Chapter Twenty-One
Making my way back to the remaining sled I looked up to the sky where the planet was now halfway through its descent into the mountains on the other side of the gorge that had swallowed up the bit of Terran ocean that had made the trip with me. Shouldering the rope, I had planned on making one more trip back, but I hadn't been quick enough in my gathering. So, I was now going to wait until the morning to harvest anything that was still swimming around the small tidal pools. Hopefully, they wouldn't run out of oxygen until I made it back.
Trudging slowly back onto the path my previous trips had carved through the grass, I wondered if I was making a mistake leaving such a clear path to my camp, but as I climbed and debated the problem in my mind, I decided the benefits of the smother path that I was already sure wouldn't rip the tarp I was dragging outweighed the possibility I was leading something back to my overnight accommodations.
Also, all that anything that was hunting me had to do, was cross the ridge, look down, and see the glow from the fire cooking my future rations. That would no doubt tell anything with the slightest bit of intelligence where I was camping. Hopefully, the sight of the five-hundred pound bear would scare them off, as while the extra thirty pounds I was packing would no doubt help stave off starvation in the upcoming days and weeks. I doubted a pack of goblins or any of the scarier creatures of lore would find me intimidating in the slightest. No doubt my juicy flanks would just send them coming to dinner.
Wishing I had actually gotten into HEMA, rather than just dead scrolling through the shorts on my phone. I was confident enough in holding my ground against a charging boar, but anything that had any actual fighting experience was going to make short work of me.
Walking down into the camp, I dragged the sled over next to where I had left the first one, and dropping the ropes, I set the spear down next to it. Gauging the sky, I decided I didn't have enough light left for a third trip for firewood. Poking one of the fish and feeling it crumble I decided this round was done. Grabbing my shovel I slid it under the charred kelp, gently so as not to tear it I moved the makeshift pans over to some fresh grass that was free of troll gore or blood.
Repeating the process until my stick grate was clear I flicked them to see how they were doing. While noticeably drier I figured the small branches would hold another round. So laying about half of the remaining kelp over the top, I laid out the smaller fish on the grate for this round, putting them as close together as I could manage. Leaving the big fish on their tarp for now I piled the remaining kelp over them to help keep them cool. Wanting fresh coals and green wood for the grate, I decided I would wait for the morning before drying them out.
Pulling out my Bowie knife, I walked over to the tallest grass that had not been trampled by the fighting, and grabbing a handful I cut it as close to the turf as I could. Repeating the process several times, I soon had a pile of the four to five feet stalks next to my tent. Doubting I was going to get any sleep tonight, with the adrenaline from the fights, mixing with the excitement of being on a different planet, and the sorrow that was leaking through the wall I had piled my feelings of missing my children.
Shaking my head I quickly shut that train of thoughts off, tightening down on that pressure cooker. I set it off to the side and ignored it in an effort to focus on the next couple of tasks. Picking up my shovel, I moved more coals down the line and scooped some out onto the dirt near the front of my tent to provide the light that my now abandoned headlamp would normally be used for. Granted the small glow coming from the coals couldn’t hold a candle to the former electronics, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Pulling out my small camp stool I quickly assembled it. Only weighing three pounds, I had thought about abandoning it, but the usefulness of being able to sit, without looking for a log and possibly being covered by the bugs inhabiting it, kept it from being left behind like the aforementioned headlamp. Drinking a small amount of my remaining water. I pulled out the small amount of seasonings I had brought with me. Not willing to cook the rice yet until I found a better source of water, I still wanted something that would actually taste good, not just willing to settle on the hunger sauce I had used to eat the previous fish.
Cutting out the cheeks of all of the halibut and the couple of Lingcod, I poured about a couple drops from the small bottle of oil I had brought into my small two liter pot that had been nested in the rest of my cookware. Setting it on the coals to warm, I ground out a little bit of salt and pepper onto the fish cheeks that were still sitting on their seaweed, before rewrapping the pyrex grinders in the cloth I kept them in to prevent them from cracking.
Returning them to my pack, I grabbed the small plastic resealable bag that had the minuscule mixture of other seasonings that I had brought. I sighed, while I no doubt had enough salt and pepper to season all of the fish I was drying. That would use most of it up, and the little bit of flavoring it would add, would no doubt be a waste on the dried survival food I was turning most of the fish into. Better to save the salt and pepper for when I actually had the time for cooking and need for a pick me up… like now. Not just for mass producing survival chow, I thought to myself as I slid the basics back into my pack.
