The scream of joy from Octavia warned the camp and everyone rushed down the beach to greet their friends.
Augusta and Octavia were both laughing and crying. Tears were streaming down their cheeks, as they hugged and kissed each other.
"Oh Augusta, what happiness you bring to my heart. I prayed for you. God has answered my prayers."
Later, after all the greetings were exchanged, Marcus said, "Well, now we are together. We have to develop a plan for our survival. I don't know where we are. Scripio and his party were attacked and Artemis was killed. We killed five of their men so now our lives are in danger.
We have removed most of the equipment and supplies from Scripio's weedy ship. We now have saws, an auger, axes and other tools, as well as some weapons. So we can put up a good fight."
The eight men listened carefully and the three women nodded in understanding. The fourth woman was at the marriageable age of sixteen and had been in Scripio's care as she journeyed to Britain. There the girl had relatives so she would be safe. She was so beautiful that her parents thought that when the Mongols attacked she'd be taken and kept in the harem to satisfy the war-like fiends who were sweeping across Europe.
"We have seen no further signs of the natives. We don't know if they attacked because we were on their land or they were afraid of us and wanted to destroy us before we became a threat. So now we must build a fort, a shelter where we can be safe.
"Fortunately Brutus was a carpenter before he became a soldier so he can show us how to build a strong place of refuge."
For the next two weeks everyone including the children helped in the construction. Working from dawn 'til dusk the fort gradually became a mark on the landscape. The site was very close to where Marcus's group had landed. A stream was diverted to flow into a large pool, which could be used as a source of water. The women spent time catching fish and drying the fillets in the sun so that they could have food in reserve in case they were attacked.
"This is all coming together." Scripio said. "Brutus has a skill that I didn't really appreciate before. But our fort should withstand anything the natives can throw at us."
"Yes, it's a strong place. Everyone has been working hard. It's wise to be careful. Let's hope none of these precautions will be necessary. Tiberius even came up with a procedure to douse flaming arrows. There are bamboo pipes throughout the wall and it wouldn't be hard to put an arrow out without exposing yourself to being pierced."
So the party became accustomed to their new land. Hunting allowed them all a variety of meats. Gardens were started from the many wild vegetables and fruit within the fort to add to the reserves of vegetable. Yams and other types of food became a staple of their diet. Everyone gained strength and grew healthier.
"I wish we knew where we were. Even the stars seem different. I wish I had learned navigation it would be good to have the skills that our sailing master had."
"My young charge is now stepping out with Tiberius. They make an attractive pair. I wouldn't be surprised if we have our first marriage soon," commented Scripio.
Augusta and Octavia as well a Villima, the wife of the sailing master, had already predicted the same that Marcus and Scripio had only just noticed.
Villima was now paired with Cassius, the other soldier in Marcus's group. So life was taking a happy turn.
It was three months later that the natives reappeared. Tiberius and Venus were walking a league from the fort when they surprised a family of natives. Everyone stopped. No one moved.
Tiberius whispered to Venus to get ready to run, but she put up her hand in a gesture of greeting.
A woman in the family group nodded and did the same. No one reached for a weapon and then a little boy walked closer and in his hand was a seashell. He ignored the barked voice of the man to stop. Venus reached for the shell and smiled. She took a necklace that her father had given her and gave it to the boy. The look of wonder and the happy excitement in his voice made the rest of the family begin a lively conversation.
"Venus, not only are you beautiful, but you have a wise head on your shoulders. For all we know they are not alone. It could go badly for us if they had decided to attack."
"Tiberius, you are thinking like a man, like a soldier, but I am thinking like a woman. That is a family, and it's the same as any family. They were walking along the beach, maybe on a picnic or just a family outing. They have no desire to fight. We surprised them just like they did us. But you can see, you can see that they are wondering about us."
Tiberius started to chuckle and Venus gave him an elbow to keep him quiet.
"You are just too terrible and I don't know why I am walking with you. " But she smiled because they would have been in each other's arms under the cover of a shade tree if the natives hadn't stopped them.
Tiberius saw the leader, a man of maybe 40 approach him with his hands in the air.
"Now it's my turn. I am going to give him a gift."
When they got within a few feet of each other Tiberius took his dagger from his belt and put it on the ground.
The native looked suspiciously at him, but Tiberius made signs for him to pick it up and that it was a gift. He then stepped back to give him room.
The native bent down, but kept his eyes on Tiberius in case this was a trick. He touched the dagger and a look of amazement came into his face. It seemed that it was like nothing he had ever seen before.
He said something, but the language meant nothing to Tiberius, but the tone was friendly and the man returned to his family.
"Come on, I think we had better be going. He waved good bye and so too did Venus. They watched, as one then another and then all of the natives did the same.
"Well, my beautiful darling, you may have taken the first steps in gaining their trust. We had better tell Scripio and Marcus. We may be having unexpected visitors."
