Read A Long Time Until Now Online
Authors: Michael Z Williamson
Tags: #fiction, #science fiction, #time travel, #General, #Action & Adventure
A Long Time Until Now (40 page)
The Urushu seemed to know it was an intoxicant, and grinned and cheered. He knew they smoked a couple of things, and used mushrooms. There was some kind of plant fungus they used as well, but mostly the shaman types. He had no idea if they had beer or wine, but they were willing to join in the ritual and seemed appreciative of being included. And they had caffeine.
Elliott said, “We’ll still need sentries. Animals are mostly excluded, though wolves could get in under the culverts or gates. We have hostiles, and even if we work things out I don’t trust them.”
There were “Hooah”s of agreement.
“But this is a hell of a lot more secure. You all did well. Thank you.”
Spencer took that opportunity to say, “Now we need smoked meat, dried fruit and lots of firewood to last the winter. Looks like we’ll be stuck in the tepee. In spring we can work on cabins.”
He served a second cup each. They were big cups, and everyone was well-tipsy or fuzzy by the time it was done. That would leave enough for Christmas, and he’d top the batch off with whatever they had to stretch it.
It would be nice to make some barrels and work on bigger batches of both wine and beer. Eventually. For now he was going to sleep.
He’d just ignore the pain in his guts that the acidic beverage exacerbated.
And take a hot wash.
Bob Barker was glad to be along to help this group. He’d rather not be here, but since he was, at least everyone pitched in. What they didn’t know about food, though, would kill them. If it weren’t for Caswell, he’d be doing nothing but food prep.
Some of what he wanted would have to wait until next year. He’d not had time to look for rice, for example. He did have some cattail flour, made from both heads and stalks. Now he heard there was, in fact, rice here. He wanted to work out a trade deal on that.
While warming up sidemeat for breakfast, he heard Alexander behind the tepee.
“
Good
Cal!”
“What?” he asked.
The cat came trotting into camp, head high, holding a kid in his jaws, its neck snapped. This he delivered to the front of the women’s hut.
“I think he likes you,” Ortiz said.
“He can hunt!” she exclaimed. “He’s healed. Well, get it gutted. I’d say drag the liver through salt, wave it over the hot fire, and let him have it as his share.”
Ortiz cut the throat over the pudding pot, zipped the abdomen, pinched and pulled the guts and tossed them into the waste basket, and started pulling out organs. He was pretty good with animals, Bob reminded himself. The group wasn’t entirely reliant on him and Caswell.
Cal came over and nosed around, inspecting the proceedings. Alexander pulled the scorched, crumbly liver off the rock and held it out for him to sniff.
It took only a moment for him to decide it was some kind of feline candy, and bat the chunk from her fingers. He dove on it and guzzled it down, then came back for more.
He purred in a loud rumble, and seemed to be comfortable with people nearby, as long as they didn’t touch him.
That was awesome. They had a mascot, and he was a hunting little beast. Hopefully he’d get tame enough to pet. It would be nice to have something warm to cuddle occasionally.
Spencer dragged kid tenderloin through salt and spice, let it sizzle on the rock, then picked it up and started chewing.
“We should keep this cat,” he said.
“That’ll taste better after it ages. We should save it for dinner.”
“Okay. I wish it was fat enough for gyros.”
“Next year. Which brings up what I was thinking. I want to trade with the Urushu. Give them some bacon and if you don’t mind, some wine. Get some rice for the winter. What do you think, LT?”
“God knows I could use a slice of toast,” he said. “If we can spare it, go ahead. But cut a good deal. It’s bacon, man!”
“Yeah. Oglesby, can you help?”
“Sure. Those rice cakes were good. Do you want the recipe, too?”
That would give them two recipes for cakes. A good start.
“Eventually. Tell them we want to gift them a joint of bacon, and would like to get some rice.”
Oglesby jabbered to the Urushu, who pointed and gestured and made enveloping motions. It had something to do with quantities.
