“Okay, I’m putting the girls on. Bob and Carmen, too, And you.”
“Huh?”
“And me. And Roy Kilroy. Everybody. That’s the only way you will get people to serve without griping; that way you will convince them that it is serious, a first obligation, even ahead of hunting.”
Cowper picked at a hangnail, “Do you honestly think I should stand watch? And you?”
“I do. It would boost morale seven hundred percent. Besides that, it would be a good thing, uh, politically.”
Cowper glanced up, did not smile. “You’ve convinced me. Let me know when it’s my turn.”
“Another thing. Last night there was barely wood to keep two fires going.”
“Your problem. Use anybody not on the day’s hunting or cooking details.”
“I will. You’ll hear some beefs. Boss, those were minor items; now I come to the major one. Last night I took a fresh look at this spot. I don’t like it, not as a permanent camp. We’ve been lucky.”
“Eh? Why?”
“This place is almost undefendable. We’ve got a stretch over fifty meters long between shale and water on the upstream side. Downstream isn’t bad, because we build a fire in the bottleneck. But upstream we have walled off less than half and we need a lot more stakes behind the wall. Look,” Rod added, pointing, “you could drive an army through there—and last night I had only two little bitty fires. We ought to finish that wall.”
“We will.”
“But we ought to make a real drive to find a better place. This is makeshift at best. Before you took over I as trying to find more caves—but I didn’t have time to explore very far. Ever been to Mesa Verde?”
“In Colorado? No.”
“Cliff dwellings, you’ve seen pictures. Maybe somewhere up or down stream—more likely down—we will find pockets like those at Mesa Verde where we can build homes for the whole colony. You ought to send a team out for two weeks or more, searching. I volunteer for it.”
“Maybe. But you can’t go; I need you.”
“In a week I’ll have this guard duty lined up so that it will run itself. Bob Baxter can relieve me; they respect him. Uh…” He thought for a moment. Jackie? Jimmy? “I’ll team with Carol.”
“Rod, I told you I want you here. But are you and Caroline planning to marry?”
“Huh? What gave you that notion?”
“Then you can’t team with her in any case. We are trying to re-introduce amenities around here.”
“Now see here, Cowper!”
“Forget it.”
“Unh…all right. But the first thing—the very first—is to finish that wall. I want to put everybody to work right away.”
“Mmm…” Cowper said. “I’m sorry. You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because we are going to build a house today. Bill Kennedy and Sue Briggs are getting married tonight.”
“Huh? I hadn’t heard.”
“I guess you are the first to hear. They told me about it privately, at breakfast.”
Rod was not surprised, as Bill and Sue preferred each other’s company. “Look, do they have to get married tonight? That wall is urgent, Grant; I’m telling you.”
“Don’t be so intense, Rod. You can get along a night or two with bigger fires. Remember, there are human values more important than material values.”
11
The Beach of Bones
“July 29—BILL AND SUE GOT MARRIED TONIGHT. Hizzoner never looked lovelier. He made a mighty pretty service out of it—I cried and so did the other girls. If that boy could do the way he can talk! I played Mendelssohn’s Wedding March on my harmonica with tears running down my nose and gumming up the reeds—that’s a touch I wanted to put into darling Carmen’s wedding but I couldn’t resist being bridesmaid. The groom got stuck carrying his lady fair over the threshold of their ‘house’—if I may call it that—and had to put her down and shove her in ahead of him. The ceiling is lower than it ought to be which is why he got stuck, because we ran out of rock and Roddie raised Cain when we started to use part of the wall. Hizzoner was leading the assault on the wall and both of them got red in the face and shouted at each other. But Hizzoner backed down after Roddie got him aside and said something—Bill was pretty sore at Roddie but Bob sweet-talked him and offered to swap houses and Roddie promised Bill that we would take the roof off and bring the walls up higher as soon as the wall is finished. That might not be as soon as he thinks, though—usable rock is getting hard to find. I’ve broken all my nails trying to pry out pieces we could use. But I agree with Roddie that we ought to finish that wall and I sleep a lot sounder now that he is running the watch and I’ll sleep sounder yet when that wall is tight and the pincushion back of it finished. Of course we girls sleep down at the safe end but who wants to wake up and find a couple of our boys missing? It is not as if we had them to spare, bless their silly little hearts. Nothing like a man around the house, Mother always said, to give a home that lived-in look.
