A Long Time Until Now

by Michael Z. Williamson

  Did they wait for the Neolithics to go, send an envoy, bury them here, or drag them downstream for the wolves and scavengers? He hated to do the latter, but he didn’t want to put the effort into digging or mounding. They weren’t really up to it. Envoys would probably be poorly received. That left dragging the bodies farther downstream.

  “Ortiz, Barker, I hate to ask, but we need those bodies away from camp unless and until the dweebs decide to do anything. Can you drag them down over the next lip?” He pointed into the shadowy dusk. Shit, it had been hours now.

  Ortiz said, “I’m not keen to, but yes, that makes sense.”

  “Thanks. Use a flashlight, too. My Fenix is three hundred lumens. Alexander, do you still have them covered?”

  “The survivors aren’t giving me any hassle,” she said, sounding pained. “My foot, however, is killing me. I’ll be awake for hours.” She sat atop the turret with her foot out, and waved the M240B around from time to time.

  This was a hell of a thing.

  “Ortiz, after that, shoot them a goat. What they do with it is up to them. If they can’t get a fire started themselves, we’ll show them how awesome we are again.”

  “Hooah.”

  He was angry at the Neolithics for this. They’d been offered peace and rejected it, insisted on violence, and generally showed little restraint or forethought. Then they kept attacking even after they started dying from what were effectively magical weapons. The stupid tendency of humans to delude themselves into denying reality really pissed him off.

  He hoped Caswell and company were doing better with the Urushu.

  CHAPTER 19

  Jenny Caswell was not enjoying the visit. The hosts were very hospitable, offering endless food, some of it palatable, and a comfortable hooch near the rock overhang. Their host was Ai!ee’s family, and she was overwhelmingly gracious since the surgery that gave her back her dignity and sex life. That was wonderful to see. Helping someone’s life was the greatest thing one could do for another human being.

  Jenny had turned down three offers from men before they accepted, with Oglesby’s help, that her spirits didn’t allow mating.

  “Your name and rank translates as ‘Jenny Leads Fighting,’” Oglesby said. “I told them your spirits require you to be celibate while you’re a sworn warrior. Though warrior isn’t a term they seem to have, either. If two people have a dispute, they sort of slap it out and move on. I think I’ve translated you as part shaman, part hunter, and part protector against predators.”

  “Thank you. They’re so delightfully ignorant of some matters. It’s a shame they’re losing that.”

  He said, “They are very friendly on the whole.”

  “So how are you going to explain to your teenage girlfriend that you’re not available?”

  He flushed.

  On the one hand, she was glad he had sexual company that wasn’t her. All the men should be encouraged to do that. On another, she was near furious he’d exploited a recent rape survivor. Regardless of any approach, the girl had been vulnerable and seeking support, and he’d taken sex from it. The Urushu didn’t know different. He did.

  Oglesby replied, “I said our spirits had not been unhappy, but told us it was a bad idea to become involved. I thanked her gratefully. She seemed a bit disappointed, but not badly hurt.”

  “Good.” Actually, bad. But there wasn’t a good here. That would have to do.

  The cave seemed to be where the elderly lived. She’d first thought the children should be there, for safety, but then realized it was a rocky climb, and while not that high up—maybe ten feet—it was very steep. It provided good shelter and they’d built hooches in it as well. It was perhaps fifteen feet deep, and ten feet tall at the open end. Lengthwise, it was fifty feet or so.

  “Is Dalton behaving?” She pointed in his direction, over by one of the fire hearths under the cave lip. There were several younger women and a couple of men around him. The smoke rose, stained the rock and tumbled out. That seemed to help with bats and bugs as well. They were scarce.

  “With my help, yes. He’s not been hitting on them, even though they’re interested in him.”

  “Good.” She did another look around and headcount. If you knew how one group acted, you could usually spot the newcomers and outsiders.

  “It looks like about three quarters of the men survived and are here or arriving, if I’m counting them right and your info is correct. So they lost about ten.”

