Chapter 1: Crap! Where the Hell?

Often, nothing’s worse than not only not knowing what you’re doing, but also having no idea of why. Tyler Dean has no clue where he finds himself, why, how he ended up there nor even his name. So, like most, he ‘wings’ it, making it up on the fly and making the best choices he can.

He knows in his bones they’re clearly the right ones, benefitting those he meets as well as himself, yet without knowing why be was sent to a distant age, has no clue what’s he was supposed to achieve. And as usual when you go your own way, he eventually encounters pushback from his superiors, who did.

Yet since they too can’t communicate, nor monitor him, everyone across the epochs are fumbling as best they can and working at cross purposes. Yet, out of complete chaos, often comes the best opportunities, as without restrictions, there’s no impediment to trying new, uniquely novel ideas. After all, if they don’t work out, you can always try something new, but when you’re dealing with changing the far-distant past, what’s the benefit of doing everything which has always been done? In such a situation, innovative thinking is the only viable option, whatever it personally costs you!

And Tyler’s bones areefr 44 rarely wrong about such things, yet ... are they the same bones? Moreover, does it even matter? What’s right is right, no matter how much your bones may ache in the future, once no one even remembers those bones anymore.

Moaning piteously, his head aching, he clenched his already closed eyes tight, wishing the world would fade away. Either he’d been drinking all night, someone shattered a heavy chair over his head or he head-butted a ram. Though a rhino sitting on it while sipping tea was equally likely. Rolling over, he noted he was laying on grass, not the soft short, neatly trimmed kind, but a sharp, tall, itchy variety. A type he’d never before encountered. After all, most grasses are merely different varieties of the same basic...

Only barely conscious, yet curious, he slowly peered through his lids—the light too piercing to open them—and gasped—inhaling deeply. This definitely wasn’t home! The sky was an odd orangish color, with duel suns: a smaller, nearer one with a dimmer brownish hue, and a larger, more distant one well off to the side, evidently sinking, even as the other was rising.

“What the friggin’ hell?”

Grasping his forehead, trying to hold it steady, feeling it ready to rupture, he rolled over, closing his eyes and psyching himself. After gathering his strength, he barely reopened them again, considering his surroundings without moving.

The grass was indeed ... odd. He felt several pieces piercing his back. it’d likely bleed, yet the pain wasn’t comparable to his pounding headache. It wasn’t only the sharp ends, just breathing caused the rough saw-toothed blades to cut his flesh.

Not moving, he took a deep breath, trying to make sense of things. This was clearly not home, instead it was an alien world of some kind. He had no clue how he’d gotten here, yet that was likely a result of his confusion. Whatever happened, had jumbled his thoughts. Centering himself, he ceased trying to recall forgotten details, instead focusing on readily observable facts.

Resurveying his surroundings, he noted trees in the distance, the edge of a forest, though utterly unfamiliar. Standing tall—taller than any he was familiar with—with a sleek, reflective surface and adorned with multiple pointed spikes, making climbing them impossible. The air smelled different too, with an almost bitter scent triggering tears, not aiding his burning eyes. His headache easing a bit, though not nearly enough.

Evidently he was naked, otherwise his back, arms, legs and butt wouldn’t sting as they rubbed against the near razor-like edges. He definitely hadn’t stumbled out of some bar, passing out in a public park.

However, his breathing was clear, only mildly unpleasant, thus it was a relief his irritations weren’t from allergies, or he’d already be gone, without any epinephrine dosage sufficiently strong to combat an otherworldly-level anaphylactic shock. The odd scents and the irritating air triggered a cough, though he fought it down, suppressing it, focusing on his breathing. Deeper controlled breaths in from his diaphragm, not his chest. This was ... old hat? He shook his head, where the hell did that thought come from?

Nervous of glancing around, as nothing he’d observed helped him understand what was happening, he wondered how he ended up here. He was ... He had no idea where, nor what he was last doing. Searching his missing most-recent memories, nothing made sense. Then again, the headache could have resulted from a ... currison? Whatever the word was, a blow to the head. However, his thinking was clear, his memory lacking, which was a classic symptom of..., he shook his head, something!

‘Okay, what’s my name?’ he asked, unable to answer. ‘What’s today’s date?’ Again, nothing. His questions were focused, though his answers ... weren’t. He couldn’t guess the century or even the mell... “Aargh!” he groaned, the sound bounced around, echoing inside his skull, further aggravating his agony.

Frustrated, he concentrated, gathering his strength, rocking to better ease into sitting up. Now, everything seemed foreign, downright alien. He glanced at himself, confirming he was entirely nude, though he wore a new, polished leather belt, holding ... shiny pointed shells?

“When the hell do I finally wake up?” he demanded, his voice also unfamiliar, deeper, slightly groaning and oddly accented. What frigging happened to him?

Pulling a shell from its polished sleeve, recognizing the glistening, hard substance—harder than most natural elements. If he had those, he must possess the matching weapon, so propping himself up with his left hand, since he’d awakened laying down, he glanced back where he lay.

