Days of Future Past - Part 1: Past Tense

by John Van Stry

  "Dude, I was there, remember?" I yelled right back at him, I was pissed. Bad enough this asshole was out to ruin my career, but now he ruins my life! "She clearly said only you would get to go home. That this," I waved my arms around me at the trees, "was my sacrifice. And my name is Paul, try using it."

  I had the distinct pleasure of seeing him look just a little bit embarrassed by that. I stormed off back to the jet and patted myself down. I really didn't have much of anything on me, but I remembered then the small 'survival' kit in the base of the parachute, it wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. Also I had the orange switchblade in the pocket on my g-suit. So I walked back over to the aircraft, opened the access panel, turned the battery back on and opened the canopy to get my stuff.

  "What are you doing?" He asked a moment, and then added, "Paul."

  "Surviving, what else?" I grumbled. "All I have is a bottle of water, my wallet, and a hat that doesn't cover much."

  He noticed what I was doing, and then climbed up on the wing and got his own knife, but left his parachute.

  I tossed the parachute down on the ground, stuffed the knife in a pocket, after folding the riser cutter closed. Typical air force, they order knives that are supposed to flip out a special hook to cut risers if your parachute gets tangled, and instead get switchblades. But rather then send them back and get what they ordered, they accept the junk and make us fly with the razor sharp hook folded out in a special pocket six inches from your crotch.

  And of course switchblades are illegal in most of the country, so if you ever got pulled over with your gear in the car, you might end up in jail for the night.

  I looked around the cockpit; there really wasn't anything else of any use. Oh the compass was full of alcohol if I wanted to get a small buzz on, but removing it would require tools that I didn't have. There was a pack under the seat for serious survival gear, but it was empty, as we weren't supposed to leave the continental United States. There was even a credit card in one of the access panels on the outside of the jet, in case you were forced down someplace that didn't take the air force gas card, but somehow I didn't think that would work here either. So climbing back down I closed the canopies again and shut off the batteries. Then went and removed the parachute's minimal survival kit and cut it open.

  There wasn't much in it, a couple of matches, a condom to carry water with - like you could really do that! But the compass, the extra knife, fishhooks, snare wire and needles, those were pretty useful. I'd had some survival training, and I used to go camping a lot, one of those 'get the kids out of the city' things, so I knew the basic theory. Now I'd get to see if I could apply any of it before I starved to death.

  I looked up in the sky, briefly, then around at the shadows. It had been early, eight in the morning, when we'd taken off. It looked to be about noon now. I thought about what I'd seen of the area while we were searching for a place to land. There were mountains off to the west, which had been there before all of this happened. There were also some hills scattered around the region. I thought I had seen a glint of water to the south of us under the trees, so hopefully that meant a river or a pond, and that meant water.

  Picking up the parachute I put it on my back, took a look at the small button compass and started to head south.

  "Where are you going?" the Major asked.

  "Water," I said pointing south. "I don't expect there's going to be any rescue helicopters or search and rescue teams looking for us."

  "So you're just going to strike off into the forest like that?"

  I stopped and turned to look back at him.

  "Yes, just like this. Before I'm too thirsty to think straight."

  "What about wild animals?"

  "If I take the time to try and make any kind of spear, by the time I'm done it will be dark, and I don't feel like traipsing through the woods after the sun sets," I said and scowled at him. "Why? Afraid of being alone?"

  "No, I'm just surprised that a city boy like you isn't worried about bears or wolves or such. You're all so fired up to go striking off through the woods, off to find water and all that kind of stuff like you probably read in some book or saw on TV."

  I stared at him and wondered just how the hell this guy ever made it to major. Inspiring he was not, unless of course he was trying to inspire me to beat his ass to death.

  "I don't know why you even care," I sighed, turning back towards the woods.

  "Because you're my responsibility," he said.

  I shook my head, "This morning you were doing everything you could to shaft me, and now you want me to believe you care about me? Pull the other one."

  "Well this morning, it wasn't about life or death, now was it?" he said walking over towards me. "Now, how about you go back over to the aircraft and sit down for a while?"

  "Sorry, but no."

  "That's an order, Paul!" He said and walked around to stand in front of me.

  I stopped and looked at him, "You know, they say you're not supposed to hit a superior officer, but, you're not one anymore. So unless you want your ass kicked, just get out of my way and let me go."

  He laughed at me, "You really think you can kick my ass? You? A city boy?"

  I looked down at him, the Major stood about five foot nine, about three inches shorter than I was. He was trim and in good shape, fairly slender. Probably in his early thirties.

  I was six foot, a heavier build, and while I hadn't been working out much for the last year due to all the training demands on my time, I still practiced my forms every morning before I hit the shower. I'd been doing martial arts since before high school, I'd even taught a course in ROTC to those who wanted to learn.

  And I was good at it.

  "Have you even read my record?" I asked looking at him like he was mental.

  "I don't need to read your record, Paul. You're just another born and bred city boy who grew up in some apartment building and went to those broken down government schools where they filled your head with all sorts of rubbish. You can't take me, Son. You probably never fought a real man in your life!"