  “Yes. Some of the families and women managed to escape anyway. Both downstream and this way. The leader, Ashmi Wise, was killed.”

  That first was a relief. It had been bad, but not destructive of the clan group.

  “That’s sad. He was nice to us, hospitable. Can we do something in memorial for him?”

  “They say we can smoke with them tonight.”

  Ugh. That stuff. “We’ll try. Then we’ll leave in the morning, after assuring them they can visit. Now let’s talk to the elders again. Those late term pregnant women need to stop hauling things, or Doc will have more work.”

  “Hooah.”

  “Where’s their latrine?” she asked. She’d been holding it for hours, and . . . other issues.

  He grimaced. “Yeah, about that. They go upstream, in the river. They get their drinking water down here. I have no idea why they think that’s a good idea.”

  Ah. “I’ve heard of that.”

  “Yeah?”

  She explained, “It means a constant low-level of infection, which helps with immunity when other stuff comes downstream. It’ll be pretty dilute.”

  “So we’re going to follow them?”

  “No, we’ll fill a few meters upstream from the latrine area. Do they just squat in the water?” God, she wanted a real toilet.

  “They seem to.”

  This was not going to work well with her period. She would wrap the tampon in leaves and toss it in the fire just like in camp. A floater wouldn’t be a good thing.

  And starting next month she’d be using cotton pads stitched out of T-shirts, stuffed with fluff and washed in cold water. It was the best she and Alexander had been able to devise, and Alexander was hand sewing them, or was supposed to. She should follow up. The older woman had memory issues with her thyroid problems.

  Sanitation taken care of, with Dalton standing discreet guard as she squatted on rocks, she walked back into the village, rifle slung high across her chest where it was hard to mess with. The grabbiness never stopped, just varied between inquisitiveness and lust.

  The place smelled of food, smoke, growth, river and sweaty people. They washed in the river, but only intimate areas. They seemed to occasionally wash hair or body if they got animal residue on themselves—they had a substantial processing industry set up. There were whole guts and cut strips smoking over a low fire. Hides were being tanned in a pit in a ground, and it stank fiercely when the breeze shifted. They scraped and carved wood and bone, and had lots of food being prepared for winter.

  She found out what they did for diapers, or didn’t. Infants were in leather wraps with moss and grass. Once they were large enough to hold their heads up, the mothers seemed to know from minor sounds and motion when a baby was about to unload, and just carried them to the nearest bush or patch of grass. By the time they could walk, they knew what to do by themselves.

  Dalton said, “If they just understood better hand washing and had an actual latrine, or even the river, they’d be pretty modern.”

  “I suspect the smell helps deter animals. This place smells like rot, sweat and predator waste.”

  “True.”

  Ai!ee and her family had relocated here without harm, and were very gracious hosts. They had a late dinner ready, or a continuation of earlier dinner. They were around a fire in front of a new hooch, with more boughs and hides as an awning, with more food. It was roasted fish, and there were several seasonings. Besides salt, there were several oniony things and something almost like sage.

  “What i
s this?” she asked through Oglesby, and they showed her leaves that did look a lot like sage.

  “Where?”

  All over, apparently. She’d need to look for that. While grain wasn’t yet possible, she might manage an herb and tuber garden. But she wished for some real carrots. These fibrous white things weren’t carrots, weren’t parsnips and weren’t much of anything, except filler. They even came out the other end about the same texture.

  The family ate from skewers over the fire and stuff grilled on rocks, just as the troops did, with a carved wooden bowl for serving small bits they scooped out by hand. Right hand only.

  After dinner, everyone gathered under the rock overhang, around a fire that was large enough for light and radiance. This was important to them.

  She sniffed lightly as the weed bundle came by, but Oglesby took a huge, sucking puff. Dalton was fairly reserved, too.

  There was drumming and singing and then the local matriarch gestured for her to stand.

  “Oglesby, can you translate?” she asked.

  “Mostly, if you keep it simple,” he said slowly. Yeah, he was stoned.

  “No more weed for you.”

