Josh shivered from the fever. He had fashioned a crude spear and attempted to hunt something bigger than a damned rabbit. He was sick of eating rabbits and fish and knew winter was coming. He had to get ready or starve. Unfortunately, the deer he had been stalking was also being hunted by a puma. The large cat had disagreed who was the proper possessor of the deer and Josh had ended up badly mauled.
The scratches were festering and the fever wracked his body. He had managed to crawl to a small stream to drink water but now he was too weak to get back to his primitive house. He shivered as he laid upon the damp bank. The cool ground seemed to suck the heat right out of him in spite of the fever.
He was terrified. Josh knew he was dead, it was a matter of time. Tear inched their way down his cheeks to his scraggly beard. All he could do was whimper and silently pray he would be somehow saved. In spite of his fears, he lost the fight to remain awake. Blackness overtook him.
Time passed. How long the outcast man had no idea. He no longer felt cold but neither was he warm. Perhaps his body was almost dead and now he felt nothing. In a way that took away the fear. Maybe dying would be like falling asleep and there would be no pain. He kept his eyes shut and relaxed.
Once more time passed. His next moment of awareness he realized that something heavy was on his body. What was it? Josh forced his eyes to open but all he saw was darkness. He wanted to roll to his back in order to look further but he was too weak.
A sound. What was it?
A smell. Smoke. He knew his fire had to have burned out ages ago.
A voice. Female. Male. People!
Had he been found or was he imagining this? As weak as he was, Josh managed a small grunt. A moment later hands turned him over then helped him sit up. A cup of warm herbal broth was brought to his lips. It tasted bitter but he didn't spit it out. His body needed the moisture too badly.
He was then lowered back down. The voices went away but it didn't matter. He had been found.
******
When he woke next, the one thing that stood out was the horrible smell and the feeling of something...squishy on him. He forced his eyes to open. Josh focused and saw that he must be in some kind of tent. It was somewhat dim but at least he could see around him.
He lifted his head and moaned when pain told him he was too injured to think about moving. He dropped his head back to the stiff padding under him. He panted as he tried to will away the pain. When he next dared to open his eyes he yelped as a face hovered above him.
"I see you're awake. Here, drink some of this. It's nasty as hell but helps, trust me," the older man told him kindly. Josh grimaced as he was helped to sit up and he gritted his teeth from the pain. Before he got a chance to ask any questions a crude ceramic bowl was held to his lips. Josh managed to hold his breath long enough to take a gulp of the slimy green broth. Once the bowl was pulled away from his lips, he made a sound of disgust.
"Yeah, I know it's pretty awful. I'm Ezekiel, by the way. We were curious what your story was, young man." The older man wore a simple white shirt and dark trousers with suspenders. He reminded Josh of those religious people in Pennsylvania, what were they called? Then the word came to him. Amish.
Josh began thinking furiously. Did he dare lie and hope he wasn't found out or did he tell the truth? If he claimed to be an injured hunter it would be sort of the truth but then these people might try and take him back to the others. He had believed them when he was told they'd shoot him dead. No, he couldn't risk that. Maybe confessing would be better. These people might give him a break.
"It's a long story," he began, his courage already faltering.
"Well, it's not like you have to leave in a hurry and I've got time."
Josh began stammering then just said it in a rush. "I was thrown out."
"Hmm," the older man said. He left Josh's side and sat down near him and pulled out a pipe. Josh watched the man nervously as Ezekiel carefully filled his pipe and lit it. He took several leisurely puffs and tugged a bit on his white goatee before speaking.
"Why?" he asked simply.
Josh looked into the man's faded green eyes. They didn't seem angry or distrustful. "Cuz I was a lazy bastard and an idiot."
The man hummed and took another puff. "Well," he drawled out, "you can't be entirely stupid if you understand why they tossed you out. But the real question is, do you plan of remaining a 'lazy bastard' or are you willing to change?"
"It's not like I have a choice, do I? A man's gotta eat or starve."
"True enough, true enough. Well, I need to attend my own business but I expect that I will speak with you again. Our good doctor will be in shortly. Good day to you..."
"Josh. Josh Detweiller."