Sprinkling a little bit of the garlic salt and cayenne mixture I had from a plastic baggie onto the fish cheeks. I could only bemoan the fact that I had just barely enough for one more meal and resolve to be on the lookout for anything that resembled the plants I knew from my old world. At least garlic, I had no idea what a cayenne pepper plant might look like unless it had the ripe fruit on it.
With had no hope of replacing my pepper supply but seeing how the sap from the wood and grass wasn't causing any reactions I could only hope for more future analogs to find to stave off culinary starvation I would soon be forced into with bland travel food. As the pan started sizzling I started placing the cheeks down gently into the oil, wishing for some cream and wine to add to the oil to simmer them in. I had to quickly ignore the ungrateful thoughts that had started creeping into my head. I had enough future depression to deal without adding b.s. wishes to the heap.
I might as well wish for my kitchen set up while I was sending this ingratitude up to the sky, and if I was going to wish for that, I may as well wish to be home in my house sitting down to dinner for my kids. With no flash of light taking me back, I could only use my tongs to flip the fish cheeks over to cook on the other side. Removing the pan from the coals to let it finish on the residual heat, I thought about breaking out one of the remaining beers to deglaze the pan. But without a starch to soak up the sauce, I held off, besides I wanted another toast later with Gaian to celebrate his recovery.
Letting the pan cool off on the ground, I looked up into the now dark sky. Staring up I could see what looked to be several moons in the distance, only one or two seemed to be the size of our moon back home. But I had no idea if this was due to the distance all of them needed to maintain a stable orbit around the massive giant that had finally disappeared over the horizon.
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Part of me wished that perhaps it had been Jupiter hanging in the sky, but while the size might have been something one would have seen while standing on Europa. There were no swirling storms, instead, it had the blue green of an Earth equivalent. Despite having a size that either dwarfed old Terra. Either that or the moon I was standing on was much closer in its orbit than the barren wasteland that hung over my old home.
Letting a few more tears drop from my eyes before I shook my head, without the endlessness of time that the globe had maintained for me, I couldn't afford to keep daydreaming. Figuring out this new universe would have to wait until I had a steadier source of supplies, seeing as how Gaian and I still needed to find a source of water before we could even think of building a more temporary camp. I needed to hurry up, stuff my face, and get back to work.
With the cheap nonstick aluminum now cooled down, not being able to retain heat like its cast iron and steel cousins. I used the tweezer tongs to pick up the pieces and swirling the first one through the oil brought it up to my mouth. Closing my eyes, I savored the little bit of heat the spice brought and the tang of the garlic that undercut it. Not letting my mind wander down the path of wishing for more, I slowly ate it, bite after bite until I heard the metal of the tongs scraping on the now empty pan.
Not wanting to waste the calories, I brought the pan up to my face and licked it clean. While I wouldn't have even considered it a meal back home, with my stomach full, I set the pan down and gave out a sigh of contentment. Walking back down the trench line I pressed into the smaller fish with my fingers, checking their doneness, with still with some give to them. I let them continue on over the coals to let the juices continue to evaporate off of them. Wanting them to be the equivalent of jerky, without the seasonings or longer fibers. They would be broken down into little shards that I could chew for calories while walking or working in camp.
Leaving them for now I continued onto my pack where I drained the rest of the water. Pulling out the clear plastic tarp I kept with my emergency supplies. Grabbing the shovel I walked over to the edge of grass and dirt and dug out a small, wide hole for my plastic to cover. Digging down the center deep enough to keep the smaller bucket, before I placed the bucket into the bottom of the hole I emptied my bladder into the surrounding divvet.
Making sure all of the excess liquid was soaked into the ground so it wouldn't accidentally get into contaminate the freshwater I was hoping for later tomorrow. I covered the hole with the plastic, covering the edges with some of the dirt I had excavated to make room for the bucket. Heading back to my pack I pulled out one of the two heaviest, four ounce weights I had brought for casting out past the surf.
Heading back to the hole I set the weight gently into the middle of the plastic, wanting to give the evaporated water a path to head down into the bucket. With my bladder now empty, I only had the last little bit of ice and two beers that I was saving for the morning. Hopefully, the survival shows I had watched were correct and this would work. The theory was sound, but I had never taken the time to check it myself in a nonemergency situation. Unfortunately, that was true of a lot of things that I half remembered, wishing I had packed one of the several books I had, I never considered I wouldn’t be without my phone and the offline apps that had all the information I had needed.
Not willing to travel down the paths of what ifs with my mind hamster. I shut him up with a quick rap to the head with my knuckles, jarring him off of his wheel. I went over to use the shovel to move more coals down the short trench line. Putting the last of the dry wood in the pile by the air hole I added a little bit of the smaller green wood. Doubting it would get me through the night with air being introduced by the hole. I resolved not to get too involved in my next project before dumping some dirt back in to cut off the oxygen flow once the green wood had caught fire.
