The Trek: Darwin's World, Book II (The Darwin's World Series 2) (3 page)

That could wait; it was time to forage for something to eat. Matt wasn’t fussy. Grubs would serve for now, and he could use others for baiting his fishing line. And as soon as he spotted the first signs of small animal activity, he could unwrap the rawhide from the handle of his small flint knife and use it for snares.

He found a dead log, downed a year or more ago. Insects had burrowed under the bark and left powdery signs, so he used a stick to lever a section of the bark free. On the underside, he found a number of white grubs. They might have been the round-headed larvae of wood-boring insects, the things that woodpeckers seek when they hammer at the bark of dead trees. Regardless, there were many of them. He pinched off the black heads of several and ate the bodies.

Hunger was a problem, but eating too many insects that his gut couldn’t tolerate would be much worse; Matt ate a half-dozen of the grubs and waited to see if they’d stay down. While waiting, he began fashioning a gorge hook. He could eat more of the grubs later if they didn’t cause nausea, but in the meantime one would serve as bait.

A short length of his precious cord was cut off to make a sinker-line, tied around a rock he found lying beside the riverbank. The other end he knotted to the longer line from his belt emergency kit.

Matt tied one end of the line around a circular groove carved around the middle of the gorge hook. The other end he tied to a small tree on the bank.

The two ends of the gorge hook were sharpened, designed to catch in the stomach and turn sideways after a fish swallowed the bait. The sharpened ends would then catch in the stomach and prevent the hook from coming out while he pulled the fish ashore.

He threaded a large grub onto the gorge hook, then tossed the rock sinker as far into the river as he could. This pulled the fishing line taut and the sinker dragged the bait beneath the surface.

It was time for Matt to see what weapons could be contrived while the grub enticed fish.

He soon found a large rock, washed down in some past flood and deposited on the riverbank. After a short search he discovered a solid stick, apparently a branch from a tree that had broken away by the wind by ice buildup. It would do.

His strings and rope had been made from plaited fibers he’d extracted from leaves and grass stems. Neither source was available this early in the season but there were roots. Flexible roots would do for binding until he could begin making more cords.

He found several of the thin roots where the riverbank had been washed away. Being as careful of his flint knife as possible, he cut the roots.

Matt used these as crude cord to bind the rock to the tree branch. He felt better immediately; even if he should be forced to climb a tree to escape a predator, at least he had a real weapon; if a cat should try climbing after him, it would get a face-full of rock!

He checked his fishing line but felt nothing tugging back. Perhaps the bait had wriggled free? He pulled in the line and the grub he’d used for bait was still there. Still, a fresh one might be better. He loosened another section of bark from the dead tree and replaced the grub. The newly-baited gorge hook went back into the river.

The club was good, but a spear would be better. He could bend a small tree over and use the club to batter the trunk until it broke. This in turn could be trimmed into shape, sharpened, then hardened in a fire. He could also use fire or coals to cut the tree, as well as fashion a point and harden it.

He went back to the tree he’d been extracting grubs from. Should he eat more of them?

He decided to wait; the physical activity had lessened his hunger. No longer a sharp gnawing, it was still there but now no more than a dull ache.

Using the stone-headed club, Matt crushed a section of bark that remained on the dead tree. He carefully peeled this away and beneath the bark was the powdered cambium. There was also a sawdust-like material left behind by the boring larvae. The mix would serve as tinder and the splintered bark could be added as soon as flames appeared.

Matt took the steel scrap from the pouch. Holding it in his right hand, the flint knife in his left, he began striking the heel of the flint with the steel. The glancing strokes released a few sparks and he waited for one to ignite the tinder.

A number of sparks fell into the tinder before there was the first wisp of smoke. He carefully blew on the tiny coal and it grew brighter before finally becoming flame. Matt added the bits of bark he’d saved and waited for them to catch fire.

The small flame soon grew and Matt gathered more wood. He piled this near the fire, adding it to the small amount he’d gathered from the downed tree. Small branches were fed into the little fire and soon it grew to respectable size.

