Arrival (39 page)

“It’s good, huh?”

Sara nodded her head in agreement.

“Tastes like rabbit, right?”

“No,” she managed to say as she continued eating.

Mac watched as she chewed the meat for an unusually long time. “Are you going to swallow it?”

Sara swallowed hard, immediately chasing the meat with a gulp of purified creek water.

“So,” Mac said, waiting for her response.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “It is good.” She took another bite, pulling the rest of the meat from the bone into her mouth and chewing.

“I told you so,” Mac bragged. He pulled the other leg off and handed it to her. “Eat up.”

Sara eagerly devoured the last leg, attacking part of the torso after that. The meat was delicious, better than anything she could remember eating in recent months. She didn’t know if it was the animal itself, or the open fire that Mac had cooked it on. But there was no denying that it was quite enjoyable to eat. Within minutes, they had finished the entire animal, leaving nothing but the skeleton of its torso hanging from the cooking spit.

“A lot better than dried fruit and energy bars, huh?” he asked as he watched Sara uncharacteristically licking the juice from her fingertips.

“Mmm,” she agreed. She licked her fingers clean, savoring every last drop of the flavorful oils. She couldn’t believe it could be so satisfying. But now she wished there was more. “Is that it?” she asked as she looked at the bare skeleton, picking minuscule bits of meat and gristle from it and popping them into her mouth.

“That’s all there is,” Mac laughed.

“What?” she asked.

“Look at you!” he chuckled. “Ten minutes ago you were expecting me to drop dead. Now you’re picking at the bare bones like a starving child!”

“Shut up,” she protested playfully.

Mac laughed even harder.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful and go out and kill another one?”

Mac continued laughing.

“You’re such a jerk!” she said, throwing one of the bones at him. “Now, what?”

“We need dessert,” he proclaimed.

“Of course,” she agreed, playing along. “I’ll call the galley and see if they have any pie.”

“I’m serious,” he insisted.

“Come on, what do we have for dessert?”

Mac reached for his daypack, opened it up, and pulled out a small resealable plastic bag full of dehydrated apricots. “Hand me that cup over there.”

“Dried fruit?” she asked as she handed him the cup. “Haven’t you had enough dried fruit for one day?”

“Ah, but this isn’t just
any
dried fruit,” he announced mysteriously. He poured some water into the cup and dumped the pieces of dried fruit into the water, pushing them down into the cup and then adding more water until it was nearly full.

“What are you doing?” Sara asked.

“Rehydrating the fruit,” he explained as he carefully set the cup down out of the way.

“What for?”

“You’ll see,” he promised. He tossed another piece of wood onto the fire and stirred up the embers with a stick to help light the new log.

She watched him for a moment, curious what he was up to. “How long do we have to wait?” she asked as she watched him place the metal cup containing the submerged fruit onto the embers.

“I’m not sure…ten, fifteen minutes maybe,” he promised. “Just be patient.”

Sara rose from her place by the fire, dusting herself off as she crossed behind him. “Well, I’m going to go inside and tighten up my bandage while we’re waiting.”

Sara emerged twenty minutes later, no longer wearing her jacket. Her shirt underneath was a dirty, light brown, permanently stained by yesterday’s encounter with the floodwaters. There was a bulge on her left side where her bandage was hiding, and she was holding it with her hand.

“Mac, can you tie this for me?” she asked, lifting the left side of her shirt.

“Sure,” he agreed, rising from his seat to assist her. He grabbed the two ends of the bandage, cinching it up tight.

“Ouch!” she squealed, flinching from the pain.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright,” she assured him. “Maria said it’s got to be tight or it won’t provide any support.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she promised, taking a deep breath and nodding at him to proceed.

Mac pulled on the bandages again, causing her to bite down on her lower lip. He quickly tied it off, tucking the tails of the bandage under to pad it and keep it from digging into her side. “There you go, good as new,” he announced as he stood up.

“Thank you.” Sara lowered her shirt cautiously, testing the stability of the bandage. “Yes, that’s much better.”

“Your hair,” Mac exclaimed, noticing that it had been combed. “How did you…?”

“I found a comb in your pack. In the little hygiene kit. There was a toothbrush as well, along with a little tube of toothpaste that you can swallow.”

“Yeah, I can smell it. Kind of minty.”

“Yes.” Sara sat back down by the fire. “You know you don’t realize how much you miss the little things until you have to go without them.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“You wanna try it?” she offered. “It’ll make your mouth feel minty-fresh.”

