Chapter 346

The Prison Planet

During the last couple of days, Morales had continued to open one of the smaller cases each morning. The one yesterday had contained a number of miscellaneous items, including fishing gear: a screw-together rod and what seemed to his novice eyes to be a good fishing reel with a number of jigs, and something that was labeled as a trotline. It consisted of a hundred feet of long and thick fishing line with short lines attached every couple of feet, the shorter lines ended with a small weight and an eye where a hook could be snapped on. Attached at intervals along the long line were floats that were designed to keep the whole thing from sinking to the bottom. Included was a big box of assorted hooks as well as a collapsible dip net and a seine. There were also two filleting knives and a hone for them, as well as other miscellaneous gear that included a pair of thin but apparently watertight boots that came to his crotch.

He had spent the morning yesterday digging out more shelves for his newfound supplies. Today, the case contained, among other things, fatigues like the ones he was wearing. There were four sets that were a decent fit for him, but ... there were two sets designed for a woman – a petite woman. The case also contained another pair of combat boots that were only a half size too big for him.

Laughing, he held the small pants up, saying aloud, "Well, Baby, looks like, I can't get into your pants after all. They're way too small." Then, morosely, "Guess that's as close to pussy as I will ever be, Lobo."

The wolf came over, smelled the material, sneezed and went back to his resting place.

Morales laughed at him before saying, "My clothes used to smell like that, but sweat, dirt and washing in the stream got rid of the dye odor."

Folding the two female outfits, he put them on a far shelf. I suppose I can use the material to patch my clothes when they wear out. My tanning damn sure hasn't reached the point where I can make clothes out of hides yet.

Holding his light high, he scanned his new shelves and their contents. I need to split out and smooth more boards to put on my shelves. The dirt is hard and dry, and makes good shelves when I dig them out, but it's still dirt that everything is lying on. Another take-forever project to line the shelves with wood, he thought. Splitting out a piece a couple of feet long and smoothing it up is one thing, but an eight foot piece is something else, even with the wedges to help me split out the boards, and I'll need quite a few eight foot sections to line all my shelves. Maybe I should try sawing the boards out. At least they gave me a good supply of saws and files, plus sharpening equipment. Hmmm, if I do manage to saw the pieces out, I suppose they'll be easier to smooth, but that's one hell of a lot of hand sawing.

Then, looking back at the unopened cases, he called out to Lobo, "Only three to go. I think I'll open two this morning. Want to watch?"

Opening one eye, the wolf stared back at him.

"Oh, well, careful with all that enthusiasm. Don't want you to get so excited you have a heart attack," the human finished with a chuckle before "popping the top" on the next case as he referred to opening the catches and releasing the unknown gas.

Each time Jeff and the General heard one of Morales' remarks about the escaping gas, they chuckled. The technicians had sealed the cases with an inert gas to add credence to the items inside remaining pristine, even though the cases had supposedly been in the stream for at least a couple of years. In fact, the big case, loaded with its smaller sealed containers, had been put into the stream the night before Morales found it.

After taking the lid off and moving the Styrofoam out of the way, "What the fuck?" he exclaimed as he read the lettering on the outside of the case. "This is a combat medic's case. Too bad I didn't open this a few days ago. Granted, I don't know my ass from a hole in the ground about what a medic uses or does for that matter, but I've been stitched up in an emergency room, so I have a little experience on the other end of it. Chances are there's something in here that I could have used to numb my side before I stitched myself." Opening the case, he sat staring at the contents, afraid to touch anything, but wanting desperately to learn how to use what was inside.

Lobo had become curious at Morales' change of voice, and came over to look, too. Absently, the human scratched behind the wolf's ears. "I need to do a whole lot of studying, Boy, but even I know that what's in this thing could very well save our lives." With shaking hands, he almost reverently closed the case and secured the catches. "I'm going to dig out a special shelf for this, Lobo. This has to be protected so that no harm will ever come to it."

Lobo whined back, not understanding the words, but knowing that for some reason his new friend was very concerned about the case. Without fully realizing it, he added the case to his mental list of things he would guard; chief on that list was the human, after that the human's weapons, then their food supply. Now the case must be guarded, too.

Morales had only the vaguest idea how smart the wolf actually was, but Lobo was fully aware that the human had saved his life, and in his animal brain, had already dedicated himself to protecting the man. Besides, the human had a secure den that had even kept the big tooth out. The human had readily accepted him (Lobo) as a friend. Now Lobo needed to find a mate for himself. He wondered what a human female looked like. Probably as grotesque as the man, he thought.

The next case contained more food. Finding the dried beans, peas, carrots, peaches, apples, apricots, rice and oats, different spices and a case of chocolate bars, as well as a good many other things, had really awakened Morales' mind to the topic of drying other foods in addition to the meats. "Shit. I need to open my eyes and expand my search area. I know I've seen apple trees, or something that looks like apples, anyway. Maybe there will be other plants I can use for food."

After discovering the trotline yesterday, he had searched his survival books and the computer database for ways of securing fish bait. Not only would he try out something he saw on a video, but he was going to use another new item that he had found tucked into the case he had opened day before yesterday – a backpack. Having been thinking about making his own out of what was left of the antelope hide, he was doubly pleased to see the professional pack waiting for him. After putting his trotline, hooks, stringer, an empty can, a roll of parachute cord, and several other items into the new pack, he wondered how he would have carried all those loose items without the pack.

