Thursday, July 23, 2009

Chapter 2, Part 2

The Plains

Doug spent a week gathering and preparing food for the crossing. Game was plentiful in the forest, and more often than not he retrieved the arrows he used. The rifle he saved for extreme need: a bullet that didn't save your life was a waste. He had a dozen, as reliable as he could make them.

His horse waded into the tall grass at a bright, cloudless sunrise. The air was dry and spoke clearly of the colder weather to come. The dog, a large hunting breed, all but disappeared, his head floating above the green blades and leading a wake of waving grass behind him. He'd follow on his own, patrolling ahead or flanking the horse depending on the messages brought to his ears and nose

Around noon of the third day, clear and warmer, the dog stopped, ears pricked up and nose in the air. Doug reached back and gripped the rifle, but didn't pull it from its leather case. The horse's ears darted up, alert. The wind shifted and a low, rumbling thunder came from beyond the gentle rise just ahead. To the right and north a golden haze hugged close to the ground. The thunder wavered with the breeze and faded. The dog looked at the man as if for instructions and Doug grunted, shrugged his shoulders and nudged the horse into motion. He pulled the rifle free and held it across the saddle in front of him.

From the top of the rise, the land sloped down into a basin a few hundred yards wide before climbing to the next long frozen wave of a hill. Across the whole expanse, the grass was pounded flat and the soil churned into brown clumps. The damage extended as far as the eye could see south and north, where the haze clung and a hint of low thunder drifted back for a moment before dying away.

He was out of his knowledge. The maps showed a wide plain, but of whatever creatures may have lived here there was no memory. Inspecting the ground it was easy to determine that whatever came this way, they were big and there were thousands of them. The hunter thought immediately of meat and hide and was reassured. Just then, the dog uttered a short warning bark and the horse moved nervously beneath him. Reflexively, the man readied his rifle. Growling low, the dog directed his attention north along the opposite rise to the figure silhouetted against the blue sky, gazing at them. It was joined by another. The two groups studied each other for a moment before the two figures turned and disappeared behind the hill.

"Wolves," muttered the man. The dog looked at him and wagged his tail twice, as if in agreement. "Let's hope the rest of the pack is far enough away following whatever passed through here. Don't want those two convincing them there's easier meat back this away. " The dog began nosing his way toward where the wolves had been. Doug whistled him back. "Mind your nose, dog. Bad enough they know we're here. Least we're downwind. All the same, we'll veer southwards for a day or so." He glanced at the sun which stood about an hour past noon. He'd put a few more hours between this place and his next rest stop.

On the eighth day the sun set behind the first trees he'd seen since leaving the forest. Huge maples, mostly bare with a few flaming red leaves, hugged the banks of a wide, shallow stream, and were centered around the remains of an Old World foundation. He'd crossed more streams and creeks than he'd hoped for, so his water bags were never empty, but this was a blessing. He'd run out of firewood the day before and woke that morning colder than felt safe. Also, the food was running low. The stream promised fish, and perhaps he could collect some groundhog or squirrel before moving on. He'd crossed two more herd trails since the first one, but hadn't caught sight of the beasts that made them. He couldn't take the time to follow one as he was now in a race with the oncoming winter. His goal was either out there and he'd find it or he'd lose the gamble and most likely his life.

But for now there was food, water and wood.

The dog woke him late into the night. The fire had burned down to glowing coals and his blanket was rimed with frost. He roused himself and fed the fire generously until the flames leapt high and shadows danced between the trees. Then he heard what he thought had disturbed the dog.

A long howl came down the wind, far off, but not far enough. Doug checked the horse, who seemed to be listening very carefully to the night sounds, then made sure of his gun and spear.

But the dog was not aroused by the distant wolf. There had been a sound out of place with the night downwind. Just one, but it worried the dog until he was growling low with his back fully bristled. Something was there.

