Chapter 2

To Rod it didn't seem like much of a fall, maybe 1-2 meters. Not enough to stun him, just enough to make him drop the rifle and lay still for a moment taking inventory of what hurt. Nothing really did hurt. He was about to see if all his parts were working when he heard an unusual sound. Funny, it sounded a lot like one would expect a grizzly to sound if it were eating Bullwinkle. Well fuck me. Where is my rifle? He thought.

He was lucky in that his legs were towards the sound, if there can be anything lucky about being unarmed in an Alder thicket with a bear and the bears meal. Maybe the bears next meal too. He slowly sat up about a quarter of the way to get a look at the situation. The situation was bad, really bad. It wasn't just a grizzly, it was a deformed grizzly about 4.5 meters away. The front end was 3 meters away and the back end was 6 meters away. It was big. There was something wrong with the bears body shape and its face look smashed in. Injured animals and animals born with deformities only make it if they are really nasty.

Fuck Face (FF) you might as well give a name to the bear that is going to kill you, chose that moment to look at Rod and growl deep in his throat. It was impressive. Impressive like a 2000 pound bomb - no matter how many times you hear it, it is still impressive. Rod turned his head away and remained still. When the crunching and slurping noises started again, Rod looked for the rifle, it's embarrassing to drop your rifle. Sometimes it's deadly, but not this time. It was a beautiful rifle, the most beautiful thing that he have ever seen in his whole life. It was more beautiful than Jane Kinsey's breasts. They had been the first breasts Rod had ever seen and he was sure nothing would ever match that sight. He had been wrong for thirty-one years. What's more, Jane's breasts had been out of reach - the rifle wasn't.

FF was not happy when Rod slowly sat up and took the rifle. FF lunged at Rod but he was just showing who the boss was. Rod could just back away but he didn't trust FF. That left one choice. He put two shots into FF as fast as he could work the bolt. Mission accomplished. Piece of cake. No problem. Why are my hands shaking?

Rod climbed to his feet a just a bit unsteady and dropped his pack. All his body parts seemed to work. He looked for a way out of the hole into which he had fallen and couldn't find one. That was because he couldn't find a hole. He wasn't in a hole. The ground was flat. I must have tripped. He carefully walked over to FF but FF had departed this world. My God he has huge teeth and claws. Those claws would look good on a necklace. Tyler will shit when he sees those. His hunting knife made short work of the top of Bullwinkle's skull, the two front paw's from FF, and two moose tenderloins. He would have taken the liver but FF got to it first. He wasn't able to find the blood trail and that was odd. Rod's trail craft is pretty good and the trail had been easy to follow in. So he used the compass to guide him out towards the pond, however there wasn't a pond, just a small stream.

Rod squatted and looked around carefully. The mountain ranges were different. Now that he was outside it, he noticed that the Alder thicket was a willow thicket, the grasses and flowers weren't "right", and the air wasn't the same. He pulled out his topological map and compass. No match within fifty klicks of his location. A truly strange day. Maybe I hit my head when I fell, maybe food will help.

Rod made two fires that night. One on a large rock and one a typical camp fire. He broil one of the moose tenderloins over the camp fire. He sliced the other into thin strips. While the pot boiled, He brushed the wood and ashes off the rock. After the rock cooled a little, he laid the strips of meat on the rock. The broiled meat would last for several days at the ambient temperature, the dried strips several weeks. The moose broth was good, hunger makes good sauce.

He was lost but it wasn't all bad. The mission was complete. The only casualties had been the target and another combatant. He could slip through the land taking only what he needed. He hoped he had fired his last shot. The streams were full of fish, food would be easy to find. He wasn't tired so he worked by the fire light extracting the bears claws.

Rod didn't recognized constellations in the sky. He picked out some of the brighter stars from the horizon to the zenith and pointed sticks at them. He stayed up long enough to learn that true North was close to magnetic East. In the morning he would head true East.

oOo

Every day for the next couple of weeks gave Rod evidence that he wasn't when nor where he was supposed to be. He didn't decide it all at once, he went from "impossible" to "almost certain" over time. The temperature is warmer. He was sure that there weren't zebra striped horses running wild North America. Lions, wolves, and saber-toothed cats kept him on his toes. He saw more bears that looked like FF, but he made good time none the less. Of course he had no idea where he was going, but he was going there quickly. His necklace was finished, the antlers were awkward.

