Appollinaire: (The Other Side of Nowhere)

by Robert William Saul Harvey

  Most reassuring; Pol knew for a fact, Tinker—never one to back away from a fight, no matter the size of the attacker—his best pal, would willingly defend him to the end...

  Chapter 68

  At best guess, measuring the passage of time with his watch, and the amount of times he needed to sleep, Pol calculated he had had been in this place for almost three whole days. Seventy-two hours. During this time, he had achieved much, and learned some.

  Funnily enough, he was actually beginning to enjoy being alone with Tinker and wondered if it might be because there was no one here harping on to him to get things done all the time.

  Wash this. Wash that.

  Clean this. Clean that.

  Do this. Do that.

  Yackity-yak.

  Tinker appeared to be content as well.

  Win-win.

  Now Pol’s defenses were set, his fishing basket was finished and had already proved its worth, he was happy. Sure, with practice, he would be able to catch more fish than he and Tinker could eat. He had already managed to catch one fish and cooked it in the makeshift oven he had built over one half of the fire. A semi-circle of stones, topped with a flat rock, with another flat rock bridging the fire. Luckily, the rocks around there seemed to be fire-resistant and did not crack or explode. Made for a simple arrangement that suited him fine.

  Pol had even managed to create a bit of a rough sundial with which to measure time. A small cairn of stones, shielded from the glare of the second sun by a wall he had built. If he had not created this wall, the second sun would have obliterated what little shadow was cast by the first sun. A few scratches on the ground, which he would add to as time went by, completed the simple sundial. He planned to make a similar sundial on the other side of the wall, using the second sun to create its shadow. If, in time, a third sun should appear, he would have to create a third dial, and so on.

  It had occurred to him that, perhaps, he was wasting his time: why not just forget time altogether? Go to sleep when he wanted to. Get up, do some work, rest, then sleep. The same way Tinker did. Tinker did not need to know what the time was, so, why should he?

  Nah.

  ‘Got to do it. If I don’t. I’ll be forever wondering what the time was back at home and what mum and dad will be doing.’

  As far as Pol was aware, the battery in his watch would only last for another year, Earth-time. Not much longer. When the battery eventually ran out, the watch would be useless. Hence the need for a sundial. Hopefully, when his watch was dead, his sundials would not only be complete, they would also be relatively accurate. He would be able to measure time by Earth hours and minutes and by the passing of the two suns overhead.

  All in all,

  Not bad for an out-of-work, unqualified for anything, lazy, selfish, and friendless, no-hoper.

  “Not bad at all...”

  Chapter 69

  It was about mid-morning on the fourth day when Tinker, who had been lying in the shade cast by a large boulder, panting, suddenly jumped to his feet, his ears erect, fully alert.

  Pol, sitting on a nearby rock, turned his head and stared wide-eyed at the dog as a low, throaty growl emanated from between his curled lips and followed Tinker’s gaze as he stared at something over towards the forest.

  “‘Grrr.’”

  Pol slit his eyes and stood up to get a better view of the distant line of trees, but he could not see anything other than trees. Neither could he hear anything.

  “What’s up, boy? What can you see?” he asked quietly.

  “‘Grrr,’” repeated Tinker.

  The hairs on the back of Pol’s neck stood up on end when a high-pitched howl filled the air similar to the howl he had heard before.

  ‘It’s definitely coming from the direction of the forest,’ he thought as he strained to pinpoint the sound’s point of origin.

  Suddenly a pack of wolf-like animals came hurtling out from beneath the trees. Pol counted eleven in total. The howling, barking animals were heading at full speed up the hill towards the place where Pol and Tinker were standing.

  As soon as he saw the animals emerging from the trees, Tinker leapt forward and stopped at the edge of the semi-circle of defensive stones and spears. Stood with his legs apart, braced ready in a fighting stance. With fire in his eyes, and bared teeth, the dog made a threatening, snarling bark as if he were warning the approaching pack not to come any nearer. Of course, the charging animals ignored him and continued to throw insults at him as they drew nearer.

