A Dawn of Mammals Collection Page 12

  She looked over at Rex, who was still avoiding looking this way. “Rex, you’re on watch. Keep an eye out for scavengers and predators.”

  “I will,” he said.

  The three kids left to go to the stream, and Hannah used Laina’s knowledge of dissecting a fetal pig to finish gutting the animal. In another half-hour, she was ready to carry it. The guts they didn’t want, she left in the grass. Those she did want, she wasn’t willing to leave here for the scavengers to get. Once again, carrion birds were circling overhead. A bunch of flies of some sort were buzzing around too. Laina waved them away from the carcass the best she could.

  Hannah called, “Rex, I need to borrow your shirt.”

  “Okay,” he said, unbuttoning the top button. “For what?”

  “I’m going to wrap the liver and heart and so on in them, and you get to carry it back.”

  He looked a little green at that, but he finished stripping off his shirt and walked over to throw it to her.

  Laina and Hannah picked up the carcass and carried it back to the camp. They dropped it once, but it fell skin side first into the long grass and she thought it took no harm from that. Rex came behind with his shirt wrapped around the dripping organ meats, held well out from his body.

  They made it back to the stream without being attacked by anything worse than flies, but they were biting flies, and the bites hurt. “Walk it straight into the stream,” she said. When the stream reached the top of her thighs, she cradled it alone and sank down to the bottom of the stream, up to her neck. The flies kept after her face, and she ducked herself entirely under, blocking out the excited sounds of talk about having dinner. She was seated on the stream bottom, cradling the dead oreodont like a child. In the water, it seemed to weigh almost nothing.

  She stayed in the water until the carcass felt much cooler to her touch. When she dragged it up on the gravel of the streambed, it was much lighter colored. And the blood had been washed from her own clothes.

  The onion-gathering group was back by this point. She said, “I’m going to cut it into sections. So five of us will carry it to the cave.”

  “Can’t we eat it now?”

  “Let’s get to the cave first, get a good fire going. Everybody, fill your water bottles—from upstream of me.” She looked around and saw the bloody shirt of organ meats. “Did anyone rinse these?”

  “Yeah,” said Ted. “But not the shirt.” He was damp from head to foot, and his clothes were still blood-stained. Dixie was clean and combing her damp hair.

  “Try taking some sand and scrubbing your shirt with it,” she said to Ted. “I don’t want you smelling like blood to some predator.”

  “Okay,” he said. She did the same thing on a patch of red on her own pants and waved Rex over to work at cleaning his shirt too. She glanced up at Jodi, perched on the big log as lookout. “How’s it going, Jodi? You feeling okay?”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”

  “Being lookout is important too. And you need to heal up.” Speaking of which: “Ted, let me look at you.” She wrung out her shirttails as she walked to him.

  “Admiring his bod?” said Dixie.

  She threw a disgusted glance at the girl. “Checking for damage.” She carefully prodded at the marks the animals had left on Ted. He winced only once, at a spot over his ribs. “Can you lift your arms over your head without pain?” she asked him.

  He did it.

  “Twist slowly, back and forth.”

  He could do that.

  “Be honest. How bad does it hurt?”

  “It feels like getting kicked in football. Like I’ll be fine in three days.”

  “You were lucky.” She looked around. “Where’s Zach?”

  Jodi pointed to the other side of the log and said, “Zach, Hannah wants you.”

  When he had climbed over to her side of the stockade, she checked out his arm. It was swollen, but he could move his fingers and grip her hand okay. “We lucked out,” she said. “But Ted?” And she raised her voice. “And all of you, if you get a bright idea like Ted had, let’s discuss it first and make a plan. We can’t afford to have any more injuries.” She pointed to Ted, Zach, and Jodi. “You, you, and you. You don’t carry anything to the cave. Just walk.” She glanced at M.J., who hadn’t said anything since she had left the water. He was sitting up, his arms around his knees. “M.J.? How are you feeling?”

  He shrugged.

  She walked over to him and grabbed his chin and made him look at her. “What’s happening? Talk to me.”

