by Lou Cadle
MAMMOTH
Dawn of Mammals Book 5
LOU CADLE
Copyright © 2016 by Cadle-Sparks Books
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
www.loucadle.com
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 1
Cold.
That was Hannah’s first sensation on landing. She fell onto something hard and damp. Her hand skimmed along it. Ice?
Ice.
It was twilight. She hoped it was dawn rather than dusk. They needed to see what they were doing in this brand new world. She tried to scoot out of the way for the next person to come in behind her, but on the slippery surface, she didn’t make it far before she felt the weight of a person plus gear come down on her foot.
A muttered curse—Jodi. “Here,” Hannah said, groping for the younger woman’s hand, barely visible in the half-light. She tugged, and Jodi slid easily toward her. A boot planted on the ice’s surface kept her from sliding back toward Jodi at the same time.
A crack sounded. The water under Hannah’s butt—which was incredibly cold—grew deeper. “Let’s get away from here.”
“Where?”
“I think it’s a lake and the ice is thin. Anyone else here?”
“Right here,” Ted said. “I have you.”
Hannah felt him grasp the neck of her hide tunic, and she slid along, the cold water lubricating the slide.
Ted called, “Find the shore yet, anyone?”
Claire said, “Still looking. I think we’re right in the middle of the lake. And it’s big.”
Bob said, “I believe that it’s getting lighter. We’ll be able to see better in ten minutes.”
Ted let go of Hannah and grabbed Jodi’s boot, pulling her out of the way of the gate just in time.
Zach tumbled out of midair, out of the timegate, out of the past and into the present. He hit the same spot she and Jodi had, and frigid water splashed out, hitting Hannah in the face. A sharp crack sounded.
“What the—?” Zach said.
Then Rex fell through. Unlike Zach, whose wrist was still on the mend and who was carrying lighter-weight stuff, Rex had a full load. He hit feet first. The ice cracked again and then a section heaved up.
Rex and Zach both disappeared under the surface of the icy lake.
“Zach!” Jodi screamed. She flipped over and began crawling back toward where the two men had vanished.
“No!” Hannah said. “Ted, help. Stop her.”
Ted reached over and grabbed Jodi’s boot and pulled her back.
“He’ll drown!” Jodi cried, kicking at Ted.
“So will we if we don’t do this right,” Hannah said.
The rest of them, a few yards away, were yelling over each other. Hannah heard one word that she mentally grasped at. Rope.
“Rope, yes!” Hannah said. “Toss us a rope.”
Bob said. “No, Claire. Don’t add weight to the ice. The rest of us should stay back here. Throw it over.”
A second later, Ted said, “I have it.”
“Do you see either of them?” Hannah asked Jodi, who stared at the ragged hole in the ice.
“Nothing,” Jodi said, the word nearly a sob.
Hannah called “Dixie? You have the eagle eyes. Do you see anything from where you are?”
“Too dark,” said Dixie.
“Give me the rope, Ted,” Hannah said.
“I should go. I’m stronger.”
“Exactly. You’re heavier, so the ice will break beneath you. And you’re stronger, so you’ll be able to pull me out if it breaks under me.” As she was saying it, she was tying the rope around her waist, leaving three feet of end dangling, wondering if that was the smart way to do it or not. No time to be smart. Just do something, anything.
Jodi said, “Let me help.”
“Get another rope,” Hannah said, “right after you push me in the right direction.” She tore off her backpack and slung it aside, and then she flipped to her belly. “Go on, shove me over there.”
Jodi did, and Hannah slid three or four feet, onto ice covered by at least four inches of water. The pooled water slowed her. Now she was wet on both sides. As the water seeped into the neck of her tunic and onto her breasts and belly, she felt her muscles all clench against the cold. Her slide stopped and she scrabbled with boot tips and fingers to keep moving.
We’re going to need gloves here. She brushed the irrelevant thought aside. Ahead of her was a black jagged hole in the ice. Much of what had broken was bobbing there on the surface. “Have hold of the rope, Ted?”
“Yeah, I’ve got you,” he said. Then: “Jodi, I can’t pull you both. Dixie, you’re next strongest. Get over here.”
Hannah was straining to see in the low light. A hand. She could see four fingers gripping the edge of stable ice.
It wouldn’t be stable for long if she went over there and added her weight.
Well, damn it anyway. She rolled and pulled at the knotted rope around her waist. It was wet and hard to get untied, not to mention it was homemade grass rope and frayed easily. That’s all she needed, to break the stupid rope. She forced herself to go more carefully and use what few long fingernails she had left to pick at the knot. Finally it loosened. She unwrapped the rope from around her waist and tossed the end toward the opening in the ice. Not long enough. “I need more rope!” she called back.
“There’s more,” Ted said, and at the same time the rope went slack. She coiled the end again and tossed it once more toward the hand she saw.
“They’re going to drown!” Jodi said.
Bob said, “Jodi, stay where you are. I’ll hold you on the rope.”
“Bob, no!” Hannah shouted. “Claire, Dixie, one of you, please.” Nari was too hurt, and too small anyway.
