Dawn of Mammals (Book 5): Mammoth

by Lou Cadle

  The next morning, the priest brought her a breakfast of a slice of apple pie with cheese on it. “I hope you like sweets as much as I do,” he said. “I’m afraid it got a little cold on the walk over from the rectory.”

  “Gosh, thank you. You didn’t need to do that.”

  “I’m happy to. Oh dear, I thought I had a fork around here somewhere. I need to run downstairs for one. I’ll put coffee on as well, if you’d like to wait for it to perk.”

  “Thank you,” she said, though she worried the combination of sugar and coffee would be a shock to her system. The pie was terribly sweet, but good, and the cheddar cheese cut the sweetness a little. She could have eaten a whole pie, but she was glad she didn’t have one. That much sugar after so long without probably would have put her into a coma, or triggered a manic state that left her babbling the truth to the sympathetic man.

  Several minutes later, they shared cups of coffee and she quizzed him about his background, where he went to school—seminary, she learned it was called—and how many parishioners he had. The whole time she had a strange sensation of unfamiliarity, not remembering if she was asking too many questions or if this was a normal conversation or not. She hadn’t had to make small talk in so long, or to meet a new person, she’d lost the knack.

  When a faint bell rang elsewhere, he excused himself, and she carried the plate and coffee cup out and hunted for the staircase. Downstairs, there was a large kitchen and a large dining room for church functions, no doubt for serving food after funerals or weddings, and on holidays. She went over to the stove and stared at it, thinking about how easy it was to turn on a stove versus how hard it was to start a fire with wet wood in a wind. The coffee pot was a percolator on top of the stove, still hot to the touch.

  “I’m already spoiled by this,” she muttered. She washed her dishes and set them on a dishtowel to dry. There was a bathroom on this level too, and she used it to wash up. She finger-combed her hair and wished for shampoo and a brush, but that would have to wait. For a moment she thought about washing her old pants in the sink, but thought better of it. Later. Today she’d wear them under the skirt he had given her. She’d explore town and take the filthy pants off before entering the hospital. With the skirt and sweater he’d given her, and the blouse Dixie had stolen, she’d look more like a normal person today.

  And looking normal meant it’d also be easier to pilfer from the hospital.

  The priest was busy with something, so she left a heartfelt thank-you note for him in his office. The hospital wouldn’t let her in until 11:00, so she explored the city first, looking for hardware stores, gun stores, and restaurants with trash cans she could go through for lunch. She glanced in a bank and thought of how easy it would be to rob, but she wasn’t planning on doing that.

  She entertained herself for a moment imagining the lot of them coming in, wearing hides and brandishing spears, and robbing a bank at spear-point. What would the locals think of that? But the only person money would help was her, and she’d never really suggest putting the others at risk.

  She got herself lost, but asking directions worked again and she headed back to the hospital. She spent all day with Bob and, from time to time, visited other wards to see what else there might be to steal. She was hoping for aspirin, but she didn’t see any lying out. It might be in one of the drug cabinets down the hall. They were locking glass-front cabinets but a key was in one of the keyholes, just hanging there.

  That evening, she returned to the church and the priest greeted her with news that he’d arranged for her to stay with a widow lady. “She could use some help with heavy cleaning and the wash and so on. She’s not as spry as she was. I worry about her being alone.”

  “I’m happy to help.”

  “In exchange, she’ll feed you and give you a bed for as long as your father is in the hospital.”

  “I can never repay you or her for the kindness.”

  “Let me drive you over there. I still have confession for another hour. After that.”

  “Thank you.” She took the opportunity to go downstairs to the restroom, and this time she did wash her hair and pants, using the sink and the soap sitting there. She toweled her hair off with a dishtowel from the kitchen. The priest drove her to her temporary home.

  The next week was a strange one. For one thing, she had to learn how to work a wringer-washer and pretend she knew how. Luckily, the old lady couldn’t make it down the stairs at her home any more to watch Hannah’s fumbling through the procedure the first time. It was work she had to do for the lady, but again, nothing like the work of living in the wild, building a brick home from scratch, or running down an oreodont. Mrs. McCracken, the old lady, was nosy but pleasant enough, and Hannah invented a whole false life to tell her about.

  Christmas was coming soon, and there were things to do to get her home ready for that. Hannah helped the lady trim a tree, but she warned her she’d be leaving before the holiday arrived. “I need to get back to the others and help them get home,” she said.

  “Their families must be worried.”

  “I made phone calls,” Hannah lied. “Used the rest of my money on hand to do that and send telegrams.”

  “I don’t understand why they didn’t come with you to town.”

  Hannah changed the subject. It was hard to make her impromptu tale about the field trip hang together for long. She probably should have said that they already had gone home. But then what could be her excuse for leaving before her “dad” was out of the hospital? No, she’d stick with this confabulation and hope she didn’t trip herself up with her lies.

  On her last day in the city, Hannah told Bob of her decision to stay in the 1930s. “If you want to stay, I’ll be here. We can figure out how to make it together.”

  “No. I want to see my family.”

  “I thought that’d be your choice. I understand. I’ll be fine on my own, once I get the hang of acting right.”