“Sure, why not?” he agreed. He reached into the hut and pulled out the pack, digging through it until he found the little black hygiene packet.

After a minute of brushing, Mac swallowed. “Not bad,” he agreed, licking the last of the pasty foam from his teeth and gums.

“It beats having grimy teeth,” she added. “Is our dessert ready yet?”

“Almost,” Mac decided as he used a stick to push the heated metal cup off the embers. The water was almost gone, some if it boiled away while the rest was soaked up by the now swollen pieces of fruit. “Yup, nice and plump,” he announced as he held up a piece for her inspection.

“Would you look at that,” she commented in amazement. “I had no idea they could be rehydrated so easily. Where did you learn how to do that?”

“My mom works in the galley, remember?”

“Of course.”

“You’re supposed to dip them in sugar, so they might be a little tart. But that’s not the best part.”

“There’s more?”

“The alcohol,” Mac said, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Alcohol?”

“You bet,” he said as he pierced a piece of fruit with the end of a stick and handed the stick to Sara with the fruit still dangling on the end of it.

“Won’t that get us…?”

“Intoxicated? Yup, a little. That’s what’s so cool about them. Fruit that gets you drunk.”

“Where did you get them?” she asked in amazement as she examined the piece of fruit.

“Old family recipe,” Mac replied.

“I don’t understand. Where did the alcohol come from?”

“The hunting knife wasn’t the only thing great, great grand-pappy Peter brought with him,” Mac admitted as he stabbed another piece of fruit. “Peter used to pilfer a few pieces of fruit each harvest. Then he would skin them, cut them up, and bottle them in alcohol. After about a year, he’d pull them out and dehydrate them so they’d keep longer.”

“What did he do with the alcohol?” Sara wondered.

“What the hell do you think he did with it?” Mac snickered. “I’m told it gave the alcohol a fruity flavor, though.”

“You never tried it?” Sara asked. “The alcohol, I mean.”

“Nope. That was gone before I was born. But every year, we’d break some of these babies out on great, great grand-pappy Peter’s birthday, just to remember him by.”

Sara moved the fruit closer to her lips.

“Careful, it’s hot,” Mac warned. He blew gently on his fruit for a few seconds before tossing it into his mouth. “Oh yeah,” he cooed as he chewed the warm alcohol-laced morsel. “Sweet, nectar of the Gods.”

Sara giggled. “Your family’s weird.” Mimicking Mac’s actions, she blew gently across the surface of the fruit for several seconds. After touching it to test its temperature, she plucked it from the end of her stick and placed it in her mouth, biting down softly. Warm, sweet juice squirted into her mouth, mixed with the subtle hint of bitter alcohol. “Oh, I see what you mean. The alcohol is really bitter,” she exclaimed as her face puckered.

“It gets easier after you’ve had a few.” Mac picked up the cup and moved over closer to her, setting the cup back down between them. “You want another?”

“Sure, why not?”

Mac handed her a piece of fruit, taking another one for himself as well. Five minutes later, Mac was refilling the cup with dried fruit and water to make another batch.

* * *

Will finished drilling the last hole in the side of his flute, and now the moment of truth was at hand.

“Jack?” he called.

Jack looked over from his work area on the far side of the fire. He had been working on a small piece of leftover boar hide, trying to fashion a small tote bag according to the instructions he found in the survival encyclopedia. “What’s up?”

“It’s finished,” Will announced proudly.

“Really?” Jack rose quickly from his work to move over to Will’s side of the fire. “Well, give it a try.”

Will held the flute up, carefully positioning his fingers in the most comfortable fashion. Raising it to his lips, he wet them briefly and wrapped them around the mouthpiece and blew softly into the flute. The same sound as before emanated from the narrow slit just beyond the mouthpiece. Holding the note steady, Will lifted his finger nearest his mouth, uncovering the hole. The note changed in pitch, dropping, in what Will recognized as, a whole musical step. His eyes widened as he lifted his next finger, causing the note to change yet again. This time, the note went down a half step. He repeated the process, the note changing as he lifted each finger.

“It works, Will! The damn thing works!” Jack exclaimed, laughing.

Will took the flute down from his mouth, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“I don’t believe it!” Jack praised. “It really works!”

Will tried again, raising and lowering fingers in no particular order, producing similar notes in random patterns. He varied the strength of his breath, trying to alter the tonality of the notes. He even trilled his tongue and his fingers. His soul was alive with his newfound power to create music, even if his fingers had not yet learned the ability to create anything remotely resembling a melody.

