The Navigators (26 page)

The pine cones and evergreen needles burned nicely once they got going. Pine sticks burn fast and hot, but pine bark smolders. Laying grasses onto the fire dried them out enough to make smoke without allowing the fire to burn too quickly.

With his fire and a fallen limb for a makeshift crutch, he was ready to start a shelter, but by then the sun was setting.

It would be a long night of huddling close to a small fire by the time machine.

And hoping that nothing came along to eat him.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

B
arry leaned against the machine and faced the fire, feeding sticks to the flames while listening to odd animal noises as they echoed across the forest. It was a scary and unnerving way to spend the night. The fire would keep animals away, but that didn’t let him relax enough to really sleep. Each snap of a twig was a saber toothed tiger. Each gust of wind was the breath of a hungry bear. As scared as he was, though, he still drifted off here and there. Exhaustion simply overruled any other plans.

When the sun finally rose, he took it in with a throbbing ankle and sore, red eyes.

He was stiff. His neck hurt, his back hurt—everything hurt. The humid night air made him cold and sore, giving him an indication of what his elder years might be like if he lived to see them. He grabbed a handful of mud and slathered it on for more protection against the next round of mosquitoes.

With a grunt, he stood and checked the fuel gauge. The amount of charging that had taken place overnight was barely half what he thought he’d need for the return trip. But the rhythmic scratching of the turbine continued, and the handle would not allow additional cranking, so he let it do its thing.

He put his hands on his back and stretched. “Minnie, it looks like we’ll be spending another -”

The sound of breaking branches cut through the air, coming from the forest. Snorts and loud huffs. Barry crouched behind the machine and strained to see.

The nearby stream widened out as it moved along, becoming shallow and slow. In the orange glow of the dawn, a mass of gray-brown shapes emerged from a distant tree line.

The herd of mastodons ambled toward the water as sunrise washed in over the meadow. They were majestic, walking slow and sure. Leading the pack, a huge male with long tusks took to the water’s edge, lazily dropping his trunk into the water and then holding it to his open mouth. He sprayed, swallowed, smacked his lips and tossed the trunk in for another round.

Behind him, mothers and babies drew their turn. They lined the side of the shallow stream and drank.

Though he picked this location because it was a well known site for mastodons, Barry watched, mouth agape, at actually seeing them in the flesh.

He smiled. “I should have taken a poetry class, Minnie. These animals are too beautiful to be described in my poor, flat words.”

There were about a dozen that he could plainly see; some large, some small. Behind the first herd, farther away and harder to see in the morning mist, a second group emerged. He saw a few Key deer and dozens of large cranes flying in from the distance. He admired the view, letting the sun burn off the light fog and expose more animals further downstream.

If the water is safe enough for the mastodons to bring their babies to, the big cat probably isn’t around.

It would be safe for him to get a closer look. He stood up, getting his bearings. Everything ached, but this was the chance of a lifetime. He wouldn’t miss it.

“Minnie, we’ve hit the jackpot. I need to go check this out. Be back soon.” He took a few steps, then turned back to the machine. “Gather some firewood while I’m gone, would you?”

Picking up his makeshift wooden crutch, Barry tucked it under his arm and grabbed the backpack. Leaving the bag was only an invitation for a raccoon or bird to make off with it. He stuffed its random collection of items back into it. The phone probably wouldn’t work, but if it had dried out enough to take a picture… he didn’t let the thoughts run away with him. There was a long walk ahead.

Wet and tired, hungry and sore, Barry limped off for a closer view of the mastodons.

It was a difficult trek. The grass was wet once again from the overnight dew. Before long, the skies would cloud up, turn gray, and dump torrents of rain everywhere, the same as they did every afternoon in summertime.

Some things never change.

He slogged his way along, using his crutch as best he could, trying not to re-blister too many of the same spots on his hands.

When he was about a hundred yards away from the herd, he slowed his pace. Moving through the grass allowed Barry to be relatively quiet. Its long strands made for good grazing for the mastodons, who pulled it up in clumps with their long trunks and tossed it into their ready mouths.

Just like elephants.

The tall grass helped hide him as he crouched, but it also meant that he could easily get snagged in it and fall, potentially exposing himself to the herd.

The humid morning air was almost absent of any breeze, but what there was blew directly into his face, bringing the musky stench of the large beasts to him.

It was a combination of hay and… poop.

The animals grunted as they stuffed their mouths, snorted as they drank. There was no need to be quiet, and they didn’t seem to try. Limbs snapped as they walked by a tree; the ground turned to mud under their massive feet.

They were beautiful, though. They had always been sketches, artists’ renderings and stuffed mockups with bad hair—until now. What a difference flesh and blood made. There was purpose in their movements. Dirt stuck to their toes; leaves clung to their coats. Two females grappled at the same berry bush. Their long tusks were yellowed and scratched, with chips missing here and there from a long life of rough grazing. A large male kept the members of the herd in line with a nudge or a look, but he was massive enough to enforce the rules at any time.

From his new vantage point, Barry could observe mothers watching over their babies. Large adults on the perimeter of the herd were on the lookout to keep them all safe from any would-be predators.

It would not be unusual for a pack of female saber tooth tigers to attack a baby Mastodon, or an elderly one, or any smaller animal that was too sick or too slow to keep up with the pack. Key deer, sand hill cranes; anything would do for the big hungry cats.

Barry watched as the herd managed itself. After a while, some of the bigger ones began splitting themselves off, disappearing back to the tree line to take advantage of the leaves, a favorite of elephants and probably a favorite of mastodons, too. They reached up with their powerful trunks and grabbed whole limbs, shoving them into their massive mouths and crushing them into pulp. Their dung reflected their eating habits—it was a mass of grass fibers and undigested wood fragments. Elephant dung made for good kindling once it dried out—if the smell could be tolerated.

