and the padding provided by the furs, I was none the worse for wear. The sudden tumble and stop from some twenty miles per hour left me a little dizzy, but I was otherwise unscathed. In the back of my mind I hoped that my ammunition belt had come off with me.
I do not consider myself either an unusually reckless or exceptionally brave individual. I quite easily admit that I felt fear in the split second before I left the temporary safety of the travois and put myself squarely in the path of our pursuers.
If you expect that next I stood, threw off my fur coverings and faced these Others standing tall to divert their attention, I am sorry to disappoint. Not only did the furs continue to provide warmth and insulation against the cold, both air and ground, but my prone position made aiming a much easier task. Also there was impinging upon my thoughts the idea that attracting the attention of more than ten creatures that were not hesitating to chase something the size of a full grown mammoth was at the very least imprudent.
Instead, I remained horizontal and directed aimed fire towards the creatures as they approached. I fired twice at the nearest target, but then was forced to reload. As I thumbed rounds into the rifle, the first creature slowed before stumbling from its feet and crashing to the ground. It rolled before stopping and I noticed briefly that its legs flailed in the air as if trying to gain purchase enough to continue pursuit.
The other creatures either did not notice, or chose to ignore their fallen companion. They simply moved around it and continued on. I finished reloading and cycled my bolt, chambering another round. They had not noticed me yet and continued, focused on the mammoth.
Devoting two rounds to each target, I shot as many of them as I could. I decided not to wait to see the effects of my shots before moving to the next creature. It was probably not the best course of action, but they were approaching rapidly and I did not think I could afford to shoot one target until it fell.
Before my rifle was empty again, a total of three of the creatures were thrashing on the ground with another still on its feet but spinning in circles as it scraped at its side in annoyance, presumably at the sting of one or more of my bullets.
The remaining eight or so still seemed not to have noticed me, so with nothing else to do I reloaded quickly under my furs. Thankfully, the ammo pouches and belt had been within easy reach. As the first few creatures ran around me, I regretted that I had not had time to fix my bayonet.
Then as one of them seemed on a direct collision course I realized I had overplayed my hand. Still constrained enough by the furs, there was no way I would even be able to roll out of the way in time. Even as I brought up my rifle in a vain attempt at a snap shot, I tensed in anticipation of being trampled.
I fired, also hoping briefly that I might again experience the time distortion phenomenon that had allowed me to escape danger previously and that also seemed to have brought me to this place. In that I was disappointed, and the beast continued running at me full tilt. My shot seemed to have no effect but luckily the creature moved right over me.
I threw myself flat onto my side, covering my head with one arm. As I had feared, one of the legs stepped right on me. Gritting my teeth, I expected to hear the crunch of broken ribs, but while I felt downward pressure from the limb, it was not excessive. The other merely stepped on me and continued past, chasing the mammoth, and Layla.
At least it continued for another fifteen or twenty feet, long enough for me to begin to feel lucky. Then it stopped, turned back to me and began approaching warily. The feeling of luck drained away quite rapidly.
Not having any strong desire to experience the creature’s predator versus prey behavior first hand, I sat up and fired my rifle, working the bolt until the trigger clicked empty. At this close of a range I could not have missed.
I hadn’t. As this creature fell to the ground its legs failed to twitch as the rest had. I felt instantly relieved, until I remembered the several of them that had run past me in pursuit of Layla.
I counted six, each of them now closer to Layla than to me. M
y shots brought down two more. While before I had hoped the creatures would not notice me, I now hoped they would.
My rifle empty again, I spent a second feeling in vain for another ammo pouch. Failing in that endeavor I sensed my options becoming limited. Layla had saved my life, and now hers was at risk. The very least I could do was give mine back in an attempt to save her.
Standing, and shrugging off the furs at last, I ran after the four remaining creatures that had now closed sufficiently on the mammoth to cause Layla to wheel it around and face her pursuers. For its part the mammoth looked ready, holding its tusks low and swinging them back and forth. The smaller, tuskless mammoth had been running in the lead, but now stood sheltered behind the larger pachyderm.
Weighing the choice between using my rifle as a club, an option I did not relish while I still had ammunition even if it were not readily accessible, and attacking with the puny belt knife still at my waist, I ran. Still vainly attempting to formulate some kind of plausible tactic, I was struck on the right arm from behind with a sickening crack and knocked sideways off of my feet. My rifle skidded off in a different direction. As I tumbled I caught a glimpse of one of the creatures behind me, with one limb outstretched towards me, still following through after striking me.
