Multiverse 1

by Chris Hechtl

  The skipper stared. “My god, where did they…”

  “Not they, him,” the old lady said maliciously, pointing to Roy. “You can thank him,” she said as the others turned to him. “He did it, almost all on his own,” she said.

  “It was luck,” Roy admitted. “We stumbled over them almost literally.”

  “Them?”

  “Piglets too,” Roy said, pointing to the cages. Dennis was feeding them through the cage door. The fishers blinked and looked at the animals. “Only three, the rest got away. But, hey, if we can keep them alive and fed...”

  “We're on our way to a farm,” a guy said happily. “Awesome,” he said.

  “Well, it's a start,” Roy said.

  “A damn good one!” the skipper said, patting him on the shoulder heartily until the professor winced.

  ~~~~~O~~~~~

  The next day the camp woke to find the piglets gone; someone had let them free under the cover of night. That pissed off many people; they knew how lucky it had been to get the animals. They growled darkly at the Muslim pair, as well as the Roberts, making for uneasy tension in the camp over breakfast. “What's done is done,” Shawn said with a sniff. “Can't cry over spilled milk. Move on,” he said airily. “It's just as well; doc will tell you pork fat is bad for you. Loaded with cholesterol and things,” he said self-righteously.

  “Let me worry about my own damn health. I want to eat first. Crap like that comes a distant second in a situation like this,” a guy said. “FYI, if it happens again, I don't care who it is, I'll string them up myself,” he snarled, hands clenched. A few others around him looked shocked and surprised, but one or two nodded. Shawn backed away fast.

  ~~~~~O~~~~~

  Roy swore quietly when he heard the news while taking a sponge bath near the stream with a group of others. The people fell to furious gossip about who was the perpetrator, and speculation fell on the usual suspects. There was nothing he could do about it though; the animals were gone, out of the perimeter and off into the dubious safety of the bush.

  Without a job and thoroughly frustrated, he did the only thing that came to mind; he went back to the aircraft. He had the beginnings of a smiths forge going he decided to dive into the project. Rocks and metal were used to form an improvised hearth. He had wood, which wouldn't be hot enough. He knew he needed coal, but some heat was better than none he judged.

  When he thought he was sufficiently prepared, he stoked the fire until it was blazing hot, then stuck bits of metal into it. Using the fire to heat up metal scraps and his hammer to beat the metal into submission took a lot of practice, time, strength and patience. It did help to beat his frustrations out though.

  Mid-morning, the welder Quinn heard the clangs of metal on metal and snuck away from the hospital to give him a hand. Quinn was a good guy, but he'd cut himself badly on the scrap metal and had been on the sick list. “Damn, am I glad to see you doing this,” Quinn said with a nod.

  “Glad someone appreciates it,” Roy said. He'd gotten some curious looks and a few noise complaints. He didn't care.

  “Ah hell, man, don't worry about the haters. Haters will hate,” Quinn said. “Come on, I'll lend you a hand. What's first?” He asked.

  “We're at the tools to build the tools stage,” Roy said, hefting an improvised set of tongs. The handles were extended by pieces of bamboo, but he knew that wouldn't last long.

  Their first project was to forge a better pair of long handled tongs to help with the forging, something to be able to reach into the hot fire and pull out the glowing metal. After they were judged finished, they cooled them in a bath.

  The paramedic tracked them down; he snorted as he spotted them tearing into the aircraft for more material. “I should have known.” he said, shaking his head. “Unless you want my wife or one of the nurses over here to drag you off by your ears and sit on you to force feed you lunch, you two better go eat,” he warned.

  Quinn and Roy exchanged looks and then small smiles. “Now that he mentioned it, I am feeling a trifle peckish,” Roy quipped. All that work had made his appetite pick up.

  “Mine too.”

  “Well, you better go eat some of that leftover pig before it's gone. It's going fast. It's got to in this heat,” the paramedic said with a shake of his head.

  “Thanks,” Roy said. He helped Quinn over to the mess area and served them both lunch on used trays. After leftover lukewarm pig and roots, they went back to work. It took a few tries, but eventually they had a couple of crude lance heads and finally arrow heads for an archery set by the time dinner was called.