  “Hooah.”

  She stood and looked around.

  “Thank you for your hospitality. You are all very gracious. We appreciate learning about your foods and ways, which we can use ourselves. We’re very glad the spirits could guide us to reunite your families. We hope there will be peace between all the groups soon.”

  She left it at that, not wanting to overdo it, and sat down.

  The matriarch threw the weed into the fire, then spat after it.

  Oglesby said, “This is apparently a prayer to the spirits, and an appeal that they know these people. We’re supposed to spit, too.”

  “Easy enough,” she said, worked up some saliva, and spit.

  The drumming resumed. It was a simple beat, and the dancers tranced the way a lot of aboriginal peoples did. After the third couple excused themselves to find a corner, she tapped Oglesby on the shoulder. He was half nodding off from the smoking stuff. Hell, call it “drugs,” that’s what it was.

  “Back down,” she said. They needed rest and they needed to find a secure place.

  Down below, Ai!ee’s mate, Ktral, tried to insist they take the inside of the wickiup, while he, his mate, another woman and four kids moved out.

  “Tell them they’re very gracious, but we thank them very much for hosting us. We will be very comfortable outside, and want them to enjoy their beds.”

  Oglesby said, “I think I got across comfort. ‘Enjoy bed’ means something else.”

  “Well, they can do that, too. Thanks for transliterating.”

  “No problem.”

  The troops split into three-hour watches, and she took first rotation. It sounded as if Ktral was enjoying the bed, with at least one of the women. Other tents and bricked rooms in the cave had similar sounds. It was like the first village. People’s hearths were private, and you didn’t mention it.

  It was cold, but they were well dressed. When Dalton relieved her, she doffed boots, loosened them enough for night trips, and shimmied into her sleeping bag with the bivvy cover. That and the woven awning was enough shelter, now that they were used to the environment, and were in a village. They were adapting to this place, though sometimes things were still awkward.

  No music or video. All their devices were powered down unless needed in an emergency. They were just three people with odd clothes.

  The soldiers were left alone under the awning, and it was an uneventful night.

  Which meant they’d done their job right. So why was she unhappy?

  Dan Oglesby woke. Three hours and three hours rest, with three hours on watch in between, was rough.

  Breakfast was some berries and parched acorn cake, and utterly delicious, crisp and sweet, hot off a rock. After that, they stuffed their bivvy bags, and started rucking.

  A shout from the locals caught his attention.

  Five hunters and two others planned to come with them.

  Caswell asked, “What are they about?”

  The lead man was named Ak!tash, and pointed into his mouth. Oglesby caught, “pain” and “broken.” Another raised a foot. “Stuck skin” was the explanation.

  “One has a rotten tooth. One seems to have one of those warts on the sole.”

  “Plantar wart.”

  “Yes. They’re going to see Doc. The rest are escort, honor guard, sightseers, and general friends.”

  She shrugged. “Okay, I guess we take them. Dalton, point for now. I’ll take rear. We’ll swap out at rest breaks.”

  “Hooah. Onward.”

  The seven Urushu took the middle, but milled around, covering the flanks and chattering away.

  Ak!tash was tall, possibly over seven feet, with a lumpy head and jaw and big joints. Wasn’t that a symptom of giantism?

  “Dan Who Speaks, do your spirits say we be friends now?”

  “The spirits talk to the chief and Martin shaman. They decide. I hope we can be friends even if we don’t visit.”

  “You are only ten,” he held up fingers. “You should come our camp. You would be very good to stay.”

  “There is good and bad for staying, but your words are nice-nice and clever. Thank you.”

  Those cakes were awesome. Acorn flour and rice. Not as good as real bread, but damn, they needed to make those in the meantime. He did have the recipe.

  “You show how your thunderspears work.”

  “Only the spirits and some shamans know that, Ak!tash.” It was true to a point. He had no idea about alloys, chemistry or mechanics. Barker and Spencer would talk about those, and lock time, pressure curves, and other stuff. All he gathered was they might make flintlocks in this life, but not modern rifles.