My mind stayed remarkably clear even as I realized that not only was my weapon laying some distance away in the snow, but my right arm was broken. Luckily, if you could call it that, my arm was still numb and I didn’t have to worry about the distraction of pain, for now at least.
Charging four of the creatures without any plan, or even any effective weapons, had been dangerous. Standing face to face with one of them while crippled by a broken arm thrown in the mix brought a certain urgency to my predicament. I managed to unsheathe my belt knife with my left hand as I stood, a bit clumsily, without the use of my right arm.
I was now locked into my immediate situation and could spare no attention to the plight of Layla and the mammoths. Standing this close to the creature I noticed a few things briefly as I looked for targets my small blade might damage. Its body was covered by small, bumpy scales. Not inherently overlapping like a fish or snake, these scales nonetheless were able to allow the limbs and body to flex by temporarily crossing each other. However, which direction the scales crossed seemed determined by the direction and angle of movement, not by any predetermined patterns. They must have been attached near the center, instead of at the edge like a more typical reptilian scale.
The creature also stunk. At first, due to the landlocked wintry landscape, I did not identify the smell as it wrinkled my nose. Then I realized that it smelled like nothing so much as a pile of rotten seaweed.
It had two small eyes on either side of the body, in front of the forward most set of legs, but no discernible structure that might be considered a head separate from the body. There were also no visible mouth, ears or nose; although I guessed that any mouth was probably in the center, underneath the body.
All of these things I noticed in a second or two as I attempted to move away slowly at a slight angle to one side. The creature matched my pace however, and I gained no distance. I stopped and faced the thing, my pathetically small knife the only thing between it and me. When it reached for me, I at first thought I was once again perceiving things in that strange altered time rate as I had before escaping the landmine explosion. I realized, however, that it was just reaching very slowly, as my breathing was unrestricted and none of the other side effects of my odd ability were present.
I looked briefly at the small knife in my hand and decided against trying a random slash. The fact that I was not being trampled into the snow both puzzled and intrigued me, and although the approaching limb with its flexible tip did not in any way reassure me, neither did it fill me with fear.
Oddly, I also noticed that the coloration of the flesh in between the scales had changed color, from a dull red to a grayish khaki similar to my fatigues. When the limb touched me, it was with a light brushing contact over my broken arm. Although my arm had started throbbing, and I began to break out in a sweat that felt as if it must freeze to my face in the cold, I managed to stand still as it touched me.
The limb withdrew slowly and to my surprise the creature turned slightly to one side, revealing the wound my bullet had caused. The bluish substance that trickled through the opening I could only assume was its blood. The creatures’ limb bent and it gently touched the area around the wound.
It was intelligent, and it was communicating with me. I stood dumbfounded as I struggled to come to some understanding of the strange psychology evidenced by this other who stood before me without apparent hostility after I had shot and wounded not only it but several of its companions, probably lethally in at least one instance. Quite abruptly, it turned and walked away, towards the several of its kind that lay on the ground.
The one that had fallen and lay still remained so, along with another also now motionless. Several of the rest, however, were successfully regaining a standing position although somewhat unsteadily. I remembered Layla.
Turning, I saw that her situation was no less strange than mine. She remained astride the mammoth, but between her and the four beings that had been pursuing her, a cloud of light grayish-brown smoke rose thickly, hugging the ground. As I watched she pulled an object out of a pouch strapped to the mammoth’s side and hurled it towards her pursuers.
The creatures had already slowed near the smoke cloud, and stopped completely as they reached it. The object Layla had thrown arced through the air and landed slightly past the first smoke cloud. I heard a small popping noise and saw smoke billowing from it. This smoke was a darker shade of the same color than the first cloud. I quickly assumed another grenade had caused the initial smoke cloud as well.
My curiosity piqued, I momentarily forgot my precarious situation and I wondered at the technology required to produce such portable clouds of colored smoke. I had seen several instances of grenades producing white billowing smoke while with my Marine unit, but I had seen no colored smoke.
I had assumed, due to the use of the travois, primitive clothing, and presence of the fur covered mammoth-like creatures that I was in the past, during the Stone Age and surrounded by cave men. Other terms such as ‘late Paleolithic,’ and ‘Pleistocene’ flitted through my awareness, but failed to take hold.