  “‘Bark!’” Tinker repeated his warning must have realized the wolves were ignoring him and changed his tone. “‘Come on then! Come on!’” he shouted.

  Pol instinctively edged closer to the entrance of the small cave where most of his weapons were stored. He quickly grabbed three of the longer spears, a bow, and a handful of arrows. Then, he trotted forward to stand by the entrance to the narrow winding pathway he had left through the area of scattered stones and thorns.

  Tinker shuffled sideways and took up position by his master’s side never taking his eyes off the wolves.

  “‘Grrr. Grrr.’”

  As if in response to some unheard command, the wolves spread out in a line, as they drew closer. Unknowing, they raced into the area of sharp rocks, thorns, and stones and began to stumble and fall, amid cries of surprise and pain, as their paws were cut and stabbed. Two of the beasts managed to get snared by nooses and stumbled forward onto protruding stakes. One wolf was killed outright with a stake through its neck whilst the other wolf’s pitiful cry rent the air when a stake pierced its body entering beneath its rear left leg.

  “‘Bark!’” shouted Tinker, as if he was shouting, ‘Hooray!’

  Taken completely by surprise and shocked by the pain inflicted on their paws, all but one of the wolves, minus the two that had become impaled, quickly retreated to firmer ground, and milled around as if bewildered. Many of the beasts licked their wounds or tried unsuccessfully to pull thorns from their paws with their teeth. However, the one brave wolf, which did not retreat, was much bigger than all the other wolves. The animal bounded swiftly along the narrow pathway, as if knowing this to be the safest way, and headed towards Pol and Tinker with drool dripping from bared teeth.

  ‘Must be their leader,’ thought Pol as he readied to meet the attack, drew back his bow, which was ready loaded with an arrow. Surprised by how calm he was feeling in the face of such danger, he took careful aim whilst holding his breath.

  Tinker was also ready. Would have leapt for the wolf’s throat, if Pol had not released the arrow at the advancing wolf first. The arrow flew true, and the point entered the animal’s open mouth, pierced its chest, and the bloody tip easily disappeared into the animal’s body.

  The wolf gamboled head over heels and Tinker was on it in a second, sinking his teeth into the side of the hapless animal’s neck.

  “‘Grrr. Grrr. Grrr. Got you, you bugger!’” snarled Tinker, as both animals tumble onto the ground.

  The wolf fell onto its belly under the force of Tinker’s onslaught, snapping its jaws together, in an attempt to break Pol’s arrow in the process, and was too preoccupied to notice the pain caused by the numerous rocks and thorns piercing its skin.

  Tinker stayed on top of the wolf as the wounded wolf vainly struggled to free itself from Tinker’s grasp, but the arrow had already done the deed and the dying animal’s strength quickly faded.

  Tinker, had his teeth firmly embedded in the wolf’s neck and violently shook his head from side to side, as if he were worrying a captured rabbit. Managed to tear a wide gash in the soft flesh, similar to how he had ripped the Roc’s throat, and blood spurted forth, staining the surrounding ground, the Tinker’s muzzle, and the wolf’s fur.

  The wolf cried loudly in pain as its life force ebbed away until, with a final whimper, it eventually lay still.

  Dead.

  It was all over in less than a minute.

  A victorious Tinker stood over the dead animal, pa
nting from the effort, quietly daring the wolf’s corpse to make a move. It did not.

  Satisfied the wolf was dead Tinker lifted his head to the sky and emitted a screeching howl of victory.

  “‘Ooowww!’”

  The remaining wolves, having witnesses the bloody demise of their leader, stood or sat, in stunned silence. Suddenly leaderless. Unable to comprehend how something like this small, black wolf was able to kill their larger, stronger, fearless leader?

  Tinker issued another hair-raising howl towards the sky,

  “‘Ooowww!’”

  Squeaky yelps and high-pitched whines came from the frightened wolves. They milled about in disarray, each with its tail tucked tightly between its back legs and ears flattened back on its head.

