A Change in Plans
Copyright© 2006 by Asa Strong
Chapter 6: A Return Trip
Science Fantasy Story: Chapter 6: A Return Trip - George Rice, a dying, emotionally detached scientist who plans to stage his own accidental death after losing his wife and receiving a terminal cancer diagnosis. At the brink of suicide, he is intercepted by a higher being named Alama, who offers him a chance to “right a terrible wrong.” George accepts and dies—only to be reborn into another world and another body.
Caution: This Science Fantasy Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Consensual Romantic Science Fiction Isekai First
All of us must have been exhausted because we slept quite soundly. When I awoke, the sun was just peeping over the treetops to the east, and all the women were still asleep.
Sometime in the night, Kata had climbed on top of me and pulled a cover over her. I was lying on my back with Rocha snuggled up to my right and Celle curled up on my left. I felt comfortable and did not want to move but knew there would be a lot that we must do today.
I gently moved Kata off my chest and wormed my way out of the pile of lovely women.
As I stirred the embers of the fire to start breakfast, my mind wandered. I was confused. It appeared that I now had three women that looked upon me as being their master and protector. Although the Donta part of me was aware of this custom, it was not in his makeup to own another person. The George part was in a state of turmoil. Slavery was against everything he stood for.
I came to the conclusion that there was nothing to be gained by worrying about it at the present; there were more pressing issues to take care of.
I suddenly remembered the smithy equipment. If I didn’t grab it soon, someone else would surely make off with it. Forge tools, and even the forge itself, were hard to come by and very expensive, if not nearly impossible to purchase.
I made the decision that we were probably safe enough here in the clearing for the short term, and it was essential that we go back down the mountain to retrieve the smithy equipment.
“Well, no time like the present to get started,” I said to myself and started unloading the wagon.
“Donta, why are you taking everything out of the wagon?”
I turned around to see Celle walking towards me with a puzzled look on her face.
“Celle, we need to go back and get the tools from the smithy. If we leave them there for very long, someone else will come along and take them.”
“But Donta, what do we need them for?” She asked.
In the back of my mind, I had been thinking the same thing. Somehow I knew they would be very important to us because they provided us with the ability to make our own tools.
“Celle, we are going to be living in a place where there are no other people close to us. We will have to rely on what we can make or produce ourselves. The smithy will allow us to do that.”
Celle accepted my statement with a simple nod of the head, then said, “I will start breakfast.”
I noticed that Rocha and Kata were up and about, so I decided to take a look at Rocha’s wound.
“Rocha, let me take a look at your wound.” I said, walking towards her.
“OK, Donta.” She stated as she parted her dress to expose the left shoulder.
After removing the dressing, I noticed that the front side of the wound above her breast looked to be improving, but the exit wound on her back was seeping more pus than was present yesterday. The edema had also expanded and was very red in color. If I couldn’t get the infection under control soon, she would be in dire straits.
“I needed something to kill the infection.” I thought to myself. “Even alcohol would help.”
“DDamn, you have to be stupid.” I admonished myself.
“Kata,” I called, “did you bring any of your father’s drinking spirits?”
Kata was kneeling by the fire and looked up at me. “Don’t worry, there is a small cask in the wagon. It was all I could find.”
I rummaged through the goods in the wagon and found the cask.
Turning to Rocha, I said, “Rocha, your wound is not getting better, especially on your back. We need to clean it out.”
I sat Rocha on the end of the wagon bed and looked closely at the rear wound. I would have to reopen most of the entire wound to make sure I could reach the entire affected area.
“Rocha, this is going to hurt. However, if I don’t open the wound and clean it out, you will not get better.”
“It’s OK, Donatello. Do what you have to.”
I grabbed a handful of the clean dressings that Celle had made the day before and soaked one of them in the alcohol from the keg.
Carefully, I parted the wound and squeezed the cloth to flush out the surface. For the next fifteen minutes, I worked the cloth through the wound until fresh blood was seeping from the opening.
Taking a second clean cloth and soaking it again in the alcohol, I cleaned the wound again.
Although the front side of the wound appeared to be in much better shape than the back side, I decided not to take any chances and did the same there as the back. With both portions of the wound cleaned as best I could, I re-dressed it with a clean cloth on both sides.
Rocha had not uttered a sound during this whole process, but you could tell she was in a great deal of pain. She was breathing hard, pallid, and sweating profusely. She was also having a hard time sitting up by herself.
I picked Rocha up and carried her to where we had slept the night before and laid her down.
“Rocha, I know that hurt, but it was necessary. We are not going to move from here today, so you can take the day to rest.”
“Thank you, Donatello. It feels like my whole left side is on fire. I don’t think I could take riding in the wagon today.”
I left Rocha and walked over to the fire and saw that Kata had breakfast almost ready.
“Kata, after breakfast, Celle and I are going to return to your father’s house and bring back the smithy equipment. You must stay here and watch your mother. When you clean your mother’s wound, make sure the cloths are soaked in alcohol.”
“Yes, Donta, I will do as you say.”
While Kata finished cooking breakfast, Celle and I finished emptying the wagon, then hitched up the horses. We would leave as soon as breakfast was finished.
With breakfast soon over, Celle and I left the campsite. The trip down the mountain was far easier than coming up the day before. We approached the farm carefully, but it appeared that no one had been there since we had left the previous day.
Celle and I worked without stopping. First, I started to disassemble the forge, because otherwise it would be too large to fit into the wagon. Celle gathered up all of the hand tools she could find. Once the forge was in the wagon, it took both Celle and me to lift and load the anvil onto the wagon.
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