“July 30—I’m not going to write in this unless something happens. Hizzoner talks about making papyrus like the Egyptians but I’ll believe it when I see it.
“Aug 5—I was sergeant of the guard last night and Roddie was awake practically all night. I turned in after breakfast and slept until late afternoon—when I woke up there was Roddie, red-eyed and cross, yelling for more rocks and more firewood. Sometimes Roddie is a little hard to take.
“Aug 9—the salt lick Alice found is closer than the one Shorty found last week, but not as good.
“Aug 14—Jackie finally made up her mind to marry Jim and I think Roddie is flabbergasted—but I could have told him a month ago. Roddie is stupid about such things. I see another house & wall crisis coming and Roddie will get a split personality because he will want Jimmy and Jacqueline to have a house right away and the only decent stone within reach is built into the wall.
“Aug 15—Jimmy and Jackie, Agnes and Curt, were married today in a beautiful double ceremony. The Throxtons have the Baxter house temporarily and the Pulvermachers have the Kennedy’s doll house while we partition the cave into two sets of married quarters and a storeroom.
“Sep 1—the roots I dug up didn’t poison me, so I served a mess of them tonight. The shield from power pack of that Thunderbolt gun we salvaged—Johann’s, it must have been—made a big enough boiler to cook a little helping for everybody. The taste was odd, maybe because Agnes had been making soap in it—it wasn’t very good soap, either. I’m going to call these things yams because they look like yams although they taste more like parsnips. There are a lot of them around. Tomorrow I in going to try boiling them with greens, a strip of side meat, and plenty of salt. Yum, yum! I’m going to bake them in ashes, too.
“Sep 16—Chad Ames and Dick Burke showed up with their tails tucked in; Hizzoner got soft-hearted and let em stay. They say Jock McGowan is crazy. I can believe it.
“Sep 28—Philip Schneider died today, hunting. Roy carried him in, but he was badly clawed and lost a lot of blood and was D.O.A. Roy resigned as boss hunter and Hizzoner appointed Cliff. Roy is broken up about it but nobody blames him. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.
“Oct 7—I’ve decided to marry M.
“Oct 10—seems I was mistaken—M. is going to marry Margery Chung. Well, they are nice kids and if we ever get out of this I’ll be glad I’m single since I want to buck for a commission in the Amazons. Note: be a little more standoffish, Caroline. Well, try!
“Oct 20—Carmen????
“Oct 21—Yes.
“Nov 1—well Glory be! I’m the new City Manager. Little Carol, the girl with two left feet. Just a couple of weeks, temporary and acting while Roddie is away, but say ‘sir’ when you speak to me. Hizzoner finally let Roddie make the down-river survey he has been yipping about, accompanying it with a slough of advice and injunctions that Roddie will pay no attention to once he is out of sight—if I know Roddie. It’s a two-man team a
nd Roddie picked Roy as his teamer. They left this morning.
“Nov 5—being City Manager is not all marshmallow sundae. I wish Roddie would get back.
“Nov 11—Hizzoner wants me to copy off in here the ‘report of the artifacts committee’! Mick Mahmud has been keeping it in his head which strikes me as a good place. But Hizzoner has been very jumpy since Roddie and Roy left, so I guess I will humor him—here it is:
“12 spare knives (besides one each for everybody)
“53 firearms and guns of other sorts—but only about half of them with even one charge left.
“6 Testaments
“2 Peace of the Flame
“1 Koran
“1 Book of Mormon
“1 Oxford Book of English Verse, Centennial Edition
“1 steel bow and 3 hunting arrows
“1 boiler made from a wave shield and quite a bit of metal and plastic junk (worth its weight in uranium, I admit) from the Thunderbolt Jackie salvaged.