  I sighed and stepped around him, and damn if the asshole didn't punch me!

  Hard too!

  I stumbled away from him, he'd hit me in the right shoulder, it had been fast, but I wasn't surprised by that, I'd expect him to be quick, he was a pilot after all. But he hit a lot harder than I would ever have expected a scrawny guy like him to be able to hit.

  I dropped the parachute and raised my hands, I'd start off boxing him, last thing I wanted to do was leave him incapacitated here in the middle of nowhere.

  He moved in, rather confident and tried to punch me in the face, I dodged back and kept my hands up, hitting at the insides of his arms to try and deflect his strikes as well.

  That was another surprise; his arms were almost like iron, hitting them hurt! I was also barely able to deflect them! That shouldn't have happened. Just normal body mechanics I should have pushed his arms wider, something wasn't right here.

  "What's this? Somebody actually knows how to fight?" The Major said surprised.

  "It's in my record," I said and ducked to the left as he tried to hit me with a right cross. He had speed, and he had inhuman strength, but he didn't have much skill. I jumped past him, kicked him in the back of the right knee, in the joint, and it folded like it should. He looked completely surprised then as I just spun around and hit him with a roundhouse kick to the left shoulder, knocking him off balance.

  All I could think of was I was glad I was wearing the heavy flying boots, hitting him was like hitting solid wood and it hurt. If I'd been wearing anything less I might have broken my foot.

  "How the hell..." he started but just then I noticed someone approaching us in the distance.

  "We got company," I said and dropping my guard I stepped back and the Major sprung quickly to his feet.

  "We're not done here, Lieutenant."

  "Paul," I corrected.

  "Have it your way," He growled, "but we
're not done here, Paul."

  Several people were approaching us, coming out of the trees. They looked at our jet, and then they looked at us.

  For my part, I looked at them. They were definitely American Indians, though their features weren't as distinct as I remembered them from my times off base. I wasn't a native to the area, having come from the west coast and gone to college near the bay. But on a couple of weekends I'd gone out to check out some of the tourist attractions with other members of my training flight, and gotten some exposure to the tribes that lived in the area.

  They were all wearing loose fitting pants and shirts, that were dyed a motley of greens and some dark browns. I don't recall from any history that I'd ever read of Indians using camouflage, but apparently these were, though the material looked to be more of the homespun variety then anything you'd buy. Most of them had long straight black or brown hair, and none of them looked to really have any facial hair.

  Build wise, they all looked very strong, from what I could see, but none of them appeared to be much taller than the Major and I could see some of the similarities in features between him and them. They were carrying bows, knives, and a couple had what looked like machetes. I didn't see anything that looked like a firearm on any of them.

  The Major raised his hand up above his head and called out something I didn't understand, it sounded like a greeting. The one in the front also raised his hand and said something back, while the others stopped to look at our jet a bit closer.

  "Friends of yours?" I asked.

  "Yes, the goddess Estanatlehi said they would be along not long after we landed."

  I sighed, "You could have told me that, John."

  "I don't have to tell you anything, Paul. I'm your superior officer, and you are required to do as I tell you."

  I just shook my head and picked up the parachute and carried it over to the jet and tossed it over by one of the landing gear as Major Riggs engaged the group in a conversation.

  I watched, curious. There was a lot of gesturing, hands pointing to the sky, and I heard Estanatlehi's name mentioned several times. When they all touched their chests and then bowed to Major Riggs I figured he must have scored some major points with them.

  "Come, Paul," Major Riggs said.

  I nodded, and started to follow the group as they moved back towards the woods, where they'd come out of.

  "So where are we going?" I asked.

  "To their village, to see their chief," Major Riggs told me.

  The man who had been first out of the trees, and who was now bringing up the rear with Major Riggs said something to him, and they both conversed for a minute or two, while gesturing at me. When the man laughed suddenly I got a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  "What was that about?" I asked.

  "Nothing to worry yourself about, Paul, nothing at all," Major Riggs said with a less than encouraging grin.

  #

  The village was really more of a town, it was obviously a permanent settlement and there were several larger core buildings set at what I guess was the town's center, with the largest of them occupying the center of the group, where most towns I'd seen back home would have had their town square.

  We had walked through a lot of outlying farms on the way into town, and there were a lot of smaller structures scattered around those farms. There was quite a bit of livestock around as well, mostly horses and sheep, and of course there were people everywhere.

  Most of the people I saw were wearing some form of shorts or a hanging loincloth, the children going topless, the adults wearing either shirts or a vest of some kind, the vests all sporting some very fancy embroidery.

  When we got to the large building in the very center of town, we were led inside, or that is Major Riggs was led inside, I was more or less pushed into a corner.

  Several old men and women came out and sat down at a long table, the one in the center spoke, again in a language that I didn't recognize, and Major Riggs answered them. This went on for quite a while, and when I tried to sit down on the floor I got kicked and was forced to stand for all of it.