  At the same time, Pol raised both of his arms aloft, holding an unused spear in each hand, and yelled loudly,

  “Yeah! Yeah” Yeah!” towards the frightened pack of animals.

  Suddenly fearing for their lives, in disarray, the wolves turned tail and scampered back towards the safety of the forest, some casting fearful looks behind as they ran...

  Chapter 70

  A short way down the hill, to one side of the narrow path, a victorious Pol, with a heavily panting Tinker by his side, rammed a one-inch thick stake into a suitable crack in the ground, and made additional support by stacking a pile of large rocks around its base. He had previously spent some time shaping a relatively sharp point at the top of the stake using his small penknife before using the same knife, with difficulty, to sever the dead wolf’s head from its body.

  With blood-covered hands, he forcefully rammed the dead wolf’s head onto the stake. The way he positioned the head, it looked as if the wolf was keeping guard over the area, its mouth hanging open in a perpetual snarl. A warning to other predators to keep away, or else.

  The other two dead wolves were lying beside the headless carcass of their leader to one side of the fireplace, where Pol had dragged them once he had managed to remove the spears from their bodies. He had then carefully re-sited the blood-soaked spears.

  “That ought to make them think twice before trying to attack us again,” he said as he patted Tinker’s head. “Now to tackle the other two heads.”

  Later the same day, after carefully skinning all three dead animals with his trusty knife, which he had to keep sharpening on a rock, staking the other two heads in similar fashion as the first one, and laying the pelts out to dry in the sun, Pol and Tinker dined on roasted wolf meat, like kings.

  ‘Too much meat now,’ thought Pol, ‘and nowhere to store it.’

  The meat from the Roc had gone off before they had managed to eat it all. More than half of one leg had to be thrown away. Pol had taken it down to the river and thrown it into the water downstream from where his fishing basket was located. Did not think it would do to taint the water upstream with rotten meat. What had surprised him when he had dumped the meat was the way a large shoal of tiny fishes had homed in and attacked it. Within a matter of seconds, the only thing that had been left was the bone!

  Pol shuddered at the sight. Decided there and then he was never going to go swimming in this river. In fact, he was never again going to scoop water from the river with his bare hands. Not going to give those evil little fishes the chance to separate his fingers from his hands…

  Chapter 71

  Pol awoke with a start and stared into a pair of evil, blood red eyes.

  The first thing he thought was, ‘Werewolf!’

  And,

  A werewolf was exactly what the beast looked like, albeit a small werewolf. The animal was standing no more than ten feet away from where Pol was lying with his back against the rock he had been sitting on earlier. Its hungry eyes stared at him whilst drool dripped like large raindrops from its silently snarling mouth.

  “Bugger!” whispered Pol, wondering why, Tinker had not warned him about the approach of this beast and why the wolf had not been deterred by the sight of the three dead wolves heads stuck on stakes.

  He almost panicked.

  Almost.

  ‘Stay calm. Stay calm,’ he urged.

  The shock of seeing the wolf focused his mind as his heart almost leapt up into his throat.

  “Oh bugger!” he repeated, his voice quivering with fear. Thought about shouting for Tinker’s help but thought this might cause the wolf to attack. Decided he would not get far before the animal pounced on his defenseless body.

  He scrabbled around with his left hand, frantically trying to grab hold of one of his spears. Thankfully, his hand found and folded around one of the shorter spears. He pulled the spear towards him, and grabbed hold of it with both hands. Rammed the bottom of the spear against the rock face behind him, meaning the sharp bit was pointing in the werewolf’s direction, he braced for an attack.

  The animal regarded the spear with suspicion. Made wary. This was something it had never seen before. Perhaps it had been witness to Pol’s earlier prowess with the bow and arrow, when he had fired at the bigger wolf and brought the animal down. It could be this memory that made the creature take a step backwards, snarling as it backed away.

