Crossing back through the empty battlefield, the silence of everything around me is a little eerie. My eye catches movement out by the edge of the trampled sunflowers. There is movement as some small vines twist and plants move in place.
I move at a more cautious pace and take a wider route around the bodies as I cross through the opening in the palisade. The wide path is mostly clear, the bodies mostly scattered throughout the wreckage of the buildings and tents where the fighting took place. The essence still lingers and thickens as I walk further in.
I see the Ogres first, then the platform right behind their bodies. That’s where I’m headed.
Skipping the Ogres, for now, I climb the platform. The headless Shaman is still where they dropped him, pooled in his own blood. I close my eyes for a few seconds, this is not something I want to remember.
With a deep breath and a sigh, I avoid looking to where his head would have been and try to focus on anything else on the lower half of his body. I move around to his feet where the ground is clear of his blood. Picking up his feet, the body straightens out as I pull him to a cleaner area. As I drop the feet, I survey the platform for the head. “Good,” I say to myself as I don’t see it anywhere and wonder if it was eaten or just rolled off the platform somewhere.
I first note the necklaces still lying where I pulled the body from. I guess amulets or talismans would be the better word for them. “Ya, that might not be happening.” I think to myself seeing and knowing that I do not want to be touching anything lying in a puddle of blood.
The rest of the body itself is pretty clean of blood. I keep thinking Shaman because he looks tribal. Similar to what I might expect to see in the movies or old photographs of Indigenous people. The clothing is not woven, but hides and leathers. A sash and belt with an assortment of little string pouches tied to it. A feathered cloak or cape, maybe a poncho might be a better descriptor of it.
Looking up at the talismans, I see feathers, teeth, and bits of bone.
I poke at the pouches, expecting that one might ‘clink’ with the sound of coins. None of them do. I unclasp the belt and sash, then pull it off and set it to the side. My guess is that these are filled with herbal medicines or poisons.
Grabbing the body by the chest and sitting it up, I slide out the feathered cloak and set it with the belt and sash. Using the thin sword, I reach and fish out the necklaces, there are three.
Leaving it all on the platform, I search the Ogres and the surrounding area. The Ogres had clubs, much too large for me to even bother with. I found some water vats and used the bucket to bring back some water and cleaned off the necklaces.
Expanding my search area, I follow where the Shaman was dragged to the platform back to where ever it came from. I find…? I find a scepter? Wand? I’m not sure what to call it and it looks like the Shaman was holding onto it when it was dropped. About as long as my forearm, wooden? Feathers that match the cloak and some bone tied to the tip. I’ll add it to my collection.
The drag marks lead to what was once a hut or something, now destroyed. “Probably Bear’s,” I think to myself before breaking out into some uncontrollable laughter that brings a tear to my eye.
Standing in the rubble, a thought and a picture come to mind. ‘Surviving a Bear Encounter, A Guide for Hikers and Outdoor enthusiasts.’ And I break out into more uncontrollable laughter, tears rolling from my eyes for a minute. “I gotta get out of this place…” I say to myself. “…I don’t think I’ll ever complain about going to work again.”
I miss my wife and family…
Finding my way back to the platform, I can still feel the heaviness in the air as I come closer. Setting the scepter down with the rest of my collection, I sit down to take a break and rest for a few. I would guess that there are some valuables in this place. Maybe. Hopefully, sitting here will help me be stronger. If it does, then that may be the most valuable thing here right now.
Jack was willing to help me. When I’m done here, I think I’ll let him know that I’m ready to go with him. It’s been a slice of life running around in this world, but I think that I need a plan of some kind to be successful.
Looking back, I didn’t make the best life choices when I was young. I remember people and counselors talking to me and asking me what I wanted to do in life. I was never without a job, but I just drifted and applied for the jobs that were posted. It wasn’t until about ten years out of high school, I was working nights at a factory when a Head Hunter call. A Head Hunter is a recruiter. A corporation or business will hire Head Hunters to find candidates for the open job positions that they want to fill. The Head Hunter will then act as a liaison between the business and the candidate, setting up interviews, negotiating salaries, working responsibilities, etc. If the candidate is hired, the Head Hunter will then either be paid a set fee or a commission based on a percentage of the hired candidate's first year's salary, maybe 10% or 12%.
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It was in those conversations with that Head Hunter that I found that corporations had a preconceived idea of the candidates that they wanted to hire. She told me that I needed to either have experience in the position that I was applying for or a certain level of education that the corporation decided the candidate needed to have. It was just a glorified checklist. I could apply for the position. They may even have an interview with me, but that would be the end of it. She told me that she could always find me a position somewhere making more money than I did now, doing the same things I’m already doing. But to find me a higher position, a promotion, even making less money than I am right now, was much more difficult. She suggested going to a trade school if I wanted something specific. Otherwise any diploma with “Engineering” in the title or a medical degree of some kind.
My life and job issues suddenly made much more sense. Working nights and college part-time during the day, two years and I saw my first promotion. Six years, a different job, and money enough to make it all worth it.
Sitting here, it’s déjà vu. Only this time, I recognize it for what it is. Just like when I was ten years out of high school. I need a better strategic plan and life goals until I can get myself out of here, in case I get stuck here. Just like then, I really don’t know what this world has to offer.
