CHAPTER 4 
CHAPTER 4
Sean Elliott’s training covered a lot, but despite that, taking a dump in the Stone Age, surrounded by hostile animals, roving flocks, a squad of troops and no privacy, with only an ammo crate as a seat, was not high on the list of fun things to do. That, and the short water had him dehydrated and slightly constipated, and the MREs and stress weren’t helping. That had hurt. He wasn’t sure how long the paper would last, either. That wasn’t going to be fun. Having a guard stand over you with a weapon while you took care of business in the open was that much more unique. He wouldn’t wish this on a loudmouthed sergeant major. Well, maybe a certain one.
Oglesby turned and nodded after Elliott pulled his pants up and started fastening them. He nodded back, grabbed the crate, placed it carefully behind Charlie Nine, and headed to the fire. He had bleach wipes but wasn’t going to waste them, and would just do the Muslim thing of using one hand to eat and one to clean.
Barker had meat sizzling on sticks. It was fragrant, brown, and bubbling with juice. He took a skewer and sat against a rock. Carefully, he blew to cool the steaming gobbet, and nibbled at it.
“Huh. Not bad,” he allowed. It wasn’t bad at all. Better than MRE for sure.
“Yeah, the blood provides some needed salt. But the protein is going to make us thirsty.”
Sean tried not to blush. He’d wasted three days, and was moving overly cautiously, and he knew it.
“Tomorrow the river,” he said.
Barker said, “It’ll be good to have a proper bivouac and stretch out a bit, but I think we all napped while in the back of the trucks.”
“Badly, but yes.”
“I am in pain,” Ortiz said, rubbing his shoulders. “I don’t know how you big guys manage.”
Alexander said, “Try it in body armor not cut for your body shape.”
Around a mouthful of goat, Caswell asked, “How much water is there?”
Oglesby said, “One cooler half full of melted ice. One pack of bottled. Aren’t you a vegetarian?”
“When circumstances allow, yes. Right now, they don’t. So I’m eating meat. Got a problem?” She fixed him with a gaze.
“No problem.” He looked a bit taken aback by her tone. He lit another smoke. He had to be getting low.
Barker looked at the cooler. “We should have a bottle each for tonight.”
“We’re running out.”
Spencer said, “Yes, but we can always run out. No need to schedule it. We need to be operating and healthy for tomorrow. There’s no advantage to running out early.”
Sean said, “I’m not sure I follow what you said, but one bottle, go ahead.”
“Neither am I,” Spencer said. “I meant, we will run out sooner or later, so let’s stay hydrated while we can.”
Caswell asked, “What about that care package? Anything useful?”
Alexander said, “It’s got ten toothbrushes, five mini-tubes of paste, three rolls of floss, twenty bars of soap, four packages of pencils, one of pens and some envelopes and paper, some crayons, a box of tampons, six used bestseller paperbacks, a box of double A batteries, six pairs of tube socks, a pack of disposable razors, four chapsticks and some lotion. It had two boxes of cookies, but we killed those yesterday.”
“At least it’s mostly useful stuff,” he said.
Spencer said, “It’s all useful. Someone did us a favor.”
Alexander pointed to the back of the truck where the box was. “If we ever get back, you can write them a thank you letter. They included their address.”
“I will,” he said.
Far Eye was enjoying the evening. It was a little cool, and he pulled his cape in tighter.
Strangers were here on the Mid Hills. They left a deep trail to the south, up onto the flats, but had a village here, away from any water, flint or good trees.
Their huts were strange. The sides appeared to be slabs of dun rock, and they were open at the bottom. He also wondered how they’d built and settled here without anyone noticing.
They were short. Their robes were of a very strange hide, mottled in colors. It wasn’t any animal skin he recognized. It would blend in well if they held still. Two were female, with fine figures, but slender. The strangers wore belts and carried sticks, and their speech was strange. It had few sounds, but they ran the sounds together into a stew of sounds.
The one atop the rock was obviously a watcher. He held his stick in both hands. It might be a magic stick. It was carved into an odd shape with limbs sticking out cut short.
“See?” he asked Scraggle.
“Far away strangers.”
“Assume.”
“Meet?” Scraggle asked.