  Five hours later he was on point and they were in sight of the COB. He wasn’t sure what to report to the LT over a couple of issues. He first wanted some modern food, as modern as their resources allowed, and a soak in the sweat lodge.

  The east wall was started, covering about twenty feet. There were visibly fewer trees along the stream banks. That was reassuring.

  “What’s happened?” he asked. “Look at the COB.”

  The goat pen had changed. The sweat lodge looked different. There were a bunch of Neo men limping around, helping with the palisade.

  “Hello!” he called.

  “We see you,” Alexander shouted back. Was that a bandage on her foot?

  Dan led the patrol across the stepping stones and into camp.

  They passed by where Spencer, Ortiz and Trinidad were digging and setting another fresh-trimmed trunk. The Neo men dragged logs and yes, several were bandaged. Had there been an attack?

  Spencer turned and said, “Yeah, they tried to swarm us. We’re okay, barring some flesh wounds. They took a beating. Go easy on the LT. He had it rough.”

  “Too much for him?”

  Spencer tensed for a moment.

  “No,” he said with a wide-eyed stare. “It was not too rough for him. Seriously, just don’t talk about it, okay?”

  Okay, that was obviously taboo. Got it.

  “Hooah. Where should the Urushu guests stay?”

  Spencer pointed. “They can set up next to the wall and create a lean-to.”

  He translated briefly, and Ak!tash chose the wall next to the sweat lodge/smoke hut. They had their hides, and they piled some poles from the wood pile. It took them a few minutes.

  “Are we feeding them or are they on their own?”

  “They’ve fed us before and will be working. We have enough, I think. Barker? Can we feed the Urushu?”

  “How many? Yes. I’ll grab another haunch.”

  He explained that, and the rules of the camp, for Ak!tash. “You will eat with us, guests. Dump there. Wash there. It is our way. The others fought us but we defeated them.”

  He put off further questions and indicated the fire circle.

  The wall was comi
ng along fast. Those Neos were a useful addition. Also, with both groups here, possibly some issues could be worked out. Maybe.

  As they entered the camp proper, Dalton said, “I must be insane. I smell bacon.”

  Barker said, “You do smell bacon. Also ham, smoked turkey, and smoked pork butt.”

  “How . . . ?”

  “I chopped up a young wild pig from a few days ago, salted it, rubbed with honey, smoked in the smoke hut. I’m going to smoke some until it dries, as a test. We’ll have something to last the winter.”

  “Honey?”

  “Yeah, I found a hive and got a few stings even with Spencer’s bug netting.” He held up an arm with red spots on it. “But they weren’t bad, and we’re figuring out how to make them a new hive with some of the board and crap from Number Eight, and some stuff we split.”

  Dan asked, “Are we just in time?”

  “You are just in time. Crisping up perfectly.”

  Everyone else piled in.

  Atop the turret, Alexander said, “There better be some for me. Oglesby can pass it up.”

  Yes, he could. Was that an implied threat? He didn’t think so. He was just closest. He handed up a board, being careful not to spill the sizzling slab of meat.

  “Why are you first?” he asked.

  “Because I’ve been waiting all day, and can’t move.”

  Yeah, if her foot was bandaged like that, it was serious.

  He accepted a piece for himself.

  “What are the bits on it?”

  Barker said, “I glazed it in more honey and butternuts, and fried it on the rock.”

  Dan took a bite. It was crunchy-sweet, salty, juicy, and exploded in his mouth.

  “Oh, fuck me, that’s good.” Sweet, smoky, nutty and bacon, fucking bacon! It was too lean, and tough and chewy, but it was bacon.

  The LT looked as if he were having sex. So did the others. Yeah, it was that good. The Urushu were wide-eyed and chattered excitedly.

  He didn’t need to hear all the words to know what they were saying.

  “If we teach them how to make bacon, we’ll gain a lot of brownie points.”

  Elliott said, “Barker, if we get back, I’m putting you in for a medal.”