Matt left the fire and went to check his fishing line. This time, his tentative pull on the line was answered by a strong tug back so Matt carefully pulled his catch ashore. A large, thrashing catfish soon lay gasping on the muddy bank.

A tap from the stone club ended the gasping and quick cuts of the flint knife removed the spikes from the fins. Matt knew by experience how painful a wound those dorsal and pectoral fin spikes could inflict! He gutted the fish and removed the head. It was an easy task using the sharp flint knife; those ancestors had clearly known a thing or two!

A pointed stick soon held the fish in place over the coals. Matt moved some of the burning sticks to the base of a small tree that would make a suitable spear. He soon had more sticks arranged around the tree and watched as his small fire spread.

The tree charred at the base as Matt removed his fish from the coals. The fish barely had time to cool before he began stripping flesh from the bones.

He gathered up the head and bones, then threw them into the river. The guts he kept; they’d be good bait for his gorge hook. The re-baited hook, removed from the fish when he gutted it, went back into the river.

Matt tended the small fire around the sapling’s base. He experimented by bending and attempting to twist the trunk free, but decided it was too soon. Adding more wood, he settled down to wait.

He soon felt sleepy; the full belly from the fish probably contributed much to that drowsiness. He fought off the feeling and waited for the tree to burn through.

A large pile of fallen wood was stacked by his cooking fire. The wooden-pointed spear was a defensive weapon primarily, but fire was an excellent defense too. Tonight Matt would sleep warm and safe, a small fire to his front and another burning behind him.

A last check of the fishing line brought in another catfish, this one larger than the first. He gutted the fish and hung it from a branch near his fire.

The tree finally burned through and Matt laid it aside. Safe and warm between his fires, breakfast assured, Matt slept.

#

Robert woke up early and went about getting the tribespeople up and working. Lee was already up; he chewed on a piece of bread and chunk of dried meat as he went to check on the guards.

Breaking down the sled loads into packs and arranging straps to carry them took longer than expected. Robert fretted. He had hoped to travel ten miles farther before night, but he soon revised that estimate downward. Indeed, it was almost noon before the sleds were finally abandoned and the tribe dragged the travois onward. They’d soon settle into the new form of travel and packing wouldn’t take so long next time.

Lee took charge as soon as they were moving. He had a scout out ahead and two others flanking the group, watching for danger and for any animal that might add to their food supply.

Laz and Millie worked together, each pulling one pole of a heavily-laden travois. This contained their sleeping furs and a share of the tribe’s food. Sandra and Cindy followed behind, carrying backpacks with the rations they’d eat during the day.

Robert noticed this late in the afternoon and wondered where Lilia was, but he was too busy at the time to do more. He found Lee when the tribe stopped for the night.

“I didn’t see your mother today. Is she all right?”

“I’m sure she is. She didn’t believe what Pavel and his friends said, so she took off to backtrack them. She thinks Pavel and his cronies ambushed Matt and killed him.

“She’ll find out, and try to find Matt’s body. If his death wasn’t accidental…well, just keep out of my way. I’ll settle Pavel once and for all, and if his little gang gets in the way, I’ll do them too. That’s assuming my mother doesn’t beat me to it. She’s no pushover; I watched her stick swords into a short-faced bear after it clawed me and broke my arm.”

Lee thought for a moment before continuing.

“You don’t want her angry at you. I’ve acknowledged your authority as leader, Robert, but in this matter I’m not willing to defer. I’ll do whatever seems right at the time.”

“You won’t be alone, Lee. I’ll be there with you and probably Marc and Philippe will too. Laz won’t be hanging back, either. He liked Matt a lot. We all did. Pavel has few friends outside his gang of seven.

“I don’t favor hanging. We’ll use the closest thing to a firing squad we’ve got. If we need to execute anyone, we’ll do it by arrows or spears.”

Lee nodded, not convinced, but willing to wait for now.

#

Robert wasn’t the only one who noticed Lilia’s absence. Vlad realized that two different women now followed the tribe. He remarked on this, so Pavel took a walk past the camp that Matt’s group had set up. No Lilia.