It ignored both man and dog and exploded across the firelight onto the horse's back, whose screams were answered by another wolf, closer and from a different direction from the first.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Chapter 2, Part 1

Doug

This much was certain, no human had come this way since the oldest tree was born. He'd followed the river into the Trackless Forest as well as he could, detouring along the numerous deer trails where the banks were steep or cut into the bedrock. Mostly there was more than enough room between the towering trees for his horse, the way made difficult here and there by deadfall. Occasionally the canopy opened up and the undergrowth grabbed annoyingly at the spear strapped to the horse's side. Once, he'd almost gone into a rectangular, Old World pit matted over with creepers. Soon after he'd come upon crumbled, overgrown ruins. He'd camped to the side and, with the dog, briefly explored the place, but any value had been stripped well before the forest had claimed possession.

He'd come upon many such ruins. Some the remains of individual dwellings, others the bare Old World bones of towns broken by the creeping vegetation, towering trees and countless winter frosts. The stream he'd been following ended at the largest body of water he'd ever seen. Following the shore he'd come to the open grave of an Old World city where the remains of towers thrust into the air like broken fangs. He'd spent a week exploring, but all was dust, stone and the constant cacophony of countless shore birds flittering about the towers like a cloud.

Beyond the City the coastline curved north but the man followed the sun into the Forest once more. The old documents gave him a clue as to where he was and told him there was much to find this way, but they were copies of even older documents which had crumbled to dust lifetimes before. This was a gamble, no question.

But wasn't everything?

The old maps had shown two rivers after the City, and he had spent days finding a way across one and weeks to cross the other which worried him as the nights were growing cooler. The third river came as a shock, but just a day upstream he'd found an Old World bridge, where the water ran wide and shallow, that appeared to have been repaired long ago with some crude stone work.

The Forest on the other side diminished after three more days of easy travel. Now he stood next to his horse with the dog sniffing about his feet. His deep blue eyes gazed over an endless expanse of open plain. The sky was iron gray and a rising breeze made the tall grass wave like the sea. He took off his wide brimmed hat and long blond hair fell over his sun darkened face. Wiping the cooling sweat from his forehead, he replaced the hat and, nodding, turned back under the trees. He'd need to stock up on food and water to cross the plain.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Interlude I

Reality. What a Concept. ~Robin Williams

Everything is really quite simple as long as you're focused on precisely where you are and what you're doing. Even if there's a bit of worry over the consequences of what may have happened before on what might happen next, it's all rather straightforward. Good word for it, 'straightforward.' What other choice is there?

However, when what you're precisely focused on is how things work and what's at the roots of it all, things can get more complex than even an intelligent person can wrap a head around. Hidden deep down below where subatomic particles pop into and out of reality for no seeming reason at all is a secret that shouldn't affect anyone. In fact it wouldn't affect anyone as long as everyone minded their own business focusing on where they are and what they're doing.

But of course, eventually someone will come along and muck it up making things a bit more interesting than usual. 'Interesting' is another good word often used to understate a certain trend toward a particularly nasty catastrophe.

Reality has a structure, hinted at back in Forward II, which may come as a shock to everyone except quantum physicists and Hindu mystics. Reality only appears to be straightforward. It also goes straightbackward, straightsideways, straightup and straightdown.

It even straightcurves and straightspirals all over the place.

Thankfully we're designed for just straightforward, keeping things simple, although there are occasional exceptions brought on by various mental disorders or controlled substances.

But there's a catch.

Imagine reality as a great big apartment building. Let's say we're in apartment 10A with a nice view of the river. Well, suppose some moron in 5F decides to investigate his bathroom plumbing with a good sized wrench just to see what would happen. Well your water pressure drops, doesn't it? And the poor sap in 4F is trying to understand why God is telling him to build a boat and gather all creatures great and small and can't He just make it stop raining?

You see how it works? Don't even get me started on what happened to the dinosaurs.

There are various utility lines and pipes behind the scenes connecting reality into one Great Everything, and while there are backups and circuit breakers and valves and such to keep one reality (apartment) from affecting another, sometimes God (The Super) isn't Paying Attention (watching the game with a beer and chips with the phone off the hook) or He just has it in for the poor sap in 4F (Who do you think gave the moron in 5F the wrench?).

The result, after the dust settles and the population comes back from the brink, is often a new religion with a new Book and a new God (the old Super having been fired by the Landlord.)

Next up, of course, is the amateur plumber.