He noticed they had loose moccasins on their feet, fur wrappings on their lower legs, longer breechcloth/kilts, and longer shoulder wraps. One of them pulled on a conical fur hat. The clothing was very crude, but certainly warm. They were gearing up for winter, too.
They agreed on a backpack full of rice, which seemed a decent deal. They’d need a couple more. He wanted to lay in supplies fast. It was sprinkling snow again.
“I want to get some birds, since they seem to have traps. Wish we could have traded earlier, but first we had to have something we could trade.”
“They’re curious about the cat,” Oglesby said.
Alexander said, “If it won’t freak them out, tell them I’m a witch and can sometimes—stress the
sometimes
—make animals respond.”
Dalton said, “So, I can’t talk about Christ, but she can talk about being a witch. Got it.”
“I’m not offering to teach them anything or conduct any rituals,” she said. “It just explains the cat.”
Caswell was there, too.
“There’s a difference between saying you have a belief, and trying to bring others to yours. She’s not offering to teach them how to domesticate anything.”
“She might as well call herself the shaman. But I’m not allowed to discuss salvation.”
“With good reason. As soon as men decided fighting was the way to settle problems, and went all brute strength, patriarchy started and equality took a bite it’s still recovering from.”
Dalton said, “That’s women’s fault.”
“What?”
Yeah, what? This needed popcorn. Damn, he missed popcorn.
“Women do the agriculture. That meant more food, more people, but then they had to fight over the prime land as numbers grew. It’s even referenced in Genesis. Adam and Eve had no problems in the Garden. It was when they left and had to work agriculture that things were tough. Look at who attacked us.”
Spencer arrived at a run.
“Aaaand this conversation is over. Go to your corners,” he ordered.
“But—”
“Go. Chop wood. Stand guard. Kill something edible. Move.”
The parties wandered away, leaving the cat to crawl into the shadow of the women’s hooch with a chunk of roasted kill. He seemed uninterested in politics. Smart cat.
The Urushu knew some argument had happened, but not what.
Oglesby said, “I told them it was a debate over what foods we should prepare for winter. They recommend smoked antelope. That ugly one that may be a saiga. They say liver and brains are very good together.”
Ack.
Spencer said, “Yeah, I know that’s ideal nutrition, but oh, my fucking God, no. I’ll need to be starving before I do that. Actually, if we get to fat starvation, we’ll gladly do that, and hate ourselves while we do it.”
Bob said, “I’ve eaten stuff like that. It won’t kill you. It isn’t very interesting, though.” At least as far as they knew, mad antelope disease wouldn’t be a problem for them. He hoped.
“I can eat anything,” Spencer said. “Doesn’t mean I want to. I’m almost tempted to ask them for some of that weed they were smoking.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Drug use? Unknown drug use? And that would be the day we get back, and they’d drug test us to find out why we’re telling such a bizarre story.”
“Is it worth losing your pension to get home?”
With a shrug and thoughtful look, and a hand through his half-shaggy beard, Spencer said, “Well . . . yes. But I’d like to
not
become an addict. Cigarettes were bad enough.”
“Yeah. How long had you smoked?”
“Age fifteen to twenty-three. I’m glad to be done with it.”
“I’d like to carve a good peace pipe. But I think they’ve only got diluted pot and whatever that other stuff was. Anyhow, what do you have for today?”
Spencer said, “Firewood. I want to stack the wood a few feet out from the tent, all around. It’ll act as wind break and as cover. Dalton, Trinidad, you start, with the Urushu. Everyone else fill in as duties allow.”
“Hooah, Sergeant.”
“Don’t cut it too short. We can always feed logs in. Four feet is probably good. We’ll stack it in tepees.”
“Got it.”
Alexander said, “I need some strips of goat hide. The cover is shrinking and drawing up at the base. I need to add a foot the entire way around, and patch some areas that split as they shrank. Can I get help?”
Spencer said, “Doc, Ortiz, can you do that?”
Bob said, “I can, too. There’s a serious gap on my side. I want us to be warm. Then we need to stitch more ozan.”