  I did manage to pick up a few words, jet was mentioned a couple of times, as was the name of the goddess, or whatever she was, that had appeared to us. I heard a few words that I recalled to be the names of some of the places around here, and a couple of times while Major Riggs talked there were gasps of either disbelief or fear, I really couldn't tell as I didn't speak the language.

  Eventually the man in the center, who I guess was the chief, stood up and spoke for a couple of minutes, which sounded almost like a prayer followed by a speech, and there was much cheering and stomping of feet, and they all came down and clasped arms with Major Riggs.

  After that was done, the chief pointed at me and said something, he and Major Riggs went back and forth rather congenially a couple of times, then the chief smiled and Major Riggs waved me over.

  "Come here, Paul."

  I sighed and walked over to him.

  "Now what?" I asked.

  Major Riggs smiled at me, "Well, you see, the prophecy was that I was supposed to come alone, from a great white bird that would descend from the sky. However, you're here, which of course isn't in the prophecy."

  "Fine, just point me back to the airplane and I'll go," I said. It was getting dark outside; they'd been lighting torches in the streets when we'd gotten here.

  "Well, you see, it's not that simple," Major Riggs said to me. "I couldn't rightfully allow you to go out there all alone, you wouldn't survive. Plus my people here probably wouldn't like the idea of a city boy such as you wandering around."

  "What did you do?" I growled at him, balling my fists.

  "Oh, nothing bad," he smiled, "I gave you to the chief, that's all."

  "You, gave me?" I said, my eyes opening in shock.

  "Enjoy your new life, Paul. Or should I say, slave?" He laughed at my expression. "I told them I had brought you along as a gift, they were most overjoyed."

  "You bastard!" I swore and took a swing at him.

  He must have knew I was going to do it, and he must have warned them, because he took a step back and laughed as something hard and heavy hit me on the back of the head, several times, and I crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

  - 3 -

  "Ow our ya fellin?"

  I opened my eyes and looked around, there was an old man looking down at me. Or at least I thought he was old. It took me a moment to gather my wits and figure out where I was, and what had happened. I was laying on something hard, but it wasn't cold, there was a roof above my head, and as it came into focus I could see it was made from wood.

  I reached up my arm slowly and touched the back of my head as it started to come back to me. That asshole major had sold me into slavery!

  "Who are you?" I asked slowly, as I felt the back of my head. It was sore, and I could feel some dry blood matting the short hair of my crew cut. At least I don't think my skull had been cracked.

  "I arm the slav chief," he said. His accent was pretty strong, but it only took me a moment to make it out.

  I swore, "That bastard really did make me a slave then?" I groaned and then gasped as I got hit in the stomach.

  "Hat be nao way to be tolkin abaout the chaosen own," he said and shook his fist at me.

  I glared at him, but I remembered that I was flat on my back, still a bit dizzy, and I had no idea where the hell I was.

  "Where am I?" I asked instead.

  "The slav haouse," he said. "Naoh hat ya be awake, ya can gat to waork."

  He moved away from me then, and I sat up slowly. There was light streaming in through the open shutters of the windows, which had no glass in them. The room was about twenty feet wide and maybe sixty long, not unlike a barracks, with wooden bunk beds to either side of the central aisle. There was even a bed above me, the beds all being wood, with a couple of what looked like old wool blankets on each of them. I was naked, the only thing they'd left me were my dog tags. Everythi
ng else was gone.

  I looked up the slave chief as I gathered my wits, I was still dizzy and now that I had sat up, I was thirsty and hungry as hell.

  "Where are my clothes?" I asked slowly, "And where can I get some water, and some food?"

  "Her our ya claothes," he said and tossed me a fairly skimpy loincloth that was nothing more than a leather cord with two pieces of leather hanging down from it. I sighed and shook my head.

  "Wator be aout hat doer," he said and pointed to the front door, which was right next to my bunk. "Faeod be for hose hat waerk, ya must waerk to be fad."

  I got to my feet slowly, and picking up my 'clothing' I put it on and tied it over my right hip.

  'Whack!'

  I gasped in pain as I got hit across the back with a stick of some sort.

  "Get maovin, ya laze! Ah nao gaot ta day tao waaste oan ya!"

  I stumbled over to the door and opening it, I saw an old style water pump. Grabbing the handle I started to pump it and stuck my head under the stream of water that came out and started to drink.

  Apparently the slave chief didn't like that, cause he whipped me three more times while I drank my fill, but my body needed water so badly that the blows barely registered until I stopped and stood up.

  "Sorry," I mumbled and then immediately felt like an ass. Why the hell was I apologizing to this sadist?

  "Git!" He said and pointed, and drove me on with a very liberal use of his stick. I got a good look at him now as I started to regain my wits and he drove me on. He was definitely an old man, and his left arm was missing below the elbow. His hair was gray and fairly long, pulled back with a leather headband, and he wore the homespun pants that the others wore, along with a very well decorated leather vest that hung open. He wore sandals on his feet and the crop he was hitting me with was a wooden stick wrapped tightly with a thin strip of leather. He was thinner than me and a lot shorter, only coming up to my chin.

  He whacked me across the chin for looking at him, so I just turned and went in the direction he was driving me.