“I will,” Laina said. “Here, give me that.”
The rope Hannah had thrown had fallen no more than four inches from the gripping hand. But that did him no good. It was Rex, she could see now, by the color of his skin.
She pulled the rope back and coiled it again, and then flung it, willing it to land well as it flew through the air.
It did. The rope hit the back of the hand and then skittered to the side. His other hand broke the water’s surface and groped around the ice for it. Hannah mentally urged him to find it. The hand came close, but then it changed direction. “C’mon,” she said. “It’s right there.”
The hand moved in the right direction and found the rope. It held it for a second but then dropped it.
“Maybe he’s too cold,” Ted said.
Hannah didn’t doubt it. A massive shiver ran through her own body. She clenched her teeth to keep them from knocking together.
The second hand pushed the rope toward the first hand, still gripped on the edge of the ice. Hannah watched as Rex wrapped the rope around his own wrist once, twice. He held on with the other hand and then let
loose his grip.
“Pull me!” Hannah yelled, pulling the best she could. The rope jerked in her hands, and she said, “Slowly, steadily.”
A moment later, she realized all she was doing with tugging on the rope from this position was making it harder for Ted to pull, and she let go of the rope and rolled to the side. A crack of ice beneath her made her breath catch.
“Jodi, roll away from me,” she said. “It’s really thin right here.”
Rex’s head emerged from the lake, streaming water. He gasped for breath, coughed, and spit out water. As Ted’s strength pulled him farther, Rex slid up onto ice. But then the ice cracked beneath his elbows and he plunged back down.
Ted kept up his steady pull and Rex’s head emerged again. Hannah hoped she wasn’t about to fall through too. She lay still, no help right now, and watched Rex.
Jodi was crawling toward Rex, a rope tied around her. She was dragging her club.
“Keep to the side, Jodi, please,” Hannah said. “Ten feet away. Don’t stress the ice near Rex.”
Rex’s top half slid up on the ice again. A small piece cracked away. But the rest of the ice held. Ted gave a mighty tug and Rex slid forward two feet. Another tug and he made another two feet.
Jodi screamed, “Where’s Zach?”
Rex managed to gasp out, “I don’t know. Down there somewhere.”
“Can he swim?” Bob called.
Jodi didn’t answer. She kept crawling for the hole in the ice.
Hannah took the chance of standing. The ice held her. She told Ted to stop and took over pulling Rex in, backing toward Ted. She and Rex arrived at Ted’s side at the same time. “You okay?” she said to Rex.
“No-f-f-f-oolin’ c-c-c-old,” he said.
“Get your clothes off. Nari, please find some hides for him to cover himself.” She dropped to her knees and took the rope from his hands. Rex didn’t want to let go for a second, and she couldn’t say she blamed him. He released his grip. “Let’s move over that direction,” she said to Ted, tying the rope onto herself again. “The ice might be thicker.”
Passing where Laina was holding the other end of Jodi’s rope, they circled the hole in the ice a quarter of the way around and then Hannah dropped to hands and knees and crawled forward, aiming for a couple yards away from the spot Jodi was heading. She was terrified Jodi would fall in too. “You have her, Laina?”
“Yes,” said Laina.
“Zach!” Jodi screamed. She pounded on the ice with the butt of her club—whether in communication or frustration, Hannah didn’t know.
Hannah kept moving toward the break in the ice. The daylight was getting stronger, but not nearly strong enough to see Zach, even if he was pressed against the ice right under her nose.
I can’t lose another. Claire might be the leader now, but Hannah was still one of two older adults here. She felt responsible. Zach, where the hell are you?
Jodi rose to her knees and raised the club over her head. She slammed it down on the ice.
“Jodi, you’ll fall in!” Hannah said.
“I don’t care!” Jodi said, getting to her feet. Again, she raised her club overhead and brought it down. With a sharp crack, the ice broke. At the same moment, Jodi jumped back. Then she raised her club again, bringing it down with even more force, enough that it whistled through the air. The ice didn’t crack. She tried again. A third time. Finally, the ice gave way. This time, Jodi wasn’t quick enough with her jump back and the cold lake swallowed her.
The rope went taut as Laina hauled back on it. Hannah kept her steady progress toward the jagged hole in the lake ice, looking for any sign of Zach. He’d been under for so long.
Jodi’s head popped up. She still gripped her club. As she bumped against the stable edge of ice, she raised her club, arms dripping water, and pounded at the edge of the ice.
The ice under Hannah cracked. Well, fine. She yanked her tunic free from the rope and pulled it off, pitching it back toward Ted. Then she rolled to her back and struggled to untie the heavy laces of her boots. She tore them off and flung them back too. “Don’t let go,” she said to Ted. She stood, so that her weight was focused on her feet, putting more stress on the bad ice. As she felt the ice cracking more under her, she took one last deep breath.
The plunge into the icy waters of the lake was, for a moment, unbearable. But within seconds, her nerves must have overloaded with pain, or the water numbed her, for she could move again. She tried to open her eyes to look for Zach, but they wouldn’t. No matter how much will she exerted, some animal part of her brain was saying, no, nuh-uh, not going to let your eyeballs freeze. Stupid brain. She popped to the surface again and looked from that vantage point, twisting one way, then the other. She stroked twice through the frigid water to get to a new spot. Ted played out enough rope to let her.