Spencer said, “Goddamn, it never ends. We’ll have the locals help drag firewood and we’ll cut.”
Elliott asked, “You said eight cords, based on some event?”
“Yes, sir. It should be more than enough, since we’re already six weeks into heating season. We have a cord or more at present, but we’ve been burning it as fast as we stack it.”
“That’s a lot of goddamned wood.”
“Yup. Saw the thinner sections, break what we can, chop the rest. We’ll have the Urushu help.”
Bob said, “I need to start smoking more bacon, then smoking and drying every damned thing we can kill. Get me hardwood I can make chips from.”
“Will do.”
“Goddamnit!” Ortiz shouted.
“What?” Spencer asked, reaching for his carbine.
“The Urushu who left yesterday killed another goat and dragged it off. We really need to teach them about property rights.”
Bob snickered. “You’re going to need at least five thousand years for that. They really don’t get it. From their point of view, these goats are close and easy, there are plenty of others, and of course good neighbors would share anyway.”
Alexander said, “The first livestock raids.”
Spencer said, “Yup. And in twelve thousand years, the Irish will turn it into a saga.”
Bob turned back to the kitchen. He had cooking to do if they wanted dinner, and apparently, a crapton of firewood to chop.
He was going to have awesome pecs and shoulders before long.
CHAPTER 21
Winter had come up fast. The frost turned to snow the next morning. It blew and eddied around the kitchen, and they huddled on their chairs and benches.
Sean Elliott wished he knew more about the climate here. Everyone had cold weather gear, but would the weather be cold or arctic? How wet? What would they have to do? How would they stay busy?
“I know everyone wants to crawl back into the tent, but we’ve got to keep working. Gina’s got the project list. We’re managing.”
Alexander had a spreadsheet of food, consumption, fuel, and date estimates. She kept the solar panels charging, though they were less effective this time of year.
Ortiz had organized the gathering of heaps of hay and greenery as fodder for the goats, and a windbreak for them that would protect two sides plus offer a bit of overhead. It was woven twigs, as they’d eat any actual thatch or green. The Urushu didn’t seem to grasp the concept of keeping or shielding goats, so they just said it was some of Alexander’s animal magic and they accepted that.
“I hope you don’t mind us crediting her,” he told Ortiz.
Ortiz shrugged. “As long as they goats are warm and we’re eating, I’m cool with it. By the way, I think we can make pancakes, when we milk a goat. I don’t know what to use for syrup or jam, though.”
“Just a straight pancake sounds great.” Who knew you could miss bread so much, and have too much meat for comfort? But they did. Bread was taken for granted in the modern world. When someone said, “The greatest thing since sliced bread,” they had no idea what a compliment they were offering.
One idea occurred to him. “I have a small but useful project,” he said.
Dalton was first to reply, “Yes, LT?”
“I want a bunch of small rocks and gravel from the stream. We’ve already done inside and outside the tepee door. I want a walkway starting at the outhouse, working this way.”
“When do you want it done?”
“I realize it won’t happen all at once. I’d say get a good five feet done, and the rest can be a handful every time someone goes. And I know it’s getting cold, but I don’t want any stinking piss behind the tent. Everyone goes to the stream, hooah?”
“Hooah. Then let’s get all hands on it for a half hour or so.”
With shovels and boots they got a good pad laid out. Eventually he’d like to add slaked lime and sand and let it concretize.
“When we run out of gravel, we’ll have to sift more from the stream, or crack slate and other rocks to use. That needs to go on the task list.”
“Got it, sir,” Alexander said.
It was sobering how much their productivity had increased with Urushu help. A few more bodies made that much difference. They’d make even more now, he realized, clutching his stinging hands. The wind was cold.
He really wanted a recon of the Neolithics, to keep an eye on them, but that posed a danger. So did not doing so, though. He thought back to the fight and having to slice the poor fuckers’ throats. He didn’t want to do that again.
“I’m detailing Oglesby and Trinidad to take a discreet look at the Neolithics. I want an intel assessment, and Oglesby’s in case of any contact. I need one more experienced sneak to go along.”