Chapter Ten - The Interior Of British Columbia
1951
The man walking along the trail looked furtively to his left then to his right. It was as if he was hoping to find something, but fearful at the same time that he might be successful.
Few people lived in this region. The lumber barons had not even thought of coming into this area yet. There were still adequate reserves of lumber along the coast. Maybe in time in 20 years or so, roads would be cut and the path he was trying to follow would be a conventional lumber road.
But for now he had to be content with what he had. He had been here for nearly a year and had nothing to show for it. His cloths were worn and his face was haggard. The blackfly season was in its zenith. How he hated the feeling of them crawling in his ears and nose, eyes and over any uncovered area of his skin.
He wished that for once his luck would change. Change from the disaster of Flight 2075 when he thought he had everything under control. The unforeseen is always a
surprise and who would have thought the bombardier would go insane. He had a good work record and he had actually been the one to recruit him to their cause. He hadn't known that the man was unstable, ready to crack in the right circumstances. He had been flying bombers since the WWII. He even had a chest full of medals. How could he have guessed?
Memories of that fateful flight haunted him. The sudden storm had been unexpected. Its intensity had surprised everyone, including the pilot. The sheets of hail, snow and slush hammered against the aircraft. If it hadn't been for that storm and the sudden fire in three engines maybe he could have managed it. All he had to do was threaten the pilot, kill the co-pilot and let his two partners take over in the body of the plane. But the fire warnings must have been the spark that unbalanced the mind of the bombardier. He went berserk and started to hammer at the crew. He knocked the radiation technician unconscious and then started to strap on his parachute. Maybe the terrors of the bombing runs over Germany were being relived in his mind. Maybe the quirk in his mind was replaying the newscasts where squadrons of Lancasters and Fortresses were being shot to pieces and their death spirals filled
the night sky. Maybe he had seen too many of his colleagues and friends take the final dive. Whatever the reason, the scream of the fire sirens had done it. He had to get out. He had to get away and nothing and no one would stop him. The easiest way was to jump through the open bomb doors. But in the bombing well was one bomb and a crate that actually contained a second bomb although the official record listed it as sand bags made up to equal the weight of the first bomb.
The buffeting of the storm and the scream of the fire alarms with the orders to abandon ship added to the confusion. As the crew started to jump from the rear escape hatch, he could still see the bombardier trying to escape. He could have escaped without releasing the bomb.
It was the radiation technical that had forced the issue. But the insane bombardier cracked open the crate and revealed what was inside.
It was the fight that had finally doomed all his plans. The radiation technical had already disarmed the first bomb. When he saw the second unexpected bomb his groggy mind must have cleared sufficiently to realize the implications. The bombardier cared little what the technician was trying to do. He still had the command keys to activate or deactivate the bomb and for some reason he pushed the right sequence to arm the second bomb.
Was it a sixth sense that had warned the radiation technician? Something had and so he had pushed the bombardier away from the release switch and was trying to deactivate the bomb when the plane suddenly lurched because of the storm and when the first bomb broke away diving towards the black earth.
The bombardier fell out of the open bomb doors without having secured his parachute. In a moment of panic he pulling of the ripcord and the parachute opened up. But the bombardier continued down into the night, as he slipped out of the parachute harness.
* * *
Sarah was met by the graduate student who was working with her at the archaeological site.
"Dr. Redbourne, I hope you had a good flight. You left us in quite a hurry. I hope you have resolved everything?"
Peter Mason was 23 and was now working on his masters. He was tall and lean and had the ability to attract the girls whether Mexican or American.
"Thanks Peter. I had a good flight. As for the rest, well it's still in the works. I'm really not sure what is going to happen, but that has nothing to do with our work here. Family problems are always time-consuming.
What have you done while I've been away?"
"Well, we got down to the 18thlevel. There are some very nice pottery pieces. Some are almost like Greek urns. Maybe when we get an urn glued back together if we find all the pieces we'll have another example of cross-pollination."
She laughed at his term. He was making reference between the mixing of the Roman culture and the Pre-Aztec culture. Where the division lines were, was yet to be determined.
"That's good. It's great to be back to a warm climate. I was in British Columbia up in the interior and I just about frozen my buns off."
He looked at her to see if she was playing with him. One of his flaws was he didn't have a good sense of humour and often he missed the intonation in the voice, or the body language or those other clues that allowed a person to be comfortable in a group. For him for the most part, he felt like
he was still a stranger looking in from the outside.
"Oh, I didn't know it got cold like that!"
Poor Peter, sometimes he just wasn't with it. She had tried to make him laugh, but all she had done was make him wonder about the weather in B.C. But for all his lack of humour he was a very good worker and his attention to detail, which sometimes made her want to scream with frustration was an important skill in archaeology. He would
sieve and re-sieve a cubic yard of earth because a chard was missing from a clay pot. And it paid off handsomely when he could show a completely restored jar, pot or urn like it was hundreds or thousands of years before.
"Oh Peter, we may have a visitor. I'm not really sure when he'll arrive, but I want him to know that he is welcome. OK?"