  “Why not come with us?”

  She explained her thinking, finishing with, “Basically, I’m tired of it. I might have to hunt and camp here to feed myself at first. But at least there won’t be some monster animal right around the corner, wanting to eat me.”

  “What will you do? Where will you go?”

  “I don’t know. Do you think it’s awful of me to abandon you all?”

  “You should stay right here in case we hit this time again. So we can find you.”

  She smiled. “I’ll go where I can find work. I need to start a new life. I’ll miss you all terribly, and I’ll worry about you like crazy, but....” She shrugged. “I’m done, Bob. I’m sorry, but I’m done. I don’t have anything waiting for me in the future like all of you do. And I don’t want to live out my life jumping back and forth. I look at Laina, and I think, no. I won’t do that. I won’t spend the rest of my prime of life that way. I’m sorry if that makes me selfish.”

  She left him looking very worried, but it was time for her to go, ten minutes before they’d kick her out anyway. She needed that time to do some judicious stealing. That accomplished, her pockets stuffed with first-aid supplies, she went down the front steps of the hospital and went to check if her blanket was still where she had left it in the church. It was. She gathered it up and walked to the main road to hitchhike back to the others. It was getting dark, but she figured she’d find a place to sleep off the road.

  As it ended up, she couldn’t find a ride at all and walked out of town far enough that she found an empty field. She walked into it and settled down on the ground, wearing all the clothes she had, and wrapped in the hospital blanket. It was cold, and she slept fitfully, but moreover, she realized she had lost her edge. She wanted her soft bed at the McCracken house again. It’d been hard to acquire the toughness needed to survive, and easy to lose it in the face of luxury.

  Not that the old lady had been wealthy or the bed Hannah used that soft. But, comparatively, any bed, any walls, any grocery store food was luxurious. She promised
herself she’d never forget that, no matter how long she lived. The 20th century offered up an easy life compared to what she now knew as the older human experience.

  Three days later, she was back with the others.

  Chapter 24

  They mobbed her with questions about Bob, and she answered them the best she could. Claire asked about the city, and she told them what she knew. She’d walked around the city every morning, and had run errands for Mrs. McCracken and knew quite a bit. She’d even had a few conversations with people in line at the store, and with the friendly nurse who told her more.

  She said, “The next time I go, I’m going to the public library and looking at more information.”

  “We probably know enough,” Claire said. “We won’t be going there. The town is close enough, and good enough for stealing more supplies. There’s a general store here.”

  Ted said, “We’ve been back there once, but Claire wouldn’t let us steal until we’re ready to go.”

  Claire said, “We’re going to steal a rifle. It’s a pretty big deal, and I want to plan it out.”

  Nari said, “I hate that we’re stealing at all.”

  “So do I,” Hannah said, “but let me show you what I stole from the hospital that might change your mind.” She had a wrinkled paper bag from the old lady’s shopping where she’d stuffed her ill-gotten gains. “Good tweezers. Gauze. Aspirin. Sulfa pills, for infection. The glass bottle is laudanum, for pain. Liniment for your leg, Nari. A pack of sewing needles from the five and dime.” She had bought those with change from a shopping trip she’d done for the old lady, who had told her to get something for herself if there was any money left over. She’d picked the needles to use up the bit of change. The five and dime also had fish hooks, five stuck through a cardboard strip. Those, she’d shoplifted. She handed those to Claire. “Good fishing.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “I have something to tell you guys.” She found herself not wanting to say it at all, or to save it for the moment the timegate appeared and limit the length of the argument, but they deserved to know, and she had much she wanted to tell them before they left. “I’m not going with you guys. I’m staying here.”

  Claire didn’t seem surprised. Most of the others were. She let them get over their initial shock before bothering to answer their questions. “I don’t have family like you all do. And I’m tired, tired of the work, tired of losing people. Also, I don’t want to spend a decade jumping to get back to the right time, like Laina spent getting to us. I barely have a good decade and a half left in me. If I ever want to marry, or to have a career, or to do anything in the human world, I think it needs to be now.”

  Nari and Zach tried hardest to talk her out of it. She listened to them, and nodded. But she stuck to her decision. It took until almost supper time, but they had by then begun to accept it.

  Rex, who had been silent on the topic, finally spoke up. “I get it, Hannah. I might even join you, but I’m black. You all might not entirely understand that. I know what life was like for black people in the 30s. Men like me were lynched. I’d have to learn to bow and scrape, to accept living stuck in a bad neighborhood, to be limited to menial labor. It’s as likely I’d die here as die in the ice age. I’m perfectly happy to reach the 22nd century and take my chances in the future, but at the minimum, for safety’s sake, I need to go home.”

  “I’m not that much different,” Nari said. “My appearance would work against me here.”

  “I’m not asking any of you to stay with me,” Hannah said. “I expect you all to want to go back, and Bob too.”

  Nari started to cry. “But I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you. All of you.” Her own eyes were filling, and she made herself think of practical issues instead of emotional ones. “At least I can get you some more gear before you leave. There’s this blanket, for instance, though it’s a small thing. Let’s talk about what I can carry in one more trip back from the city that’d be most useful.”