As he hung his hatchet on his belt, donned his weapons and slung the backpack over a shoulder, he looked down at the wolf. "If it weren't for limiting your fighting ability, I could make a backpack for you. As big as you are, you could help me carry meat from a kill, not to mention potatoes or other vegetables, back to the cave. Hmmm. I wonder if I could design some type of quick release that you could operate yourself, but ... even if I could make something like that, I doubt if you're smart enough to learn how to pull the release when you need to drop the pack."

Gear in hand, Morales walked over to the bars, but before he could put his equipment down, Lobo, who was a little in front of him, grabbed the lowest bar in his teeth and pulled. When the pole dropped out of its hole, the animal grabbed the second bar, then the third. Morales could swear the wolf grinned at him as it trotted past the opening to stand a few feet away waiting for the human.

Morales had to put his equipment down in order to reseat the bars and hug the wolf. "You are one smart son-of-a-bitch," he said with a laugh. Standing, he went on as he picked up his gear, "But you do need a bath – with soap. Lots of soap."

Then to himself, That's another thing I need to read up on. Oh, there were a few bars of soap as well as dish detergent in one of the cases, but it will only last so long. I read about making soap from wood ashes, but I need to go back and study it in detail. Lye soap. Yeah, that's what they called it. It's supposed to be really harsh. Ol' Lobo smells like he needs about a gallon of it. Oh, well, it isn't as if I keep my clothes super clean, anyway. The human chuckling, they made their way out of the entrance passage as Morales continued thinking. Taking baths in that cold stream, even in the middle of summer, is one thing. After a few minutes to get used to the cold water, it feels great to cool off, but I can only imagine how cold that mountain stream is going to be as winter comes on. At least there were towels and wash cloths in the new stuff. I had almost become accustomed to washing with a piece of antelope pelt. Of course, it dries hard as a rock, then takes soaking to soften it back up before I can use it again.

A little later, he approached the stream to stop at a fairly deep section shadowed by overhanging trees. As Morales put his gear on the ground, Lobo walked on downstream a hundred feet or so, moving very slowly while staring into the water.

Taking out his hatchet, Morales attacked the stump of a fallen and rotted tree nearby. The rotting had progressed to the point that big chunks of pulverized wood fell away with even slight blows of the hatchet. Grubs fell out as well as beetles and larvae. The article said that the grubs and larvae were excellent fish bait.

One of the beetles landed on Morales' leg, to be quickly brushed off as the human jumped back, his skin crawling. Dammit, don't be so squeamish. The vid showed the guy picking up the grubs and larvae and putting them into his container, while just brushing the beetles aside nonchalantly as he continued to talk to the camera. I gotta get used to this. There's no fish market on the corner. Grinning to himself, he continued aloud, "Well, I guess there is, but instead of paying for fish at the register, I have to do my paying by using grubs and fishing for my meal."

Despite himself, he couldn't help shivering as he grabbed a squirming grub and dropped it into his can. The larvae look like something he had blown out of his nose when he had the flu last year.

By the time his can was full, he had dirt and rotten wood packed under his fingernails, his pants were equally filthy, and he had maxed out on revolting until grabbing the squirming things didn't bother him much anymore. Consequently, baiting the hooks as he attached them to the trotline didn't faze him at all.

In the distance, Lobo jumped a good six feet into the air to come down with a loud splash – and the fight was on. The knee-deep water near the bank frothed as Lobo and whatever he had attacked rolled over and over in the water. Then the wolf stood for a moment, before taking a running leap into deeper water, to go completely under for a moment. There was blood in the water as Morales charged down the bank, his crossbow in hand. But by the time he got there, Lobo was backing up while dragging something toward the bank – something straight out of a horror movie as far as Morales was concerned.

It had fins and scales, but it also had a slender mouth at least two feet long. Along the sides of the mouth, clearly visible as the thing snapped at the wolf, were double rows of slender, vicious-looking teeth at least three inches long, maybe longer. It was strong and big, giving even the wolf a struggle.

Lobo was growling; something the wolf seldom did. Its bite had apparently not severed the spinal cord, because the thing kept snapping its jaws and trying to twist its long-neck around to get at the wolf with those vicious, needle teeth. Now and then, Lobo would release for the merest part of a second, then bite back down a little farther up the neck as he tried to kill it without letting it get free rein with that mouth full of teeth.

The thing was approximately six feet long with two feet or more of head made up mostly of a vicious looking mouth that was attached to a thick body. He guessed its weight to be seventy five pounds or more. Whether it was even edible was still up in the air as far as Morales was concerned, but apparently the wolf thought it was.

Morales could not shoot for fear of hitting Lobo as the two struggled, but the thing was tiring and the wolf finally managed to adjust his bite until his teeth broke the creature's neck.

When the fish, if that is what it was, relaxed and Lobo began trying to drag it onto land, Morales waded in, grabbed it by its tail fin and manage to pull it ashore.

"Shit, Lobo," the human said as he slipped and fell onto his ass on the muddy bank just before the thing was fully onto land, "that thing could have bit your leg off. You sure it's good to eat?"

Lobo just grinned at the human and shook the water off, practically drowning Morales in the process.

"Damn, Lobo. Shit! That water is cold," he complained.

Morales wasn't going near the thing's mouth without making sure it was dead first. After getting up, he drove his knife to the hilt in the back of the fish's head, rinsed the blade in the stream, wiped it dry on the arm of his fatigue shirt and returned the knife to its sheath. Kneeling next to the panting wolf, "You okay, Boy? Did it get you anywhere?" he asked while running a hand over the wolf, then making him stand, checked out the animal's feet and legs, too.