"Mister Detweiller." The man placed a straw hat onto his head and left the tent.
"Here you go, Phillip. Just for you," Cierra told the young chef with a huge grin. She passed the large box of cook books to the young man with a flourish. She and the others had raided a book store after the community college. Some of the booty would remain in the Napa clan but the rest would go to the Archivist clan for their library.
The shaman's eyes were caught by the sight of Eva walking by with an armload of assorted equipment. She still had no idea what the engineer had in mind. She only knew that Eva and Shane had a 'secret' discussion prior to the raid and both looked quite pleased with themselves.
JP snickered and bumped Cierra with her hip. "She isn't gonna tell. Come on, let's get something to eat, I'm starved."
The couple entered the communal building and stood in line with the others. Sharon's crew had set out a large assortment of food for everyone since the work crews had been working hard on building housing. The crops wouldn't be harvested for another month so the villagers took advantage of the lull.
The crews were hungrier on such heavy work days and Sharon always served more food to fuel them. She would serve a lighter meal that evening. JP looked over the choices and helped herself to some salad, a meat and veggie filled bun, a wedge of cheese, and an apple filled with walnuts and cinnamon. Cierra took the same and they joined Cyd and Jenny at a table.
Cierra looked at Cyd's plate and shook her head. The tall butch had half filled it with shoestring onion rings and homemade ketchup. The other half of the plate contained three of the buns.
"That looks healthy," Cierra teased.
"I love onion rings," Cyd pouted, "Sharon doesn't make them often enough."
"For the reason that fried foods aren't all that good for you."
"She fries them in sunflower oil. It's not like she uses lard."
Cierra gave up the argument since Cyd was unlikely to change her ways. The shaman got a wink from Jenny who was eating a large salad and a single roll.
"So," JP began, "how's the building coming along?"
Cyd shrugged. "We're doing okay with a smaller crew. I'll be glad when the others get back."
The council had sent up a few dozen people to the scientists to help finish building the communal kitchen/meeting house before the harvest began. Another dozen had been sent south to where the next trading event would be held to clear the area for tents. If they had time the people would also gather firewood and install a water pump well. They had all figured they might as well make the trade site comfortable. Next spring they wanted to build two bath houses there.
Jenny told the others that she hoped no one ran into unfriendly natives.
JP reassured her friend that the size of the work parties were large enough to discourage anything from happening.
"I hope you're right," Jenny said with a shiver.
People of Stones, part 8
Botta looked at the wooden canoe with some trepidation. He had agreed to make the trip to the place called Napa with Tate but the idea of traveling on the large river when he didn't swim well made him nervous. The Tappa leader did his best to hide his fear, unwilling to allow his son to see it. Zoss was next to lead their people when his own life ended and the boy needed to be brave.
He threw his small shoulder pack into the canoe and gingerly got in, praying he didn't overturn the wiggling boat. He then ordered his son to get in. The boy stepped into the center as Tate had instructed and gripped the sides tightly.
"Don't worry, it won't tip over," Tate reassured them. The canoe had an outrigger added to it to make it steadier in the water. It also gave the canoe extra storage area because a stiff net was stretched between the two arched poles. The camping gear was tied into the net so it was out of the way and gave everyone more leg room. The camping gear was brought along in case there wasn't room in the guest quarters for the three of them. Tate handed the two natives oars. He would teach them the art of using them as they journeyed.
He pushed off from the bank and steered them towards the center of the river. "Watch me," he told them. He showed them how to make the canoe change directions and a few other basic moves. The trip would be easy since they were following the currents and they only needed to keep the canoe on course. By the time they reached the Napa village they would be much more comfortable with the canoe for the return trip. The actual time to get there would probably be about two hours at most since they were only about fifteen miles north of Napa. Tate had first thought of going by horse but riding lessons would take longer. Canoe seemed the best choice.
An hour and a half later Tate spotted the dock that the Embassy had constructed. He steered the canoe towards it and spun the craft so it was along side the short dock. He tied off the canoe and got out, followed by the two natives. The Tappa men grabbed their gear and followed the Whitefeather leader up the hill towards the place of the 'queen'.