“Me,” Spencer said.
Alexander said, “Photos, sir.”
“You’re sick list, Gina. I’d love to send you as well, but I want someone who’s fit for backup or running.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.” She scowled in disappointment. Her foot was mostly healed, but she still limped. It was building up scar tissue, too.
“Why you, Spencer?”
“I can shoot, I can run, I can fight, and I’m one hell of a sneak. And I know what I’m looking at as far as their development. It should be me or Barker. We need his knowledge here.”
That made sense. “Good case. Do it. Get any phone photos you can. Tell me what they’re up to and what they’re planning. Try to avoid contact. Can you overnight?”
“It’ll be cold, but yes. We should be able to get in closer, and we have NVG.”
Alexander said, “Take too many photos. I’ll sort them later, and organize them for Trinidad. Make sure they’re timestamped. Any notes you can record help.”
“Hooah. So let’s grab some goat jerky. Can we take one magazine each, sir?”
“Yes, with ten rounds each.”
“Roger. We better not need more than that.”
“Disengage if it’s not safe. There’s nothing I need to know about them worth sacrificing anyone, or more than a couple of rounds of ammo. And I’d rather be on good terms if we can, or at least neutral, not actively hostile.”
“Roger that.”
Felix was glad to finally be doing his job. He’d wanted to look at the various native settlements the whole time. That first visit to the Urushu had been a blast, watching their lifestyles, gestures, movements.
This was even a combat-related function now, with the hostile Neolithics.
They walked west, wrapped in gore-tex and hats. He wished for long underwear. It was frigid with the wind blasting through the cloth of his uniform.
The ground and grass crunched underfoot, and they had to avoid occasional frozen puddles. There hadn’t been a lot of rain, but it had settled in low spots.
“I wonder if this would have been easier down by the river on the game paths,” he said.
Spencer stopped in mid-step.
“Shit, son, you’re right. It would have been, and that’s pretty much how everyone approaches us. We should have the gate on the downhill side, too. That way they’re attacking uphill against it.”
“Yeah.”
“Hell, we can fix that next year or the year after. Gah.”
Oglesby said, “It’s all work, all the time. Forever.”
Spencer said, “Interspersed with movies, music and masturbation.”
“No shit,” Oglesby said as he threw a chunk of stick. “We need women.”
“Yeah, but some of us are still missing our families. They’re not dead, just not born yet. Somewhere they exist. I . . . dunno.”
They were silent for a while, moving over the terrain, stopping to whiz, then continuing. It was cold and was going to be a short day.
Spencer said, “I want to head uphill and possibly around. It’s unlikely they’ll expect us from the far side.”
That was a longer hike, but made sense.
“Probably. Are we going to look first?”
“First, last and always. Have you done any infiltration exercises, or hunting?”
He shrugged and grinned. “PI, man. You learn to be quiet around some of the toughs.”
Spencer nodded. “Roger. Oglesby?”
“Not really. I went hunting once and didn’t spook anything.”
“What were you hunting?”
“Rabbits.”
“That’s pretty good. Do you mind hanging back and covering us if need be?”
“Sure.”
“We want to get Trinidad in close.”
Felix said, “Actually, I can do a lot of it from photos. Close visuals are a nice plus for context and possible HUMINT.”
Spencer actually seemed to listen to him, which was cool.
“Do we want to get them in daylight, or wait for night?”
He said, “People will be around in daylight. At night we can get closer and look at resources.”
“Right, but remember they have dogs.”
Good point. “Yeah, we’ll need to avoid spooking them. Downwind?”
“Crap, that’s on the open side, or else we stay uphill.”
Oglesby said, “I’m more concerned about lions in daytime and wolves at night.”
He shrugged. It wasn’t going to be easy.
Spencer eased into a crouch, then down behind scrub, without disturbing it much. Felix followed, Oglesby was just behind, moving slightly aside to avoid bunching up too much. They were about two meters apart each.
“See something?”
