instantly, and
Kasheena knelt over it and blew gently, further fanning the flames until the
tinder caught. Twigs popped and crackled as the fire spread. Soon, its heat
filled our campsite.
“We will keep these,” Kasheena said, hefting the stones. “This
type of rock is rare in the lands around my village. My people will be very
pleased to receive them. Usually, we must travel far to secure them. May we
carry them in your pack, Aaron?”
“Of course.”
“We will wrap them in the skins of the rabbits Bloop caught. That
will keep the stones from accidentally striking one another and setting your
pack on fire. We will clean the skins and let them dry over the fire while we
sleep so that the smell of blood doesn’t attract predators.”
We spitted the rabbits and then roasted them over the fire. As
they cooked, my mind wandered back to the smell of the dinosaur roasting in the
valley, which then made me wonder again about the possibility of a forest fire
breaking out. I touched upon my concerns with Kasheena, but she didn’t seem
perturbed by the prospect and merely assured me once again that it would soon
rain. I also tried to explain my concerns about the nuclear potential of the
robot and what impact a meltdown could have on the environment, but was unable
to properly articulate it in a way that made her understand my fears.
Conversation dwindled and our impatience grew as we waited for
the meat to cook. I occupied myself by sorting through my pack again. First, I
used the rest of John LeMay’s paperwork to wipe down my .45 and sword, doing my
best to clean them with my meager implements. I tossed the soiled papers into
the fire, watching the last remnants of John LeMay’s life blacken and curl as
the flames licked at them. I felt as if I should toast him or something,
wherever he was now.
Here’s to you, John LeMay,
I thought.
You saved my
life. I hope somebody did the same for you.
When the papers were reduced to ashes, I turned my attention back
to my gear. I double checked my ammunition and verified that I had five bullets
left. Kasheena and Bloop watched with interest as I sorted through everything
else. Bloop was especially fascinated with the binoculars and hooted with
delight after I showed him how to work them. Kasheena was enamored with the
tube of cherry–flavored lip balm. I applied some to my lips and then invited
her to do the same to her own. She put some on, licked it off, laughed, and
then applied another layer.
Finally, the rabbits finished cooking. All three of us ate
ravenously, and I suspect that Kasheena’s and my table manners were probably
just as bad as Bloop’s. Grease dribbled down my chin and forearms, making my beard
and arm hair sticky. Fat burst and crackled deliciously beneath my teeth. The
meat was burned black on the outside and still half–raw at the center, and it
seared my fingers and tongue, but despite that, it was one of the best things I’ve
ever tasted. As I sit here writing this account inside the abandoned school
bus, my mouth still waters at the memory of that meal.
And the rabbit isn’t the only thing from that night that I
remember with such clarity.
After we were finished with our meal, Kasheena dug a hole and
buried the rabbit bones so they wouldn’t attract predators. Then, using sign
language, she indicated to Bloop that he should sleep while we took first
watch. After a few moments, our furry companion seemed to get the message. He
crawled under the canopy of palm fronds and was soon fast asleep. He snored
softly, and he must have dreamed, because occasionally his tail twitched,
snaking back and forth behind him. He reminded me of a napping housecat, curled
up in the sunshine. Once, he stirred, swatting at a buzzing insect, but then
lay still again. Kasheena and I watched him sleep for a while. Then we tiptoed
away from the fire and campsite so that we could talk more freely without
waking him.
We found an area where the ground had been carpeted by
Kasheena knelt over it and blew gently, further fanning the flames until the
tinder caught. Twigs popped and crackled as the fire spread. Soon, its heat
filled our campsite.
“We will keep these,” Kasheena said, hefting the stones. “This
type of rock is rare in the lands around my village. My people will be very
pleased to receive them. Usually, we must travel far to secure them. May we
carry them in your pack, Aaron?”
“Of course.”
“We will wrap them in the skins of the rabbits Bloop caught. That
will keep the stones from accidentally striking one another and setting your
pack on fire. We will clean the skins and let them dry over the fire while we
sleep so that the smell of blood doesn’t attract predators.”
We spitted the rabbits and then roasted them over the fire. As
they cooked, my mind wandered back to the smell of the dinosaur roasting in the
valley, which then made me wonder again about the possibility of a forest fire
breaking out. I touched upon my concerns with Kasheena, but she didn’t seem
perturbed by the prospect and merely assured me once again that it would soon
rain. I also tried to explain my concerns about the nuclear potential of the
robot and what impact a meltdown could have on the environment, but was unable
to properly articulate it in a way that made her understand my fears.
Conversation dwindled and our impatience grew as we waited for
the meat to cook. I occupied myself by sorting through my pack again. First, I
used the rest of John LeMay’s paperwork to wipe down my .45 and sword, doing my
best to clean them with my meager implements. I tossed the soiled papers into
the fire, watching the last remnants of John LeMay’s life blacken and curl as
the flames licked at them. I felt as if I should toast him or something,
wherever he was now.
Here’s to you, John LeMay,
I thought.
You saved my
life. I hope somebody did the same for you.
When the papers were reduced to ashes, I turned my attention back
to my gear. I double checked my ammunition and verified that I had five bullets
left. Kasheena and Bloop watched with interest as I sorted through everything
else. Bloop was especially fascinated with the binoculars and hooted with
delight after I showed him how to work them. Kasheena was enamored with the
tube of cherry–flavored lip balm. I applied some to my lips and then invited
her to do the same to her own. She put some on, licked it off, laughed, and
then applied another layer.
Finally, the rabbits finished cooking. All three of us ate
ravenously, and I suspect that Kasheena’s and my table manners were probably
just as bad as Bloop’s. Grease dribbled down my chin and forearms, making my beard
and arm hair sticky. Fat burst and crackled deliciously beneath my teeth. The
meat was burned black on the outside and still half–raw at the center, and it
seared my fingers and tongue, but despite that, it was one of the best things I’ve
ever tasted. As I sit here writing this account inside the abandoned school
bus, my mouth still waters at the memory of that meal.
And the rabbit isn’t the only thing from that night that I
remember with such clarity.
After we were finished with our meal, Kasheena dug a hole and
buried the rabbit bones so they wouldn’t attract predators. Then, using sign
language, she indicated to Bloop that he should sleep while we took first
watch. After a few moments, our furry companion seemed to get the message. He
crawled under the canopy of palm fronds and was soon fast asleep. He snored
softly, and he must have dreamed, because occasionally his tail twitched,
snaking back and forth behind him. He reminded me of a napping housecat, curled
up in the sunshine. Once, he stirred, swatting at a buzzing insect, but then
lay still again. Kasheena and I watched him sleep for a while. Then we tiptoed
away from the fire and campsite so that we could talk more freely without
waking him.
We found an area where the ground had been carpeted by
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