There it was; a familiar shape. A ... crowbar? No, that wasn’t it. He recognized it, unable to place the name. It was not only the same rigid, reflective substance, it was small, easily carried and fileable with only one hand. It had a brace and a ... similar draw string, made of the identical material, which would launch the ... darts in his belt. Yeah, that’s it. Darts, not shells.

Reaching over, he grabbed the crossthingy—the solid feel reassuring—hoisting it as he rose. Only rather than standing, he arched his back and sprang to his feet with a practiced ease, glancing around, surveying his surroundings searching for potential dangers. He was used to this and recognizing potentially dangerous situations, despite his faulty memory.

As long as his gray matter wasn’t dribbling down his neck, he assumed he was safe enough not to fret over his health. After all, you can’t nurse a headache when dead!

Facing an extended clearing, the odd forest surrounded him on three sides. Keeping his still unloaded crossthing ready, he moved confidently forward. His bare feet seemingly finding their own way, searching for any unusual movements.

There were recognizable yet unfamiliar sounds, which was promising, yet unlike any he’d heard before. Bark-like calls from the tress surrounding him, the breeze creating an odd hollow sound in the trees above and hissing chirps from unknown insects in the grass.

It didn’t take long to determine the face and foremost edges of the grass were sharp, so walking facing the smoother far side, presumably addressing the predominant sun, was fine. Yet, there was no way to determine which it was, the nearer or brighter one?

Moving into a larger clearing, there were still intermittent trees and shrubs of all kinds, though not a single recognizable one. Easily passing each, giving them a comfortable clearance, he continued, until he heard something truly familiar—voices.

He couldn’t yet determine what they were saying, but now knew which direction to head. Unsure whether they were friends or foe, he wanted to approach slowly and survey, before actually engaging them, another seemly practiced skill.

With many obstacles in the way, the nearer he approached, the clearer the sounds. He then saw them ... and froze!

The creatures were humanoid, their limbs thinner, sleeker and significantly longer than his, and their skin a rich, vibrant light purple. Looking nothing like him, they too were familiar as were their words. Apparently he knew more than he first suspected.

Realizing he was a long, long ways from home, obviously on another planet likely thousands of lightyears from his own, he felt not only relaxed around them, his anxiety lifted simply seeing them.

Not realizing why, he surmised he’d either lived with or married one, learning their language or perhaps he was once stationed on their world, living among them.

The phrasings and pronunciations were similar, though with a shorter clipped dialect, with less complex words and shorter sentences.

Easing forward, now calmly walking through the alien grass—though still occasionally cutting him—was no longer distracting him. He was too focused on meeting and introducing himself to these people, yet again, had no idea who or what they were.

Moving cautiously, not wanting to scare or surprise them, he kept his eyes peeled and his crossthing prepped for any others nearby.

Stiffening, he froze, hearing a soft unanticipated movement among the many strange otherworldly sounds, still recognizing it. The gentle pad of a predator stalking their prey, along with the gentle click of sharp claws striking the hard ground beneath the grass.

Surveying for the creature, he drew three darts from their clips in his beltclip, loading the first, keeping the spares handy to swiftly reload. Whatever the beast was, it was dangerous and probably unpredictable.

One of the ... people, both females, froze and cried “Ligor!” Her companion scrambled backwards like an upside down crab, leaving her petrified frozen behind, too terrified to bolt lest she trigger it into attacking.

Noting it still silently advancing, now issuing a quiet deep grumbling hiss—likely designed to terrify its prey—he realized it was one massive kitty. Not the small domesticated cuddly kitties which purr in another similar family. The sound, like his own voice, was too deep, seemingly vibrating his very bones. It’s fur and outer hair was thicker, with two tails instead of one, but two separate sets of precision saber-tooth like teeth projecting over its lips, too tall to fit its miniscule mouth.

Nope, he wasn’t eager to face off against this particular kitty, nor fond of its temperament or inclinations.

Moving rapidly yet noiselessly, having identified his target, he shouted “HEY!”, surprising everyone, himself included. It ceased advancing, partially turning, giving him a few more quick steps, before he pulled the trigger, aiming at its head.

It was fast, clearly nimble despite its immense size. Again, its limbs were thinner than he expected. With its body between him and his goal, it did little to block the hard metal bolt. It flinched, it’s feet tensing, shifting, not attempting to flee, as the bolt struck it, though only a glancing blow, stunning rather than killing it.

Slowing, he slid the next dart into place, cocking it, as it turned, still unsteady. Pulling the trigger, releasing a new projectile as it faced him, flashing it’s ultrasharp teeth and issuing an ungodly, terrifying cry, seemingly rattling his very bones. He was now committed, whatever occurred.

The second shot was cleaner, striking it square in the forehead, directly between its eyes. It froze, stumbled slightly, shivered and collapsed, like a six-hundred pound dead weight.