“Watch. Meet tomorrow maybe.”
“Maybe spirits?”
“Look like small people.”
It was strange to have only two females. None of them looked like children. The men should have mates. They acted almost like a hunting party, except they were villaging, not hunting. They had those large huts.
They were not like his people. They were not like the other newcomers.
He would watch. They wouldn’t see him from here.
Sean Elliott knew he’d done badly, but he felt better now. Though they were still low on water, they were within sight of the river at least. They’d take care of that tomorrow. There were plenty of meat animals to hunt. They’d have to find vegetables to balance it out.
Trinidad spoke up in his high voice.
“Sir, there are two humans on the lip to our west.”
“Stone Age?”
“I dunno, man. They seem to be wearing loose fur hides, so I think so. Tall. One has a dreadlock Mohawk. The other has three stripes of hair, like a skunk.”
“Are they aware of us?”
“They know the fire is here and are peering. They think they’re well outside the light. I guess they don’t have night vision.”
Devereaux said, “The Afghans don’t have night vision.”
Elliott almost chuckled. “Yeah, we can make those jokes. But the locals have found us. Should we try to contact them?”
Spencer said, “No, sir, I’d say don’t spook them. We’ll try for daylight.”
Stone Age people. If they were here for a long time, and it seemed like it, local contact was necessary. Trade. Primitive skills. But it was one more crushing responsibility of many.
“Sergeant Spencer, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Yes, sir.”
Once again they went around the back of Charlie Nine, but only there. He wanted to be within quick reach of the others, just in case.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know your first name. It was on the manifest, but . . .”
“Martin Spencer, sir.”
“Martin. Thanks. I don’t want to get too informal, but we need to be friends as much as soldiers until this is over.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m Sean.”
“Noted, sir, but I’m going to keep this form of address for now.”
“That’s fine. And I respect that. How old are you?”
“Thirty-eight, sir.”
He hadn’t looked that old before, but now, shaggy with bits of gray in his beard and sunken eyes, he did.
“Deployed a few times?”
“Third rotation.”
“Good. I can rely on you for advice, then. Okay . . .”
He took a deep breath.
“I have to sleep sometime. Eventually. I’m not, really, and I know others are having problems. We may need to medicate for a few days. But I can’t handle everything twenty-four-seven by myself.
“I know you operate differently than I do, but can you give me honest feedback when I’m awake, and keep the general gist of my instructions when I’m not?”
“Since I’m effectively acting first Sergeant, yes, sir. I can.”
“Thank you. Any immediate advice?”
“I think you’re doing okay now. I won’t hold the last four days against you. It’s insane. None of us handled it well, no one could.”
“Thanks, but that’s true of combat, too. It’s got to be handled.”
“Yeah. Well, we’re handling it now.”
“Do you agree we get to the river first, then find locals?”
“Yes, sir. Water. Food, and the river will have fish as well as watering holes for game. It will have reeds, and I’m pretty sure there are cattails or such, which are edible.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, like a mild watercress, sort of. And the tops make tea, or can be used for bandages. It can be pressed into paper. Useful stuff. Anyway, after we have food and water, then we can find locals.”
“I figure we need to recon the area, see who’s here and if they’re friendly, and then find a good place to settle in for a long wait.”
Spencer nodded. “Very good, sir. We don’t want to be too close to neighbors, but I hope we can work out trades.”
“Yeah. I want to talk about this a lot more, but I’m groggy, and we need to reach the river. Long term planning after immediate needs.”
“You should lie down, sir. We’ll take turns, you, me and Barker, I guess.”
“Okay. But wake me at once for anything.”
He stretched out in the back between the seats. Ortiz lay on one. Devereaux was on the other, his feet on the floor. Tall, that man was.
It wasn’t comfortable, but he’d manage. It was better than the ground. He tucked his helmet at the angle that worked for a pillow, sort of, drew up his feet and crossed his arms. That would work. He closed his eyes and listened to the mumbles outside.
Martin Spencer awoke for the third time at sunrise. He vaguely remembered dawn and the depth of night. He’d slept sitting back against the tire, and leaning forward on his hands. It wasn’t good sleep, nor a lot of sleep, but . . . well . . .