I know I’ve been living off the charity of others. I would expect that there are agricultural businesses and farmland. Looking up and out towards the sunflowers, I realize that I’m not going to starve, and maybe there’s some money to be made planting or selling crops. There are the crafting professions, which my Engineering degree might help with.
Does any of that even matter? I know I’ve experienced changes, growth. I’m definitely faster, stronger, tougher…
“Stupid…”
I open my eyes to see a familiar-looking small goblin crawling toward me. I don’t so much as remember how he looked, as I remember how he tended to move on all fours at times.
“Fight?” I ask him.
He perks up a bit with a smile, but then with a sudden realization, he starts backing away from me.
“Not me, Bears killed the ogres and everyone.”
Hesitant at first to turn away from facing me, but still backpedaling away, he looks down and around. “Man-Bears?”
“Yes,” motioning with my hand to come closer.
He is still hesitant, but I am still sitting and he comes to within about fifteen feet.
Leaning over, I reach to pick up the feathered poncho and shake it, holding it out for him to take. It wouldn’t be much more than a shrug or a shawl for me if I tried to wear it. For this little guy, it’s a good size cloak.
I toss it over by his feet as he was not willing to come any closer. There is a little bit of awe and a smile on his face once he picks it up. I laugh as he does the happy dance, then jumps off the platform to run out of sight. I’m glad it made him happy. He didn’t seem to remember what I did to his friends or maybe doesn’t care. I’m feeling guilty.
A few minutes and he is back, strutting and modeling his new mantle. We are laughing as he struts back and forth across the platform with a smile and pride that he cannot seem to contain.
I motion for him to come closer and he’s now willing to come to within about five feet of me. I reach over, grab the scepter, and hand it to him. I figure it goes with the feathered poncho and now he can play shaman if he wants.
I shake the scepter at him to take, but he only stares at it and shakes his head no.
I notice movement and I see other goblins coming out to watch. These look to be other scavengers by the way they are carrying and collecting things in their arms.
I lean forward enough for him to take the scepter as I am about to touch him in the chest with it.
Looking more at the scepter than me, “I am not allowed. Only chief is allowed.” Holding the scepter out with reverence for me to take back.
Sure, why not? I think to myself, still smiling and joking around. “Now you are Chief,” I say to him while getting to my feet. If I could remember any of the ‘Ferengi Rules of Acquisition,’ I would tell him those, but I don’t. “Honor your father and mother. Do not murder. Do not lie against your neighbor. Do not cheat. Do not steal.” He is looking at me wide-eyed. “You might ‘Find Things’, that’s okay.”
Now that I’m standing, I can see many more goblins and they have stopped their pillaging to watch and listen. I only saw a few before and I still do not hear any of them, even the ones I still see moving and sorting through the rubble. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t have said any of that, even in jest. I may have just gotten this little guy killed and I try to walk it back. “Do not rule by force, there is always someone bigger. Lead by example and do what is right and just. With great power comes great responsibility. Can you do that? Is that okay?” I’m shaking my head no and he’s just stupidly nodding his head yes.
“F**K!” I silently swear. “What the Hell!” I bend over and scoop up the necklaces, leaving the belt and sash. Still wanting to walk it all back. I put the necklaces over his head like he just won Olympic medals. “You are now Chief. Wisdom is now your greatest treasure. Seek wisdom. Wisdom will be your right hand.” He’s still nodding his head yes.
With that, I don’t think I could have screwed up the little guy's life any better. I hop off the platform and wonder if he’ll make it through the night or if I’ve just created the next alternative goblin-spidey universe.
Eyes forward, I make my way through the palisade and back to camp. The camp being abandoned and not wanting to be here any longer, I pick up some water and rations that were left and continue on.
A few times I feel the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand up. I don’t know if I’m scaring myself or if something is really there.
Coming closer to the tear, I see Jack pacing me to the side about twenty feet. “Thanks,” I say when he gets close enough, and wonder how long he’s been watching over me.
“This way,” Nodding his head that we are not going back through the tear. We continue on for another 10 or 15 minutes, a half mile or more, and come to a large campsite. There are a good fifty people about with multiple small campfires in a grid-like pattern.
Leading me to one of the campfires along the edge, he stops to drop me off here. “This will be your group, make sure you remember their faces. Make sure that you stay with them at all times.” Pointing to a packed and tied bundle. “Those are your supplies. Don’t lose them unless you’re running for your life.”
Jack is called away when someone coming near waves him over. I look over the faces of the young men and women I’m left with.
A few minutes I’m left standing. I see Jack walking back with someone, four others in lockstep with each other following behind them. The group I’m with stands at their approach.
At about twenty feet away, the man Jack is speaking with stops and locks eyes with me. He turns to face away from us and is not shy in his discussions with Jack. “Is that the Flower guy? Is this who you’re paying for?” I don’t hear Jack answer.
Turning, they walk to our group. The man looks over and assesses each one of us, noticeably longer at the mismatched pieces that I’m wearing. When he is finished, they proceed to the next campfire and appear to do the same.
After they move on from that campfire, I hear the comments and snickers from this group as they sit. “Flower Boy? Is that your name or your class?”