If the worst came and I needed to, I would bury the coals until morning when I could see well enough to get more fuel. Unfortunately, the brother and sister moons to this world weren't big enough to provide the light of a full moon back home, I just had to content myself with being thankful that the moon I was standing on wasn't tidally locked like the moon of Terra.
Looking over at Gaian I saw him slumbering, either content that I would wake him at the first sign of danger, or more likely in an effort to let his body heal. I noticed that he had finished off the first fish I had cooked so plainly in my effort to get a bit of calories in me. Not wanting to wake him and interrupt his healing, I left the bucket alone, he had either finished the beer off or not, regardless I wasn't at the point where I thought I could force myself to drink the dregs if he had left any.
Moving my stool over to where I left the pile of grass next to my tent, I wanted to try weaving a couple of baskets with the grass in the glow of my fire. Part of me knew that I was just refusing to try to go to sleep, where no doubt my brain would work overtime pulling up all of the memories of my children. I knew I had no chance of making the baskets watertight, and without any clay around to cover for my less than nimble fingers clumsiness, I wasn’t deterred.
I nevertheless thought that I could get a couple of containers worth from the grass I had collected earlier. While they would no doubt not be tight enough to hold any kind of liquid, I wasn’t worried. All they needed to do was hold the fish and with enough kelp, it just had to be sturdy enough it wouldn’t collapse under the weight. With the dehydration process going on most of the weight should be evaporating off right now so if I made enough baskets, even my amateur skills should be fine for the task.
Circular and straw like, the grass still had a good bend to it. So without any major bladelike pieces, I was going to have to go with a looser weave and layer the inside with kelp before adding the shredded fish pieces in the morning. Separating out ten of the sturdier grass pieces for the ribs. I tied them together at the bottom, not wanting to run them from one side to the other with the short pieces I had. Taking more pieces I began running them around over and under, endlessly going around, with my mind turned off. After I had a couple of pieces beginning to form the bottom of the basket, I set it down to kick some dirt into the hole. Wanting to cut off the airflow that was feeding the fire. Picking my project back up, I sat down carefully once again, not wanting to break the chair being slightly over the recommended weight for it.
Going back to my task, I left my ears on autopilot. Trying to listen for any noise that wasn't the small crackling from the wood not yet turned to coals. Having spent too much time sharing the apex spot with my brother across the fire. Without access to the weapon that stole the top spot from him, I could only hope that his senses were more able to pick out threats coming from the dark and that we wouldn't be surprised by a flight of spears coming out of the dark.
As I continued my weaving, I could only focus on losing myself into the mindless motions of over and under, not being willing to open up the box holding my feelings tightly locked down. Finishing one lopsided basket, I got my shovel, used it to remove the fish from their makeshift grate, and then added them over the ground where their brothers lay cooling down. Taking up the now dry sticks, I dropped them onto the fire to give it a little more fuel, while I went back to creating more baskets and trying my best to find Serenity to hold off the grief I could feel pulsing more in my chest. As the coals in the pile dropped down from their bright yellow to lower orange and red, I finished my second and third baskets.
Not having found the Serenity I had searched for, I started feeling the tears continue to drop down off of my cheeks, as the emotions I had put on hold started making their prison break. Walking over to the trench line, I mindlessly kicked some dirt down over the end to cover the coals there. With a source of fire guaranteed for the morning, I headed over to my pack and pulled out my wallet.
Walking over to my tent, I set the warped spear across the threshold with its size being too long for the tent. Pulling the knife, ax, and bear spray off of my belt I set them down into the interior before taking off my pants not wanting to contaminate the tent with the last bit of troll gore that still hadn't dried. Knowing I would no doubt be less fastidious in the future I wasn't there yet.
Unzipping my sleeping bag, I crawled inside feet first, leaving my head just inside of the entryway. Not wanting to find myself stuck inside the bag in case of an emergency or attack. I wrapped it around myself without zipping it up, leaving an arm free. I rolled onto my side and reached into my wallet, pulled out one of three pictures I had remaining of my children. The one of the both of them hugging, obviously staged but with still genuine smiles. I stared into it with the dying orange glow from the coals. Letting my tears flow freely, I sent the hamster to run endlessly on his wheel, spinning out his theories nonstop. I found myself dreaming of the possible lives they had lived on Earth, without me their with them, until the blackness took me into its cold grasp. I could only be thankful that I'm not the kind of person that dreams.