“How are we doing?” he asked. Caswell and Barker were on watch. The west was still dark purple fading to a gorgeous blue behind and east. He shivered slightly and was damp from dew.
Barker said, “Our observer slipped away about an hour ago.”
“Okay. Well, we assume he’s following us. It suggests there’s a settlement not far away.”
“Hopefully. Do we really want to meet them, though?”
“I don’t think we have a choice. We’re moving into their territory.”
“Yeah. I just don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”
“Is the LT up?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Any ideas, sir?”
“A bit. I want everyone to eat and drink. Clean uniforms all around. These are getting nasty. We’ll wear body armor and take weapons. We’ll walk on foot to the river and see if we can find signs of these local people. Anyone any good at that?”
Barker said, “I’m pretty good, but they may be better.”
“Yeah, well, we do what we can. Water first. Look around the terrain. If we don’t find anything, we come back here before dark. We can move down closer tomorrow, after we’re sure we won’t get stuck in the mud.”
Martin asked, “Body armor and what else, sir? Water of course. Food?”
“Yeah, enough food for today. What’s left?”
Barker said, “Some MRE components and a few candy bars and snacks. Running out of that, too.”
The CO winced. “Crap. Okay. Take it. Sleeping bags also. Fully armed but light otherwise.”
“Okay. Then machetes and knives as well.”
Alexander added, “Toilet paper.”
Elliott said, “Definitely asswipe. Fair enough on the blades, but everyone keep things sheathed, and empty weapons. I don’t want any NDs, any trigger play, any accidents. I’ll tell you when to load. Two mags each is plenty.”
“Hooah. What about wolves, sir?” Ortiz asked.
“Yeah, if you see an approaching threat, say something and load up. But we’re not here to fight, we’re exploring and trying to be friendly.”
The man definitely sounded more in control today. A little shaky, but that was to be expected. At least he was giving some kind of orders, and they made sense.
Twenty minutes later, Martin had to snap, “Move!” Everyone was reluctant to leave the vehicles. Well, so was he, but they couldn’t use them for this.
The LT locked Charlie Nine, Barker locked Charlie Eight. The machine guns were inside, bolts pulled, and should be safe from anyone in the Stone Age.
“Everyone has food, water, weapon with two magazines, knife, armor including eyepro, sanitary supplies, bedroll and clothes.”
“Hooah.” “Yes, Sergeant.” They had quite light rucks, probably under fifty pounds. Even with armor and helmet, that wasn’t bad.
“Got this, too,” Barker said, holding up the empty drum cooler. “We can get five gallons of water additional.” He could carry it easily in one hand. It would be heavy when full, though. They could probably lash it to sticks and sling it, however.
“Good idea. We walk. North to the river, but it’s a straighter route down that way, so that’s what I suggest.”
He waited for the LT, who nodded assent, and started walking.
“Close interval,” he said. “We’re not worried about gunfire, just wolves and angry men with spears.”
He didn’t hear anything.
He whipped around, and staggered when the ruck kept going. Everyone was behind him, adjusting their interval.
“Christ, don’t be silent, I thought you’d got magicked home. Keep talking.”
Barker called, “So these ten soldiers walked into the Stone Age.”
Oglesby replied, “And one of them says, ‘that’s not the stoning I wanted.’”
They kept chattering, and he felt better, but after only a few minutes, he stepped aside, ostensibly to count people, and let Barker take point. He really wanted to be in the crowd, not out front. Shameful, but he couldn’t do it.
He moved into third place, behind the LT. He should probably be last, but that was as frightening.
It was ridiculous. Nothing was going to send them home, or it would have already. Or it would know somehow they were out of whack, and send them no matter where they were. Or it would be random in the formation, and anywhere was as likely.
He was panicking; it was unprofessional, and he couldn’t stop it.
Or maybe he’d read more sci fi than the others and knew just enough to be scared.
He sipped some water, looked around again, and forced himself to drop back two more slots. Everyone deserved a turn, and he should cover the rear.
It took four hours to reach a ridge overlooking the river valley. A mile and a quarter an hour. Not much faster than they’d done guiding the trucks.
“Stream over there,” Ortiz said. “Looks pretty fresh.”
Martin said, “Okay, fill up. Expect to have intestinal distress.”