The unnamed hunter continued, slowing, not trusting the potentially wounded animal. Loading another, he prodded it with his bare foot, feeling his toes sink into its thick fleece.

Watching it carefully, scanning for others, he yelled over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

It took the terrified woman several moments to gather her wits. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“I’ll need a sharp knife and something to carry it with.”

“You’re, going to carry a full-sized ligor?”

“Only the meat, but we need to move, as other scavengers will come, wanting a taste!”

There was another silent hesitation, before she stood and raced back. “Tor! TOR!”

Withdrawing another two shells, not leaving many, and surveying the distance for other predators, started searching for his rest, as their lives depended on them. Finally locating them and prying the final one from the kitty’s skull, requiring a bit of twisting and pulling, he noted someone returning.

Spinning, not knowing who or what it may be, it was the same girl, not her companion, and he lifted his ... weapon away from her.

“I have it!” she announced, running up beside him as he knelt beside the beast. He glanced, her plate only a broad piece of curved bark, though thicker than most, making transporting anything even more difficult. “No one has ever killed a ligor before!” she marveled.

“Keep an eye out for others. Don’t panic if you see one, I’ll handle it, but...” He held his hand out, setting his ... dart-thrower aside, within easy reach.

After a moment’s hesitation, she placed a small, black, chipped knife—obviously flint—in his hand. That’s what he hoped for, rather than something sturdier, without the sharp edge he required. “What are you gonna do with it?”

Parting the animal’s fur and holding it with one hand, he slit its belly, its intestines spilling out. Letting the blood drain, he reached in, extracting the intestines by hand, until it was mostly out of the body cavity. Once more unaware how he knew how to clean such a creature.

His assumption was correct, both its ‘guard hair’ and it’s underlining hair was thicker, the top coat slicker, making stabbing it with something as small and fragile as a flint knife virtually impossible. “Hold your nose,” he cautioned. The girl stared in fascination.

Lifting either end, he severed the upper and the lower intestine—a substantial burden—withdrew them, stood and carried them away, throwing it into a clear, open area: the bile, blood and shit flowing freely.

“That’ll keep the smaller scavengers at bay.” He returned and again knelt by her, parting the undercoat and lifting the rear leg, slicing through the tendons holding it to the body, then cutting the skin to free it.

Due to the flint’s inherent weakness, he muscled through the cut, relying on force to prevent the irregular blade from catching and tearing the flesh he preferred whole. Twisting, he freed it. That done, he tossed it beside them, and sliced the animal’s underbelly again, and handed her the knife as he grabbed the skin, raising it.

“Slice it, as I pull it clear,” he instructed.

“Why not just take the meat,” she spoke in a calm yet quiet voice, already doing so, “and leave everything else before something comes for us?”

“There is a lot of it, and I prefer feeding people, rather than even larger beasts, who’ll only be hungry again. I don’t mind starving them, whenever possible.”

They made swift work, as he removed huge strips, dumping them onto her impromptu tray. “Uh, who be you, and ... why do you look ... as you do?”

He paused, facing her. “Frankly, I don’t know. For now, call me Adam, as it seems fitting. What’s more, I don’t know how I got here, although, however I did, it screwed up my memory.”

“Adam?” she inquired, her voice raising at the end of the question, as he resumed his task, once more scanning for anything of concern. Smaller scavengers were already nearing their offering, though sufficiently skittish they hadn’t yet closed on it.

“In my culture, he was the first human, and ... that’s what I am. We’re similar, as I assume I’m the only of my kind here.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, you are. No one else is stupid enough to tackle a ligor, much less succeed and get away with it.”

He heard something behind him, recognizing it as it was too loud to be a wild animal, which lived by stealth.

“Tiss? Tiss?”

“That’s my sister, Lor,” she assured him, before turning and softly calling out “Here!” The two individuals were noisy, not because they couldn’t travel silently, but because they too were desperate to flee.

“That’s what I assumed.” He continued cutting, dropping the last of the muscle onto their tray. When the others—the other girl he saw earlier, and an older male, so similar it was clear they were related—carrying the same trays neared, he called behind him, “help me flip it.”

The man froze, his eyes wide. “What?” Rather than pausing, Adam grabbed the legs, braced his, and started lifting on his own. Tiss immediately rose, helping. Observing her response, Lor joined in.

They finally rolled it, and it fell with another heavy thump, while Adam held the now loose skin clear, so they wouldn’t have repeat it.

“That’s a lot of meat!” the man declared, blinking rapidly.

“Leave the empty trays and grab a full one. We’ll require them as soon as you can return. I can hold anything off, yet we need to move quickly.”

They both rushed forward, reaching for the one tray, when he raised a hand, delaying them, and stood over its head. Pulling another dart from its pocket and holding it firmly in his hand, he struck the beast’s skull, hard. The others gasped when he succeeded, prying enough loose to tear part of it away, producing a frightening crack.

He then used a smaller broken portion to scoop out the gray matter, before handing it to Tiss, taking a small amount, and eating it, sucking his fingers as if it were a treat.