He sort of lost track of time, he had to stop to laugh when he thought about that. What he meant was he lost track of how many days he had been wherever he was. Bullwinkle was finished and it had been a steady diet of salmon, rabbit or other small rodents, and berries for several days. Rod had just crested a hill when he saw people. He dropped flat, at least as flat as you can with moose antlers on your back. There were 25 people, mostly women and children were walking South through waist high grass 500 meters away. They were carrying large packs, probably all of their possessions. Well that nails down the when to after 20,000 BCE if I'm in North America. I guess BCE doesn't have meaning anymore. I wonder what's the best way to approach them?

It really didn't matter. Suddenly the grass exploded with more men, seemingly intent on killing the first group and doing a good job of it. Both groups were armed with throwing spears and clubs. The men from the first group were down quickly as were the boys. Some babies were killed. The women who ran were chased down and brought back. Soon all those left alive were headed South. The whole thing couldn't have taken more than 30 minutes. The attacker took their dead and wounded with them.

Rod felt ambivalent about the attack. Killing boys and children made him mad enough that he almost pulled out the rifle and started shooting. On the other hand, he had to admire a well organized ambush. I wonder why they were fighting? Over territory? Maybe just because they could.

After an hour, he moved down to the site of slaughter. The people looked oriental. Their faces were like a cross between Chinese and Filipino but their skins darker. All the dead babies were all boys. The males of the entire group had been killed. The females had been taken. Rod tried not to hate the aggressors. He had no idea what the struggle between the two tribes was about. It was too early to pick sides, he need more information. He'd seen worse than this many times. It was clear to anyone who studied history; humans were sometimes bad people and sometimes really bad people. The answer about these people lay in the South. He dropped Bullwinkle's antlers and turned South.

He wish he knew the land. These people could be hard to shadow. They hunted for a living with a freakin' spear not a rifle or bow. They did it for real. Rod was the amateur here. In the dust of the Asian mountains, the sand of the Arabian gulf, and jungles of South American, he'd had all the advantages. He'd had the teamwork, training, fire power, intel, an exit plan or two or three. The only advantage he had here is fire power. True, it is a hell of an advantage, but to use it meant mission failure.

His mission was to find the source of the war. Once that was done, he could throw in with one side or the other. To do that he had to learn to talk the lingo and be accepted in both tribes. Not necessarily both tribes at the same time. They Army forced me to take more college than I wanted. One lesson I remember from anthropology, think carefully before you pick your allies.

He knew that he wouldn't stand a chance of shadowing a hunting party but crying women move slowly. He had food for about three days. Food had been plentiful so far and he still had at least his 7 kilograms of fat. I'll spend a day overcooking some salmon before I start following. Overcooking it made it last longer before going bad.

The trail wasn't hard to follow. They were a herd of people and they were loud. It spooked Rod the first time he got too near them. He went to ground and stayed there until night. That night he moved close enough to put the scope on the people. They weren't abusing the captives, they were just watching them. The pattern was the same for the next 10 days. Hunters went ahead of the group, returning with medium to large animals about a third of the time. The column stopped to pick berries or nuts occasionally. Rod would scavenge for whatever berries or nuts were left after the people moved through.

On the 11th or 12th day they arrived at a village. The village was at least semi-permanent. The captives were kept together in the middle of the village. Once again they didn't appear to be mistreated. The next day, Rod's count was 223 people in the village. Of those, 49 males carried weapons, the rest were women and children. Some of the "warriors" were young, maybe 12 or 13 years-old.

Rod was out of food. He needed to hunt and prepare food for a long stake-out. Even if the village moved while he was gone, he was confident in finding them again. He needed to back off 15 to 20 klicks where the chances of the villagers finding him would be smaller.

The land to the East was now mostly riparian with some grasslands. It made for lots of wet feet and a bad attitude but there was plenty of game and fish. While the meat smoked, he practiced throwing rocks from a tree near the meat. He couldn't hurt a predator but he could annoy the hell out of one. He had more that enough meat. At night he'd put the two racks of meat in a tree and sleep in an adjacent tree. During the day he tried to find the berries the villagers had eaten. He only lost half of his food to a bear before a rock hit the bear in its eye. No matter, there was plenty of food. At 10-day and he was as ready as he was going to get.

oOo

As best Rod could tell, there were three power centers in the village. He called them Big Chief, Little Chief, and Bad Ass. There were surely others but they weren't apparent. Big chief was just that, he acted like one would expect a light-handed chief to act. A man who rules, but rules through consensus. He had a powerful ally in Little Chief. Little Chief might be a spiritual leader but maybe not. He did lead all the ceremonies. Maybe he led them because he was the spiritual leader and maybe because he had a good voice. He would sing and tell stories.