The men thought it bizarre that a woman led them but it was not for them to tell the powerful strangers how to run their lives.
Botta noticed people as they reached the rise of the hill with wonder. People here lived in trees! He saw curious stares from the people but no hostile glares. It was all too much for him to take in. Like the Whitefeather people, these people did things beyond his understanding. He followed Tate who kept moving. Was this not the Napa village?
Tate continued until he reached the memorial for those lost on Earth. It was surrounded by flowers, mementos, and had a small fire that was kept burning in a metal torch. Tate spent a moment in silent prayer until Zoss tugged his shirt sleeve.
"What this thing?" the boy asked.
Tate explained what it was for and even pointed at the plaques. The concept of marks meaning words stunned the boy. "All know marks?"
"Yep," Tate said. "Even years from now when we are all gone from this Earth, the words will still be understood. This way, our history and memories will be not lost in time."
"Want to learn marks," the boy told Tate.
The Whitefeather leader smiled. "One day you just might. One of our villages is planning to teach young people. You could go there if you want."
"They teach me? Tappa?"
"Yes, even though you are Tappa, they would teach you," he reassured the boy.
Botta was surprised by his son's desire to learn more of the strangers. Then he was proud. It was fitting that their future leader wanted to be wise and learn all he could. He patted his son on the shoulder, showing him silently that he was pleased.
Tate pointed up the hill and the three of them continued on, crossing a foot bridge that fascinated the two Tappas. Other than finding natural bridges such as stones or fallen trees they never considered building a path across water. He urged them away from it and led them towards the Napa village.
The first view of the large village left the visitors stunned. The Whitefeather clan used tepees since they were nomadic. The hide or canvas tepees were at least a concept the Tappa people could comprehend since they made hide tents. But the brick and cob buildings were so different than everything they knew that they could only stare in awe. Several people greeted them before Botta shook away his amazement and returned the polite words.
"Hi Tate. Who's your friends?" a female voice asked from behind them. Botta turned to look down at the woman then blinked as his eyes had to rise quite a distance. The woman was much taller than himself! Her hair was pale and her eyes were blue. The Tappa leader had never seen pale eyes before. Even the Whitefeather clan people all had dark or hazel eyes.
"Hi, Robbie. This is Botta, leader of the Tappa people near us and his son, Zoss. Botta, Zoss, this is Robbie. She protects our Queen and their village."
Botta felt that the woman might actually be powerful enough to hold such a position. Her tanned body was muscular in spite of her advanced pregnancy. If he was correct, she might have the child any day now. The pale-haired woman saw the direction of his gaze and laughed. She ran her large palm over her tummy. "Yeah, the little imp is stubborn. The doctors figured the baby should have-"
Robbie felt warm water gush down her legs. "Oh crap."
Tate looked down. "Speak of the devil."
******
"Tracy! Robbie is at the hospital. Baby's coming!"
The redhead sat there stunned until one of women nudged her shoulder and told her to get moving. The baby is coming! Tracy ran out of the quad unit, dodging between people and even leaping over a wheel barrel on her way to the hospital. The words 'Robbie' and 'baby' repeating over and over in her mind.
Mocci was stationed at the entry door. The teenager saw Tracy rushing towards him and he opened the door and stepped aside, almost getting ran over. The normally polite redhead didn't even mutter a word of apology as she rushed inside. He shook his head and entered the small hospital at a much more leisurely pace.
Today he would witness his first birthing. Carla had been teaching him how to be an assistant but he would be doing nothing more than watching and handing over instruments. He opened the door leading to the examination room where the nurse was trying to get Tracy cleaned up for the birth but Tracy's attention was on her blonde spouse.
Robbie was already on the birthing chair, normally only sat in when the baby was about to drop. Pat looked up.
"Hey, just in time. This tyke decided after making you both wait so long to hurry out. Let Carla help you wash up if you want to catch your baby," she urged.
Tracy got the hint. She spoke to Robbie as the nurse helped her scrub up, asking how she was doing.
"How do you think I'm doing? The little demon is killing me!" she yelled between clenched teeth.