Something dark was over there, not six feet from Jodi, some vague splotch under the ice. “Jodi, there!” she yelled. She had to yell her name twice.
When Jodi glanced at her, she pointed. “Is that him?”
Jodi pulled herself along with the thick edge of ice her pounding had left. “Zach!” she said, and she threw her club onto the ice and ducked under without it.
Hannah stroked for the spot too. She wouldn’t be able to keep this up for more than another thirty seconds. The water was so cold, her limbs would soon quit working. She had quit shuddering, which she remembered was probably a bad sign. But her mind was slowing down too, and she couldn’t remember why it was bad. She reached the spot just as Jodi resurfaced, hauling a limp Zach.
Hannah reached for him and got hold of an arm. But she wasn’t able to hang on. Her hands weren’t obeying her commands. “Ted,” she called, “pull me up on the ice!”
The rough ice edge scraped at her face. She was barely able to bring her arms up to protect herself from it, and then the rope tightened and she slid up over the lip of ice. She wanted to lie there and catch her breath, but there were Zach and Jodi, right there in the water, needing her help. She set her teeth and reached out and willed her hands to close around Zach’s shirt. “Pull, Ted,” she said. She didn’t have the power to do it herself, but if she could hold on for just another ten seconds—another five—she could get him out of the lake.
Laina was pulling on Jodi’s rope, too, and when her shoulder cleared the lake, Jodi gave a Herculean yank that sent Zack’s top half up onto the ice.
Holding on with insensible hands, hands that seemed to be made of freezing stone, Hannah kept her grip on Zach’s shirt and Ted continued to pull, and Zach’s hips rose from the water and slid over the lip of broken ice.
Then Jodi was out of the water too, her hair streaming water, and she was huddled over Zach. “He’s not breathing. Hannah. He’s not breathing!”
Chapter 2
With all her heart, Hannah wanted to give Zach rescue breathing to try and clear his lungs, but she couldn’t control her body well enough. Maybe Jodi could. “Mouth-to-mouth, Jodi. Or pound him on the back. Get him breathing again somehow.”
Jodi pulled Zach’s head onto her lap, wrenching his shirt from Hannah’s grasp. As Laina kept hauling on the rope, Jodi and Zach slid as a unit back onto thicker ice.
Hannah called, “They’re safe. Stop pulling, Laina.”
Ted stopped dragging her a moment later, and she clumsily crawled to Jodi’s side, barely able to control her limbs. Jodi’s mouth was over Zach’s. “Pinch his nose,” Hannah said.
“Right,” Jodi said, and she leaned in again to try and get Zach breathing again.
The third breath she breathed into him did it. Zach jerked, and then spit cold water into Jodi’s face.
Hannah said, “Turn him. Turn his head.”
Jodi rolled him off her lap and Hannah used one of her club-like arms to brace him. Her fingers weren’t working at all any more.
Zach coughed up water for a painful minute, hacking and spitting and trying to draw in breath whenever he could.
Jodi thumped him on the ba
ck. She was crying. She wasn’t a weepy woman, and she had shed no tears when she saw Zach drop through the ice, but now her relief was making her cry.
Bob yelled, “He’s okay?”
Hannah tried to nod and failed. “This is ridiculous,” she tried to say, about her failure to execute a simple nod. But the words came out garbled. The cold was numbing her tongue too?
Claire said, “They need to get warm, right away. Laina, what should we do?”
Hannah tried to answer, “Dunno.” She had never gotten herself wet in this sort of cold. Then it registered that Claire had asked Laina, not her.
Bob said, “Clothes off, cover them with hides. Or grass, even. Anything dry.”
Claire said, “Everybody, look. There’s the closest shore right there.”
The daylight was strengthening. If they had come in from the timegate just a half-hour before they did, with no light at all to see Rex’s hand or the dark shape of Zach under the ice, they’d have two more dead.
Zach’s eyes flickered open. “Monkey?” he rasped out.
“Here,” Jodi said through her sobs. “Right here, Monkey. I love you.”
“Mmm,” Zach said, and his eyes drifted closed again for a moment. Then another round of coughing racked his body.
Hannah had no idea how he was talking or Jodi was moving with such facility. She herself felt like meat that had been in the deep freeze for a whole day. Her fingers couldn’t move, her limbs were dead to her, and water was freezing on her face in the frigid air. I’ll have freezer burn. She wanted to laugh at the thought, but she couldn’t even manage that.
She felt herself sliding over the ice again, and then hands were pulling at her pants. Fine by her. She was happy to go along with whatever was happening. Hannah’s consciousness drifted away.
When she came to, she was lying not on ice but on a hide. Another hide was covering her, heavy and dark. Someone else was lying under it with her. She stretched her head until she could see through a space between hide and ground and saw she was on the shore now. The landscape was better lit, but there was no direct sunlight, no shadows. She hadn’t been out long then. Fifteen minutes maybe.