The stream was shallow enough to cross. Barry moved quickly, waiting until the wind was in his face so the noisy mastodons would not pick up his scent, and found a place near a lone oak tree. He checked the wind again. The mastodons’ large noses made them even better at detecting a foreign presence than the tiger.

Entering the tree line a hundred or so yards west of the herd, he could weave his way through the trees and get a better view.

It was not fast or easy to move through the forest. There were few game trails, and it was better for him to stay off them until he was more familiar with the inhabitants of the area. Easy walking could mean easy pickings for a predator. The patches of thick brush required him to constantly push them aside with his makeshift crutch just to see where to place his next footstep. Stray tree limbs snagged the backpack; one nearly yanked him backward. The mastodons, meanwhile, simply pushed their way through. The humid forest was a dank combination of slender trees fighting for sunlight around a few larger trees. Occasionally, a large limestone boulder rose up between them. There was a smattering of sugar maples on the higher ground, and a wall of cypress trees closer to the low, swampy area. Mostly it was pines and oaks that dominated this part of the woods, with palmettos and ferns below.

The mastodons ate all of it. They reached and pulled at anything green, grabbing masses of leaves with their trunks and defoliating everything in their path. A herd of twenty or thirty adults could easily wipe out a small forest in a few days, but they fed on enough lush grasses that it wasn't necessary.

It was, however, always obvious when they had made their way through an area. The trees were broken and stripped bare to a height of about twenty feet—the maximum reach of the adults’ trunks—and the ground was trampled into slop. Barry would have no problem following them if he wanted to visit them again.

He moved a little closer, about 75 yards away from the nearest adult mastodon. She thrashed about, pulling on limb after limb of a eucalyptus. The minty aroma filled the air as the subtle breeze carried it to him, along with the musky scent of the animal’s backside, and maybe a hint of bad breath.

He held back a cough.

Better have another bite of eucalyptus, big girl.

Squatting behind a big tree, Barry set his crutch down and rummaged through the backpack. He pulled out the cell phone and looked it over. A stone’s throw away, the mastodon noisily continued her breakfast, breaking branches and snorting.

The phone had drained and dried out after yesterday's swimming adventure. It seemed good to go. That didn't mean it would work, but it was worth a try. Fresh water was much more forgiving on modern cell phones than salt water was. When he dropped his old phone in the live bait tank while deep sea fishing, it was ruined almost instantly. The one he dropped in his mother’s pool fared much better. After a quick rinse and a lot of time in the sun, it lasted almost six more months.

He held down the button on the phone and waited.

The newer cell phones did an even better job of resisting water than the old ones, but the key was still to get the water out of it as quickly as possible. Once dry, they had a fair shot at returning to normal.

The little phone showed a glimmer of light. Maybe it would work.

There was a crash above Barry’s head. He ducked, turning to see a giant female mastodon towering over him, pulling at the leaves on the tree he sat beneath.

He fought the impulse to run.

Don’t move. She might not see you if you don’t move.

He held his breath, watching her reach for another bunch of leaves.

Barry stayed frozen. Stray sections of broken tree fell around him as the female pulled at the more desirable limbs.

Easy. She’ll move to the next tree in a moment. If you scare her, she might trample you to death.

It was a rare combination of fear and humility, to be so close to such a massive animal. Heart pounding, Barry watched.

She ripped at a leafy branch, causing some others to drop. He closed his eyes and winced as they fell near him.

The female paused, scanning the foliage for her next bite, and moved to a young oak.

Barry took a slow, deep breath, watching her inch closer to the main herd. For whatever reason, she hadn’t noticed him; she was only interested in the next tasty tree. A trick of the wind. She had come up behind him, but the wind had shifted just enough to not let her catch his scent; her focus was on leaves above, not objects below. Pausing at the base of a tree to dig through the backpack may have saved his life.

He breathed a sigh relief.

He had not thought to take a picture while she was so close, but now that she was farther away he felt safer.

Let’s give it a try.

He raised the phone. The screen had come on, but there was no telling if any of the features would actually work. Barry pointed the lens at the female as the crunch and crackle of the feeding herd filled the forest.

Hold on. What will her reaction be to the noise it makes?
He peered over his shoulder.
What’s my escape route if this goes badly?

A few big trees had branches low enough for him to reach. He could definitely climb them, but the cast would slow him down, and the reach of the mastodon would require him to climb high as well. Like modern elephants, they could knock down a decent sized tree anyway, or shake him out of it by pushing and ramming it.

Beyond the trees was another tall outcrop of lime rock. That could work as a safe spot. High enough to be out of reach, and not anything they could knock over.

Besides, they don’t want to fight; they want to eat.

He heaved the backpack over his arm and turned to snap a picture of the grazing female.

Instead he was staring right at the massive male.

It was an enormous beast. Not twenty feet away, the mastodon’s head still looked to be five feet across, maybe more. His muscular trunk swayed back and forth across the tops of the grasses. His long tusks were even longer and more threatening close up.

He was not eating. He raised his trunk and sniffed the air, huffing loudly.

Barry’s breath caught in his throat. He clutched the tree and glanced around. Suddenly the lime rock outcropping seemed very far away.

The mastodon sniffed the air again. Flapping his ears and pawing at the ground, he looked over at the female. She had wandered another thirty feet or so. Beyond her, the other members of the herd continued breaking apart trees as they ate.

The male let out a low growl, fanning his ears again, but holding them out now. The breeze carried his stench to Barry, musky and thick like stale urine. The trunk went up again, sniffing loudly.

Barry held the tree, careful not to move. The tops of the distant trees swayed as the wind shifted.