Chapter 4

The following three weeks were mostly busy ones. I spent a lot of that time gradually unpacking my container, setting up and organizing all my equipment and supplies somewhat. I also fixed up its interior into a much more comfortable home.

The area around my camp got a serious cleanup treatment as well. There were a few areas of high grass that I cut down with a simple push mower and I chopped down over two dozen small trees that were obstructing my field of vision. After removing their limbs and bark, and placing them out in the sun and off the ground to dry, I was left with twenty-six trunks between twenty and twenty-five feet long and between six to eight inches in diameter. I had no idea what I was going to do with them all yet, but given how much hard work I had put in cutting them down, I certainly wasn't going to simply use them as firewood.

I went on a few more short scouting trips, aided by the maps Center had provided. I was familiarizing myself with the area, and trying to expand and hone my limited wilderness survival skills and knowledge.

The high mountains to the east were actually closer than I initially believed at two to three days travel and for all intents and purposes divided this entire continent in half. According to the maps, the only path across them that I could possibly use with my present equipment was a slight gap far, far to the south. It didn't really matter anyway – I had no need to make the trip now, nor any time in the foreseeable future. Between here and those far off mountains, the plateaus rose to gentle rolling hills and valleys, with the occasional forested areas.

I also discovered that the forest to the south of my camp wasn't as large or dense as the one to the north. It was in reality a large grouping of small woods, with large paths and clearings strewn throughout the whole area. The stream that I had been using flowed through this area and eventually merged into a decent sized river. It was no raging Mississippi, but it was definitely more than wide and deep enough to navigate a large boat or barge on.

But maybe more importantly, my scouting trips allowed me to search for a good site to build a permanent home on. I was fully prepared to spend a year living out of my container – it wouldn't be ideal or comfortable, but certainly possible. Come next spring though, I wanted to start in on the construction of my cabin.

Given the tools and equipment I had, plus the vast and varied resources available in the area, building a log cabin was well within my grasp. Really hard and time consuming, but doable. I had even started sketching out different plans for my future home, as well as other projects.

It's a good thing that I had brought several books covering primitive construction – roman and medieval building techniques, how to build a log cabin and other frontier buildings, etc.

The one thing that I had built as soon as I could, was a decent outhouse. I just couldn't keep pissing on every tree and bush I passed by, or burying my crap in out of the way, shallow holes.

About one hundred and fifty feet away from my container I dug a hole in the shade, between two convenient trees. It was some six feet deep and around a foot wide at the surface, but much wider at its base. Using two of the small tree trunks that I had chopped down, I built the base platform, shelf and basic box structure of the outhouse. Instead of splitting more logs for the walls and roof though, I decided to use heavy-duty, waterproof canvas. I stretched out two layers over the entire structure – interior and exterior – and hung two large curtains as a door, affixing it all to the wooden structure with nails. It would be cold during the winter, but much easier to build, maintain and eventually move to a new location. Finishing things off, I attached a toilet seat to the wooden shelf.

Yes, I had brought a toilet seat with me.

If you think I was going to spend the rest of my life squatting over a hole in the ground, or sitting on a rough cut hole in the middle of a wooden board to take a crap, you have another think coming. I was prepared to live a primitive and rustic life, but there are limits to what a man can and should endure.

There had been a couple of exciting and significant events, which disrupted the days' routine. On two separate occasions, I had been awakened by the motion detector's alarm.

The first time, the low level beeping sounded like a wailing fire alarm to my sleeping mind, sending me into a panic as I jumped out of bed. After turning on the interior light, I kept turning from one place to another, from the door, to my weapons and to the control tablet, clearly not able to think clearly and decide what to do. Memories of almost being dinner for a pack of prehistoric wolves shook me to the core.

I eventually willed myself to calm down sufficiently to think. I sat down and checked the motion detector and video feed on the tablet to find out what exactly I was dealing with. The indicator showed about a dozen sources of movement scattered around my container.

I was once again frightened for a moment, believing that I was surrounded, but then realized that the sources were too small to be human. The fact that my titanium home was near impenetrable to all but the largest and strongest of animals was, without a doubt, comforting.

I turned on the security camera, activated the low light filter and panned the view back and forth, revealing a couple of hyenas.

Or at least the prehistoric equivalent.

The pack had probably been attracted by the lingering scent of meat which I had cooked for dinner. I began steeling my resolve to go out and deal with them, when I thought of a much easier and safer alternative to dealing with my unexpected and unwanted visitors. Using the security notebook, I flashed the exterior floodlights a few times. Through the video feed I saw the scavengers freeze at the sudden and bright light and then scatter, running off into the distance.

