A Long Time Until Now (33 page)

Elliott half shrugged.

“There’s nothing I can do about it, and I’m surprised it’s been this long before we had any violence. That group started off by attacking me. It was predictable they might try something stupid.”

“Well, now they know what guns are. Or at least that guns can kill.”

“They probably can’t figure one out easily, but let’s make sure they don’t. Avoid cycling rifles in front of them.”

“That means having them loaded when we approach.”

The LT said, “It does. We know they’re a credible threat. So plan accordingly.”

“Got it, sir.”

Elliott nodded, and he turned and left. Rich sighed. That had gone better than he feared it might.

The women were on the far side of the stream, and Caswell was among them, looking very determined. She almost buzzed. Why did the hot ones always have to be crazy? She was even religious, but had that new-age feminist stuff going on.

She’d fought decently though, and so had Alexander. Caswell had kicked that one clown to the ground, and Alexander had dropped that guy with the rock like he was an empty pop can. They weren’t hefty enough to haul logs, but they could fight well enough, and weren’t the type to get into girly crap like makeup. He hated that in a soldier. These two were okay.

He also knew he shouldn’t be tallying up the native chicks for his own drives, but at some point he was going to need a wife, and this is where they were.

The three Urushu men were thrilled. They’d found their mates, and possibly one or two more, with the way they didn’t actually have defined spouses. They typically had one at a time, but drifted back and forth between partners. Serial monogamy.

But those Neolithic types would probably be here in force. Or skulking. It might be an idea to set up some booby traps or signals. He’d talk to the LT about that.

He sat down alone in the dark on the woodpile west of the tepee and thought about things.

The time frame bothered him. The Bible said the Earth was about 6000 years old. Ussher had calculated 4004 BC for Creation. He could be wrong by a few years, but it was hard to place where these groups might be. Assuming it wasn’t long after the Deluge, the Old Stone Age and New Stone Age had to be within a few generations. Could people look that different in that short of time? Obviously, if God dictated so. Bows were not that big a development. As to dogs, that Russian experiment had taken only a few generations to domesticate foxes.

But Devereaux knew his Scripture very well, quoted it a length, and insisted they were fifteen thousand years back. That was nine thousand earlier than Ussher’s dating. Could Usher have been off by that much?

If the year had changed in length, which was one of the theories for the Deluge, then sure. That would be a really neat bit of information. The irony was he couldn’t take it back home.

Of course, all the researchers he might discuss this with were in the future, too, and everyone here thought he was crazy.

Then he decided they were all crazy in their own way. Alexander had her new age goddess worship. Caswell had feminism. Spencer thought he believed in nothing, which was obviously false. They each had their thing.

He’d killed a man today, who’d not been baptized in Christ, but probably didn’t know of Christ, so his soul should be safe. He’d pray God for forgiveness, and let Him know he respected the man’s soul. He too was lost in time and in the world, unable to understand what was happening, and didn’t have a Christian moral code. He deserved compassion, not hatred for his fear and anger.

After that, it was in God’s hands, and God would do what was best.

This exile had brought him closer to a true feeling of the Holy Spirit than he’d ever felt. Perhaps that was why he was here. It was even possible God would send them home, once they had learned what they must. He’d pray for that, too.

They needed to avoid firefights as much as possible. That was something else to think on. There was nothing wrong with violence when necessary, but these poor bastards were so outclassed it wasn’t fair, even with the numerical differences.

Feeling calmer, he stood and walked back to the kitchen. He realized he was still in full battle rattle with a loaded weapon. He cleared and safed it against the woodpile, then opened his armor for ventilation.

There was something smoked for dinner, and more roots and greens. But dang, he’d love some potatoes, or peanut butter, or both.

Crap, that sounded like something a pregnant woman would crave.

He grabbed a wooden plate of grub from Barker, thanked him, and found a seat under the windbreak. He was the first one with food. Caswell and Oglesby were busy, and Ortiz took food to them. Alexander was in the truck. Doc was out with the guests, too, and the LT, leaving Trinidad on watch, Barker serving.

“How are you doing, Dalton?” SFC Spencer asked, sitting second.