  “Crawling.”

  “What? What’s crawling? You’re crawling? Full sentences, M.J.”

  “My skin. Like a million bugs.”

  The flies were still hovering around them, especially around the organ meats. “That may not be your imagination,” she said.

  She checked her watch, grateful she’d bought a waterproof one. She raised her voice. “It’s twelve-thirty. We have to get going to the cave. Everybody drink your fill. Everybody with bottles, fill them up.” They had enough water bottles to carry about two cups per person, which wouldn’t last them long once they were away from the stream. She’d probably have to send a team back after they ate to refill everything. It was almost a two-hour round trip, and she didn’t want them outside at dusk.

  That was more of a feeling than a rational decision. The saber tooth had attacked Jodi in the day. The attack that had sent the oreodont herd into a stampede had happened mid-morning. But dusk felt more dangerous. You couldn’t see as well, for one thing. But the other part of it was an animal sense she had, growing more acute the more hours that she was living like an animal, that dusk was a dangerous time.

  They were halfway to the cave, moving slowly to accommodate the injured people, when M.J. fell to the ground.

  Chapter 27

  Hannah was in pain and wanting to rest. She was worried about the injuries they were accumulating. She was exhausted from spending the night watching over M.J., whose medical problems were his own fault. She was about to snap at him for lying down when his body went rigid.

  He shook, quivering from head to foot. Then his back arched so violently that only the back of his head and feet were on the ground.

  Bob said, “He’s having a seizure.”

  Nari gave a little scream. “Somebody stop it.”

  Garreth said something soothing to her, trying to calm her. Hannah went to M.J.’s side. His eyes were open wide, and all his muscles seemed to be locked up. She knew there was little she could do for him. She tore off her backpack and sat on her heels, waiting for the seizure to let up.

  Before it did, blood began to trickle from his mouth. She reached a hand out, but didn’t touch him. She was afraid to. It took a half a minute for his muscles to let go, and he sank into the ground, his eyes falling closed.

  “M.J. Can you hear me?”

  He was utterly still.

  She checked his pulse at his neck, relieved that he had one. Then she pried open his mouth to see why he was bleeding. He had bitten his tongue—hard. She winced as she got hold of it and looked more closely at it. That would hurt for days—and make chewing painful too. It was oozing blood from one side, but the whole thing looked smashed along a curved line. Her own tongue ached in sympathy.

  “M.J.” She pushed an eye open. The pupil reacted to the light. But M.J. wasn’t conscious, or he was, but was unable to respond.

  She debated. Let the others go ahead to the cave? Or keep everyone together? She decided. “Okay, Ted, and Zach, and someone else—Nari, I guess. Nari, you grab the wood. And don’t let those two guys take it from you.” They had picked up some sizeable branches near the stream. “You three get to the cave and get a fire started. Dixie, give Ted your lighter to take. Collect what other fuel you can close to the fire. Don’t forget to keep a lookout while you do.”

  They hesitated, looking at M.J.’s still form.

  “Go on. We’ll be along in a minute, when M.J. can walk again.” She hoped
she wouldn’t have to carry him. With her aching injury, she didn’t know that she could. But he was getting back to the cave before nightfall, whatever it took. Even if she had to send a second group on ahead, carrying the meat and onions they’d collected, and the rest of them had to drag M.J. They’d get him to the cave before dusk.

  She turned to see the kids sitting on the grass. Bob was standing, keeping watch. Their eyes met, and he shook his head, looking somber.

  And with good reason. In the past 24 hours, they’d accumulated one serious health problem and three more injuries. If everyone kept getting hurt at this rate, they’d have to work despite the injuries. Someone had to gather fuel. Someone had to hunt food. Everyone had to be able to walk via his own power.

  She’d never appreciated that about civilization, that it formed a sort of net, a system of support for people who were momentarily incapacitated. It wasn’t just that there was medical care, and bones could be X-rayed and set, and antibiotics dispensed. But back at the office, the one with the broken arm would not be required to type. She’d be given light duties for a month or two. In effect, everyone around her would carry her load until she healed.