* * *

Sara laughed with abandon. “Weren’t you embarrassed?”

“Hell no!” Mac laughed. “It wasn’t the first time she’d seen my naked butt!”

Sara squealed with laughter, nearly falling over backward as she plopped another piece of the alcohol-laced fruit into her mouth.

“I’ll tell you one thing, though! It sure as hell was the
last
time she ever saw it!” Mac chuckled.

Sara laughed even harder, an accidental snort leaping from her mouth. “Oh my!” she exclaimed, covering her mouth with embarrassment. “Gimme anudder peez a dat fruit!” she demanded, her words slurring.

“I don’t know, I think you’ve had enough, young lady.”

“What? Don’t be re-lick-u-dus,” she mumbled. “I’m perfectly…right,” she insisted, attempting to sit up straight.

“Perfectly right?” he teased. “The hell you are! You’re shitty!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re D-R-U-N-K, drunk, little lady.”

“I beg your pardon?” she giggled.

“You heard me.”

“I beg your pardon?” she giggled again a bit louder, falling over against him, her face landing against his chest.

“You
are
drunk!” he insisted as he lifted her face back up.

“Say it, don’t spray it, mister Mac!” she teased.

“What?” Mac felt something on his head and looked up. Another drop struck his face, then another and another. “Hey, I think it’s starling to rain!”

Sara burst out laughing.

“What?” he asked in confusion.

“‘Starling to rain?’” she teased. “Now who’s d-r-n-u-k, mister Mac?”

The raindrops started falling harder. “I think we’d better head inside, Sara.”

“Wait!” she begged. “I wanna nudder peeza fruit!” she demanded confidently.

The rainfall increased, growing to a downpour in seconds.

“Jesus!” Mac exclaimed, grabbing Sara and dragging her to her feet.

But Sara’s legs weren’t working very well. Mac picked her up and carried her over to the hut a few steps away. Pushing her head through the door flap, he dropped her inside and then returned to the fire, tossing the remaining firewood onto the sizzling flames in the hopes that he might be able to keep it going in spite of the rain.

As Mac finished gathering the remaining wood, he heard a rustling in the bushes not twenty meters from their campsite. He froze momentarily, concentrating to hear through the sound of the downpour. He heard it again, only this time it had moved to the left. Mac quickly looked around for his rifle, which he spied leaning against the tree to his right, about four meters away. He walked slowly backwards toward the rifle now behind him, trying to remain facing the direction of the strange sounds.

Unaware of what was happening, Sara came stumbling back out of the hut into the rain. “Mac! We forgot da fruit thingies! Ooo, it’s really startin’ ta rain,” she giggled as she stuck out her tongue trying to catch raindrops.

Something moved in the bushes again, catching Sara’s attention, causing her to turn to her left toward the sound. “Mac? Is that you? Are you takin’ a wee-wee?”

“Sara!” Mac hissed from behind her as he picked up his rifle.

Sara took a step toward the bushes as the unknown intruder moved again. She had heard Mac’s voice, but hadn’t realized that it was from behind her. “Oh, don’t be so shy, Mac-ee. I’ve seen pee-pees before.”

“Sara!” Mac whispered even louder. “Behind you!”

Sara turned around, looking like she might lose her balance for a moment as she did so. “There you are,” she teased playfully.

“Get back in the hut!” Mac ordered.

“What?” she asked. Then the noise came again, causing Sara to spin back around away from Mac to face the noise.

“Sara!” He wasn’t whispering anymore, as he shouldered his rifle and charged forward.

Sara turned around, her eyes open wide with fear, just in time to see Mac come charging toward her, holding his rifle up high as if ready to open fire. “Mac!” she screamed.

“Get in the fuckin’ hut!” he ordered, pushing her back inside as he charged by her.

Sara fell backwards, falling into a wet heap inside the hut, screaming as she fell.

Mac ran forward, scaring whatever was in the bushes to run off. But Mac wasn’t giving up, and instead jumped over the bushes in pursuit, just in time to see a large, humanoid-shaped, furry creature with long bluish-gray hair running with amazing speed and agility. He tried chasing after it, but within moments it was too far ahead of him.

Not one to be pushed aside so easily, Sara rushed out of the hut and started looking around for Mac, ready to give him a tongue lashing for knocking her down. “Mac!” she yelled. “Where are you, you little shit?”

Not thirty meters away, Mac heard Sara yelling from camp. He rolled his eyes, looked around again to make sure the creature wasn’t coming back, and then headed back to camp.