“Good enough, I guess,” he said. “I don’t feel real great about killing some poor dumbass who had no way to know about body armor and rifles.”

“They don’t know about NVG either. Which may be useful. But yeah, it’s not a fair fight. From what the LT says, they attacked first and you didn’t provoke them.”

“I tried not to. I guess we could have set off some signal we don’t know about.”

“Can’t help that. You kept our people alive and rescued those women. It wasn’t what we intended, but it’s a good outcome. Well done,” Spencer said with a firm tone.

Rich said, “Thanks. Though I figure the men will try to come get them.” The savages could learn, but didn’t seem to do so very quickly.

Spencer said, “Well, then we may have to teach them a bit more.” He chewed while staring into space.

“It almost sounds like you like the idea.”

Spencer said, “Not really. But if we need to do it, bring it on.”

“How’s that wine of yours coming?” He indicated the tent, where Spencer had the five gallon cooler.

“Do you know anything about fermentation?”

“Not a lot. It ferments, it makes alcohol.”

“Yup, and it’s making alcohol. But it’s still full of must—ground up fruit, and yeast and residue, which is bitter. It needs a few more weeks to finish, then we’ll have to filter it. I try a whiff and a taste every few days.”

“Is it going to be any good?”

“I’ve used wild fruit before. It’ll be dry and musty, but should be drinkable and alcoholic.”

“Awesome.” He didn’t drink much, but damn, that sounded good about now. “If only we could have bread and cheese with the wine.”

“Cheese we can do, with the penned goats. Good cheese from goats.”

“Roger that. And bread?”

Spencer shrugged. “I think Caswell said all grass seeds are edible, but we’ll have to harvest a lot of them, roast and grind them, then make dough. And these are going to be smaller grains and have thicker husks than anything in our era. The last century, back home I mean, grain was bred and modified a lot.”

“I’ll take it. If we can do cheese, can we do butter?”

“Yes, eventually. Me, Alexander, Barker and Caswell all know something about bread, cheese and butter.”

He said, “I know what I want for Christmas.”

Spencer said, “Likely next fall. We just don’t have the manpower.”

“Yeah.” He paused a moment. “I find beliefs here interesting.”

“The natives?”

“Them too. The Urushu sort of pick and choose their spirits. Animism, and not much of it.”

“Right.”

He chewed a piece of meat, then crunched up a root. Not bad. Not as chewy as before. The smokehouse helped age stuff, too.

He said, “It doesn’t seem very useful. They can’t really pray for anything, or try for anything.”

Spencer said, “That’s typical. They have no basis for understanding the world. And organized religion with a pantheon or a head deity has to have rules, which you can learn.”

“Right. That’s the key to Western Civilization. It wouldn’t exist without Judeo-Christian ethos.”

Spencer shrugged. “Eh. The Hindus and Buddhists might argue. And Islam as an offshoot of Judaism. But you’re not wrong, no.”

“I really don’t know anything about Hindus or Buddhists or Shintos? Yeah, Shintos. What I’m getting at is, if you can pick and choose and change your beliefs easily, you don’t develop. It’s like a kid’s game with no rules.” He hadn’t thought about this before. He hadn’t had to.

Spencer stared into the dark east. “Yeah, that’s a good way of looking at it.”

“I have no idea what these Neo people think. But it’s probably not a monotheism. The word of God wasn’t out here then.”

“I don’t think the word of your God was anywhere at this time, but I know we disagree on that.”

“So that brings us to us. Most of us are Christian, about half Catholic, half Protestant. Similar enough in the basics. We have a belief, a faith, the Trinity, God’s Scripture, and His rules for the universe. Physics, chemistry, whatever. And right and wrong, which are codified in law.”

“Yes?”

“Well, you’ve got your beliefs and Alexander has her new age stuff, if I can call it that. You talk to her a bit.”

“I do talk to her. I find her beliefs as . . . well, I really don’t see any difference.”

“You don’t see any difference? Between that . . . stuff and Christianity?”

Spencer shrugged. “Not enough to matter.”

“But . . . all her stuff came about in the last half century.”

