Chapter 2

I once again woke up disoriented, in a new place, with no idea how I got there. On the bright side, I was well rested and feeling great – better than I ever felt in years actually.

I don't know what kind of "sleep ray" those aliens or "pan-dimensional beings" have, but they sure do give a guy a good night's sleep.

It had taken me around a week to finish the list and the arrangement of my supplies, with Center's valuable help. With no clocks or windows, time didn't have a lot of meaning – I worked, ate when I was hungry and slept when I was tired. I spent a good amount of time reading, studying, planning and preparing myself for my new life, as well as practicing and familiarizing myself with all my equipment.

All in all, it was a busy week.

When I was finally done I took some time to relax in the hot tub, had one really good last meal with several full courses, had a good night's sleep and when I woke up, I told Center that I was ready to go.

"Please sit in the armchair and close your eyes. This will only take a moment."

I did and it did.

A part of me hadn't honestly believed what had been happening. The possibility that I simply had a stroke in my sleep and was now in some sort of brain damaged coma dream had passed through my mind. In fact, it was an ever present worry throughout the days I had spent preparing. But now, here on the ground, on Midgard, seeing the sun rising over a sprawling forest and rolling plains, feeling the dew covered grass beneath my bare feet, smelling the fresh cool morning air, feeling the breeze on my bare skin, and seeing the vibrant colors of the world around me, I really didn't care if this wasn't real – it was close enough for me and I'd enjoy it for as long as I possibly could.

The weight of the reality of my situation sunk in right about then. This was my world now and it had very little in common with the world I was born to. I was in the wild – no cops or rangers to protect me, no EMTs or doctors to save me. It was just me against a hostile environment, wildlife and possibly natives.

And I was buck naked for Christ's sake!

Time to swallow my fear and indecision and man up. I was going to survive, by God!

My container of supplies had been placed a few yards behind me. I had based its construction on a run of the mill cargo container, but in different proportions – three meters tall, four wide and five deep. Instead of corrugated steel, it was made of two layers of a titanium alloy sandwiching a layer of dense foam insulation, and it was designed to be modular, so it could be disassembled and rebuilt into different shapes, sizes or even into multiple, smaller containers.

I unlocked the deadbolt and swung open the doors to the container. Inside, within easy reach, were a backpack of clothes and assorted equipment and a few weapons, ready to use. Feeling literally and metaphorically naked, I quickly dressed – socks and boxers, of course, with camo printed cargo pants, a plain black t-shirt and comfortable hiking boots – all the while keeping an eye on my surroundings. The last thing I wanted was to get killed before I could even get dressed. It took slightly longer than usual though.

I have to admit, that while dressing, I was somewhat distracted ... by myself.

Before going soft and round in my middle age, I had been somewhat athletic in my youth, with a runner's build. Center's rejuvenation device must have been set to eleven, because I wasn't just younger, I was seriously built now. Looking down at myself, I guessed that I had something of a boxer's build, yet despite the added bulk of muscle, it all felt natural to me, like it had always been there. I experimentally flexed different muscle groups admiring the power my new body now held.

I realized what I was doing and shook myself out of it – a half dressed guy, standing in the middle of the wilderness, feeling his abs is positively a weird sight. Especially considering how an unknown number of "pan-dimensional beings" were most likely watching me.

If I got myself killed now, I'd most likely end up on their blooper reel.

After dressing I strapped on a stab proof vest, which offered cutting, slashing and stabbing protection to my front, sides and back. It wasn't standard though, thanks to Center, who had added a thin layer of fine linked chainmail, also made of titanium alloy. That should protect me from just about anything this world had to offer ... except below my waist, my arms, neck and head.

Hopefully anything or anybody who tried to kill me would go for my heart.

Next came my weapons. I'd hunted a few times before, but I've never been much of a gun person. That didn't mean that I was stupid - if I was going to be facing ancient wildlife and tribes of primitives with stone tipped spears, I wanted protection. So, I had made a nice selection of guns and rifles, along with thousands of rounds of different kinds of ammo, and reloading equipment and supplies (I'd have to eventually learn how to use those). These also weren't normal models – Center had tweaked the designs, making the weapons from stronger, more resilient materials, and slightly increasing their range, accuracy and reliability.

There were a dozen 9mm Glock hand guns, four M4A1 carbines, four Benelli M4 shotguns and two Remington 700 bolt action rifles with numerous accessories - night vision devices, suppressors, laser pointers, telescopic sights, bayonets, bipods, etc.