  In a survival situation, if everyone was on light duty, everyone would die.

  She could say “Be careful” a dozen times a day, and accidents would happen anyway. And with teenagers, “Be careful” probably sounded like the drone of a far-off insect, utterly devoid of meaning. They’d heard it too often. Parents probably said it at least once a day to them.

  Tomorrow, she’d put everybody back on regular duty. Even Jodi, if her wounds had knitted well enough that they wouldn’t bleed again. It’d hurt them to work through their injuries, and the healing time might be doubled because of it, but maybe the lesson would sink in faster too. Pain could be a good teacher. It might keep them from taking more stupid chances. And that might keep them alive. She’d be cruel to be kind.

  M.J. stirred.

  Starting with him. “M.J. You with us?”

  He moaned and threw his forearm over his head. “What happened?”

  “You had a seizure. Have you had them before?”

  “No,” he said.

  Time to put her tough-love principle to work. “You need to sit up and get yourself together. We’re still a half-hour from the cave. C’mon, move it.”

  He pushed himself onto an elbow and then fell back down.

  “I’m not joking,” she said. “Move your ass.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him up. “Up, up, up.”

  “I don’t feel so good.”

  “And whose fault is that?” She was being pitiless, she knew, but she pushed her guilt about that aside. “We need to get the meat cooking and the cave set up. And there’ll be a water run required before sundown. You might need to go on that too, so you’d better get yourself together now.”

  He groaned and rolled over onto his hands and knees. For a half-minute he stayed there, breathing hard. Then he tried to stand.

  She hopped up and lent him support. “That’s the way.”

  “Can I have some water?”

  “Sure. Here.” He had a water bottle, and she plucked it from the loop on his belt and steadied it for him as he drank.

  “My head hurts.”

  “Did you hit it?”

  “No. Headache. You don’t have anything, do you? Vicodin. Tylenol 3. Anything?”

  “No.” She wondered if he was just seeking a depressant drug, being an addict. “I didn’t bring anything like that.”

  “Maybe one of the kids has some.”

  “M.J. Stop it. We’re not in a world of pharmaceuticals anymore. Or distilleries. You need to get a hold of yourself.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “Straighten up and fly right, eh, Mom?”

  “Or lay down and die, if you prefer. But the rest of us need to go set up camp.” She turned around and clapped her hands. “Okay, everybody, on your feet. We’re going to get moving.”

  They got to their feet slowly, and again Bob’s eyes met hers over the kids’ heads. He gave her a tiny shrug, and she realized she’d like a half-hour alone with him to talk about things. If they were the only two adults here—and it seemed they were—they needed to talk more, alone. Develop plans and strategies together. M.J.? He was less useful than Ted, or Laina, or Claire as a leader. Maybe he’d be okay in a week, but right now he was another weight to carry, like the leg of oreodont she had lashed to her backpack.

  She wasn’t entirely heartless. She led them at a slow pace, so M.J. could keep up. It took an hour to go what should have taken them a half-hour, but finally they reached the cave. The fire was going, about four feet from the cave entrance, and Nari was watching over it.

  Chapter 28

  “Where are the guys?” Hannah asked, spinning in a slow circle, hunting for them.

  “In the cave.”

  “And they left you here alone.”

  “Only for a minute,” said Nari. “They’re making—oh, here they are.”

  “How are you, M.J.?” said Ted.

  He sat down by the fire with a grunt.

  “What are you two doing?” Bob asked.

  Zach said, “Making beds, sort of. It was Nari’s idea.”

  “Beds?” asked Dixie. “From what?”

  “We’re piling up grass. It’s pretty hard lying on that rock floor, so we figured we’d cushion ourselves,” said Ted.

  “Good idea,” Hannah said. “But stick together, people. Everyone. I know you’re tired of hearing me say it, but you have to stay in teams, and you have to keep a lookout, and you have to try not to get yourself hurt anymore.” She touched her own abdomen, where their dinner had kicked it before it had become dinner. “Me included.”