The grenades made me question that assumption. Now that I was thinking along different lines, I remembered Laylas’ puzzling familiarity of feature and her use of my rifle. I would have to question her about both should we escape unharmed from our current predicament.
With a throb my arm reminded me that it was broken, bringing me somewhat out of my shocked condition. I searched for and found my rifle lying in the snow a few yards from my encounter with the ‘other.’ Picking it up I set off towards Layla at the best pace my arm would allow.
I had no desire to stumble and by chance fall on my wounded limb, so a slow trot was all I managed. Layla saw me, and began frantically motioning me to her. I risked a glance over one shoulder and reassuringly saw no pursuit. Nor did the four creatures standing nearby hinder my passage.
I walked through the smoke, emerging next to Layla and the mammoths. I saw fear in the beasts’ eyes as it looked back past me; clearly we were not yet safe. Layla confirmed this from atop her mount. “The smoke will only confuse them for a short while, we must flee.” She seemed only then to notice my debilitated condition saying, “Oh, you are injured,” almost as an afterthought.
She swung her legs over the saddle and lowered herself to the ground lithely. Turning to face me, she examined my arm and made note of my missing fur coverings. Seeing the empty travois she shook her head and cut it loose using a leather-bound chipped-stone blade. With several quiet spoken commands and prods with her curved stick, bade the mammoth to kneel, which it did. “Get on.” She said curtly to me.
With only one good arm, and that encumbered w
ith my rifle, I nonetheless managed to gain the top of the mammoth. Several footholds in the harness and saddle helped greatly, and once when I almost lost my balance, Layla firmly pushed me towards the top. I had only begun to settle myself in when Layla vaulted on behind me and with a sudden jerk, the mammoth stood upright.
I felt the cushion of her fur covered clothing (actually, the furs she wore were inverted, with the fur on the inside, and the smooth, tanned, and I assumed waterproofed, hide on the outside) against my back. I became acutely aware of my lack of coverings, coverings which now lay abandoned in the snow. As the mammoth started off again, at a fast walk, but slower than the sprint they had managed earlier, I noticed the cold even more as the now moving air chilled me to the bone.
Within a minute I began shivering uncontrollably and was near to either falling, dropping my rifle, or both. Then, just as my muddled thoughts began considering how nice it would be to just lay down in the quiet snow, the furs around Layla parted and enveloped me. I was drawn back against the warm and very female source of heat behind me as she wrapped me within her own parka and held me against her body. I must have been quite cold to the touch for I felt her shiver briefly in response to the contact. I was however too weak to protest and almost instantly lost awareness of anything other than that sheltering warmth.
How long I rode thus, I do not know. When I awoke with a jolt, the mammoth was increasing speed again, making the ride quite bumpy. I still held my rifle, and my right arm, although still sore, was not a source of agony any longer. In that second before remembering the direness of our predicament, I experienced my first flash of personal memory since before my head injury.
Unfortunately, it was so brief as to be of little practical use in helping to regain my identity. Probably triggered by the rough ride, I remembered myself as a small child being bounced on someone’s knee. The sensation came first, followed by the sound of my own laughter as I rode up and down gleefully. The visual part came just before I was brought back to the present, and consisted of a room with a table near one wall with a simple earthenware bowl centered on the table.
Other details of the room remained unclear with the exception of a window in one wall above the table. There were roughly woven curtains of some sort tied open, but there was no frame or pane of glass. It was merely a hole through the wall to the outside. Frustratingly, although I felt my small hands firmly grasping the fingers of the person who held me safe while I bounced, I was facing away from him.
I came fully awake as the memory faded, dreamlike. The acceleration could only mean that Layla and I were still being pursued, and that our situation was desperate. I shrugged my head out from under Laylas’ parka in order that I might get a better grasp of our situation.
As I inhaled the shockingly cold air, Layla noticed that I was stirring. “Good, you are still with me. I thought I might have to drop you to reduce weight when you would not wake up.” I could not tell if her words were an attempt at humor, she said them so matter of factly.
I saw, not surprisingly, that we were still riding through low, hilly terrain. The trees were a bit more sparse than they had been, but the ground was still covered with snow. As we topped a gentle rise, I saw a huge grey expanse below demarked by the sudden ending of trees and snow.