Big Chief was in his prime, late twenties less than 1.6 meters and lean. Little Chief was younger, maybe early twenties and a little taller. Bad Ass was huge for this time, 1.7 - 1.8 meters and a big frame. The man Rod named The Bully was a problem for Big Chief, Little Chief, and Rod. The Bully caused chaos where ever he went. The Bully was still young, 17 or 18 years old, but it was only a question of when he planned to take over. Right now, Big Chief and Little Chief, and maybe some other group held too much power but not for long.

This was mine field. Rod couldn't walk into this mess. Big Chief and Little Chief seemed like reasonable savages, but The Bully was out of control. This village needs help. Maybe I can help them, he though. Nearly every morning, The Bully goes off to the West, alone. I wonder where he goes.

Mr. Bully goes swimming. Rod lay stunned at the sight. A bully with dirt phobia is a bully with an Achilles' heel. The pool was about 3 meters deep at its deepest. Perfect. Rod watched him swim for two days. It was the same routine both times. The villagers found The Bully's body the next day. A ceremonial burial was held but Rod didn't attend. He would be more than just embarrassed to be seen now. He waited 5 days more before he showed himself.

A young man noticed Rod before dawn. Rod was seated 100 meters South of the village with a 50 kilo antelope carcass in front of him. Rod's hands were empty. For a few moments the village looked like a anthill that had been kicked over but they quickly recovered. He noticed that not all the warriors were looking at him, some were looking for dangers in other directions. At last four men approached Rod: Big Chief, Little Chief, and two older warriors.

They carried spears and clubs. Clubs for fighting not for hunting. The clubs were 40 centimeters long with a stone on one end. The stone was round, not flaked like a stone axe, war clubs. When the men were 50 meters away Rod stood and held up both hands, showing that they were empty. The men kept walking. At 10 meters the warriors still held their weapons, Rod pulled his pistol.

"If you don't stop soon," Rod said. "Things are going to get exciting."

It seemed to do the trick. Big Chief said something to the older warriors, they answered and stopped where they were. Big Chief and Little Chief continued to approach slowly, their weapons at their sides. When the two assumed chiefs were two meters away, Big Chief said something to Rod and both men sat down with their weapons on the ground beside them.

Rod holstered his pistol and lifted the antelope. He laid the antelope within half a meter of the two men, an obvious gift and said with a smile, "God bless America, you murdering son of a bitch."

The rest was predictable. Big Chief's name was Atatl as best Rod could pronounce it; Little Chief's was Ateel. Rod introduced himself as Williams. The three men reached the point of touching each others items and learned the English word "no" when they tried to touch the pistol. Rod had crammed all equipment and clothes possible into his pack. There was no reason for him to look any richer than he had to.

Atatl and Ateel were impressed with the bear claws and wanted to know if Rod had killed the bear. He learned their word for "yes" and answered, but felt like a liar because they pantomimed killing it with a spear. Of course they wanted to know if his skin was dyed.

Apparently Atatl reach a decision. Rod was invited into the village. Atatl and Ateel stood and started to move off, motioning him to come with them. The two older warriors turned to walk behind Rod as he walked by. Rod stopped, nervous at having two men behind him, but the warriors were only going to get the antelope. Atatl indicated that Rod should walk next to him, on Atatl's left, Ateel was on the Chief's right side.

When they reached Atatl's tent, the old man, spoke to the village for several minutes. All the villagers listened while he spoke and then went back to doing whatever it was that they had been doing. Atatl went into his tent and Ateel lead Rod to the tent the had belonged to Bad Ass.

There were two bones hanging from the front of the tent. Ateel struck them together. Two women came from the tent. Rod recognized one, a woman of about 20 or 25 years old. Rod had made her a widow, she had been the wife of Bad Ass. She had jet black hair and the same oriental features of the other tribal members. She was short, 1.5 meters tall at the most. Her leather and fur clothes gave no indication of her body type. Ateel called her Travlo. The other woman was really a girl, maybe 12 or 13. She was a little taller and her hair and skin a little lighter. Her name was Trelo and she was one of the captives taken in the ambush. Both sported bruises on their faces, Bad Ass had not been gentle with them. Both of them were scared.