  He noted Dennis picking at his meal. “What's the matter, not hungry?” Roy asked.

  “No,” the kid said listlessly. “I just…” he sighed heavily.

  “That's a big sigh for a little guy,” Roy said. He came over and sat down next to the kid. “What gives?” he asked.

  “The pigs. I…why'd they run away?” the lad asked. He looked over his sister to his dad, then back to Roy.

  “Well, someone let them go. They were wild and didn't know they had free food and water here so they left.”

  “Oh.”

  “But hey, it's okay. We'll catch more,” Roy said with a smile. He looked across the fire to see the girl Susan there. She frowned and looked down quickly. He put it out of his mind. She'd been around the smithy all day. He winced; he'd burned his arm a bit. He made a mental note to be more careful.

  The kid's eyes were wide though, ignorant of his internal dialog. Wendy looked over her little brother to Roy as well. “Really?” she asked breathlessly. “We can do it?”

  “Sure,” Roy chuckled. “If we did it once, we can do it again. It'll take some patience, and a bit of luck, but eventually we'll do it. If not pigs, well,” he waved a hand. “There are a lot of other animals out there. We'll see,” he said. “So buck up. You never know what tomorrow will bring.”

  That made the kids smile. Their dad looked over and smiled his thanks to Roy. Roy nodded and then dug into his evening meal, finally in a better mood.

  ~~~~~O~~~~~

  The next morning Roy found he had additional helpers along with Quinn. Four other men had put in with Klinger to help them. All were eager apprentices, though they weren't so eager when they found out how hard it was. And that the sparks flew and burned skin and clothes alike.

  He got them set up into a routine, almost an assembly line. One guy would pull bits out of the aircraft. Parts they wanted to keep would be carefully set aside and stored. The rest was stacked for melting down.

  One guy worked the fire. He fed it and kept an eye on the color of the metal. When it was ready, he pulled the piece and swung it over to two guys with hammers. They would strike the metal bending and shaping it. Quinn guided them while Roy worked out new tools and anvils for them to use.

  They were going through a lot of wood though, and Roy knew they'd need more. Charcoal would be best, and a bellows to get the fire hotter. But for now, they had to work with what they had on hand.

  Roy had them take a break for lunch. The guys nodded, and went off to get drinks and do their business. Roy looked about, noting Susan near. The girl darted away the moment she realized he was looking around. Ironically, it was her movement away that had attracted his attention. He frowned, but then shrugged.

  He viewed the camp, this time with eyes and mind set to analyze its politics. They had separated into groups he knew, the fishers led by the skipper, campers and survivalists like Wilson, religious nuts and middle management led by the Roberts, hunters like Harris, Simmons, and Klinger, medics under Doc and her hubby, the cooks like Cookie and Betty, and gatherers under Elsa. But there was another group, an up and coming one, artisans like Lita, himself, Quinn and Walt. They were needed to keep the others functional. They were the glue. He snorted at the realization; it was a bit like Roberts, too full of himself he bet.

  Really, some crossed lines and were in no one’s camp. Cookie for instance; she was the cook but also a friend
of the Roberts. She didn't go all their way though; she was practical when it came to food. The Irish girl, Patty, was also with the Roberts, but she'd latched onto the skipper like a limpet. Roy shook his head. No one person pigeon holed perfectly. Well, okay, maybe the Roberts, he thought darkly. But Hadji, for instance, he'd found was an experienced carpenter and wood crafter. An artisan.

  He shook his head at his woolgathering and went off to get cleaned up and eat.

  Once he was finished eating, he decided to play a little hooky instead of beating the bush looking for his apprentices. Instead, he snuck off to get his laptop and solar blanket. Once he was sure Susan hadn't followed him, he pulled them down and then hung the blanket on the wing of the plane, pinning the corners with rocks to keep it from fluttering away in the wind. Once he had it set up, he then plugged in the laptop to charge. One of girls noticed and came over, dusting sand off her hands.