  After supper, she pulled Nari aside. “You’re going to need to be the medic now.”

  “Me?” she squeaked.

  “Yeah. You helped me before. You nursed Zach through his illness. And you sew well. Sewing well is part of the job.”

  “I don’t know if I can sew a person.”

  “I know. It sounds impossible. I was freaked out when I had to work on Jodi way back when. But you can do it. You just forget for a moment when you’re sewing that you’re doing it to a friend. Skin is just hide, after all, and an easier sort to sew through than most of what you worked with. Dispensing pills will be simple enough. You know what to do for a fever. Next time I’m in the city, I’ll try to find you some medical books, steal them from the library if I must. If I can find a thin herbal or a first aid manual, I’ll get those for you. It’ll be extra weight for you to haul.”

  “I don’t mind the weight,” Nari said. “I mind you leaving. Oh, Hannah, are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” It didn’t mean she didn’t feel bad and torn in both directions. But she had thought about it a lot by now. She wanted to stay.

  For three more days, she stayed with the group and they discussed what she should bring back from the city. There were some more tears from Nari. Jodi and Zach talked to her together. “We’ll miss you,” Zach said. “We’ll worry about you.”

  “I’ll worry about you. But you’re so smart and strong now. You’re tough, like people haven’t been tough for a long while. Even these 1930s people, they have nothing on you guys.”

  “Or on you,” Jodi said. “You can kick some serious ass when you want.”

  “Thanks, but that’s part of the point. I really don’t want to kick any. I’m tired of fighting to survive. Aren’t you?”

  “No,” Jodi said. “I enjoy it. I mean, except for pain and terror. No, erase that. The terror is almost fun, sort of a high. That is, once you make it through.”

  “I’ve fallen for a crazy woman,” Zach said, looking at Jodi with real pride in his expression.

  The way they were together eased Hannah’s concern. Look at them. They were amazingly tough, they worked as a team. They’d have each others’ backs, and they’d do whatever it took to survive.

  By the time she returned from the city again, Hannah thought they’d have adapted to the idea.

  Claire’s words with her were public and brief. “Bring Mr. O’Brien, most of all,” Claire said. “Even if you can’t bring one other thing on the list, bring him back to us. That’s all I care about.”

  “I will. I’ll get us both back here well before the timegate arrives.”

  “We should wait for you,” Rex said. “Ted and I can camp just outside town with the travois, and then Mr. O. won’t have to walk all the way back here. We can save him that much stress.”

  “Great idea. Let’s pick a date. I’ll try to be there as close to it as possible.”

  Nari especially hated to see her packing to go back to the city. “I won’t be able to talk with you ever again,” she said.

  She could have lied, but she did not. “Probably not. In the year 2000, I’ll be a hundred, and I doubt I’ll make that age, and you will just be getting born then anyway.”

  “If we come back to this same time, or ten years from now, how will we find you?”

  “I doubt you will. I think I’ll have to go to a bigger city to do what I’d like with my life. Maybe out to California or Seattle, where I suspect a woman might do better for herself than in the center of the country.”

  “What will you do there?”

  “I’m not sure. But I might be able to pass myself off as a nurse, at least in a doctor’s office. I’ll start with that. While I’m earning rent with that I’ll look around for something that pays better. I’m going to check first to see if I can be hired at an aircraft factory, in any capacity.” That way, she’d be in a better position to move to the production line when the war came. She might even get herself a supervisory position during the war if
she had some years of experience at a plant. She had no idea if they hired women for any jobs, but she’d find out.

  Nari was more interested in her doctor’s office plans. “Don’t you need something to be a nurse, like a degree or certificate?”

  “It’s not as if there are computer records they can check. I could look at someone else’s diploma and fake one. I can get a birth certificate anywhere along the way of the correct age, and use that for ID. There aren’t photos on anything right now, like driver’s licenses. Social Security is still in the future, but I don’t know how long. Close, I think, because there was an article in the newspaper about a new law for unemployment insurance that just passed. So I don’t need a number for that. It’s much more of a handshake world. The proof, I suspect, will be much more in my competence at nursing than in any piece of paper I could show.”

  “You’re awfully brave to do this alone.”

  “You’re more brave. All of you are, to keep on living as we have been. I’m a coward, not wanting to continue jumping back in time.”

  “I might quit too if it wasn’t for my being Asian-American. I mean, they might put me in an internment camp in the war, thinking I’m Japanese, right?”

  Hannah hadn’t considered that. “They could, I guess.”

  “I’m with Rex in that. I need to try for a better time for me. And I want to see my family. I miss them more now, with the near miss in time jump, than I have in weeks and weeks. I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about. In your shoes, I’d do the same. If I had a family I loved, I’d want to get back to them. Bob, with a wife and kids and grandkids? Of course he’s going with you.”

  “But you’ll be alone here.”

  “I’ll make new friends. Maybe not as good as you, and certainly I’ll never share anything like this experience with anyone else. But there are millions of people on the planet to befriend. You guys will be more alone, in a sense, with only nine of you.”