I thought the underslung grenade launchers would be overkill though, so I hadn't bothered with them.

Unfortunately, even the large amount of ammo I selected would run out eventually, so I thought that it would be smart to bring some more primitive alternatives - a whole bunch of knives and blades, bows and arrows, crossbows and bolts.

A Glock with tac light and extra magazine went in a holster against my right thigh. On a strap across my chest I hung a carbine, pausing to adjust the forward handgrip, tac light and 4x scope. I made sure to slip two extra magazines into my pockets. Rounding things off, I hung a ka-bar on my lower back and a hatchet on the left side of my web belt.

Well, it wasn't exactly a camping hatchet. It was actually called a "combat hatchet" or "tactical tomahawk".

So what ... I'm a big fan of the Gary Paulsen book. So sue me.

Being clothed and armed certainly made me feel much better. Not completely safe and secure, but definitely more confidant.

Before setting up a base camp, I knew that I needed to check on my surroundings. Using some prepositioned hand and foot holds I then climbed up onto my supply container, giving me an ample panoramic view of the area.

My supplies and I had apparently been dropped in a large clearing on a plain. Before me, to the west as I confirmed on my compass, were vast steppes with the occasional group of trees and hilly areas. I could see several herds in the distance through my binoculars – most seemed to be of large cattle or aurochs, but there also seemed to be a herd of a type of bison, another of a species of horse, and on the fringes there were what I guessed to be small herds of deer.

I clearly wouldn't have trouble finding game to hunt.

To the east, immediately behind me, there was much hillier terrain with quite a few plateaus rising gradually and unevenly toward a distant wall of light blue and grey mountains, peaked with white.

To the north and south were forests with trees so tall, I couldn't see much beyond them.

I took my time scanning the land around me, ignoring the beautiful view, but I could not see any immediate dangers. I knew that the presence of herd animals meant that there would certainly be predators in the area and I could have no idea what the forest hid, but there were no obvious signs of danger.

I was about to climb down when something else caught my attention. I froze and squinted my eyes before remembering and raising the binoculars to take a look. There, just above the horizon in the distant northwest seemed to be a wisp of drifting smoke.

People were close.

Somehow, I was simultaneously pleased and unnerved by that fact.

I barely felt the impact of jumping off the container and only peripherally noticed the complete absence of pain from my knees - I was too focused on the implications of my new neighbors. Thinking again, this was their neighborhood and I was the new guy on the block. Maybe sending them a "please don't stick me with a spear and use my skin for a drum" gift would be in my best interests.

That would have to be a decision for later though. For now, I wanted to finish securing the area.

After locking the container back up, I walked out for a couple hundred meters toward the mountains, and then headed north, planning on circling the perimeter of my new camp.

I skirted the limits of the northern and southern tree lines. Though there were trees all around me, they were much smaller and not as tightly packed together as in the forest proper.

I have to admit, those woods made me nervous ... I'd never seen anything like them before. Through the amazement, I reasoned it out - most forests in my old world, with the probable exception of those in the remotest part of the globe, had been harvested for lumber multiple times. These trees, on the other hand, had been growing for centuries upon centuries without human interference. They were ancient, surprisingly thick and tall, with massive canopies and an impressive amount of undergrowth spread out between them. The forest was so dense and dark, that I doubt I could see more than 10 meters into it.

Looking out into that vast, dark and almost alien woods, I could easily understand how old stories and folktales portrayed them as forbidden and dangerous areas – a place of the wild and primeval.

I saw and heard the occasional bird and small woodland creature, but nothing that I would have considered a threat. Nevertheless, call me paranoid if you will, but I kept my eyes and ears open and my carbine at the ready as I passed the woods.

Upon reaching the southeastern part of the perimeter, I found something that seriously lifted my spirits – a stream. It varied in width from between three to four meters and it was about waist deep at most. Just before entering the more heavily wooded area, it curved slightly, forming a nice sized pool, where the current was strong enough to guarantee that the water stayed clear. I made sure to keep my eyes peeled, seeing as this could be a popular watering hole. I bent down with cupped hands and tasted the water – it was ice cold and crystal clear, with no discernable taste or smell. With no way to test or filter it (a probable oversight on my part), I simply declared it clean and safe to drink. I guessed that it probably flowed down from melted ice and snow from up high in the mountains.