I stayed up for an hour afterwards, riding the slight adrenaline high, constantly checking if they had returned. They didn't, but it didn't exactly help me sleep soundly for the rest of the night.

Looking back now, though, I realize that it was a rather anticlimactic experience.

The next nighttime interruption happened a little over a week later. I'm happy to report that this time, I didn't let myself panic as I was once again awakened by the motion detector's alarm. I calmly got up, turned on the lights, and checked the tablet to assess the situation.

Something big was definitely moving around out there, but it wasn't in view of the camera. Then I heard it ... large shuffling footfalls making their way ponderously around the container. The container walls shook as whatever it was walked into them. There was also an occasional, and surprisingly loud and deep sniffing sound.

I admit freely that I was getting a bit worried by then.

I eventually saw it on the video feed – a large mass of fur passing in front of the camera. It was a damn huge bear. I don't know if it heard me gasp in surprise, or if it merely picked up my scent, but the massive beast started pushing on the container's door and digging at the dirt beneath it. I realize now that it was very unlikely that he could have forced his way through the bolted doors, but the loud noise it was making and the fact that it was shaking the entire container really freaked me out.

I tried flashing the floodlights, like I had with the hyenas, but it didn't help this time. The bear simply stopped and looked at them curiously, backed away slightly and continued investigating my camp.

He stayed for almost an hour, digging around the container, moving around equipment boxes and knocking over my BBQ smoker. My nervousness and fear rose with every minute that passed, until I finally decided that I needed to act.

I wasn't going to be made into a prisoner in my own home.

I got dressed and prepared myself to do something potentially dangerous and stupid. I attached a flashlight to the shotgun's barrel and then turned off the container's interior and exterior lights. That once again caught the bear's attention for a moment, but he then went back to rummaging around the interior of the smoker, clearly attracted to the smell of cooked meat. Taking several deep breaths and steeling my nerves, I abruptly swung open the doors and pointed the shotgun in the direction of the bear. He turned his attention towards me and I focused the beam of light straight into its face, blinding him temporarily. I took advantage of that fact to fire several times into it. Due to the bright muzzle flashes, I couldn't see how badly, or even if, I had shot it. A loud bellow of rage and pain was the only answer I had.

As my eyesight quickly adjusted, I was fully prepared to duck back into my container in case the wounded animal charged me. It proved to be unnecessary though, as I saw it running away, surprisingly fast, into the darkness. Despite that, I didn't hang around; I backed up into the container, closing and bolting the door behind me.

I kept watch the rest of the night, too nervous to go to sleep.

In the morning, well after sunrise, I ventured out again, shotgun in hand. Looking around the camp, I could tell that no serious damage was done; the bear had just left a big mess. There was a large splotch of blood on the ground and a visible blood trail leading towards the woods. I had obviously hit the large bear; I could only hope that it would eventually bleed to death and die.

After getting a bite to eat and spending a few hours cleaning everything up, I went back to bed, much more relaxed.

Those experiences understandably left me concerned about my camp's security, but I couldn't see how I could have done anything differently, nor could I figure out a way to avoid future incidents. All I could do was keep using the container as a fortress, only leaving at night when absolutely necessary.

Maybe in the future I might be able to build a protective wall or moat around my camp to keep out invaders and animals. It would be a major construction project, but just might be worth it for long-term security. Perhaps I could even build some sort of crows-nest over my container ... an elevated position from which I could spot and fire down accurately at threats. That would be much easier to build.

Serious things I had to plan and consider.

I was truly enjoying the invigorating manual labor and the gentle sounds of nature, nevertheless with the passing days I was really starting to feel like something was missing. After a few days of soul searching, I realized what it was. I had been a city boy throughout most of my life and I now found myself missing the sights and sounds of the city, traffic and technology. The constant, gentle silence of nature seemed almost unnatural to my mind.

But most of all, what I missed was the sounds of people talking, working and living their lives.

Human beings are social animals. It's in our nature to reach out to others and band together. In Midgard's present culture, people unavoidably formed tribes to face the dangers posed by predators, and to pool manpower and resources. Being banished from the tribe was the worst sentence applicable, nearly a death sentence. Even in my former, modern world, one of the harshest punishments given is that of solitary confinement. There is an emotional, psychological and even physiological toll on humans due to prolonged isolation.

I remember a study I once read that said social isolation is proven to contribute to increased illness and even early death, and long periods of loneliness can seriously disrupt the thinking process. Not to mention the possibility of developing serious depression and the ever popular "cabin fever".

Keeping busy was no doubt helping me, but as time passed, I felt an ever increasing tension. It was after I noticed that I was speaking to myself while I worked, that I realized that I had a serious problem.

I was lonely and needed some human contact.

And that was how I decided that it was time to meet my neighbors.