  “Can you um…charge my iPod?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said. He held out his hand. She went and got it and then came back. He plugged it into the USB port on his laptop for a minute to charge.

  “Music…I miss it. Walt's good but…” Roy smiled. He tapped at his laptop and pulled up a playlist. Then he put a song on. She listened and smiled, bobbing along with the beat.

  The music carried near the water. Others came to look out of curiosity after a couple of minutes. When they saw him, Roy and the girl waved. After a few seconds, they would either leave or go do something else.

  When the iPod was charged, he unplugged it and handed it to the teenager. She happily took herself off to do laundry. “Wait,” she said, spinning about. “Can I, um, wash your clothes?” she offered. “I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you really stink,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the smell. He chuckled.

  Quinn came over and shook his head. “I was about to say something too,” he said.

  “Okay, okay,” Roy said. “Keep an eye on my stuff for the moment will you?” Roy asked. “I don't want Susan or someone running off with it,” he said. Quinn nodded but closed his eyes, the sun was bad. Roy took off his shirt and tossed it to the girl. She caught it with a yelp of dismay, then stared at his muscular chest. He turned, ignoring it and went to get a change of clothes. He changed behind the forge, making her blush. He handed her the rest of his gear and the clothes from the past couple of days. She muttered something about me and my big mouth and headed off.

  “I'm going to take a bath,” Roy said. The smith agreed with a nod.

  Getting back from the bath Roy saw an altercation brewing around the forge and Quinn. He broke into a trot when he heard the loud voices. “Put that back!” Quinn snarled.

  “Hang on there,” Roy growled, coming around the nose of the plane. “What do you think you're doing?” He demanded. “That's my stuff. Back off,” he growled.

  “I'm confiscating this,” Roberts said. “For the good of the community,” he said with an air of authority.

  “You and what army?” Quinn demanded, raising a hammer. “Want me to use this on you, bub?” he growled.

  “You wouldn't dare,” Shawn growled.

  “I would. I'll defend what's mine,” Roy growled, as Shawn tried to make off with the laptop. He grabbed Roberts wrist, forcing him to let go with a gasp. “You will regret that,” Roberts said rubbing his wrist.

  “I doubt it. But if I do, that's my business. Buzz off,” Roy growled.

  Shawn glared but backed off. When the other apprentices arrived, he left in a huff.

  “What'd we miss?” Pete asked.

  “Trouble,” Quinn answered. “Sorry, man,” he said, turning to Roy. “I must have dozed off or something,” he said.

  “It's okay,” Roy said, doing a quick inventory. Nothing looked damaged. That was good.

  One of the laundry girls arrived with a handfuls of saplings. While Quinn and the guys stacked the wood Roy sorted out the good saplings from the bad ones and had the girl rack them out to dry. The bad was tossed in the kindling pile for the forge. “Can you bring the rest of this to Eliza? She's doing my other clothes,” he asked.

  She agreed with a curt nod, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she took the bundle.

  “Thanks,” he said. She nodded again and then held the clothes at arm's length as she walked quickly away.

  Walter hobbled over to watch the guys split wood. “That sap,” he said. Roy turned his head to look at him but then went back to work. “I'm a chemist. So is Sandy, well, she's a biochemist and biologist student. But that sap that kid found. I heated some by the fire, I thought it'd might be edible.”

  “Like maple syrup?” Quinn asked.

  “Oh man,” a guy said smacking his lips. “On pancakes…”

  “No, no,” Walter said, waving a hand. “More…anyway, I heated it by the fire, and it had set…hard. It's not vulcanized, but it is some sort of thermal polymer.”

  Roy paused, rubbing his chin in thought. “That's odd.” he said.

  “Yeah, that it is,” the older chemist said. “It is inverted though. Usually when you heat something, it gets soft, not hard; it set hard. Fascinating,” he murmured, holding up a sample.

  Roy took the purple blob and turned it over in his hands. It wasn't sticky, nor burnt. But it was strange. “Think you can use it as a coating or something?” Roy asked, handing it off to Quinn. Quinn took a look and then handed it on to the others to examine. Most seemed disinterested though. If it wasn't edible, they didn't care.

