A BEGINNER'S GUIDE TO TIME TRAVEL
CHAPTER 11 (Pt 1)
We found a perch among the rocks with a view of the valley floor. Seen from above, I could see the zig-zag tracings of the tunnels against the light of a setting sun. It was like looking at the veins of a man’s arm; light traceries of blue against a field of flesh. I could see the beach were we had expected to set up our camp. The bladders I’d used to make the gunnels of the raft with were in a pile against the rocks. I wondered how long it would take before some curious predator thought it was prey of some sort and bit into them.
“We have to make a camp,” I said.
“We can’t go back there,” she said.
She was holding her arms over her breasts, covering them from me for whatever strange reasonings she may have had. I’d offered to look at her wounds to assess any chances of possible infection she may have had. At first, she agreed. She was reluctant, but she agreed, seeing the logic of my proposal. As I looked down at her, she immediately covered her breasts, covering a great many of the wounds that lined her ribcage.
“You don’t want me to look at your cuts?” I asked.
“I don’t want you to look at my breasts,” she replied.
“Why would I look at your breasts? There are no scratches there. Your ribs, however. We’ll have to walk overland, the cuts may become infected, and then what use would you be to me? Again, I’d have to stop. At this point, I’d say we’re a day behind. How much time do you think we’d lose if your wounds became infected? Days.”
“I see no need for you to look at my naked form.”
“No need? And if you die because of the wounds you have? You will have died needlessly. There are plants, and water. I can easily make a poultice of some kind to remedy whatever possible infections you may have—”
“There is no infection.”
“So you say now. Can’t you feel the scratch on your back? They run right around and into your ribcage?”
“What scratch?”
I placed my finger on the scratch and followed the bloody line to her ribcage. I pressed hard. Not hard enough that she cried out in pain, but hard enough so that it was uncomfortable.
“You have three others that long. All one above the other, as if the creature ripped at your clothes from behind.”
“That happened when the first one grabbed me. I remember that.”
“I’ll go get water and wash the dirt out. We still have light. If I wait until morning, it’ll have sealed up and I’ll be forced to wash the scab off. I’ll have to dig out the dirt, and I don’t think I have to tell you it’ll hurt.”
“Where are you going to get the water from? You can’t expect to go down to the river? Those things will be waiting for you.”
“You need not worry about me,” I said.
“I’m not. It’s just that if you die, what do you think is going to happen to me?”
“I promise you, I will not die,” I said.
I made my way down to the riverside without making a sound, as I knew I would. Coming back would be a different matter. I made my way along the riverside and the rocks, looking for the bottom of the raft I’d cut out as well as one of the tusker bladders I’d left on the beach. I found one bladder that was the size of a melon. I took the sivic out of its sheath and carefully punctured a hole into the bladder. It was difficult because the bladders had been coated in pitch as well, and I was finally rewarded with the slow escape of air from the bladder.
I walked to the river, squeezing the bladder and holding it underwater so that I could fill it with water. I looked at the branches hanging from the trees, and noticed the thin vines among the branches. I cut several dozen lengths and began braiding them together. When I finished, I’d braided seven cords of vine and tied them together at one end. I laid the braids out and then placed the bladder on top, pulling up the seven braids and loosely tying a strand around the top of the vines to hold them in place. I wove three vines horizontally through the small cage; one on the bottom; one in the centre; the last near the top.
Satisfied, I picked it up. The bladder settled into place and I was able to cut a small piece of pithy reed that I used for a stopper in the bladder. I cut several more pithy centres, thinking I might be able to use them cleaning the woman’s wounds. Then I looked at several of the bushes where I found three different mushrooms underneath I knew I could crush and make into a poultice.
Finally, I had everything I needed and looked at both the clearing and the rocks on the other side. It would be a long trek back and I would be weighted down. I picked up the tusker hide and rolled it up, tying it tight and wrapping my rope around it. I knew my feet would echo in the tunnels underneath and it would take no time for them to track me. But I thought I might avoid the tunnels if I could step over them and run across the solid ground. The sound would still be there, but it would be muffled. It would take them time to figure out where the steps were coming from, and that was time I could use to my advantage.
I looked about the limited supplies we had and picked up the furs I’d worn when we were in the Vandals. I took a second tusker bladder, poking my sivic into it and squeezing out as much of the air as I could. I’d make a second water carrier tomorrow. I pushed the pithy centres I had inside the empty badder, leaving a piece of each hanging out.
I climbed the rocks on the shore and stood on top of them, searching the clearing in front of me. I was looking for any slight discolourations that told me where the tunnels were. They weren’t difficult to find. I was able to map out the path I was going to use, hoping there were no traps laid out. I thought that because that’s exactly what I would’ve done.
I looked at the rocks around me and then smiled. I reached for a thin tendril of vine in the tree above me and then took an arrow from the quiver. I looked for the longest, flattest, rocks I could, and using the vine quickly tied one of the rocks to the shaft of an arrow. The rest I carried.
It doesn’t have to go far, I told myself. I just need it to distract them.
I pointed the arrow up at an angle, pulled the string back, adjusted the rock on the arrow, and then let it fly. At the same time I took to the clearing, leaping over the tunnels as best I could. I was looking to my left when I saw the ground opening up; I paused to hurl another rock as far as I could, and started running again.
I made it to the rocks as a large section of tunnel fell in behind me. I could see several of the creatures scrambling up and over the sod. I pointed my short crossbow at the one in the lead, put a bolt on the rail, and released it. The bolt went right through and the creature stood clutching its throat. I made my way up and into the rocks, leaping from ledge to ledge as I climbed higher. I went behind a rock blind, using it to double back on my position, and then climbed up and out of sight where the woman was laying against the rocks.
“As good as a battle in the morning to get the blood flowing?” she asked, and I smiled.
“It does have its moments,” I said.
I lay the furs out on the rocks and told her to roll over onto them, on her stomach. I lifted the ripped fabric to look at the scratches underneath. Some of the fabric had dried with the blood, and it withered in my grip, the tear growing. I could see the seam coming apart where the two pieces had been joined together to make the suit into a one piece. I told myself it didn’t matter. I’d use the fabric to dry the wounds. I picked up the empty bladder and pulled out one of the long pithy reeds. It was easily as thick as my thumb.
I worked on the cuts and scrapes until it was too dark to see anymore. I told her that was the best I could do. There was very little blood. The reeds had absorbed most of it, and I made a small poultice with the mushrooms I’d gathered.
“I’m going to make a poultice and put it on the scratches,” I said. “I’ll use what’s torn and tie it into place. You can wear the furs if you feel you must.”
“Thank you,” she said. “My name is Jen.”
