Chapter 8: Sunday Morning Going Down

The sun was coming up when the crew came driving in. There was a general slamming of doors, comments about the sunrise and the chill temperature. We could hear Steve shushing and sending the excavators off to their beds.

"You should be glad it's Sunday. Monday it's back to the pit for most of you." Groans abound.

Toastie in the lodge with the small fire warding off the chill, Simone and I were quietly re-living our lives to one another.

Steve commented to the group, "I need to check on Simone. Someone needs to tell her about John. Since the good professor took Hairy's blanks and hauled ass back to the University, I guess it's going to be me. Sometimes I hate being responsible."

There were background mumbles and a volunteer, "I'll go with you, Steve."

"Thanks, Barb. This is going to be difficult." The two of them trod past the lodge. "Hairy must still be up, there's a fire in his lodge, I wonder how he spent the rest of Saturday?"

"There's a fire in his lodge all night every night," commented Barb. "He says it keeps the bugs away and the dew off his clothes. He probably spent the night like he does every night. With Rosie Palmer and her five daughters!" They giggled, their voices faded as they walked on down the path to John and Simone's tent.

John had pitched their tent away from the clutch of small domes that seems to be the general fare for most of the crew. His tent was a monster; a green WW2 Officers Tent. I'm sure you've seen them on M.A.S.H. His even had the slat flooring with a carpet laid over it. Oh, with a REAL bed, queen sized, and a recliner. Pretty plush, for a youngster. While most of the rest of the crew borrowed folding metal chairs from the cook tent, John brought a couch.

After a few, Steve scratched on my tipi. "Hairy, are you up?"

"Yup. Come on in, Steve."

Steve is very tall so he backed in the door and began his inquiry conversation as he turned around. "Have you seen Sim ... on ... eerrr ah. OK. Simone? Hairy? What's going on?"

Barb immediately entered, all protective like. "Sim, honey. What did he do to you?"

"Barb. Settle down! He hasn't done anything I didn't ask for. Well, to be honest, he wouldn't do some of the things I asked him to do. But he didn't do anything I didn't like ... and I liked it a lot!"

Since we were both nude, sitting on the buffalo robe, Simone glowing with happiness, and me hovering protectively, Barb backed off.

"Are you going to explain or just leave us hanging?" asked Steve.

"Have a seat, you two, be careful of the wet spot." I suggested, as Simone and I slid over. My buffalo robe is a huge bull hide, nine feet wide and 12 feet long, not including the tail or legs, but including the cape, so there's plenty of room ... they sat.

Simone immediately said, "John was his usual difficult self, wasn't he." She wasn't asking a question, she was making a statement of fact. "We heard the helicopter fly over and head back. I was sure it was John being John. Good old asshole John." She sighed, "they sent him to Salt Lake?"

"Yeah, they sent him to Salt Lake." said Barb.

"Will they be able to save his leg?" Simone asked Steve.

"What the fuck? How did you know?" said Steve.

"Because I know John and how intractable he can be. He pencils in his day planner every night and nothing will deviate him from his schedule. Rattlesnake venom was not in the plan of the day." Deep sigh. "He's going to miss something really important. Perhaps even record breaking. Poor John."

She turned to Steve and asked, "Did you find the survey marker you went looking for yesterday? No? You better find it, you're going to need it." She grinned. "Have you been to the artifact tent today ... silly me, Of course you haven't. Hairy, where did you put them?"

"They're on the table still wrapped in your shirt. Steve, you better call the Professor ... and maybe National Geographic."

Steve almost clawed his way out of the tipi. Fortunately the door was in the right place or he would have gone through the side. As it was he tripped on the door hole bottom and did a class A faceplant. He bounded up like it happened every day and ran to the artifacts tent. Simone and I listened for the first, "HOLY SHIT!!" Ah, there it is! Right on time.

Steve is shouting! "Holy Shit! Holy Shit! Good Gawddamn. FUCK! ... Simone??!!!?? Simone? Get some clothes on and come tell me where you found these!"

Pretty quick we heard, "Hello? Let me speak to the Doc, please."