Spencer said, “No, I just want to make sure we don’t get seen. We’re within two miles. It gets slower from here.” He raised his rifle and sighted through a large optic that probably wasn’t issue.
“Hooah.”
After scanning with the glass, Spencer said, “Okay, let me know if you see anything, and when you want to take over. Let’s move cautiously, avoid making silhouettes or bunching up, and head for that rock crop over there.”
From brush to rock to brush again, they moved in closer. At each hide they waited several minutes and looked around for possible hunting parties.
“Didn’t the Urushu mostly hunt in the woods?”
He replied, “Yes, that’s probably easier with spears.”
“I won’t ask how you know that. What about with the bows?”
“They could do open ground, too, but it’s easier to hide and corral something in woods.”
Spencer nodded. “I only ever used mine on targets.”
They got within a half mile, and Spencer said, “I want to chicken out and stay here for a while.”
“Okay. Makes sense.”
Spencer was tall, but slid easily under the bush and disappeared in shadow. He reclined, looked quite comfortable, and raised his rifle again.
Lowering it, he said, “Looks good. The hunters seem to be sticking to the woods. A couple of our casualties are still limping.”
“Am I correct they’re all wearing pants and coats?”
“They seem to have leather leggings belted on, and tunics. Leather hats. They’re wearing a lot of leather. Want a SALUTE report?”
“It wouldn’t hurt if you want to log one.”
“My phone doesn’t record. Does yours?”
“Sure, here.”
Spencer fumbled with it, snapped a photo, and started recording. “Neolith camp. Estimate three five adult males, two five adult females. Most of the females are taller, suggesting Urushu. Common daytime activity including preparing meals and scraping hides. Visible weapons include spears and light bows, probably under four zero pounds draw.” He ended the report and handed the phone back.
“How did I do?”
“You didn’t mention the pen of six dogs, the animal pens with goats, antelope and birds with cropped wings. They’ve cleared an area for farming. They have different fish traps from the Urushu. They’re working much more together and under direction. They’re more industrious overall. I see a large pit that might contain fruit. They’ve built quite a bit more than Gina saw in her photos two weeks ago.”
“And that’s why you’re the expert. Anything, Oglesby?”
“It’s definitely expanded. I think they’ve added more huts, too. Those are cruder than the Urushu, actually.”
“They probably had seasonal migrations back home. Huts in a couple of locations. I think it may be supposed to get colder again in their time, and smaller huts hold heat better. Or it could be that more work on herding and farming means less time building.”
Felix said, “They’ve built up that wall, and they have all those drying frames for food. They’re smoking a lot of fish very fast.”
Spencer asked, “Those small mounds, are those burials for the dead they dragged back?”
“I think so.”
Oglesby said, “Can’t blame them for preparing for winter.”
Felix said, “They seem to have food covered, and a source for hides. Fuel isn’t a problem. They’re short of women. Either they have to double up, bunk with men, or they’ll be aggressively looking for more. They want at least one female each, ideally. These don’t seem to be the same tribe as was here. I think they found others.”
“They’ve done that once already. This doesn’t makes sense. They seem to have been a hunting party. Few women. But they act like they have proto-herding and proto-agriculture.”
“They didn’t have those?”
Spencer said, “That area’s now under ocean. We don’t know. Farming had started in the Fertile Crescent, but it took quite some time to reach up there.”
Oglesby asked, “Is it farming supplemented with hunting like the Native Americans?”
“Must be. They could have been after something big. Buffalo or mammoth. Oglesby, what time of year was it for them?”
“When they came through? I gather it was a similar season. They didn’t say, but didn’t mention it. Would they have mammoths if they’re later than us?”
“Farther north, there are mammoths right now. I think they might still exist then. If not, a large, all-male group would be hunting something else large. Aurochs at least, and planning to carry them back in chunks. Buffalo. Something.”
Spencer asked, “Do you see any signs of baskets?”
Felix scanned with the scope. “I see a couple, and a fishing net, if that is similar.” The baskets were being used to carry fish from the drying fire to a storage hut.