Eric Flint - Time spike

But the accent kept throwing Andy off a little. It was a weird combination of a heavy sorta-hillbilly accent with a cadence and occasional use of terms that reminded Andy, more than anything else, of a couple of Shakespeare plays he'd seen. He remembered reading somewhere that there was a theory that Appalachian dialects were actually the closest to Renaissance English. Apparently, the theory was right. Edelman hissed. "How many people got caught in that damn Quiver, anyway?" Andy rubbed his head, then shrugged. "There's no way of knowing that. All we know for sure is the prison, the Cherokee, the Spaniards and the Mounds people are here." Edelman shook his head. "I don't think these are really Mounds people. In its heyday, the Mounds people were an advanced civilization for their time, and even for villagers these people seem too primitive. I think they're more in the way of precursors. Call them early Mississippian, the culture that eventually produced the Mounds people." "Okay, what else can you tell me about this area? I don't care when you're talking about. If they were within fifty miles or a hundred miles of the prison, sometime in the past, I need to know about them." "Not a lot." Edelman looked at the volcano on the skyline. "Most of what I know is from working the local tourist traps as a teenager. Cahokia appeared sometime after 800 A.D., then disappeared around 1200 A.D. No one knows why. At their peak, they had over twenty thousand people. "After they left, what would one day be called Illinois became part of a huge, empty corridor no one lived in. The area was still empty when de Soto came through three hundred years later." "Just our luck," Rod muttered. "Actually, I think we're better off without them." Jeff made a face. "They were farmers, hunters, builders and artists, yeah, so they'd have had more in the way of resources we could maybe trade for. But they were a people living in harsh times. They were capable of mass violence. They were also like a great many primitive cultures when it came time for a funeral. If an important person died, they would bury quite a few people with the dead. And you can bet your ass the people were not dead before the funeral rites. There has also been some evidence the Cahokia might have practiced a little cannibalism and some form of human sacrifice. That's never been proven, but I wouldn't want to have to find out the hard way." Later, Andy lay under a wool, state-issued blanket, listening to the sounds of the night and watching the stars. Exhausted, he'd thought he would fall asleep before his head hit his makeshift pillow. But he hadn't. Instead, he lay there and thought about the last few days. Things, gone crazy the day of the Quiver, seemed to have escalated out of control. There were too many pieces to the puzzle and he had a feeling he still didn't know who all was inside the woods. He rolled over so he could look at Jenny. She was less than a yard away, wrapped in one of the flannel blankets used inside the infirmary. She was using her medical bag for a pillow. Her back was to him. In the dim light of the moon and stars he could see the rise and fall of her breathing. He could also see the way her shoulders seemed to shake. She wasn't asleep. She was crying.

He slid next to her and dropped his arm around her waist. Now he was close enough he could hear the small sobs. He didn't say anything, and neither did she. Instead, she nestled against him. After a while, they were both asleep.

Chapter 22 Geoffrey Watkins studied the giant lizard-birds working their way across the clearing toward the rudimentary village the Cherokees had put together. He estimated they weighed about what a horse did, and they were about the same height. Their bodies were longer, though, with a very heavy and stiff-looking tail. The biggest difference was that, like birds, they moved on two legs instead of four. Their hind legs were hugely muscled, much bigger than the forelimbs, and ended in birdlike feet with three talons. But one of those talons, unlike any bird Watkins had ever seen, was enlarged and cocked back and out of the way while the creature walked. Their heads swung from side to side and their tongues darted in and out of their mouths, as though they were tasting the air. And even from this distance, he knew their mouths were filled with teeth that made the teeth of two-hundred pound gars seem as nothing. Everything about them shriekedpredator. To make things worse, predators that were also like wolves. Pack hunters. The six creatures moved together, obviously hunting as a team. He watched them, more fascinated than horrified.

He'd dealt with dangerous animals since he was a boy. He figured they could deal with these also. The animals had been spotted ten minutes before. Luckily, Scott's eight-year-old son had been exploring away from the village and had spotted them at a distance. Still more luckily, the beasts hadn't spotted the boy. He'd been able to get back and give the warning in plenty of time. By now, clearly, the bird-lizard hunters were already honed in on the village. By smell, he assumed. They'd slowed down quite a bit, and were picking their way across the clearing, trying to spot their prey. Unless they had the eyesight of eagles-which was always possible, of course, but Watkins didn't think that was likely with land animals-they wouldn't be able to see the humans yet. Everyone except the warriors and the soldiers was hiding in the log huts, and the armed men were positioned for ambush. Still, Watkins was wary. He simply wasn't familiar enough with these monsters to know what their capabilities were. He'd have felt a lot better if they were giant bears or wolves or cougars. "Chief,"

Bradley Scott whispered. "We're ready. Sergeant Kershner says the soldiers are ready too." From somewhere south of them an animal bellowed. None of the people inside the camp recognized the beast making the sound. The six lizard-birds hesitated, and then became agitated. They sniffed the air and turned this way and that, using small hopping motions. For a few seconds, Watkins hoped they might get attracted by other prey. But, after a while, they resumed their careful stalking of the village ahead of them. The Cherokee chief was glad now that he'd instructed his warriors not to try for head shots.

The way the creatures' heads bobbed and swayed as they moved would make them very difficult to hit. Ammunition was getting scarce, but time was even scarcer. To fire and miss, would mean taking time to reload. Even for a man good with a musket, or a well-trained soldier, that took at least a third of a minute. And while the creatures were moving slowly now, everything about the way their bodies were designed made it obvious that they could run very quickly when they wanted to.

The soldiers, with their better muskets, had agreed to fire first.

Watkins and Scott and their fourteen warriors would hold their fire until they saw what effect the soldiers' guns had on the monsters.

They'd divided themselves into two groups of eight men each. Scott's men would fire after the soldiers, and Watkins' group would be the final reserve. If these things were like most reptiles, they wouldn't die easily. The soldiers were either very brave or very well-trained.

Maybe both, but Geoffrey suspected it was their training. Sergeant Kershner was a stern disciplinarian, when he felt it necessary.

Whatever the reason, they waited until the lizard-birds were thirty yards from where they were hidden before they fired their volley.

Kershner, Geoffrey realized at once, must have come to the same conclusion that Watkins had. They hadn't had enough time to develop any detailed plans beyond the rough division of forces. The U.S. sergeant had obviously ordered his men to aim at only the leading two of the six monsters. Probably worried that if they spread their fire they wouldn't hurt any of them enough to matter. Those two creatures went down, as if they'd been poleaxed. The soldiers were all armed with muskets made at the Harpers Ferry armory. As big and dangerous-looking as the bird-lizards were, each of them had been struck by at least three. 69-caliber bullets. That still left four, completely unharmed. The beasts had scattered at the loud and unexpected noise, but they were already coming back. And now, unfortunately, they weren't bunched in a group. "Aim for the one on the far left!" Scott shouted. That was also the nearest one to his group, about fifty yards away. "And don't shoot until-" But three of the warriors had already fired before he got halfway through the command. Even when the Cherokees fought as allies with the Americans, which they often did, they fought as skirmishers. They weren't trained or accustomed to firing in volleys. Only one of the bullets hit, so far as Watkins could tell. Not surprising, at that range. The targeted monster screeched and jerked around, slashing with its teeth at nothing. The bullet had struck the tail, not far behind the hip.