Either it was the ocean, or a very large lake, for I could see no farther shore. Whichever it was, we were headed directly for it. Unless Layla knew of some terrain feature I could not see, we would soon be trapped against the shoreline of an impassable body of water. Wanting to have as much time as I could to consider our options, although at this point Layla seemed to be calling the shots as it were, I asked “Where are we going?”
Filling in answers to questions I had not even asked, she seemed to have an innate understanding of what I wanted to know tactically. “The Others are still following us, but I have managed to give us a little lead, thanks to Jeefa here.” She slapped her hand on the side of the mammoth, as if to indicate what she was naming, then continued, “Unfortunately, it is not much of a lead. More of the Others have joined in the chase, perhaps twice the number you incapacitated.”
“If I am correct, there should be a signal tower of the ancients, somewhere along the coastline near here. Hopefully it will be close enough for us to reach before being overtaken. There, if it is intact, we may find shelter, and a means to signal for help.” My mind searched vainly for what a “signal tower of the ancients” could be, but with no point of reference, I drew a blank.
What Layla said next made slightly more sense, although I have learned to be sensitive to the context in which people are saying things. Making too many assumptions about new cultures has proven to be dangerous as you shall see later, but this was my first different world and I had much to learn. “What is your name, stranger? You already know mine, and you risked death to save my life. If you are not so lucky next time, I would know what you are called so that I may honor your sacrifice.”
If given time to think on it, I might have chafed at her assumption that there would be a ‘next time’ of me risking my life to save hers. We were, however, in the midst of other pressing matters so I merely answered, “My name is John, John Smith.” I have seldom thought on the matter, and it does not chafe. Without even knowing what she had risked to save me I would have, and have many times since, risked my life for her should circumstances dictate. Knowing what she did indeed risk has not changed that, although knowing what she would eventually give up for me has made me nigh on fanatical in my protection of her. But that is another story, and at this time, in this story, we barely knew one another. Let that suffice, for now.
“John,” she said, and for some reason it pleased me to hear her say it. “It is a strange name, but thank you for it nonetheless.” We rode in silence for several minutes with the freezing air blowing on my face. I ignored it as I scanned ahead for some indication of any kind of building, inhabitation, or even another terrain features we might use to our advantage. On the verge of angry frustration at the apparent total lack of providence even glancing at us in our plight, I prepared a vexing outburst of profanity surely unsuited for delicate ears.
Before I began the unseemly tirade, Layla pointed, shouting excitedly, “There it is! There it is! Look there, to the left of that snag.” I followed her indicated direction with my gaze, and was with some difficulty, able to locate the dead tree standing forlorn at a distance towards the water and through the tree line. As she had said, to the left of the tree was a rounded tower, as gray as the ocean beyond, but clearly an artificial structure.
A glimmer of hope struggled to work its way through my pensiveness, for while I still clutched my rifle and now wore my ammunition belt loosely around my hips, I lamented the loss of my haversack since I had initially rolled off the travois to engage the rapidly approaching Others. It surely must have fallen with the furs into the snow and was now long gone. Nonetheless, the sight of even a potentially sturdy shelter ahead was heartening, to say the least.
I presumed Layla was looking back at our pursuers periodically, but as she was behind me, I could not risk losing my balance to look around her. It was frustrating, especially because she offered no updates on their location. I kept myself busy by watching the structure ahead and straining to detect any sign of habitation.
I saw nothing that would indicate any intelligent presence within or around the tower. I hoped that was a good thing, for we were drawing near enough to it to enable me to recognize that it was or had been some type of lighthouse. Its round base was topped with a platform, and was windowless for its entire height facing us. Locating a door would have to wait until we actually reached the building.
Suddenly Jeefa the mammoth drew up short, and not due to anything Layla had done. I looked and saw that the smaller mammoth, still with us, had also stopped. Looking down, I saw why. Quite abruptly the ground had changed from the snow covered grassy undergrowth to a variety of water w
orn stones, only partially obscured by snow, which stretched all the way to the tower.
Varying in volume from fist sized cobbles to barrel sized boulders and larger; the dark rocks were irregularly worn by the action of the waves. Clearly exposed by low tide, the rocks covered the shore the entire distance to the tower. They proved a daunting obstacle to the soft footed pachyderms. Realizing this, Layla quickly hopped off of Jeefa and I followed suit.