  Pol slowly shuffled his legs around and beneath him, so he was kneeling on the hard ground. He pulled his right leg forward, planted his foot flat on the ground, and pushed himself up onto his feet. Once he was standing on two feet, with his back against the rock face, the werewolf backed off another step. Perhaps it had not expected Pol to be so tall. The werewolf itself was no more than two feet high at its shoulder and Pol towered over it.

  Pol made a short, tentative stab towards the werewolf with his spear and uttered a strangled cry,

  “Yah!” whilst thinking, ‘Where the hell are you, Tinker?’

  The werewolf backed off another step, away from Pol, and made a low, threatening growl. More drool dripped from its sharp teeth. Another low, menacing rumble formed in its throat.

  Pol poked his spear forward again.

  “Yah!”

  This time, he lacked the conviction of his first ‘yah.’

  The werewolf made another, louder growl.

  Pol glanced to his left, towards the entrance to his cave. To reach it, he would have to come forward and step around the front of larder he had built, which meant he would be stepping nearer to the werewolf. He didn’t fancy doing such a thing. Neither did he fancy being eaten alive. It was a no-brainer. If he could reach, and scramble into his cave, before the animal attacked, he was sure he would be able to keep the creature at bay.

  Without warning, Pol darted forward, towards the startled animal. Stooped down and grabbed hold a flaming stick from the fire.

  ‘That’s better.’

  “Here, doggy,” he called. “Come and get a gobful of this.”

  Surprised by the calmness within and the easy bravado in his mind, he slowly paced threateningly towards the young werewolf, showing more bravado than he felt, with the burning stick in his left hand and the spear in his right hand. He bared his teeth and made a deep growl.

  The werewolf wavered and backed off again.

  Pol confidently advanced another step.

  The werewolf retreated further backwards, its lips curled in a big snarl. Pol wondered if the animal knew what fire was. Was it aware the flaming stick could hurt it?

  ‘Of course he does. Every animal knows how fire hurts.’

  “Come on then, pup,” he urged mockingly. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

  He jabbed the burning stick towards the werewolf. The animal snarled, made an angry barking sound, and swiped a paw at the stick, almost knocking it from Pol’s hand.

  Pol was not been prepared for such a thing to happen, did not expect the animal to make so bold. His eyes boggled and his mouth fell open.

  “Shit!” he swore as he instinctively stabbed out with the spear, a sudden fear providing the force he needed.

  “Sod this for a lark.”

  Pol sidestepped to his left, towards the cave, and, as luck wou
ld have it, the beast chose this very moment to lunge towards Pol. Because of Pol’s sideways movement, the werewolf missed him completely. Pol tossed the burning stick at the werewolf, turned and ran the few steps towards the entrance to the cave. Dropped to his hands and knees and rapidly shuffled into the porch. He then did a quick right turn and almost threw himself into the cave proper.

  Meanwhile,

  The confused animal had regained its composure, turned, and lunged towards Pol’s feet as they disappeared into the porch but luckily for Pol, was a fraction too slow.

  Not so cool now, Pol lay on his back in the cave and licked his lips as he looked on in horror when the werewolf’s head appeared in the entrance. The animal had crawled into the porch and twisted its body in order to get its head into the cave.

  Pol did not really expect to be able to kill the beast, his intention being to reach the safety of the cave, hoping the animal to be too afraid to enter. He had not reckoned on the beast following him into the porch. In terror, he stabbed his spear at the werewolf’s head, hoping by some miracle to hit something vulnerable.

  He hit nothing.

  The beast saw the spear coming towards it and instinctively backed its head out of the entrance, which forced its rear end to back off as well only there was no room left in the porch. The animal’s flanks pressed back against the wall of the porch, forcing the loosely laid stones to bulge outwards.

  Again, Pol stabbed the spear towards the hulking beast, making it try to back out even further only it could not go back any further. The pressure the animal exerted on the wall forced the wall to collapse outward. This in turn removed support for the roof. The wolf yelped in surprise and pain when the roof collapsed onto its body, trapping it beneath a heap of heavy rocks. The largest rock dropped onto the animal’s head, crushed its skull—dead!