Trinidad asked, “Is that the polite name for what you call the screaming shits?”
“That’s exactly what it is.”
The stream was a trickle with lush growth along both sides, but they found a mostly bare spot of rock, covered in moss, where they could bend over to plunge Camelbak bladders and bottles into the splashing flow.
He risked a taste.
“Tastes clean,” he said. “Faintly musty. Good. We’ll want to mark this.”
“Got it,” Dalton said. He had a pocket compass and was writing on a notepad, presumably azimuths. The compass looked to be halfway decent—not a professional one, but it would be good enough for this. And, it was probably all they had. GPS was useless.
From atop the rock, Barker said, “Sir, there are obvious settlements ahead, along the river bank.”
“That’s good and bad, but it is a complication.”
Martin breathed relief, hurried forward, and said, “Sir, as a SERE graduate, may I offer input?”
“Please.”
“There are two ways to approach this. We can go on foot, quietly, acting nonthreatening. I doubt they’ll recognize any of our gear for anything other than odd pouches and sticks. They have nothing to compare to. We can negotiate, find out a good spot, likely get some food and water in the meantime. The other option is to roll in like gods. We don’t need to negotiate, we just benevolently agree that we’ll take whatever empty spots they can direct us to.
“I recommend the former. I’m not comfortable playing God, and in the stories where people have, eventually the primitives figured it out and there was trouble. I’d rather say we’re explorers from far away and want to be good neighbors.”
“I agree,” Elliott said. “We’ll mark here, walk in, be sociable. What else?”
“Here’s where it gets tricky,” he said. “If they’re hospitable, they’ll likely offer food and drink. We have to drink the local water, we don’t have a choice, and we can expect those screaming shits to follow. The food may be bugs, fermented meat, whatever. We can refuse citing vows to our gods or such. But it has to be polite. If that doesn’t work, try, ‘I’ll save this for later.’ And you may just have to suck up and swallow something disgusting.”
Oglesby said, “So, if someone asks if we’re gods, we don’t say ‘yes’?”
“Correct. Amusing as the line is, this is deadly serious. We’re asking our new neighbors, who may number in the tens of thousands, if we can have a chunk of land.”
“We covered some of that cultural stuff at DLI,” Oglesby said. “I never thought I’d need it.”
“Same with SERE,” he said.
Elliott said, “Okay, magazines in, chambers empty. We need to stick in close proximity, but spread enough to form two fire teams.”
Martin said, “One more thing yet: Alexander, can you pretend to be my mate? And Caswell should pair up with one of the younger males.”
Caswell said, “What the hell for? You want to start out by placing our position subordinate, based on gender?”
Oh, Christ, not that feminist crap.
“No, that is not what I want to do. It’s fine if you’re equals. We’ll adapt presentation once we see how they handle it. But I’m guessing they’ll have some sort of gender division.”
She said, “Band societies are usually very egalitarian. There’s a division based on personal interest, not on artificial constructs, and . . .”
“And that matters in fifteen thousand years,” he said. “We don’t know; we have to be prepared for anything.”
Elliott saved him.
“Sergeant Caswell, please go along with the presentation for now. Couples can be equals. We’re just buddying you up. Rest of the males, buddy up as well. We’ll have five pairs, and I’ll take pairs Caswell and Dalton, Barker and Devereaux, and Oglesby can be my buddy. That leaves Spencer and Alexander, if you’re okay with that, Sergeant Alexander?”
“I’m fine with that,” she agreed. Good.
“And Ortiz and Trinidad.” They nodded.
“Okay, then we head west, since that seems to be where they are. We need to get close while it’s still well-lit, so we have time to back off and bivouac if need be.” It was well past noon already.
Barker said, “It looks like it’s about three miles, rough terrain. We should assess each mile.”
“Okay, then you lead off.”
“Yes, sir. Also, I have some training in primitive skills. I know a bit about my Native culture.”
Elliot said, “Good, and Caswell, I am interested in your training, too. There’s every chance they will act like you say. I just don’t want to assume so.”
That seemed to mollify her.
“Yes, sir. I’ll let you know.”
Martin pulled at his ruck straps, let things adjust, and slid them back into place.