Peter nodded his head. What sort of person did she mean? Was he a backer for the expedition? If he was, then he could understand how important it was to create the right impression.
He didn't like catering to the uninformed. It made him realize how little he had in common with the average Joe on the street. He wasn't into modern music or some of the dance scenes of today. That scene wasn't what he needed. He'd rather be 18 feet below the ground level identifying an ancient tool or piece of refuse than be in the confusion of a modern youth event. He couldn't understand why some girls buzzed around him as if he was a honey pot. His inheritance saved him from having to work in a conventional 9-5 job. So he could do what he really liked doing, working at an archaeological dig, miles from anywhere.
The trip out to the site was long and dusky and as Sarah looked around she felt that she was yet again in a different world. Their site was closer to the sea and away from most of the areas of present population. Maybe it had something to do with a volcano that had been rumbling near by. But rumbling was not severe enough to forego the opportunity of putting the history of human evolution and distribution into a modern context. Her discoveries were already creating quite a stir inside and outside her profession.
At that moment thousands of miles away Jake Dorchet was on his way back to the Big Apple. He didn't know what he should be feeling. He had once made up his mind never to visit the place where he had spent nearly six years on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange. But after nearly three years away he could at least look at it in a more objective light. Maybe he had not yet recovered from the humiliation of his parting with a girl he once thought was in love with him. Love he knew had down sides, as well as positive components. But then the power and wealth of her family had blinded him.
It was only when he discovered that the facade of dealing with stocks, bonds and even currency accounts was so far from what was important in life that it hit him that he was wasting his time, his life. It had come as a shock, but looking back he should have been better at reading the signs. Hindsight is always 20/20. He should have seen it in the eyes of Jenny when he told her how important it was for him to get away and start a new life. He had missed the initial look of surprise and had not seen the contempt in her face when she told her father that Jake Dorchet was a looser.
Now he was heading back into that environment. Well, now he had a good reason. His first two calls would be to a retired four star general who had make close to a million dollars on his advice. The man had full knowledge of where information on many closed files could be acquired within or outside of the Official Secrets provisions. If that failed then he'd call a certain woman who was not on anyone's staff, but had been very close to a certain Senator whose name would remain anonymous. Yet that woman had the body and the skill that could worm out any secret from any man who wanted to prove his manhood using the secret joys of her well-proportioned body.
The woman's name was Mabel Gerch. Her stage name of Belinda Morning. That name had made waking up to any morning rain or shine something to be remembered. She had also been a client that had used some of her information and his skill to make a tidy fortune.
The thought of Belinda's body sparked a more recent memory of a more youthful body. He hadn't realized until he had waved goodbye to Sarah that he'd miss her so.
There had been no promised. Everything was up front. The five days they had spent together had left an impression that had etched his heart in such a way that even knowing where she was and that she was safe only further enhanced his feelings of loneliness. The feeling was part of the reason he had needed to go to New York. He didn't want to meet any of the old crowd and he certainly didn't want to meet Jenny Wainwright or was her married name Fortescue? He wasn't sure and it didn't make a bit of difference. But it did make him angry that he had been used.
The feeling in his heart intensified whenever he thought of Sarah. The light in her eyes, the freckles on her nose and the wonderful ambrosia of her perfume, were never
far from his mind. God, he missed her. He could count the number of times he had held her, the number of times he had kissed her and they would never be enough. He knew he had it bad, but that was part of the problem of falling head over heels in love. Sarah was everything he had ever dreamt of in a woman. Oh, he hadn't put her on a pedestal and wouldn't. No woman confident in herself really wanted that. He had seen the flare of anger in her eyes. He had seen it when she disapproved of something he either said or did. But he also felt the wonderful pressure of her returning his kiss and the joy of the explosion of emotions when she kissed him.
Now she was far down south in some hole in the ground trying to discover the mysteries of man's migrations. If he was lucky he'd find some of the mystery of flight 2075 and what might have been discovered when the army visited the crash site years before.
"Hello, may I please speak with the General?"
"And who may I say is calling?" the voice on the other end of the line was prim and proper and would only be Betty Fretin.
"Betty, don't do your blocking and screening techniques on me!" Jake said, "or I'll have the IRS do an audit on your books!"
"Jake, it that really you? I haven't seen or heard of you for eons. What brings you back in town?"
"Well Betty, I'll give you full points for a sharp memory. I left in a sort of emotional meltdown and I've been out west. Where the air is cleaner, where the sun is brighter and where
peace of mind is more easily attained."
"Then you aren't talking about California are you?"
He couldn't help but chuckle. Betty, the private secretary and major domo of General Forest was a formidable woman. Anyone who crossed her was crossed off her agenda for life. Once she did that you hadn't a hope in hell of getting to first base.
"I've missed your quick wit. But no, it's not California. I'm living up in that land of the north; you know that other half of the continent.
Now can you put me through to your boss? It's important."
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