“1 stew pan (Carmen’s)
“1 pack playing cards with the nine of hearts missing
“13 matches, any number of pocket flamers no longer working, and 27 burning glasses
“1 small hand ax
“565 meters climbing line, some of it chopped up for other uses
“91 fishhooks (and no fish fit to eat!)
“61 pocket compasses, some of them broken
“19 watches that still run (4 of them adjusted to our day)
“2 bars of scented soap that Theo has been hoarding
“2 boxes Kwik-Kure and part of a box of Tan-Fast
“Several kilos of oddments that I suppose we will find a use for but I won’t list. Mick has a mind like a pack rat.
“Lots of things we have made and can make more of—pots, bows and arrows, hide scrapers, a stone-age mortar & pestle we can grind seeds on if you don’t mind grit in your teeth, etc. Hizzoner says the Oxford Verse is the most valuable thing we have and I agree, but not for his reasons. He wants me to cover all the margins with shorthand, recording all special knowledge that any of us have—everything from math to pig-raising. Cliff says go ahead as long as we don’t deface the verses. I don’t see when I’m going to find time. I’ve hardly been out of the settlement since Roddie left and sleep is something I just hear about.
“Nov 13—only two more days. ‘For this relief, much thanks…’
“Nov 16—I didn’t think they would be on time.
“Nov 21—We finally adopted our constitution and basic code today, the first town meeting we’ve had in weeks. It covers the flyleaves of two Testaments, Bob’s and Georgia’s. If anybody wants to refer to it, which I doubt, that’s where to look.
“Nov 29—Jimmy says old Rod is too tough to kill. I hope he’s right. Why, oh, why didn’t I twist Hizzoner’s arm and make him let me go?
“Dec 15—there’s no use kidding ourselves any longer.
“Dec 21—the Throxtons and Baxters and myself and Grant gathered privately in the Baxter house tonight and Grant recited the service for the dead. Bob said a prayer for both of them and then we sat quietly for a long time, Quaker fashion. Roddie always reminded me of my brother Rickie, so I privately asked Mother to take care of him, and Roy, too—Mother had a lap big enough for three, any time.
“Grant hasn’t made a public announcement; officially they are just ‘overdue.’
“Dec 25—Christmas”
Rod and Roy traveled light and fast downstream, taking turns leading and covering. Each carried a few kilos of salt meat but they expected to eat off the land. In addition to game they now knew of many edible fruits and berries and nuts; the forest was a free cafeteria to those who knew it. They carried no water since they expected to follow the stream. But they continued to treat the water with respect; in addition to ichthyosaurs that sometimes pulled down a drinking buck there were bloodthirsty little fish that took very small bites—but they traveled in schools and could strip an animal to bones in minutes.
Rod carried both Lady Macbeth and Colonel Bowie; Roy Kilroy carried his Occam’s Razor and a knife borrowed from Carmen Baxter. Roy had a climbing rope wrapped around his waist. Each had a hand gun strapped to his hip but these were for extremity; one gun had only three charges. But Roy carried Jacqueline Throxton’s air pistol, with freshly envenomed darts; they expected it to save hours of hunting, save time for travel.
Three days downstream they found a small cave, found living in it a forlorn colony of five girls. They powwowed, then headed on down as the girls started upstream to find the settlement. The girls had told them of a place farther down where the creek could be crossed. They found it, a wide rocky shallows with natural stepping stones…then wasted two days on the far side before crossing back.
By the seventh morning they had found no cave other than one the girls had occupied. Rod said to Roy, “Today makes a week. Grant said to be back in two weeks.”
“That’s what the man said. Yes, sir!”
“No results.”
“Nope. None.”
“We ought to start back.”
Roy did not answer. Rod said querulously, “Well, what do you think?”
Kilroy was lying down, watching the local equivalent of an ant. He seemed in no hurry to do anything else. Finally he answered, “Rod, you are bossing this party. Upstream, downstream—just tell me.”