The rocks would be treacherous enough for the two of us on foot, but they would be a veritable deathtrap for the mammoths, if only by slowing them enough to allow the Others to overtake them. Even if they could reach the tower quickly, there was no guarantee that any opening would be large enough to admit them to shelter. Not stopping to consider that the same conditions might apply to us, Layla swatted the rumps of both mammoths, driving them away along the line between the forest and the shoreline and giving the tired beasts at least a running chance at survival.
As we picked our way as fast as possible around and between the rocks, I managed my first backwards glance towards our pursuit. Layla had, if anything, underestimated the number of creatures following us. Irregardless of my seemingly docile encounter with the wounded Other, I had no desire for a repeat encounter, especially with this many of them indefatigably after us.
The mammoths seemed of a similar mind and ran swiftly off, soon becoming lost to view amongst the trees. I wished them well as they had carried us faithfully for as long as they did with no complaint. I became painfully aware of the cold once again as I stepped into a small pool of water which instantly soaked through my boot and shot frozen needles of pain into my as yet un-numbed foot.
Layla forged ahead, seldom taking the time to look back now. While it saved her time, as the first of the Others reached the edge of the rocks and continued out into the open with no reduction in speed, it became clear we would not reach the tower in time. We were less than halfway to it, and the Others pace across the rocks was far greater than either of us could manage.
They gained on us with that eerie smoothness of motion I have mentioned previously. Their bodies stayed practically level while their legs navigated over the rocky shore. I calmly took aim, bringing my rifle up with my left hand and forcing my right arm to comply and work the bolt, regardless of the pain it caused.
Some would say I had resigned myself to my fate, thinking only of going out shooting. I beg to differ. I was there, and I guarantee that no thought of giving up crossed my mind. I simply continued to do anything that was in my power to increase the odds of our continued survival.
Still, looking back, it is obvious to me now how slim those odds were, and what the eventual outcome would have been, except for the arrival of the airship. I do not say airship in the quaint way early newspapermen referred to Zeppelins or other lighter-than-air craft. What I saw floating through the sky and moving towards us was without a doubt, a ship.
It was made from wood, planks running the length of the vessel from stem to stern, and from the keel to the deck railing. The planks overlapped clinker-built style, like a Viking long ship, and the prow was even capped with the carved head of a ferocious looking sea, or air, monster.
There, however, the similarities ended. For where a seagoing vessel has rigging to hold masts and tie down its sails, this ships rigging extended upwards to a number of giant billowing bags filled with some lighter than air gas, and contained en masse by a huge domed net
It had no tall masts per se, but extending from each side of the vessel were outriggers, and upon these spun giant propellers, giving the ship motive power. What caused them to spin, I could not tell.
The crew moved about on the rigging and ship quite like the deckhands of any sea bound vessel. The appeared human, but as they were dressed bulkily for the weather, I could not be certain. I did not think they were aware of Layla and I, but in this I was mistaken.
Their attention was directed towards the swarm of Others streaming out onto the rocks. Whether or not the ship carried large caliber fixed weapons was not obvious, but the crew rained down a veritable fusillade of small arms fire upon the multi-legged horde. Accurate or not, the sheer volume of fire proved deadly to the creatures and they fell quickly to the onslaught. Strangely, I noted that while numerous popping noises accompanied the weapons fire, no cordite haze drifted from the deck of the airship.
Scarce a minute, or perhaps two, had passed before none of the Others were left standing. The hail of death continued for another thirty seconds or so, but was re-directed towards any of the prone creatures that so much as twitched as it lay on the ground. Silence followed, punctuated by the cry of a single seagull in the distance.
The airship began a slow, graceful turn towards us. Slinging my rifle over one shoulder, I began to wave my uninjured arm in the air. I could not believe our good fortune. The death of so many creatures at once is a somber sight, but the feeling of relief in me that I was going to live another day was so great that I could not suppress a grin as I looked towards Layla. “That was what I call good timing. We are rescued!”
The look of concern that grew on her face puzzled me, then she shook her head and spoke, “Oh John, we most certainly are not rescued!” I looked back towards the ship and saw rope ladders being lowered over the side as the vessel approached. Above, on deck, I saw that instead of being stowed, the weapons which had so recently wreaked so much havoc amongst the Others were now pointed menacingly towards us.
Chapter Four
John Smith, World Jumper Book One: Portal to Adventure Page 3