  There were a few nods and a few bored looks. A better response than she expected.

  “So. Who knows about cooking over an open fire?”

  A couple raised tentative hands and Bob said, “I know something.”

  “Great. Tell us what we can do without frying pans or aluminum foil.”

  Bob gave a concise lecture on what he knew about outdoor cooking. Claire added a comment or two, as did Garreth, who had been a Cub Scout. It seemed their choices were either direct cooking over the fire, or building something to elevate the meat and half roast it, half smoke it, or digging a pit. They decided to combine the two. They’d cut thin strips of meat and go with shish kabobs again for this next meal, and try “frying” some meat on hot rocks. At the same time, they’d dig a pit by the fire, and when they had coals, they’d dig what Bob called a “steam pit” and cook the remainder of the meat for eating tomorrow.

  Food was taken care of. So the rest of the day, she split everyone into four teams. Grass gatherers, for the bedding—which really was a good idea, as she told Nari. Some built beds, and two others she set to digging a pit for the meat. Despite her earlier promise to herself to work even the injured to their capacity, she had M.J. and Jodi build the beds. It actually was pushing M.J.’s limit to walk slowly from the fire back into the cave several times, and she didn’t want to trigger another seizure.

  The third group was fuel-gathering, and that was the biggest group. They needed wood to create coals that would last a night for the steam pit, Bob had said, and the closest stand of trees looked to be a mile away. She went with that group.

  The kids were wearing out, and they were more prone to outbursts of whining. She sympathized. She wanted to sit down and have a nice little tantrum herself. But she didn’t, of course. She soldiered on, trying to mimic Bob’s attempts to cheer up his students. He was a good guy. Patient, self-effacing, willing to follow orders but a natural leader of morale.

  They found a rotting log at the outskirts of the stand of trees. It was crawling with termites. “We could eat the termites,” she said, “probably.”

  “Aren’t organs bad enough?” said Nari. She had not abandoned her vegetarianism happily, but she had made the move.

  “You don’t have to eat them if you don’t wa
nt.” She bent to gather fallen wood, and everyone else followed suit.

  Bob said, “Organs are full of nutrients, though. You should try them.”

  “Even the balls?” said Dixie.

  Hannah glanced up to see Bob leveling a look at the girl. Dixie blushed and bent to gathering more fallen wood. Hannah wondered how many years of teaching in the classroom it had taken him to develop that look. He seemed to have more than one too, using his expressions like a sheepdog uses nips at the heels, herding the kids the way he wanted them to go.

  Hannah seemed stuck with plain old talking. Or plain old silence, which was how she would have handled Dixie.

  Two of them dragged the rotting log back to the camp while the rest of them carried armfuls of wood. Those with backpacks had more wood on their backs. This should last them all night, easily, and maybe another full day and night.

  Back at the cave, Jodi proudly showed off their work on the beds. Inside the cave, a long row of grass was piled up, nearly a foot high.

  Jodi said apologetically, “It squishes down pretty badly when you lay down on it, but we can keep adding to it.”

  “Good work,” Hannah said, checking out M.J. He was leaning against the wall of the cave, looking exhausted. She repented her decision to force him to work and took his arm as she led him outside to the fire. “Just sit and tend the fire, okay?”

  He nodded, and his head drooped to his chest.

  As they waited for Bob to declare the fire ready for cooking, she took a quick look at all her injured people. Garreth’s old wounds were well on their way to healed. Zach’s arm was swollen, and she used a dab of antibiotic cream on it, worried that dirt may have been driven in there. She checked Ted, and then Jodi, whose wounds looked red and felt hot. She took the tiny pair of scissors in her first aid kit and cut through the stitches at the edges of the wound. She used more antibiotic cream on her, and rewrapped the wound. “Keep it clean,” she said. “Every time we go to the stream, wash it thoroughly.”

  “Okay.” Jodi pulled her sleeve down over the new bandage.