I had to be cautious, of course. Animals could chase or hunt you down, but most of them tend to steer clear of humans and things they don't recognize. Human beings on the other hand, can be cunning, vicious and hold a grudge for a long, long time. A pissed off hunter could sneak up on me while I slept at night, or even in the daytime, and kill me, and there is a good chance that I would never even know that he was there. These people might be technologically and culturally primitive, but they had thousands of years of inherited hunting and stalking skills, which I had no hope of equaling.

I needed to make friends with them and keep them on my good side. They would provide me a layer of protection and a potential trading partner. They could help gather and process food, as well as provide manpower for future projects, while I had crates filled with useful manufactured products they would love to have. I might also help them raise their standard of living.

I woke up a bit later than normal and, after a breakfast of powdered eggs and leftover venison steaks from last night's dinner, I prepared a hand cart with various supplies and potential trade goods. I made sure to secure my camp as best as possible, and then I made my way down to the stream, to the place that I had declared my bathing pool, and started making my way downstream. I travelled along its banks as long as possible, but there were many places too rocky or dense with trees, forcing me to detour around them.

According to Center's maps, there were four camps in the neighborhood around my new home. The farthest camp was almost three days' walk west, across the plains - a bit too far for a first trip. Then there was a camp to the northeast, occupying a cave at the end of a valley, some fourteen hours away. The problem was that this was a Neanderthal camp.

Though I was mostly in the dark when it came to the primitive Midgard natives and their cultures, anything and everything I knew about Neanderthals was pure speculation. On my old world, there were a lot of theories on how they and Cro-Magnons interacted. Though there was growing evidence of interbreeding between the two species of man, there was no definite evidence on what kind of relationship they had. I had no idea if they were on "speaking terms", for lack of a better term, or bitter opponents.

All in all, I believed that making first contact with a Cro-Magnon tribe would be much safer.

The last two camps were much closer, just seven to eight hours away. The first was to the northwest, the probable source of the smoke that I had spotted on my first day on the planet. The other was to the southwest, on the spot where my stream eventually joined the river.

Seeing as traveling to the first camp implied a significant detour around the dense and dark forest, adding at best an additional couple of hours to the trip, the camp by the river won out as my destination.

I walked slowly and softly, keeping all my senses focused on my surroundings. The woods were quiet mostly, but around me in the distance I could hear animal noises - birds, squirrels, and such – the running stream, the wind through the trees and the slight jostling of the cart behind me. Occasionally there were other sounds which I suspected were from larger, hidden animals.

I wasn't nervous though, at least not like I was when I first arrived on Midgard. I was much more confident in myself and my capabilities now.

I quite enjoyed the hike and was pretty surprised, and just a bit disappointed, when I found myself already approaching the camp some time after mid-day.

I left my cart behind, and approached through the high grass and bushes, keeping low and quiet, until I reached the shadow of a large tree. I wanted to get a good look of the place and people, before I got much closer.

Looking through my binoculars, I methodically scanned the camp set not far from where the stream flowed into the river. There were around a dozen tents arrayed around several campfires, with one big one at the center. I could just make out the people out gathering food, ranging into and around the nearby woods, bending over occasionally to pick or dug up something. There were also a couple of figures apparently fishing in the more shallow parts of the river with spears. It looked like they returned carrying their collected goods in wide and shallow baskets. Inside the camp, there were a wide variety of movements and activities, but I couldn't tell what they were exactly.

All in all I counted some thirty individuals, plus a few more that, judging by their size, must have been children. I guessed that there might have been a few more either out of view from the camp or inside the tents.

I was a bit surprised at the apparent lack of lookouts or guard patrols.

Having seen enough, I slowly and calmly retreated back to my cart.

"Time to get this show on the road," I mumbled to myself, after taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.

I walked slowly toward the camp, making sure that they would see me coming. A loud shout told me when they had and I stopped about one hundred yards from the camp. I once again let go of my cart and made sure that my empty hands were visible. I could see a flurry of activity in their camp and heard several voices speak out loudly, arguing about what to do about me probably. I was impressed at how quickly they organized themselves as most of the camp, men and women, began approaching, almost everyone holding some sort of weapon - heavy flint-tipped spears and a couple of wooden clubs and what seemed to be stone axes. I guessed that the children and elderly, plus a small protective detail were left behind at the camp.

A group of three men lined up in front of the rest and advanced toward me well ahead of the others.

The neighborhood welcome wagon, I assumed.

Though I was excited to be seeing other people for the first time in weeks, the weight of my Glock in its holster, strapped to my thigh, was certainly comforting. I glanced back and to my right and left, assuring myself that my shotgun and carbine were still there, snug in their nylon scabbards, hanging on the sides of the hand cart.