“Oh, go soak your head.”
“On the other hand, a bush lawyer like Shorty might question Grant’s authority to tell us to return at a given time. He might use words like ‘free citizen’ and ‘sovereign autonomy.’ Maybe he’s got something—this neighborhood looks awfully far ‘West of the Pecos.’”
“Well…we could stretch it a day, at least?. We won’t be taking that side trip going back.”
“Obviously. Now, if I were leading the party—but I’m not.”
“Cut the double talk! I asked for advice.”
“Well, I say we are here to find caves, not to keep a schedule.”
Rod quit frowning. “Up off your belly. Let’s go.”
They headed downstream.
The terrain changed from forest valley to canyon country as the stream cut through a plateau. Game became harder to find and they used some of their salt meat. Two days later they came to the first of a series of bluffs carved eons earlier into convolutions, pockets, blank dark eyes. “This looks like it.”
“Yes,” agreed Roy. He looked around. “It might be even better farther down.”
“It might be.”
They went on.
In time the stream widened out, there were no more caves, and the canyons gave way to a broad savannah, treeless except along the banks of the river. Rod sniffed. “I smell salt.”
“You ought to. There’s ocean over there somewhere.”
“I don’t think so.” They went on.
They avoided the high grass, kept always near the trees. The colonists had listed more than a dozen predators large enough to endanger a man, from a leonine creature twice as long as the biggest African lion down to a vicious little scaly thing which was dangerous if cornered. It was generally agreed that the leonine monster was the “stobor” they had been warned against, although a minority favored a smaller carnivore which was faster, trickier, and more likely to attack a man.
One carnivore was not considered for the honor. It was no larger than a jack rabbit, had an oversize head, a big jaw, front legs larger than hind, and no tail. It was known as “dopy joe” from the silly golliwog expression it had and its clumsy, slow movements when disturbed. It was believed to live by waiting at burrows of field rodents for supper to come out. Its skin cured readily and made a good water bag. Grassy fields such as this savannah often were thick with them.
They camped in a grove of trees by the water. Rod said, “Shall I waste a match, or do it the hard way?”
“Suit yourself. I’ll knock over something for dinner.”
“Watch yourself. Don’t go into the grass.”
“I’ll work the edges. Cautious Kilroy they call me, around the insurance companies.”
Rod counted his three matches, hoping there would be four, then started making fire by friction. He had just succeeded, delayed by moss that was not as dry as it should have been, when Roy returned and dropped a small carcass. “The durnedest thing happened.”
The kill was a dopy joe; Rod looked at it with distaste. “Was that the best you could do? They taste like kerosene.”
“Wait till I tell you. I wasn’t hunting him; he was hunting me.”
“Don’t kid me!”
“Truth. I had to kill him to keep him from snapping my ankles. So I brought him in.”
Rod looked at the small creature. “Never heard the like. Must be insanity in his family.”
“Probably.” Roy started skinning it.
Next morning they reached the sea, a glassy body untouched by tide, unruffled by wind. It was extremely briny and its shore was crusted with salt They concluded that it was probably a dead sea, not a true ocean. But their attention was not held by the body of water. Stretching away along the shore apparently to the horizon were millions on heaping millions of whitened bones. Rod stared. “Where did they all come from?”
Roy whistled softly. “Search me. But if we could sell them at five pence a metric ton, we’d be millionaires.”
“Billionaires, you mean.”
“Let’s not be fussy.” They walked out along the beach, forgetting to be cautious, held by the amazing sight. There were ancient bones, cracked by sun and sea, new bones with gristle clinging, big bones of the giant antelope the colonists never hunted, tiny bones of little buck no larger than terriers, bones without number of all sorts. But there were no carcasses.
They inspected the shore for a couple of kilometers, awed by the mystery. When they turned they knew that they were turning back not just to camp but to head home. This was as far as they could go.
On the trip out they had not explored the caves. On their way back Rod decided that they should try to pick the best place for the colony, figuring game, water supply, and most importantly, shelter and ease of defense.