  “Or something,” Walt said.

  “Is it water soluble? Have you tested that?” Roy asked.

  “It's on my agenda. I was going to test it in the sea,” Walt said, kicking his shoes off. He had velcro flip flops on like some of the other refugees. He went over to the water's edge and then knelt and put the blob of purplish material in the water. He played with it, but then looked at Roy and gave a smile and a thumbs-up.

  “So it's good. Interesting,” Roy said as Walt trudged over. “You know, right off the top of my head, if it's got some tensile strength, you could coat the knots in the improvised fishing line,” Roy suggested. “They sometimes come undone in the water despite the double slip knots.”

  “True. I was thinking fishing line itself. If we had a supply say, and ran it through a heater…cut it up?”

  “Or had it liquid on top and ran it through a small hole,” Roy suggested, eyes going vacant as he took the problem on. “Let gravity do the work for you. I'm not sure about the heating element though, it'd have to be hot. Do you have a temperature range?” he asked. Roy shook his head. “Time?”

  “About two minutes at the edge of the fire to heat and set,” Walt reported. Roy nodded. “We'd have to preheat the mix or something. Run a test. Get it hot up top, then let it dribble through the hole like they do wire in manufacturing. Maybe a cool bath to shock it into its final shape?”

  “I'm not sure. Water when it is still a sap might dissolve it. And we don't know its tensile strength,” the chemist warned.

  “No, but if we had a sample we could hang some weights from the bottom and test for that,” Roy said thoughtfully. “And once we had some lines even if they weren't very strong, we could always use them for a rope core. Wrap them in something else,” he suggested.

  “I'll see what I can do,” Walt said.

  “Thanks, Walt,” Roy said. He smiled.

  “For what? I'm…well, trying to do something. I don't like feeling useless,” the old man said.

  “You aren't. You are contributing and at least you want to help. Others…” Roy shook his head. Susan was outside, beating an improvised broom on the wall. Roy snorted. She'd done that every few minutes for the past hour. She wasn't fooling him any.

  “I'll let you know how it turns out,” Walt said.

  “Walt's silly string,” Roy teased. Walt sniffed, but then waved and kept going.

  “So, where were we?” he asked. He sighed when he saw a couple girls coming their way.

  “You are getting p
opular,” Quinn said. He waved a hand. “Go, we've got this,” he said. “We know how to do lances and arrow tips.”

  “Thanks guys,” Roy said.

  Roy showed one of the girls how to braid rope from plant fibers, and another how to make primitive baskets. Both were happy; they had long fast fingers and were used to braiding necklaces, hair, and bracelets.

  Just as they left he had another customer. Cookie wistfully asked for pots and utensils. The ones she had from the plane were wearing out fast, and besides, they were suited for a microwave, not a camp fire.

  “I'll see what I can do. A real stove would be nice,” he said. She nodded.

  “Are you smoking any of the unused meat?” he asked. “You can do that and bury the tubers in clean sand for later.”

  “No, we run through most of it, and what I don't use right off I throw in a soup pot,” she said. He nodded. She was using a metal equipment cover as an improvised pot. He knew he could do better.

  “Just be careful with the wild tubers, some are normally slightly poisonous,” he warned her. “Run everything past Elsa, he urged. She nodded warily.

  “I'll see if we can rig a box and some ducts from the aircraft to make a smoker. I'm not sure when though, but I'll put it on our to-do list,” he said.

  “Near the top,” she urged.

  He smiled. “Right after the latest round of weapons and a certain lady’s requested pots and pans,” he said. She bobbed a nod and then left with a backwards look. He turned to the bemused crew. “Well, you heard the lady; if we want to eat better, we'd better get cracking,” he said. They nodded.

  ~~~~~O~~~~~

  Klinger arrived late, near dinner time. His people came back happy though with a pair of protoceretops carcasses as well as a pig carcass. He was pretty happy, and a few of the guys strutted, apparently pleased with their luck.

  Klinger waved to a pair of guys and a pair of girls. When they came over, he had them start to clean the animals under Sandy Jenkin's guidance for Cookie.