Pavel watched for a while before deciding Lilia wasn’t coming back. She wasn’t with her group, so that meant she’d left the camp. Why would she leave, and where would she go?

He continued to muse on this and finally brought up the subject to the men of his group.

The women were away visiting others in the camp. This made it easy for Pavel to tell the men what he’d found. The women might gossip; the men wouldn’t.

“Lilia’s gone,” Pavel said. “She must have left last night. I saw her yesterday, but she wasn’t following behind us this morning and she’s not in her camp now. Anyone see her today?”

He waited, but no one said anything.

“I can think of only one reason why she would do that. I think she’s gone back to look for Matt. She won’t find his body, that’s miles downstream by now. But she might find his bow and quiver, maybe his spear too. I knew too many questions would be raised if we brought those back and we probably should have thrown them in the river. Having his parka and weapons belt was dangerous enough, but they were just too nice to leave. I thought it was worth it, taking the chance. After we dumped the body, I just wanted to get away from there so I didn’t take time to pick up his gear and brush out the marks. I never expected anyone to go back and look!

“Robert and Lee don’t have any witnesses. No one saw what happened but Gregor and Vlad, and they won’t say anything. But there might still be signs where we dragged him to the river after I clubbed him. And if she finds the bow and spear, she’ll know she found the right place. If she’s good at reading sign, she’ll know too much.

“We’ve got to go after her and kill her, before she can tell the others.”

Chapter 2

“Lee?”

“What’s up, Philippe?”

“There’s an animal up ahead. Keep your voice down.”

Lee whispered, ”What kind of animal?”

“It’s one of those big ones. That stag-moose thing? But I can’t be sure. It doesn’t have any antlers but the color’s right, tan with pale spots.”

“OK, I’ll be right with you.”

Lee grabbed his spear and bow where they leaned against his pack. The tribe had begun setting up evening camp, laying out sleeping furs and arranging the kitchen. Some of the women had headed into the forest to collect downed wood for the evening fires. Whether they had their weapons with them was questionable. Despite his admonitions to always go fully armed, many ‘forgot’ when they were gathering wood or attending to personal business.

He slung the spear across his back; it might not be needed, but now he never left camp without it. He nocked one of his few steel-pointed arrows and silently followed Philippe away from camp.

Philippe paused long enough to whisper, “Marc is keeping an eye on it. It’s browsing and doesn’t look like it’s alarmed at all. I don’t know if it even spotted us. Anyway, he’s in that clump of brush ahead of us. I think we might be able to get a shot if we sneak up. Maybe if all of us shoot, we can bring it down and won’t have to follow a blood trail. That thing is big!”

“Have your bow ready, Philippe; there may not be much time. If it sees us, it will probably run.”

The animal, probably a stag-moose as Philippe had guessed, was engaged in biting off the new leaves that had sprouted from branches as the weather warmed.

Lee watched for a moment, then signaled Philippe and Marc. By gestures he indicated that he would shoot first and they should launch as soon as he released his arrow. The two nodded understanding and Lee resumed looking at the big animal.

The doe munched contentedly on the tender shoots, oblivious to their presence.

Lee usually tried to place his arrows into the bodies. An area behind the forelegs was best; if the arrow struck a little high, it would pass through the lungs. If it struck low, it would penetrate the heart. Either wound brought death in moments. But this animal was almost face-on; the head blocked the only other good shot, between the shoulders such that the arrow continued into the chest cavity. Such shots were also usually lethal, but might take more time to kill through blood loss. An animal this large might run more than a mile before finally bleeding out.

The only other target that might result in an immediate kill was a brain shot, and that wouldn’t be easy.

The head was moving as the animal fed. Even if it stopped moving, the target area was small, no more than a few inches. The arrow would have to go in below the crown ridge at the top of the skull. If the arrow went too low it would strike the nasal bones, and in either case the shot would not be lethal.

The tribe badly needed meat; Lee would have to try the difficult shot, lest the animal become alarmed and bolt. Taking a deep breath, he half drew the arrow back, all he could manage while crouching, and slowly rose to his feet. He was partially turned away from the stag-moose, in excellent position to launch as soon as he achieved full draw.