Eric Flint - Time spike

In the twenty-first century, in the middle of long-settled and secure North America. That bore about as much relationship to what they faced now as one of those stupid video games did to a real gunfight or a real battle. The one and only really useful skill they had was that all of the C.O. s could shoot. Some of them were even good at it.

Swell. They had exactly two pistols among them, with a handful of rounds left. And one shotgun with no rounds left. They'd already used the three rounds it had once had to bring down some game and provide desperately needed food. No, the only way they were going to survive was if someone went out there and found Hulbert and Blacklock. Or maybe the Cherokees, if they turned out to be friendly. "Someone" meant either her or Nickerson. Frank probably didn't have her level of skills in the outdoors-he certainly didn't have Hulbert's-but he'd been in a military unit that had gotten a lot of training along those lines. She rubbed her ankle and tried to think things through. The Spaniards were out there too, somewhere, and they were definitely not friendly. She had seen for herself what they did to prisoners. The Cherokee, Stephen McQuade, had been in bad shape when she found him.

De Soto would think the small band of guards was easy pickings, and he would be right. They weren't armed except for the pistols. They couldn't possibly protect themselves against a small army of conquistadores. Or the prisoners, if they showed up. No, the equation was hard and clear. Everyone else had to stay here in hiding, because that posed the least risk, while someone went and found Blacklock and the rest of the guards. And the rest was just as clear and hard also.

Joe coughed. His face turned white with the pain. "She's right, Marie.

Have to go, both of you," he whispered. He had spiked a fever during the night and it never went back down. Lylah Caldwell had told them he had developed pneumonia and was starting to dehydrate. If he drank something, it came back up in under three minutes, upsetting his electrolyte balance even more than it already was. Between the dehydration and the infection he wasn't going to last much longer. As for the few antibiotics she had snagged from the infirmary, they weren't going to help. The man was bleeding internally. Marie didn't wait for him to finish what he was saying. He needed to save his strength and he'd already told her a half dozen times what he wanted.

"Joe, we can't do that. You know we can't." "Can't go alone. Too dangerous." His voice was weak and she had to lean close to hear what he said. He was right, as far it went. The first rule of surviving in a wilderness was not to be alone. Even something as simple as a stumble and a bad fall on a trail could kill you, if you were alone.

Read any of the manuals, and they'd tell you the same thing. But none of those manuals included a provision that you had to leave dozens of people behind with just two pistols and without any of the skillsthey needed to survive. Not knowing what else to do, she patted Joe's arm gently. "Even if we're all together, we aren't safe. We were all there when the bear got you." "Be dead, if alone." Marie had to fight off the tears. Joe Schuler was already dead. He just hadn't died yet. He would, though. Barbara and Lylah thought Jenny Radford might be able to help, if she could be found. They had developed a lot of faith in the woman in a very short period of time. Jenny, even more than Blacklock and Hulbert, was who they really wanted here. But Marie knew it was too late. It had always been too late. It had been too late five seconds after the attack started. The creature had broken him apart inside. Only Joe's size and strength and excellent condition had kept him alive at all through the attack and for this long afterward.

A fully staffed hospital with all the bells and whistles might not have been able to save him. "I know," she said. "But we can't risk both of us leaving." Barbara decided she had to end the argument.

She still didn't think Marie was right, but what she knew for sure was that the argument itself was taking a terrible toll on Schuler. It had to end or he would. "That's enough, Joe. After thinking about it, Marie's right. We can only afford for one of them to be gone. So, Marie can stay with us, and Frank can go for Andy and the others."

"No," Marie and Frank said simultaneously. Marie, forcefully; Frank, wincing apologetically. "Marie goes and I stay," he said. "We don't have any choice." He motioned to his bruised and swollen feet. "I've been sitting here thinking. And the only thing that comes into my head is a damn poem. It's the one about the one-penny nail getting lost. Do you remember it? A horse lost its shoe because of it. And because of that the horse was lost, and then the message. And because of that a battle was lost. And because of that a war was lost." Now he laughed bitterly. "Well, I've lost both shoes." Barbara looked at his feet and almost cringed. Not so much at their condition but at her own cowardice. She knew he was right-had known it even when she made the proposal. It was just that if only one of them could stay behind, she wanted it to be the short brunette with the upturned nose and the light scattering of freckles. Small or not, female or not, Marie made her feel safe. Frank Nickerson didn't. He was probably good at surviving-maybe just as good as Marie-but the woman had saved dozens of people, not him. Nickerson was just one of those she'd saved. But now, looking at the angry red streaks beginning to creep up his legs, she knew he was a patient, not a guardian. Joe coughed again, then moaned. "You win," he whispered. "Go get Andy." Barbara Ray, relieved the argument was over, snatched up a damp rag and began washing Joe's face and neck, trying to cool him down. She used her head to motion for them to leave so she could do what needed doing. The LPN's refusal to give up was the only reason the lieutenant was still alive. She had spent hours keeping him cooled. And more hours, tapping his back to knock the phlegm lose, then holding him tight as he coughed it up.

When she got too worn out to continue, Casey Fisher would spell her for a while. "Hehas to rest," she hissed. Marie looked at the pistol, longingly. "Keep it. It might make a difference." "What about you?" Nickerson asked. Marie, using Joe's pocketknife to sharpen the end of the walking stick she had snagged the day before, shrugged.

"I'm taking three days' food. I'm not planning to stop for anything.

No hunting, not even fishing. And the truth is, I'm less likely to be hunted by something than you are. There's only one of me. There are lots of you. Every carnivore within ten miles knows you're here, by now. And if the prisoners find you, you're going to need everything you can lay your hands on. Two pistols isn't enough as it is." She sat on the ground, loosening the laces to her shoes and then retying them.

"If I don't get back by the time the food runs out, send someone hunting. But I'd start by trying to spear fish in the creek. For that-" Frank waved his hand. "Yeah, I know. Thin blades, two or three, tied onto the shaft. And cut little barbs in the end or the fish will squirm loose." Smiling a little, he hefted the makeshift spear in his left hand. They'd made over a dozen of those, by now. They were just sharpened poles with fire-hardened tips. "These won't hardly do."

Marie nodded. "If a dangerous looking animal comes around, pile everyone into the cave. Stay there even through the night, even if some of you have to sleep standing up." She looked at the spear in his hand. "Except for maybe a giant dinosaur, no predator's going to try forcing its way into a cave past a dozen of those sticking out. Even if it does, you can probably kill it." She hadn't been looking at him while she talked. Now, her shoes tied, she stood up and did. She looked him right in the eyes. "The last thing. Frank, you and I both know that Joe's probably not going to make it." Frank sighed and looked away. But he didn't argue the point. "Okay, then. If and when Joe dies, take care of the body right away. Don't leave it in the camp, whatever you do. You couldn't bury it deep enough to do any good. And you sure as hell don't want to burn it. The smell would attract everything for miles. Get him at least a mile away from here."