“Yes, and? It’s based on older stuff, some reconstructed, some inferred, just as yours is based on the Councils of Nicea and other assemblies and conferences.”

“Well, sure, but we have documentation.”

“So does she. And beliefs.”

“I haven’t talked to her much, but other pagans I’ve met are flaky.”

Spencer licked the wooden plate. The juices had been pretty good. After they finished, they’d rinse and smoke the plates to sterilize, and scour them with rocks every couple of days.

Looking up in the dim flickers, Spencer said, “Yeah, she calls them fluffy bunnies. The same criticism you have of the Urushu. They pick and choose and don’t actually get anywhere.”

That was ironic. And interesting.

“Okay.”

“As I said, not much difference between you.”

He said, “But that last ritual she did. I watched because I was curious. It was damned near a ripoff of a Christian service.”

“Well, sure. The Celtic, Greek and Roman paganisms influenced Christianity. And now Christianity influences their reconstructions. I’m sure any pagans in Japan have some Shinto roots. Read Tom Sawyer?”

“Yeah?”

“Tom had all these occult and superstitious things he did, but was in a strong Christian environment. Beliefs create, and beliefs also follow.”

Spencer bit into an apple. The crunch sounded a bit mushy. It was end of the season for those, and Rich was going to miss them until next fall.

He
did
remember that from Tom Sawyer. The Doodlebug, the deathwatch, the oaths in blood.

“That’s so obvious I don’t know how I missed it.”

“Because you’re inside and I’m outside.”

“Okay, can I ask you about that?”

Spencer said, “Sure, go for it.”

“So what are your beliefs based on?”

“Nothing.” The man sounded completely calm.

“Oh, come on. You have to believe something.”

It was dusk and hard to see, but in the faint glow of the fire, Spencer shook his head.

“Nope. The universe exists. I know that, because I’m here. Other than that, I have no idea and won’t guess. I can guess what the Aral Sea, northwest of here five hundred miles, might look like. I have some information on it. What people are there, I have less of a guess. I know there’s glaciers north, but not how far north. I don’t know what year it is. I don’t know how we got here. So I don’t guess.”

“You don’t guess why we’re here?”

“It could be anything. Some natural phenomena. A side effect. Deliberate, but by whom?”

“The ‘whom’ is what I’m interested in. That’s the why.”

“And I have no information, so I can’t guess.”

“But everyone believes in some sort of higher power.”

Spencer shook his head, rather firmly. “No, they don’t.”

“You don’t believe that.”

Spencer sighed and said, “I get that
you
do. I get that most people do. That’s fine. If you need something to reference, I support it. Life’s tough. But I don’t believe in any higher power that we could communicate with, or would be concerned with individuals. I suppose some agency may have created the universe, but without any evidence, I’m not going to guess at the nature of it.”

“But evidence is all around you.”

“The world is all around me. Some parts I understand, some I don’t. Some the scientists do, some they don’t. It exists. That only proves it exists.”

“I don’t understand how you can look at the world and say there’s no God.”

“And I don’t know how you can look at the world and pretend you know there’s a God and what he wants. So we’re even.”

“Nothing? You never once felt the Presence in combat, or in an accident, or when sick?”

“Nope.”

He wanted to feel sorry for the man, but he seemed perfectly comfortable and cheerful.

“So what drives your moral compass?”

Spencer leaned back, largely shadow in the increasing dark. “Ah, that question. Well, the largest part is enlightened self-interest. If we all help each other, eventually it comes back to us.”

“But you could get ahead by taking.”

“And if everyone did, society would fall apart. Witness communism.”

“They lacked God.”

“They lacked concern in their culture, because it was imposed. There’s a couple of books about this I don’t recall the titles of . . . and we wouldn’t have them anyway, but citizen armies do better than slave armies. Why did you enlist?”

“To serve my country.”

“Exactly.
Your
country. We own our country. It doesn’t belong to some petty king who thinks he’s God. And your God asks you to help others, which is a practical and smart thing to do. Religions bent on theft and brutality don’t lead to stable cultures. If there are any. People seem to be pretty social.”

“But you don’t have, or claim you don’t, have any power to stop you from doing that.”