Pat and Sandra resisted the urge to grin. Robbie was having a very easy birth for someone her age. Of course, being healthy and active during her pregnancy had helped. The former security expert hadn't gained a single excess pound and refused to be coddled. She was very fit and that would help in delivery.
Sandra examined Robbie after the contraction eased off. "Okay, she's ready to pop. We have full dilatation."
"Pop?" Robbie snarled. "What am I? A pimple?"
"No, a woman about to become a mom. Now, Tracy, you had better come over here and take care of this patient of ours before she blows a gasket."
The redhead went to her wife's side and wrapped one arm around her shoulders while placing her palm at Robbie's forearm. JP had already warned her not to take her hand if she liked using it. "I'm here sweetie. This is it, our baby is almost here," she whispered loudly against blonde hair.
"Decide on any names yet?" Pat asked.
"No," Robbie grunted. She and Tracy couldn't decide on a name for either sex. Nothing ever seemed right.
"The village's eldest and most respected female named babies in our village," Mocci supplied. "Then the father shows the child to the sky and tells the gods the child's name so they will be recognized."
"Why the hell not?" Robbie gritted her teeth through another contraction then told Mocci to fetch Sharon. The teenager no sooner left than the baby crowned and started its difficult path out of the straining mother. Robbie couldn't hold back the cry of agony as the shoulders worked out of her.
"Damn it, hurry over here, Tracy. This baby isn't waiting for anyone today!"
Tracy moved next to Sandra as Carla brought her a damp cloth with disinfectant. They had too few gloves left to use any more. She gave her hands a final scrub then dried them. Sandra guided Tracy's shaking hands into place and gave her instructions.
"Oops, the contraction stopped. Take a quick breather, Tracy. How are you doing, Robbie?"
"Who's bright idea was this anyway?" she whined. No one reminded the tall woman it was her idea. Arguing with women suffering labor pains wasn't a good idea. Then another push pain began and everyone got into position.
"What in the world do we have here?" Sharon said, entering the room cheerfully.
Robbie bellowed as she gave a strong push and the baby almost shot out of her. Sandra and Tracy took the baby in a soft cloth and Tracy held the baby as Sandra and Pat clamped off the umbilical cord.
"It's a boy! Robbie! A boy!" Tracy told her wife.
The blonde grinned as Carla wiped away the birthing fluids from the baby. Before another contraction hit and the afterbirth was expelled, Robbie panted out instructions to Sharon.
"You name the kid. We can't decide."
"Me?" Sharon looked at Tracy who nodded.
"Well, hmmm, let me see this fine fellow." The older cook accepted the child from Carla and looked at the baby. "Oh, he looks like a little angel. He's going to look like Damian, I can tell." The baby had dark hair and his eyes were the type of blue that wouldn't darken. Too bad he wasn't part of Tracy. Maybe she would give him a Scot name. She thought it over.
"Sean. His name is Sean O'Brien Stevenson." She handed the baby back to Tracy.
"Let me see this little angel of mine," Robbie said gently. Tracy carried the baby to Robbie and placed him in her arms. The strain of the last hour disappeared from the blonde's features. She smiled down at her dark-haired son. "Wow, look at you, Sean. How's life treating you?"
"Pretty good since he never cried," Sandra answered.
Tracy looked down at the baby with worry. "That's not bad, is it?"
"No, just unusual. He's breathing fine."
Tracy watched as Sean opened his mouth and yawned.
"Okay, your turn, momma," Robbie told Tracy. "Mocci told us how to name him, remember?"
Tracy glanced at the grinning teenager. "Yup, I remember. Let's go, Mocci. This was your idea." The baby was wrapped in a blanket and carried outside. "Keep the others away long enough for me to announce his name, okay?" she told the teen.
People outside tried to rush to the redhead's side to get the first official look at the infant but Mocci urged everyone to stand back for a minute. Once Tracy's friends settled down, she lifted the baby carefully above her head.
"This is our son, Sean O'Brien Stevenson. May you bless his life and family for all times," she said aloud. She paused for a moment and lowered the baby and held him close to her breasts. Women nearby took that as a signal to close in and view the baby.
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